Misplaced Trilogy

by Brian Bennett

  Stale air permeated the darkness like the inside of an abandoned refrigerator, but within the stagnancy lurked the foulness of human excrement not his own. He swore to keep control of his bodily functions, clinging to that last bit of humanity, determined to die of muscle strain if it became necessary.

  He had no trouble mentally slipping from his prison to explore the chaos around him, but fear kept him close, constantly reaffirming his physical body still breathed.

  He flexed his blood-drained fingers. The pain-pricks assured he was still alive.

  In search of hope, he eased from his shell once again.

  Beyond the walls, no sentry watched over his make-shift prison. A heavy steel door sealed him inside a vault within a vacant laboratory. Spotless shelves stood bare. A single stray beaker sat empty, blackened heavily from hours of repeated use.

  In the blink of an eye, he raced to the subterranean command center. Livy sat hugging her legs, inches from Dylan and Meagan, all of them unaware of Trey’s doom but seeming to sense it just the same.

  The scene troubled Trey too much to linger.

  Traversing light years in an instant, he arrived in the old barn on the Taylor farm. Jeremy kept dutiful watch on the captives. The cunning spies hadn’t formulated an escape. Perhaps Meagan’s suggestions still lingered.

  Nearby, Zach and Amy made over baby Pearl like parents of a newborn. Of all the scenes, Trey found this one least disturbing. Whether the couple yet realized it or not, they would likely one day adopt the soon-to-be orphaned child. He found joy in knowing they would make wonderful parents.

  His own parents sat huddled on a couch fabricated from hay bales, talking quietly with Meagan’s mother in her motorized wheelchair. The frail woman replied with moans that were surprisingly legible.

  Trey’s inability to talk or signal his friends or family in any way, gave him a ghostly chill. Paired with the melancholic atmosphere, he had the disturbing sense of hovering over his own funeral. But he wasn’t dead yet, and that thought returned him to his body to be certain.

  Hours passed in this perpetual state of fluidity.

  When the haze of reality was finally rattled by the door latch unfastening, it seemed distant and artificial. The sudden influx of light burned Trey’s retinas, real and painful.

  A silhouette too lean and bulbous to be human stood in the opening. Trey dropped his gaze, knowing what came next. If the black-eyes expected to get information from him, they were sorely mistaken.

  A raspy alien voice spoke. “No need to hide your face. I know who you are.”

  Trey didn’t look up, determined to resist until death.

  “I come to offer you peace.”

  Peace had a price, and Trey wasn’t dealing.

  The alien gurgled a demented laugh. “Like father, so is the son. But, young one, you misunderstand. Your own curiosity has already given up your secrets.”

  Trey looked up in horror, his eyes fighting the light.

  The dry skin of the elderly alien wrinkled into a half smile. “Yes! You understand perfectly. Not only have you shown us the location of the rebel outpost, you’ve shown us where to find our missing agents on Earth.”

  “You’re lying!”

  “I think not. See for yourself if you must.”

  Trey shook his head. It was a trick.

  “Have it your way,” the alien said, “I will tell you what has already begun. As I speak, the underground complex is being overcome by forces that outnumber them one-hundredfold. The resistance is fighting us strongly, and we are undoubtedly suffering casualties, but I assure you, there is no escape for your friends.”

  Trey gritted his teeth. “You bastards.”

  “If that was meant as an insult, I take no offense, no more than if I were to call you a son.”

  “Try cowards then.”

  “Ah, now we have gotten to the crux of the matter. You have been led to believe we fear the extinction of our kind. But this is far from the truth. We only seek to prevent the dissemination of our blunder. And now with the separation of your genders fully realized, we will depart in peace.”

  “You can’t just separate us from those we love.”

  “You would prefer a mass extermination?”

  “You talk like we’re insects. We aren’t heartless like you. We have compassion.”

  “No, human, you know nothing about compassion. You squash a bug beneath your foot because it eats crumbs from your floor. Where is the empathy? We strove to improve upon our race, but the moment we succeeded in creating something vaguely human, you turned on us. Rather than glorify in the accomplishment, your parents used their child-bearing gifts to create weapons the likes of you.”

