Misplaced Trilogy

by Brian Bennett

  Trey cautiously circled the pickup, leaning sideways to peer under the trailer as he walked. No snake. No desert varmint of any kind.

  He stopped at his father’s side. “What is it?”

  “Bike tracks.”

  Trey followed the side-by-side trails as far as eye could see in the direction of the highway, but the other end of each track terminated at his feet, just outside the window where he had slept. A smattering of boot prints tracked through the soft sand, disappearing at the head of the camper, where the sandy surface transitioned to shards of sandstone gravel that wouldn’t hold tracks.

  “They may have been here for days,” Dad admitted.

  “Did you get into the glove box this morning?”

  “In the truck? No, why?”

  Trey bolted toward the gap between the truck and camper, discovering immediately there was no room to squeeze through. He raced around the front of the truck

  “It was probably just kids,” his father cried.

  Trey flew through the camper door with a clatter. His mother spun toward him in fright, spraying dry coffee grounds from a scoop. “What the devil?”

  Trey’s eyes shot to Livy’s empty bunk. He whirled the other direction to see her poke her head from the narrow bathroom stall with a look of bewilderment.

  He tossed aside his bed cushion. He calmed slightly at the sight of the black stone exactly where he’d left it. “Someone was here last night,” he said, moving off toward Livy’s bunk. He shoved his hand beneath the mattress and fished around until his fingers fumbled over the other smooth polished transmitter.

  He turned slowly. “Did anyone hear anything?”

  Mom shook her head, staring at the coffee mess.

  Livy grabbed a broom from the corner. “Just the sound of you snoring.” She proceeded to sweep the coffee grounds, leaving no indication she was kidding.

  His mother tilted the coffee can and rattled the scoop in the bottom. “Put coffee on the list.”

  Dad appeared in the open doorway. “I don’t think anything’s missing out here.”

  Mom dumped the remaining grounds into the pot, then swung open the cabinets to take inventory.

  “The door was locked this morning when I got up. Nobody got inside,” said Trey’s father. “Come on, let’s finish hitching up.”

  Rest Stop

  THE ENDLESS, DRY and barren landscape outside Trey’s passenger window had finally given way to green pastures and tree-covered hills. Hundreds of miles behind him, the mysterious tire tracks still weighed on his mind, even though he had jokingly made light of his own silly overreaction.

  When it came to his new way of life, nothing was a small encounter. Even a curious teen perusing the night on bicycle in search of boyish mischief could trigger whispers that might soon escalate into a nationwide manhunt and, worse yet, invite his enemies from afar.

  Livy’s bare feet rested in his lap, and he stared at them unintentionally. Five toes on each foot, he counted without realizing. Her pale toes were stubby, unlike his own, but normal feet by anyone’s standard. She wiggled her tiny digits, drawing him out of his trance.

  She smiled, her back pressed to the door, a posture he had advised against repeatedly to no avail. The old farmer had cut out the lap belts decades ago.

  “Did I really snore last night?” Trey asked.

  She rolled her bright blue eyes. “It’s not like you were sawing logs. I just thought you sounded uncomfortable.” She pulled her feet away and slipped them into sandals. “It’s no wonder. You were all balled up in that cramped bed.” She leaned forward, her elbows on the front seat. “Can we swing a hotel for a few nights?”

  Trey’s mother looked to the driver with measured optimism. He turned to his co-pilot and did a double-take. “Uh, I don’t know. We’ll have to think about it.” He glanced into the rearview to Livy’s watchful gaze. “We can afford it, if that’s what you mean.”

  Livy bounced in her seat with childlike enthusiasm.

  Trey found himself relishing the idea of a real bed. Even a doughnut mattress would be a major upgrade.

  “Don’t get too excited,” his father added. “We have to find a place that accepts cash without a credit card deposit. And no surveillance.”

  Trey offered Livy a discreet thumbs-up and a wide grin, feeling like a kid again.

