“Woohoo! A big Wednesday night out at the government agency cafeteria.”
“Trey, stop being a dolt,” said Livy, turning to his mother. “I get what you’re saying.”
Zach opened the door. “After you, Junior Agent Livingston.”
“Why, thank you, Understudy Reynolds.”
Trey rolled his eyes and followed them into the hallway. “See ya in a bit.”
Their grins faded quickly with the sobering task of navigating the formal office complex as government employees. Somehow, blending in seemed easier to Trey when he didn’t have to try.
A door opened several paces ahead and Meagan stepped into their path, unmistakable with her bright-green hair. She turned with a start and gazed over Trey’s entourage. “Well, aren’t we cute?”
Meagan’s eyes made over Zach, then turned to Livy, scanning her head to toe.
Trey felt a sympathetic tug in his gut, recalling Livy’s words about not seeing anyone they knew. He looked to his right to judge her reaction, but surprise dropped his jaw. Livy projected herself in a tight black skirt and a sleeveless white blouse. The clothes were a mirage, but she nailed the subtle curves beneath them.
If Meagan caught the transformation, she failed to mention it. She back-stepped to her door and pulled it closed, but not before Trey caught a glimpse of a tall, motorized wheelchair.
“Who’s your friend?” Meagan asked.
“Oh,” said Trey. “This is Zach. We’ve been friends forever.” He nudged his buddy. “This is Meagan.”
Zach tipped his head. “Hey.”
Livy stepped forward. “You’re welcome to join us. We’re on our way to the cafeteria.”
“Thanks, but Momma’s here now. They’re bringing food to our room.”
“Oh, I gotcha,” said Livy, with surprise politeness. “Maybe, breakfast. We don’t have a phone in our room, but we’re . . . three doors down on the right.”
Meagan gazed down the hall. “Sure. But don’t wait around for me.”
“We better go then,” said Trey. “See you around.”
She waited at her door as the group sauntered away. When they were well down the hall, Trey glanced over his shoulder to see her disappear inside her room.
Trey turned to Livy. “What if she’d said yes? We’re supposed to be fitting in, not sticking out like a big green thumb.”
“You don’t know girls, Trey. She’d have never come with us, Momma or not.”
Trey wondered if anyone else had seen the elaborate wheelchair, but if they hadn’t, he wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up. “Well, I hope you aren’t just taunting her because of some dumb thing I said.”
“What?” she whined. “It’s not her fault your eyes are magnetically drawn to exposed skin.”
“Aw, come on. They are not.”
She looked to Zach, brow raised. “Am I wrong?”
“Sorry, dude. Busted.”
Trey huffed, hoping they were only razzing him. He picked up the pace and kept quiet until they reached the next corridor. “McDonnel said left, right?”
“I think so,” said Livy.
He stared down the darkened hallway. “It doesn’t seem very busy.”
She started down the corridor. “Yeah, he said left.”
As Trey stared blankly into the blackness at the end of the long hallway, sparks flashed in his vision, making him sway dizzily.
The motion-activated fluorescent ballasts came to life, lighting up the corridor and freeing him from his wooziness. He set off briskly to catch up to his friends before they could notice his lag.
Not far ahead, the open doors of the cafeteria waited exactly where agent McDonnel had described them.
Trey led the way inside, bracing for a room filled with turned heads. He gazed in relief over the nearly-empty dining area. The place resembled a food court more than the school lunchroom he’d envisioned.
At a far table, a pair of middle-aged men with rolled up sleeves and loosened ties talked across a spread of empty dishes. In the corner, a young woman sat alone at a laptop, sucking through a straw as she peered at the screen. Similar scenes peppered the quiet cafeteria.
Nobody paid the youngsters any attention.
“It’s after five o’clock,” said Livy. “Some people do have a life outside work.”
“Yeah,” said Trey, making his way toward food.