  Trey rattled the shackles. “Some weapon. Look at me. Do I look like a weapon?”

  “The fact that you are here answers that question.”

  Another alien appeared in the doorway and croaked a series of throaty noises. The elder alien nodded, then turned to Trey. “It is done. We have regained control of every fleet vessel.”

  “Then we’ll fight you on the ground.”

  “You fail to comprehend,” said the alien, “We depart in peace. Without hyperspace technology, your sexes will never again comingle.”

  “Come on. That isn’t fair. If we’re stranded, why can’t we be stranded together?”

  “It is enough that you are allowed to live, as we are allowed to live. We have accepted our fate to reproduce no longer. You must now accept the same.”

  “This is ridiculous. It isn’t necessary.”

  The alien turned its back. “Your begging serves no purpose. I will leave you now. When our evacuation is complete, you will be released.”

  Mom

  TREY TUGGED USELESSLY at steel bands gripping his wrists. The horror of being blind to Livy’s fate overshadowed his fear of giving away her location. If the aliens could follow his thoughts, they already had. What could be gained by telling him he’d been tracked?

  He let his projection slip from his body and pushed through the darkness into the laboratory. If someone or something was tracking his movement, the advantage had not come from proximity. Not a soul was present.

  With a single thought, he stood facing the empty wall where Livy had sat waiting a short time before. Around his feet lay motionless bodies, robed men and naked aliens, prostrate at odd angles. None were Dylan. None were Meagan. None were Livy.

  He avoided the lifeless faces, clinging to the comfort of anonymity. The thought of encountering Jode seemed unbearable, and yet the thought of the man alive was equally gut wrenching. Jode’s hope of reuniting with lost love had been yanked from beneath him.

  Three soldiers lay slain in a room that had held over a dozen. The stone transmitters that had circled the room were missing, ripped from the concrete, mounts and all. Had the rebels salvaged them in their retreat? Or had the men been rounded up like prisoners of war?

  Trey shot to the planet’s surface.

  Peppered throughout the murky landscape of Kryo, darkly robed men wandered aimlessly like zombies.

  Amid the blackness, Dylan’s motionless body stood out sorely, lying flat on his back. Trey raced to the scene and hovered over his friend. Dylan’s large, blue eyes stared blankly into the sky, but somehow, his fixed gaze didn’t hold the dullness of death.

  Dylan blinked. Temporary paralysis, shock perhaps, but not death.

  Trey followed Dylan’s gaze upward. Had the big guy watched Meagan and Livy disappear into the smog?

  “Dylan! Can you hear me?” Trey waved a ghost-like hand. “Can you see me?”

  Dylan couldn’t see him. Trey had inherited his gift for seeing daydreams from Arken. He knew nothing of Dylan’s father and mother. Perhaps Dylan would one day broadcast messages like Sarah, but for now, all the big guy gave off was a blank stare.

  Trey’s own thoughts interrupted him like a cymbal crash. The messenger!

  If Livy had been taken to the planet of women, word of such remarkable news wou
ld surely have followed her. His entire being ached to know she was unharmed.

  In an instant, Trey returned to his body, opening his mind to the distant transmission. The sight of Onna took him by surprise. She stood silently at the bedside, gazing at the floor, wetness in the corners of her eyes.

  Slowly, his messenger’s emotions seeped into his consciousness. Sarah was angry, her face flushed hot, her muscles tensed. “It’s all lies.”

  Onna’s eyes lifted. “The brothers showed us the destruction. Kryo is a wasteland. There is no rebellion.”

  Sarah tightened her fists. “Then we’ll create one.”

  Onna sighed. “We aren’t soldiers.”

  “Let them kill us. They’ve hollowed us out. The well is dry. Don’t you see they’ll have no use for us soon?”

  “That time has already passed. Production has come to an end. When the babies are fully developed--”

  “Babies? Haven’t you looked at those creatures? They’re just like the brothers.”

  “That’s not my point. When they are developed, they will leave us. We’ll have our peace.”