  “There’s something else I want to discuss,” said the driver, popping Trey’s balloon. “Now that everyone’s awake, I want to talk about those transmitters.”

  Trey straightened in his seat, cornering his eye to Livy. “What about them?”

  “I don’t want you sneaking off to do whatever it is you plan to do with them. We’re in this together, as a family, and there shouldn’t be any secrets.”

  “It’s not a secret,” said Trey, sighing. “I just don’t want to draw those creeps to everyone else.”

  Livy seemed caught off-guard by the whole topic. She stared at Trey, wondering what might come out of his mouth next.

  His father pressed for more. “All right, then. What exactly do you expect to accomplish?”

  Trey shrugged. “I won’t know until I know. I mean, right now I know nothing about what’s on the other side . . . what it’s like, where they are. Heck, for all I know they’re hanging out on the dark side of the moon.”

  His father chuckled. “That much I can rule out.”

  Trey didn’t find it so amusing. “That’s assuming they aren’t based right here on Earth, underground or at the bottom of the ocean.”

  Livy jumped in. “We were definitely headed into space. I think it’s safe to say they aren’t down here.”

  “There ya go then,” his father jumped in. “Unless you’ve got Space-X tickets you didn’t tell me about, I don’t know what good it‘ll do to know where they are.”

  “T. J.,” cried Mom. “What’s gotten into you?”

  He turned to her and shook his head in dismay. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, son. I just think we should leave well enough alone. Keep our heads down until it all blows over.” He looked over his shoulder to Trey, then back to the road. “But if you insist on pursuing this, that’s fine. Just don’t take in on alone.”

  Livy gave Trey a suspicious look. “Alone?”

  “I didn’t mean alone. I meant safely separated.”

  She ran her finger over the small lump in her jeans pocket, verifying that the transmitter was still inside.

  Trey slumped into his seat. “I’m not gonna sneak it out of your pocket if that’s what you think.”

  She smiled half-heartedly. “Good.”

  * * *

  The pickup slowly veered off the two-lane byway and coasted to a stop in a long gravel lane alongside a row of short hedges. Inside a peeling white metal fence, a small dilapidated swimming pool separated the truck from a single-story motel. A partially illuminated neon sign in the center window read vacancy.

  Mr. Collins popped open his door and addressed the passengers. “I’ll scope it out and be right back.”

  Trey shoved on his sunglasses and pressed his face to the window to peer in all directions for cameras. “This side’s clear.”

  Livy didn’t match his enthusiasm. “I hope the room isn’t crawling with bugs.”

  For midday, Trey noticed an exceptional number of cars parked along the face of the building. “I just hope it’s not one of those rent-by-the-hour joints.”

  “Gross,” Livy said. “Maybe the camper isn’t so bad.”

  Mom turned in her seat. “This is the first place we’ve stopped. If it’s bad, we’ll move on.”

  Not long afterward, Trey’s father exited the lobby carrying a piece of paper in one hand and an oversized keychain in the other.

  Livy groaned. “So much for checking the room first.”

  Mr. Collins strutted toward the truck in his floppy fishing cap, oblivious to the hornet’s nest that waited.

  Trey’s mother intervened. “It couldn’t have cost much. We can still leave if the room isn�
�t fit.”

  He threw open the door and hopped into the driver’s seat, jiggling the room key with pride. “I’ll drop you off at the end of the building. There’s one camera in the lot where I’m supposed to park, but as long as you two stay on this side of the building, we’re golden.”

  He panned the series of long faces. “Free cable!”

  When no one reacted, he turned to the wheel and started the engine. “Tough crowd.”

  * * *

  Trey pushed open the faded motel door and a cool blast of thickly scented air hit him like a Lysol blizzard. He flipped the light switch and gazed in surprise at the adequate interior. The beige carpet was weathered, but free of stains. Two queen-sized beds were made tightly with matching burgundy comforters.

  Trey looked back from the center of the room to see Livy peering in cautiously, just outside the door.

  “It’s fine,” he said, encouraging her inside.