He slid a tray onto the stainless steel runner and looked up to a white billboard offering a lengthy menu written in pressed-on black letters.
He stared at the words, fighting to make sense of them as the letters slowly lost their meaning, devolving into odd patterns of curves and straight lines. His prior dizziness resurfaced, and thoughts of lost sleep were the only rational explanation he had for his confusion.
The menu went dark and stars streaked through his vision, not the bursts of plasma he’d seen when getting his bell rung, but real stars. He was receiving a message.
He relaxed, letting his guide direct him on a tour of a small solar system, complete with three planets that raced around a giant red sun like slot cars.
Before he could fathom the gut wrenching sensation of falling through the cosmos, the rock-hard cafeteria floor punched him in the face.
Alarm
TREY SCRAMBLED TO hands and knees, nursing the hot pain on the left side of his face. “I’m all right,” he said, blood and gritty shards of teeth mixed in his words.
Livy shoved a fistful of napkins against his swollen lips. “What happened?”
He shook his head, still fuzzy on the details.
The gentleman behind the counter leaned forward. “What’s up with him?”
“He’s okay,” said Zach. “Low blood sugar.”
Trey ran his tongue along the jagged edge of a tooth. Only one was chipped. He rose to his feet, waving away the attention. “I’m good. Nothing to see here.”
Faces around the cafeteria returned to their dinners, but Trey knew one thing for certain, they wouldn’t remember him for his pink shirt.
The clerk strode up with a glass of orange juice. “Here, it’s on the house.”
“Thanks,” said Trey. He took a small sip for show and fought through the acid burn the juice inflicted on his raw, puffy lips. “I’m gonna go sit now.” He pulled a wad of bills from his back pocket. “Here, that should be enough for all of us. Get me a milkshake or something cold I don’t have to chew.”
Zach passed the cash on to Livy and latched onto Trey’s arm. “I’ll go with him and make sure he doesn’t take another nose dive.”
Trey yanked his elbow free and set off toward the booth farthest from the any guests. Zach followed him closely like a parent behind a toddler’s first steps.
Trey slid into a booth and pushed the orange juice aside. “That was too freakin’ weird.”
Zach swung in opposite him. “You’re telling me.”
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”
“What happened?”
Trey glanced over his shoulder to find Livy waiting at the register. “I’ll tell you more when you’re both here, but it was another message.”
“That’s insane. What if you’d been driving?”
Trey stiffened. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”
“You’ve gotta figure out how to turn that crap off.”
Trey let his gaze fall to the speckled tabletop, curious if a message awaited his attention. Sure enough, streaks of light flickered at the verge of his consciousness. He forced his thoughts to his friend across the table. “I’m working on it.”
Livy flopped into the seat next to Trey holding two Styrofoam cups. “I hope you wanted chocolate.”
“That’s all you got?” Trey asked.
“I lost my appetite.” She pushed the bills and loose change across the table. “Your turn.”
Zach tucked the money away, but didn’t move from his seat. “Trey got another message.”
Livy nodded. “That was my guess. What this time?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Trey. “I think she’s sending directions for where to find her, a sort of interstellar atlas.”
“So, where are they?”
Trey shook his head. “No idea. I’m no astronomer.”
“But there had to be clues. What did you see?”
“Oh, you mean during that little glimpse before I knocked my teeth out?”
She grimaced. “Uh, yeah, sorry.”
“I guess I do know one thing. There were only three planets, so I guess that rules out our solar system.”
Livy pounded the table. “Where’s that coward Max when you need him?”
“What good would he do us?”
“Surely he knows whether Kryo has sister planets.”
Trey shook his head. “I don’t think one of them was Kryo. The red giant I saw would look huge in the sky.” He turned to Zach. “Kryo has a little blue sun.”
“So there,” said Livy “You know more than you thought.”
“Yep, we’ve eliminated the only two planets in the universe that we know how to find.”
Zach smoothed his hands over the table. “Why don’t you take another look?”
