A Hidden Element

by Donna Galanti

  Ben hesitated then took their son, and she thanked God for bringing them all together.

  "Your son," he said and smoothed down Benny's hair. A curl popped up. Benny cooed and twitched his pink fingers.

  "Our son. He grew with us as our son."

  "I wanted to be with you, Laura. I—I wasn't there for you when you needed me most." His voice broke and he quickly handed Benny back to her, as if he couldn't stand to touch this baby that was made inside her by a monster.

  "We can accept this child and break the chain of evil. Love overcomes all, doesn't it?" Please tell me it does.

  "Like love remembers?" he said sadly, but it whispered into her open heart.

  She nodded and the great pain that threatened to split her apart melted away. "Love remembers."

  Ben looked over to Charlie, who stood on the side shuffling his feet.

  "Dad, I'm, I'm—"

  Ben grabbed him and hugged him.

  They stood there for a long time and while Charlie stood taller than his dad, he still cried in arms like a little kid. Charlie had finally let his armor go.

  "Charlie-boy, you're all I want you to be," Ben said, his voice cracking.

  "Normal?"

  "There's no such thing as being normal. Not on any world."

  "Like being big doesn't mean you're brave—only big of heart does?"

  Ben laughed. "That's right, Charlie-boy."

  "I'm sorry I've been so hard to…love."

  "Love is hard, but you don't ever give up." Ben shared a look with Laura over Charlie's shoulder.

  "I wanted to give up."

  "I know. I'm sorry if I made you feel this way."

  "Not you, Dad. All these years, Adrian had turned me against you. I'm so sorry."

  "I'm sorry, too, but now we have a new chance to begin again."

  "New beginnings," Laura said and moved into her men. Hearts connected. All different but sustained by love.

  She had said she would survive the evil that preyed on them and she did. They all did.

  Their hearts were as one again.

  "What now?" Ben turned to her. They stood in the tunnel, unsure what to do. "I don't know. But you can't hide a ship like this in the wilderness forever."

  "Who'll find us?" Charlie looked at them both.

  "Military Special Forces," Ben said. "First responders. I'm sure the government's been watching for them to come again."

  "How will they be to us?" Charlie looked at Laura, his voice rising and panic in his eyes. "They'll find out about the Destroyers and what they've done…can do. What we can do."

  Laura put her hand on Charlie's. "Human or Elyon. Good can win out. It's never too late. And we can hope. It's all we've got. And each other." She had to trust it would be enough.

  Cold covered them.

  "Look," Charlie pointed. "The door is opening again." He ran toward it.

  "Wait, Charlie!" Ben ran after him. She followed.

  Ben yanked Charlie back from the door but Laura peered down.

  Caleb stood below.

  He looked up at her. His bright green eyes bore into hers even across the distance. She opened her mind to him, but he spoke first.

  Adrian is dead.

  Three little words. They emboldened her with faith for a future.

  "Caleb?" Ben moved forward. Charlie waved down at him. He waved back.

  "He saved us," Laura whispered.

  "All of us," Ben said.

  You can be with your sons now, Caleb.

  Yes, we're free now.

  All of us.

  We need not be weary of living anymore.

  A humming grew beneath their feet. A ledge pushed out from the door entrance. It grew into an arched metal path beneath their feet with guardrails to hold on to. It extended to the ground and the humming stopped.

  Elyons filled the space behind them. They were ready. They had traveled across the universe for this. A final chance to live.

  The three of them held hands. Laura headed down the path first. They walked toward a new future for people everywhere and the Elyons followed. She connected them to Earth. Caleb watched her descend. She neared the ground and she stared into his eyes as he grew close. She would keep their intimate moments hidden in her heart forever. He had been kind to her in a place that had held no kindness.

  Then a great bashing noise cut through the wintry air. The cracking of trees thundered in a deafening split as if ripped apart. A battalion of tanks smashed through the woods. Men in full-body white suits and helmets moved stealthily between the trees, blending in to the arctic landscape, guns poised. They were surrounded on all sides now, with the ship behind them.

