Misplaced Trilogy

by Brian Bennett

  He raised his brow, silently urging her for more.

  “Oh,” she said coyly, “you want me to say it?”

  He nodded with a tiny grin.

  Her lips parted as she took in a breath of air, but before any words came, her brow furrowed instead.

  “What is that?” she finally said.

  Trey turned over his shoulder in the direction of her gaze. Along the dark stretch of highway, a small, white light rapidly approached.

  Instinctively, Trey ducked and slid off the lounge chair onto his toes. “I don’t know,” he said, waving her to follow as he crept toward the hedges at a crouch.

  Peeking through the pool railing, just over the long row of hedges, they watched the light race closer. Not a sound came from the moving object as it passed the hotel entrance and kept traveling along the road.

  Directly in front of them, a dark figure on a bicycle zipped past. The driver sat erect, without pedaling, moving too fast to be coasting. Clearly, the bike operated under its own power.

  Trey trained his senses on the rider, feeling for any indication of artificial vibrations, but nothing came.

  “Real?” he whispered to Livy.

  “I can’t tell.”

  At the far end of the hotel, the bike turned smoothly into the lot and disappeared past the end of the building.

  Trey spun toward their unlocked room door, torn between whether to hide inside or run.

  Livy blurted out the one option he failed to consider.

  “Let’s see where he went.”

  Cyclist

  TREY CAUTIOUSLY PEERED around the corner of the long hotel to see nothing but darkness and a brick wall stretched to the back of the building. His bare soles screamed at him. More than one unexpected stone had threatened to gouge into his flesh on his long route from the pool. He stepped from the gritty concrete side-walk and into the damp grass.

  Livy pressed her hand into his back, forcing him along at a faster pace.

  Light poured into the lawn at the next corner, thanks to a well-lit parking lot just beyond. He dreaded the idea of poking his undisguised face into view, but projecting even the slightest vibration could be more damning.

  He hugged the brick wall, inching forward as close to the corner as possible without breaching the shadows. When he reached the end of the building, the truck and camper came into full view at the edge of the lot, parked as far from the camera as physically possible.

  Livy squeezed next to him, close enough he could feel her gasp at what they both saw.

  In the shadows beside the truck, the bicycle stood perched on its kickstand. Behind the camper, a pair of dark shoes lifted onto their toes exactly in line with the kitchen window. The feet moved farther along the camper and turned again, in line with the back bedroom.

  Trey tensed as the shadow stepped around the rear of the camper, but before the man broke into the flood of light, the shoes stopped and turned back.

  Before squandering his last opportunity, Trey bolted across the concrete lot and ducked into the shadows along the grill of the pickup. The bike stood a few feet away, waiting like bait for Trey to ambush its rider. He looked back to the building, struck with horror at how sorely Livy stood out in the shadows wearing nothing but a light colored nightgown. It was too late to alter his plan, so he vigorously waved her back.

  Nearby shoes scuffed on the concrete, coming closer. Near the front fender, the footsteps stopped abruptly. Trey looked under the bumper to see two tattered shoes, facing forward. He looked over his shoulder. Livy froze at the corner of the building, a deer in the headlights.

  She turned abruptly and darted away in a full-out run. Beside the truck, the shoes loudly scratched the pavement, and a dark figure flashed past the end of the truck. Trey sprang to his feet, hot on the heels of a very fast man in a long overcoat. A dark hat toppled off the runner, and long strands of dirty yellow hair blew back over the man’s shoulders.

  The man whirled on Trey, his huge blue eyes clearly startled to be pursued. He faltered enough for Trey to pounce and tackle him to the hard pavement.

  The spry, older man rolled Trey off in a heartbeat, but before he could scramble to his feet, Trey latched onto his ankle. The man kicked with the other foot, trying hard to shake Trey loose. Neither of them called for help, their only sounds coming from heavy pants and grunts of pain.

  The man struggled to his knees, and Trey tried unsuccessfully to pull the spy’s leg out from under him.

  From nowhere Livy piled onto the creep’s back and wrapped him up tightly with arms and legs.