Livy’s eyes darted between them. “Can you?”
“Now?” said Trey. “Right here?”
“Nobody’s paying attention,” said Zach. “These guys get paid to mind their own business.”
Livy cornered her eyes. “Or to look like there are.”
Trey glanced discreetly over the food court. “I’ll take a quick peek. Don’t let me bash my face on the table.”
His friends nodded dutifully, taking him seriously.
He set aside his chocolate shake and stared blankly at the table. When nothing came to mind, he relaxed and tried again. Finally, he closed his eyes, but even that was worthless. “There’s nothing. She must be asleep again.”
* * *
Trey knocked lightly and pushed open the door to his family’s guest suite. He slid a plastic-wrapped plate of double-fudge cake onto the kitchen counter. “We brought dessert.”
Side-by-side on the sofa, his parents stayed glued to the oversized TV set.
“Chocolate cake,” he added.
“Thanks,” his mother said, uncharacteristically lax.
Zach dropped a second piece of cake next the first. “Dibs if they don’t eat it before bedtime.”
“I call the other piece,” said Livy. “But I’ll share it with you, Chip.”
Trey hissed through the broken tooth. “Thankthhh.”
Mr. Collins raised the remote showily and cranked up the volume. “Come see this.”
“Not again,” Trey grumbled.
He shuffled to the couch and stood watching a news report. Livy and Zach filled in on each side of him.
Live footage panned over a crowd of protesters outside an office builder, many of them pumping signs in rhythm with an unrecognizable chant. The scene cut to a reporter. Alongside her, a businessman waited for his chance to speak to the puffy orange microphone. The angry mob waved signs through the glass behind him.
“Thanks, Robert,” the attractive correspondent said to the camera. “I’m here now with Executive Producer Michael DePue. Good evening, Michael.”
“Good evening, Ashley.”
“Thank you for speaking with us. I’d like to begin by asking if you’ve backed away from your decision to withhold the full episode of Doctor Frank.”
“Look, Ashley. First of all, I’d like to make it clear that it was not our decision.”
She pulled away the mic, cutting him off. “Do you feel the commission has overstepped their authority?”
“I’ll refrain from such a pointed argument, but having viewed the episode in its entirety, I disagree that it poses a threat to national security.”
“Can you elaborate on the interview’s content?”
“I’m sorry. I’m afraid I can’t, other than to reinforce my stance that it contains nothing alarming.”
“Can you shed light on the connection of your broadcast to the outbreak of disappearances?”
“That would be purely speculation, and I honestly don’t see the relevance.”
“What about the strange phenomena surrounding the disappearances and the rash of UFO sightings?”
He chuckled. “I’m afraid you’re confusing our program with one of the fantasy networks.”
Trey hiked his leg and sat on the back of the couch. “I bet Agent Simmons is pulling his hair out over this.”
Livy circled the sofa and dropped between Trey’s parents. The interview wrapped up and the scene cut to a deserted city street just before dusk. A red caption striped across the screen, A Town in Terror.
Trey nearly fell off the couch. “That’s Longwood!”
A female voice-over described the scene of Trey’s home town. “One small community in rural Ohio is reeling from today’s developments. Streets and places of business have emptied, while residents hold up behind locked doors. The frequent rumble of helicopters and the roar of low-flying jets have replaced the sounds of local traffic in this city on lockdown.”
A stock photo of Sheriff Smead appeared, complete with his wide-brimmed hat.
“Local law enforcement has declined to elaborate on their sheriff’s prior comments.”
Smead’s recorded telephone conversation crackled over the airways. “The Collins family has been an exemplary part of the Longwood community for going on thirty years. We’re taking matters of their alleged disappearance very seriously; however, at this time, there are absolutely no indications of foul play.”
“Sheriff, do you believe the boy to be one of the so-called Gingers?”