  Sarah huffed indignantly.

  Onna rose. “I’m sorry I gave you false hope.”

  Sarah’s cold eyes turned away.

  The sound of Onna’s footsteps trailed away.

  “Don’t go!” Trey shouted. “What about Livy?”

  The curtain door rustled. Onna was gone.

  Trey wished he could reach through the universe and force Sarah to follow her, but it was as futile as shouting at a movie screen.

  Sarah drew back the covers and feebly swung tired legs over the bedside.

  For an instant, Trey reveled that his plea had been heard. But Sarah’s rage burned hotter than his desire for answers. Her heart blazed with the fire of a rebel, the flame of a madwoman.

  Sarah lifted onto shaky knees, her bare feet on a cold cement floor.

  “What are you doing?” said Trey.

  With each small step, life returned to legs that had gone unused for days. Sarah picked up speed, plowing through the curtain on stiff legs, her heart set on some evil Trey couldn’t comprehend.

  The empty corridor seemed endless. Trey hoped his host would collapse before fulfilling her deadly mission.

  The woman turned the corner to the laboratory. This time no alien guard watched over the entrance. Inside the vacant lab, there were no workers to question her murderous intent.

  Sarah plowed through double doors, past vats of chemicals, past a network of pipes with countless gages. Another set of steel doors crashed open before her.

  Trey’s heart lurched. A warehouse of shelving stood three stories high. Glass canisters filled each shelf, each containing an alien fetus suspended in amber fluid. If they hadn’t moved with small kicks or head bobs, he’d have sworn they were all pickled in formaldehyde.

  Sarah struggled to manhandle a large metal drum, using all her strength in a hopeless attempt to maneuver it onto a low platform.

  “What are you doing?” cried Onna from behind.

  Sarah whirled. “They destroyed our children first.”

  Onna breathed a heavy sigh, like a schoolteacher on her last nerve with an unruly student. “You are going to get us all killed.”

  Trey’s jaw would have dropped if had control of it. How could Livy’s mother be so indifferent to the living beings inside the canisters?

  Ignoring her friend, Sarah stretched a heavy hose to the drum and began threading the connection.

  Onna stepped away, placing herself in front of a valve wheel, guarding the gate that would unleash the toxic chemical into the life support system.

  Sarah eyed the new adversary, her heart cold. She spun on bare soles and snagged a long test tube from a rack. With a quick snap, she shattered the tip against the shelving. She turned on Onna with the glass tube jutting from her grip like a fistful of daggers. “Step. Aside.”

  Onna didn’t budge.

  “Fine!” Sarah charged, her weapon raised high.

  Just before the descending blow met flesh, Onna dodged right. Sarah’s fist struck steel. A splinter of glass snapped, splintering off to slice a deep gash in the meat of her hand.

  “Oh Sarah.” Onna sobbed. “Now you’ve gone and hurt yourself.” She pushed to her friend’s aid, but her good deed was met by insanity.

  Sarah drew back again and plunged the glass tube into Onna’s shoulder, finding muscle and bone with a crunch of glass.

  Onna howled in pain, dropping to her knees.

  “Look what you made me do!” Sarah cried.

  She shoved the test tube into the pocket of her robe and turned to the large valve. Both hands went to the wheel, but in a hissed of pain she drew them back, blood dripping from her right palm.

  She latched on with her left and tugged the wheel fiercely. The valve seemed frozen solid, as if it too were fighting for the lives of the unborn.

  With a desperate lunge, she dropped all her weight onto the crank and it squeaked into motion.

  “Stop it,” Trey chanted, desperately. “Stop it!”

  Alien or not, the fetuses deserved a chance to live. A chance Trey and the twelve misplaced embryos had narrowly been granted.

  From millions of miles away, Trey’s projection broke free, driven to take any action at his disposal. Like a dreamer asleep with one eye open, his thoughts split down the middle. A part of him clung to his messenger, the other hurled into the clouds of Kryo like a rocket.