  The old man spoke quietly through gritted teeth, clearly pissed. “That’s enough. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

  Flat on his belly, Trey was unable to help without letting go of the man’s leg. As soon as he let loose, the old man spun out of Livy’s bear hug, twisting one of her arms so violently it seemed ready to snap off. He shoved her away and sprang to his feet like a ninja hobo with both palms cocked, ready to karate chop the next thing that moved.

  His eyes darted between Trey and Livy. Finally, he disarmed one hand and held it up in a peace offering. “I only want to talk.”

  Wham!

  From the shadows, the scruffy man was struck from behind by a huge blue object. He toppled to the ground without attempting to break his own fall.

  Trey’s father stood over him, swinging a hard-shell suitcase by the handle with both hands.

  “Oh my God, Dad,” said Trey, lifting onto his haunches. “I think you killed him.”

  “Yeah, well,” his dad said with heavy breaths. “If not . . . I’ll be happy to finish the job.”

  “T. J.,” Trey’s mother scolded, coming into view with more bags in her hands. “Don’t say such a thing.”

  He rolled his eyes. “He’s gonna have a banger of a headache when he wakes up. Let’s get him tied up before he does.”

  Trey sat dumbfounded as his father rifled through the unconscious man’s pockets.

  Dad pulled a cell phone from the trench coat and handed it to Trey. “Is that one of those weapons?”

  Trey looked it over closely. “No, it looks like one of those burner phones.”

  “Ellen,” his father said, “there’s rope under the front seat.” He looked up to Livy. “Would you mind loading up the suitcases?”

  Trey pressed a button on the side of the phone and the display lit to a navigation screen. “Dad, I think he tracked us here.”

  “Yeah,” his dad said, fanning open a wallet stuffed with cash. “For a homeless man this guy is loaded.” His face distorted with anger, and he raised a fist, barely restraining himself from punching the old man’s back.

  “Dad?”

  “Sorry, I just can’t believe I gave the asshole money.”

  “Wait, you know this guy?”

  He flared his nostrils. “I bet there’s a pair of dark glasses in one of these pockets. The old bum was blind when I tripped over him outside the grocery store back in Arizona.” He continued to rifle through the wallet. “No identification.”

  Rushing up, Mrs. Collins dropped a bundle of rope.

  “Thanks, hun,” said Trey’s father, looking over his shoulder toward the distant camera. “I’d rather tie him up inside the camper, but I’m afraid we’ll wake him. I think we’re outside the camera angle here anyway.”

  Trey slipped the cell phone into his gym shorts and scooted toward the old man. He lifted one arm after the other behind the hobo’s back and began weaving one end of the rope around each wrist while his dad looped the other end repeatedly around both ankles.

  “Not like that,” Trey said. “He’ll just wiggle out.” Trey had been roped more times than he cared to count, and unfortunately he knew what worked. “Watch, loop it like this first.”

  The old bum let out a muffled groan.

  “Oh heck, forget that,” said Trey. “Just wrap it as tight as you can.”

  “I can’t watch this,” said Mom, walking away in disbelief.

&
nbsp; Trey tugged on the ropes to tighten his knot, then tensely peered up into the darkness. “If this guy chirped, they’ll be on us in no time.”

  His father nodded, working at an even faster pace. When he’d used up the last bit of the long rope, the old man’s legs were wrapped to his knees like a mummy.

  Trey helped roll their captive onto his back, and as predicted, the old bum started to kick and squirm like a fish out of water.

  Trey grabbed handfuls of the man’s coat as his father took hold of both feet, and they lifted the man from the pavement.

  “Where are you taking me?” the man said quietly, covering his huge blue eyes with a projection. “Take my money. Just don’t hurt me.”

  “You don’t fool me,” said Trey, waddling along toward the camper. “I know what you are.”

  “I’m sorry,” the man said. “You’re right. I’m not blind. I shouldn’t have taken your money.”

  “Save it,” Trey’s father grumbled.

  “Hey, don’t take me in there. I’ll scream for help.”