“I’m not familiar with the term, but I will say this: I’ve known Trey Collins since I coached his little-league team. He’s a good kid, and I hope wherever he is, he’s safe.”
Trey pushed away from the couch. “What the heck is a Ginger?”
His mother looked up, sympathetically. “That’s what social media is calling the genetically engineered kids that have popped up.”
“Yeah, well, that’s dumb.”
A different reporter hit the screen with Joe’s Diner as a backdrop. Joe leaned toward the microphone. “First, I’d like to say I’m still open.”
The camera panned over an empty restaurant behind the large glass windows.
The young reporter pulled back her mic. “This scare seems to have taken a toll on your business.”
“Sure has. But that won’t last. In crazy times, folks just don’t feel much like cookin’. So, I’ll be open all night, just like every other night. Right here on fifth street.” He grabbed the microphone with both hands when she threatened to pull it away. “And for any of you out-of-towner’s, just take the eight-o-eight exit off the interstate. You can’t miss us.”
She finally regained control of her microphone. “I understand you’re familiar with the Collins youth.”
“Oh yeah! I knew somethin’ wasn’t right with him. There’s somethin’ shady about anyone who wears dark sunglasses day and night. And I’ll tell you somethin’ else: this whole thing goes deeper than a bunch of kids.”
The report’s eyes widened, reveling in her chance at an exclusive. “Help us out here.”
“You watch the news footage and you’ll see this goes all the way to the president. You ever pay attention to all the dudes following him around in dark shades?”
“You mean the Secret Service?”
“Yup! That’s right! What are they tryin’ to keep secret anyway?”
Joe grabbed onto the microphone again, but before he could speak, the scene cut back to the studio. The newscaster stifled an expression that said Joe might have flipped a little more than his burgers.
Without warning, the television went dark, along with everything else in the room. A second later, the emergency floodlight lit up above the room’s only exit.
Trey eyed everyone in the room, expecting electricity to return at any second, but
it didn’t.
He moved to the door and eased it open. The outage extended the length of the hallway. Battery operated emergency lights blinked along the corridor.
Meagan stepped into the hallway, looking both directions. Her eyes caught Trey and she opened her hands with a shrug, questioning what was happening.
A distant alarm erupted, turning their attention toward the network of hallways at the end of the long, darkened passageway.
“Fire?” Trey questioned.
Meagan’s eyes bulged. She spun on her heels and disappeared back inside.
Livy pushed up alongside Trey and gazed toward the commotion. “Could be a drill.”
A wheelchair bounded out of Meagan’s room with the green-haired girl behind it. A withered woman stared blankly from the chair as it barreled toward Trey with Meagan shoving it faster than motorized wheels could carry.
“What are you doing?” cried Trey.
Meagan blew past him. “Gotta get her out of here.”
Trey hollered after her. “Don’t go outside. We don’t know what’s out there.”
She didn’t answer, racing steadily toward the maze of halls leading to the exit.
Trey turned to his family and friends crowded at the doorway. “We shouldn’t let her go out there alone.”
His dad spoke for the group. “Let’s go.”
Exit
TREY BURST OUTSIDE through the glass double-doors and searched the skies for anything moving. The setting sun tinted the clouds pink. The purple sky behind them was perfectly still.
Meagan stood behind her mother’s wheelchair, both facing the building. A small parking lot sat just beyond Meagan’s end of the sidewalk. In the back row, the beat-up truck and the weathered camper waited right where they had been parked.
Trey’s friends and family filed from the building and joined him on the walkway at the side entrance.
“Hold the door,” said Trey. “We don’t want locked out.” He back-stepped from the single-story structure, eyeing the roofline for smoke. “I don’t see anything.”
At the front end of the brick building, a smattering of government workers trickled through the main parking lot toward lonely cars. They’d had enough for one day.
Headlights lit at the far end of a paved service lane. A black SUV sprang like a panther, barking its tires.
Misplaced Trilogy Page 34