  He stepped to the dark bathroom and flipped on the light. The place was far from sparkling, but the small sink and toilet were clean. He pushed back the shower curtain to see an off-white tub with minor rust stains but, more importantly, no crawly critters.

  When he returned to the larger area, Livy had made her way inside and stood with her arms and shoulders sucked in as if the walls were infectious.

  “It’s fine,” he repeated.

  She nodded. “I pictured much worse.”

  Trey flopped onto the large bed and reached for the remote on the nightstand between the two beds.

  Livy cringed, waving wildly. “Don’t you know they only wash the sheets?” She grabbed the thick comforter on the other bed and ripped it off.

  “I didn’t know you were a germophobe.”

  She sniffed the sheets without getting too close. “I’m not . . . usually.”

  Trey’s parents arrived at the open doorway, visibly annoyed at the gaping invitation to passersby.

  His mother’s sour face melded to one of cheerful optimism as she stepped inside. “Oh. It’s just fine.”

  She handed Livy a small gym bag. “I hope I gathered everything you’ll need.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” said Livy, tossing the bag onto the sheets.

  Trey’s father dropped a suitcase by the entrance and swung the door shut with his heel. He launched a blue plastic bag across the room and Trey caught it with one hand, just shy of getting pelted in the face.

  Trey rolled onto his side and peered inside to find his toothbrush, electric razor, and a single pair of briefs. He tossed his necessities onto the other bed alongside Livy’s, staking his territory. She picked up the bag and flung it back in his direction.

  Trey had expected kickback from his parents, but something told him Livy was miffed about something.

  She patted the stone in her front pocket and pursed her lips. “We wouldn’t want them to touch.”

  Trey rolled onto his back. “Got it.”

  Contact

  TREY’S ENTIRE BODY ached as he teetered at the edge of consciousness in complete darkness, neither asleep nor awake.

  Hours had passed in this horrid state of limbo, where the closest semblance to a lucid thought was the nagging notion that a similar experience had tormented him for nights on end.

  A loud, metal clank rattled his nerves, forcing an involuntary flinch that rippled painfully though his outstretched arms. Her arms! The arms of his messenger.

  A blinding light gouged his eyes like hot knives, and he squeezed his eyelids tightly, creating a blood-red scene of flashing stars.

  The familiar gargle of an alien voice spoke from only a short distance away. “Look closely.”

  The bright light on the other side of Trey’s flaming eyelids wavered with the motion of objects passing in front of him.

  A blurry slit opened in his vision. Slowly, a concrete floor came into focus. More than one pair of gnarly bare feet stood just inside a bright doorframe. Boney legs with pale gray skin extended upward to grotesque knobby knees.

  A white silky robe brushed the floor between the two aliens. Trey’s eyes opened fully and lifted to see Livy’s mother deliberately avoiding his gaze.

  A wrinkled, black-eyed alien gripped Onna’s upper arm tightly. It shook her firmly while coughing out a command. “Look!”

  The robed woman spitefully complied, glancing only briefly in Trey’s direction.

  Trey’s eye drifted shut against his will, blocking out the scene he struggled to understand.

  “Kill her,” the alien croaked.

  “No,” Onna shouted. “You mustn’t. She’s innocent.”

  Emotions that weren’t his own electrified Trey’s soul. Intense fear gave way to a longing for peace.

  “She knows nothing,” cried Onna.

  “Of that we agree,” spoke the alien, coming now in a purely human voice. “You have kept your secrets well. Even from your dearest friend.”

  In his gravelly alien language, he uttered another command. “Proceed.”

  “Wait,” Onna shouted. “I’ll tell you anything you ask. Everything.”

  The blurry eyes of Trey’s host shot open. A labored, feminine voice squeaked from Trey’s scratchy throat. “No. It isn’t worth it.”

  Onna tried to break free from the alien’s grip. “I won’t let them take you from me.”

  Trey’s eyes closed once again. A whisper escaped his lips. “Don’t give them my son.”