  The thick atmosphere gave way to brilliant stars, and The Great Black Leopard guided him toward the dim star at its back. Light years were no match for Trey’s will. An instant later, he plunged into the foreign solar system on a direct path to the center planet.

  Sarah’s bed flashed through his thoughts, then the long corridor, the vacant lab, the vats, the warehouse, two human figures. Wham! He collided with Sarah’s body, nearly knocking her over.

  Sarah screamed a deafening wail. Trey cupped his hands to his ears, but the terrified cry came from within him and nothing he could do could block it.

  His hands? He looked down at two female hands, both aged and cracked from a lifetime of use, a bloody gash in the right palm. He flexed his fingers. He had control of these hands.

  Like a human transmitter, Sarah unwillingly fed him bodily signals, and, in return, his commands broadcast directly into her nervous system.

  “Stop it!” Sarah cried from inside his mind. For a moment she regained control, and her hands doubled into fists. Trey wrestled for dominance and won.

  He sprang forward and yanked on the opposite side of the wheel, seating it back in the fully closed position.

  “Get out of my head,” Sarah wailed.

  As quickly as Trey had gained control, he lost it. Sarah lurched on the wheel, spinning it a quarter turn.

  Trey focused his energy on the injured hand that hung at Sarah’s side. The hand lifted onto the wheel.

  In a mental tug of war, Sarah pulled at the wheel with her strong left arm. Trey countered with the weak right. The healthy hand prevailed. The valve opened another quarter turn.

  In a final desperate effort, Trey delved into Sarah’s pocket and pulled out the test tube. Before he had fully realized his intentions, he drove it into his gut. Sarah’s soft, unsuspecting midsection offered no resistance.

  Trey slowly slumped to the floor like a wilting plant, settling alongside Livy’s bleeding mother.

  Trey dropped the test tube and it shattered on the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  Onna looked at him with confused eyes. “Sarah?”

  “No,” he said. “I’m Trey. I don’t know how, but I’m in here. I’m sorry. I just wanted her to stop. I didn’t want to hurt her.”

  Deep inside Trey’s mind, Sarah cried out, growing weaker. “Lies! Get out of my head.”

  Onna slid closer, looking more like Livy than ever.

  “Tell her,” said Trey. “Tell her who I am.”

  Onna peered into T
rey’s eyes. “I-I don’t know.”

  “Isn’t this what you expected when you crafted me?”

  “No. Not like this. This wasn’t in the algorithms.”

  Trey could sense Sarah’s life fading from the body he possessed. He clutched at his heart. “I’m sorry, Sarah.”

  A weary voice wept inside his skull. “No . . . I did this . . . I did this . . . I was wrong . . . my son.”

  “I’m sorry . . . Mother.”

  A calming peace flooded Trey’s host, quenching the smoldering rage.

  “All I ever wanted . . . was to be called . . . mother.”

  Sarah’s body tugged Trey toward death, a death he felt certain would consume him if he didn’t let go. But he held on a moment longer. “Livy? Where is Livy?”

  Onna’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

  Trey’s beating heart called him away, through the stars to his dark prison in Kryo. His body fell limp and he hung from the shackles, too weak to care about the steel bands tearing at his wrists.

  Deserted

  TREY WOKE GROGGILY from a painful sleep, face down on hard concrete. A band of light stretched across the floor of the otherwise dark room. He snapped to recognition of his prison, vaguely aware of slumping to the floor during his sleep.

  He staggered to his feet, nursing the raw skin and stretched muscles of his wrists. The steel vault hung ajar, and he squeezed cautiously through the opening. The lab sat empty, and so did the hallways he encountered outside it. He pushed open the final exit and stepped into bright artificial daylight on the streets of Sector C.

  Abandoned cars sat empty with doors agape. Up and down the street, as far as eye could reach, sidewalks were silent. Nothing moved. He gazed up into vacant windows. No curtains slid back into place. No faces peered down at him.

  He walked aimlessly away from the center of town, opposite the direction of the complex where he’d been captured with the stargazer.

  When he’d gone several blocks, the distant howl of wind drew his attention to the only noise other than his footsteps. He set a course toward it in trivial curiosity.