  Trey leaned toward the man’s face and stared at him with his own oversized eyes. “Sure you will, and we’ll just toss you right over there in front of that camera as soon as people come running.”

  The old man changed his tone. “I can help you. Just don’t hurt me.”

  Tracked

  TREY STRUGGLED TO stay standing alongside his father as the camper lurched heavily to one side. The rubber tires groaned at the sharp turn that whipped the trailer from the hotel lot onto the two lane road.

  Inside the tiny latrine, the raggedly dressed alien scout stared up from his hot seat with wide, frightened blue eyes. A bristly yellow beard hid most of his face, and months of grime darkened his otherwise pale skin.

  Livy squeezed next to Trey to peer inside the make-shift cell at their roped prisoner. The old man’s eyes darted between the three onlookers. No one seemed willing to be the first to speak.

  Trey pulled the cell phone from his pocket and waved it clearly. “Are we being tracked?”

  The scraggly bum shook his head timidly.

  “Who else knows where we are?”

  The old man continued to shake his head.

  Trey’s skin heated. “I don’t believe him.”

  Livy crossed her arms in stern agreement and stared into their captive’s eyes. “How’d you find us?”

  The bearded stranger lifted his eyes and pointed toward the phone in Trey’s hand. “Cheater Chaser app.”

  Trey woke the cell phone and scrolled through the apps as his father and Livy peered over his shoulder.

  The old man cleared his scratchy throat. “The other phone is wedged under the truck bed, but it quit logging a few hours ago. I’d say the battery died.” He laughed under his breath. “It lasted longer than I expected.”

  Trey popped open the back cover and hurriedly removed the battery. “The sleaze ball must have been watching the crash site.”

  The old man chuckled in private amusement.

  “Crap,” said Trey. “I was sure we weren’t followed.”

  “Tracked,” his father interjected. “We were tracked, not followed.”

  Laughter erupted from the old man, dampened only by his look of pain.

  “Laugh it up,” grunted Trey. “They’ll be tracking you after we shove the phone up–“

  “Hey, hey,” the old man interrupted, dead seriously. “I don’t know what you think you’ve uncovered, but you haven’t the slightest clue what’s going on.”

  Trey stared the man down. “You’re wrong about that, buddy, but why don’t you enlighten us?”

  The man turned away defiantly, and tugged at the ropes behind his back.

  “That’s what I thought,” said Trey.

  Livy lowered her voice to Trey, just loud enough for everyone to overhear. “We can use him for bait.”

  The hobo tugged at his bindings. “That’s it. Enough fooling around. You’re playing a dangerous game here.”

  “Sure,” Trey said, disregarding the man’s words. “Live bait.”

  “Now listen. I bet you’re searching for answers, and I can tell you everything about where you came from, but I’m afraid you’re not gonna like it.”

  “Oh, I know exactly–“

  Livy jabbed an elbow into Trey’s side. “Let’s hear what he has to say.”

  Mr. Collins nodded in agreement.

  Trey rubbed the offended rib, his pride bruised more than anything. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  The old man shook his arms behind his back. “Why don’t you untie me first?”

  “Not happening,” Livy snapped.

  The captive seemed to accept his fate. With a sigh, he looked each of them in the eye. “Is this your father?”

  Trey acknowledged with a slow uncomfortable nod.

  The man lifted his eyes toward Trey’s dad. “I hate to break it to you, sir, but your wife has been unfaithful.”

  Trey’s blood instantly boiled. “You pile of dung. I should shove you down that toilet where you belong.”

  “I said you wouldn’t like it. Do you want me to talk or not? Make up your freakin’ mind.”

  Trey stepped away from the door and turned his back. “I can’t look at him.”

  Livy lashed the old man with a sharp tongue. “You better explain yourself quickly.”

  “Well, I—I, pardon my bluntness. I guess it’d be fair to say your wife may have thought it was you.”

  Trey huffed a contemptuous grunt, understanding the insinuation perfectly.