  Trey bolted upright in his hotel bed, alongside his sleeping father. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he gasped for air, shaking his hands to alleviate the ghost pains that still lingered in his arms.

  A column of light cut through the otherwise dark room, trailing from the small gap in the drawn curtains. Livy raised her head from her pillow to stare at Trey, the light striping his bare chest.

  His mother stirred beneath the white sheets next to Livy, but didn’t rouse. Trey delicately swung his feet off the bed and grabbed the t-shirt clumped on the floor.

  Livy eased from the other bed as Trey tip-toed to the front door, pulling on his shirt.

  He watched his parents over his shoulder, easing the deadbolt with virtually no sound.

  Livy, wearing only her nightgown, stepped outside beneath the swarming bugs and orange-tinted light. He followed her and let the door ease closed against the extended deadbolt to keep from being locked out.

  In bare feet, they shuffled across the parking lane to the darkened pool area. Trey unlatched the gate and swung it open, staring upward in all directions to convince himself once again there were no cameras.

  “Over there,” Livy whispered, pointing to a row of plastic deck chairs that seemed particularly concealed from hotel-view behind the overgrown shrubs.

  “That’s good,” he said, leading the way.

  He lowered to the edge of an outstretched lounge chair with a sigh.

  Livy settled next to him. “What is it?”

  “It’s bad,” Trey said, shaking his head. “Really bad.”

  Livy nervously scanned the dark sky. “What’s bad?”

  “That woman, the one sending me the messages . . . I-I think it’s my mother.”

  Livy’s mouth dropped open and she looked him in the eyes. “They’ve started again.”

  He nodded, but the truth was, they hadn’t stopped, he just hadn’t recognized the message.

  “How do you know?” she asked, delicately.

  “It doesn’t matter how I know. They’re going to kill her . . . if they haven’t already.”

  Livy put her arm around him. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how you must feel.”

  Trey choked down the lump in his throat. “I feel so powerless. I don’t think she knows I’m receiving her thoughts. I don’t understand how that’s even possible. If she is my mother, maybe we have some weird biologic bond. But the one person who might have a clue what’s going on is dead. They’ve killed him, too.”

  Livy rubbed his back, but nothing could sooth his feelings of helplessness.


  “And it’s about to get worse,” he said. “Those poor suckers out there like us are gonna be made. They won’t even know what hit them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your mother is gonna tell them all about us.” He put his hand on Livy’s bare knee. “I can’t blame her. They’re torturing her friend. My mother.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. It’s not her fault. What she knows can’t hurt us anyway.” He gazed across the dark, rippling pool water. “She doesn’t know where the other nine were placed any more than you or I do. But Arken couldn’t have put us here by himself. He had to have help. And this will just put them one step closer to figuring out who helped him.”

  “Don’t forget,” Livy said. “We have the transmitters. Maybe we can find his helpers first. Warn them. Get their help.”

  Trey nodded. “It’s something.” He looked her in the eyes. “And I promise; I didn’t plan to use the transmitters behind your back.”

  “I know that,” she said, looking away. “That isn’t what aggravated me.”

  “What then?”

  “Forget it, I’m over it.”

  “No, I don’t want to forget it. I want to understand.”

  She shook it off. “It’s just a man thing.”

  “Man thing? Is this because I want to cuddle up in the same bed?”

  “No,” she said. “You don’t think I want us to be close? It’s not that.”

  “Then what?”

  She sighed. “You always have to play hero and put yourself in the hot seat.”

  Trey tries to speak, but she’s not done.

  “Maybe it would make more sense for me to see what’s on the other side. Maybe it’s more important to protect you. Do I deserve to be safer than you do just because I’m a girl?”

  Trey raised his brow. “Whoa, I’m not protecting you because you’re a girl. It’s because I love you and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

  “And I don’t think the same way?”

  Trey froze. He had picked the worst moment to use that word for the first time.

  He squirmed slightly. “Does that mean you do?”

  “Yes, it does,” she said frankly.