  “Let me back up,” the man continued. “There’s a group of men, much like myself, who aren’t exactly from this planet.” He paused as if to gauge their reaction, and when no gasps or groans came at him, he went on. “These men are here for a purpose, and for the sake of simplicity, I’ll just say their job is to make sure no one knows they exist.”

  Trey turned. “Or their black-eyed brothers.”

  “Uh, yes.” Surprise showed in the old man’s huge blue eyes. “So, you’re aware.” He looked away, uncomfortably. “These men aren’t like the brothers. They aren’t cold and heartless. They’re men. And because they’re men, some of them fall prone to natural desires.”

  He closely studied Trey and Livy’s cold glares, then continued. “You and your sister are fortunate. I’ve never known one of the offspring to survive past infancy.”

  “Is that right?” Trey said, not buying any of it.

  The old man nodded. “They’re always found. Something happens to those men when they suddenly learn they’ve become fathers. They get territorial. They miss objectives . . . Then someone like me is sent in to clean up the mess.” His eyes focused into distant nothingness. “Well, not like me. I couldn’t do it.”

  Trey swallowed hard, then asked what he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “What couldn’t you do?”

  “It’s been close to thirty years, but I can still see those bright blue eyes. I hadn’t asked what they were going to do with the baby girl when I brought her in, but I knew the moment I saw her that I couldn’t do it. I gave that poor, scared father a tip-off that we were onto him, then I went silent. I ditched everything and haven’t been in contact with anyone since.”

  “So,” Livy said softly. “What happened to the girl?”

  “I’ve been out of contact, but if I had to guess, someone finished what I couldn’t do.”

  Trey wondered if the old man knew anything at all about the twelve embryos that were hidden throughout the planet, but he wasn’t about to bring it up.

  The drifter looked over his captors. “Let me guess, you all hail from Sin City. That’s where the temptations seem the most rampant.”

  Trey’s father looked like he’d been punched in the gut. The stranger’s idea of Trey’s origins didn’t match reality, but it struck a nerve. He’d only recently learned he wasn’t Trey’s biological father.

  Trey straightened. “You’re wrong, old man. You said so yourself, you’ve been out of the loop. Th
ere are things you don’t know.”

  “Well, I know enough to keep my head down. And I sure as hell wouldn’t go near a crash site. What exactly did you expect to find there anyway?”

  When Trey didn’t answer, the dirty half-alien huffed. “That’s not even where I stumbled onto you.”

  The semi-alien looked up to Trey’s father. “I couldn’t imagine what T. J. Collins was doing traveling through Arizona in a broken down pickup truck. I figured you might be immersing yourself for your next bestseller, but while you were inside buying your groceries, the pieces started falling into place.” He turned to Trey. “There are lots of reasons a young guy like you might wear dark glasses at night, but as I watched you waiting in the truck, I couldn’t help remembering something about a kidnapping that was poorly kept out of the media . . . The boy’s father was a well-known author.”

  Trey adjusted uneasily, overtaken by guilt. A curvy female figure surfaced in his recent memory.

  “That’s right,” the old man said. “A tall pair of legs in a short skirt lurking in the shadows is enough to raise any young man’s sunglasses. You checked me out just long enough for me to get a really good glimpse at those big, blue peepers of yours.”

  Max

  TREY LEANED AGAINST the closed bathroom door, the prisoner blocked inside. His father steadied himself against the moving camper, both hands pressed to opposite walls in the narrow hallway.

  Livy settled into the bench seat at the table. “What do we do now?” she asked quietly. “Do we trust him?”

  Trey shook his head. “No, but we can’t keep him tied up, and we can’t just let him go either.”

  Mr. Collins furrowed his brow. “Seems to me, we should find that other cell phone and ditch him where he can’t follow us.”

  Trey lowered his voice. “I’m still thinking we can use the old bum.”

  “For what?” Livy whispered.

  “Listen,” said Trey, “we’re running out of options. Maybe he can help us get a few steps ahead of the black-eyes for once.”

  Mr. Collins shook his head. “I don’t like what you’re suggesting. You’re just inviting more trouble.”