  Ben wound his fingers tight through hers. She clung back. They all froze on the path.

  Tell your people to stay still, Caleb.

  He nodded.

  "Mom, will they shoot us? Shoot the Elyons?"

  "No." But her heart pounded when she said it.

  The tanks rolled to a stop, guns aimed at them. Watching and waiting. As they had been for years.

  Human facing alien. Would this be a new beginning or an end?

  Their breaths hung in the air in terrified anticipation.

  Caleb flicked his eyes back and forth from Laura to the army that stood positioned to kill them.

  Then a figure stepped out from behind Laura and her family on the path.

  Uncle Brahm.

  I'm here for you, Son.

  With his presence and words the seed of hope planted inside Caleb swelled and grew. He had never truly belonged on Elyon or here, but he had belonged with Brahm. And for the first time in a long, long time—even with guns locked and loaded to kill him—he felt like he was home.

  "Stop!" a loud voice boomed over a tank speaker.

  Soldiers moved between the trees, guns ready to fire.

  Laura held up her hands. "We're here peacefully. We've been taken against our will but not by these people here."

  An armed man stepped out of the tank and raised his gun. He trudged through the snow, his gun steady on them, and stopped a few feet away. Caleb couldn't see his face behind his shield, a faceless human holding his fate in his hands. The snow whipped up in frenzied waves battling with the sun that pushed the clouds away and held the promise of warmth on Caleb's shoulders.

  Brahm's voice rose loud over the sudden thundering silence. "Our planet is dying. We are a peaceful people but for a few dissenters."

  "Stand down," the man yelled, swinging his gun at Brahm. His comrades followed his line of sight. The wind scattered the snow in violent bursts.

  "Please, help us," Brahm said in a deeper voice. He bowed then looked at Caleb. Our moment is now. Starting a new path for our world to follow.

  If this world accepts us.

  Have hope.

  You bring it with you.

  The soldier shifted his feet and moved closer. "I'm in charge of this operation. We're here to secure and quarantine this area." His tinny voice cut through his helmet, adding to their divide.

  "We need shelter," Laura said. Her baby cried out at her breast. All eyes and guns twitched toward her.

  The man spoke into a device. Immediately the remaining soldiers rushed in. More humans in white suits and helmets, carrying equipment. Tents were set up. Hoses connected. Lights installed. And a small group descended upon them. Laura held her baby closer. Ben wrapped his arms around the little family.

  "Don't hurt them," Caleb yelled.

  Then an engine rumbled on the wind. Louder it raced. A vehicle rocketed through the air from around a tree. It headed straight for Caleb.

  Tollen. And two small, dark heads.

  Jeremiah and Josiah! My sons! No!

  Caleb saw the hate on Tollen's face. Faster he sped toward him, with his sons.

  In slow motion Caleb saw Ben push his family down.

  He heard high-pitched screams carried on the wind.

  He saw Brahm dragging their people back up the ramp.

  He saw
the human soldiers take cover and raise their guns.

  The ATV launched off a crusted drift of snow and hung in the air. Two pairs of frightened eyes stared into his.

  "You'll never get your sons," Tollen screamed. "They'll die as mine did!"

  Guns blazed.

  Caleb threw himself left, avoiding death by milliseconds, and smashed hard into packed snow. Smoke exploded across the woods. Tollen catapulted off his ATV, dragging the boys with him. They struggled against their kidnapper. More shots rang out. Tollen jerked back. The ATV sputtered and was still.

  So was Tollen. His blood seeped around him in a red wave.

  And then he stood.

  Caleb pushed himself up and ran to Jeremiah and Josiah, struggling against the deep snow. They huddled together, heads down.

  A soldier yelled. "Stop!"

  Tollen lunged for Caleb's sons, grabbed them by their hoods, and dragged them back.

  "No!" Caleb tripped on a chunk of snow and fell to his knees. He staggered up.

  "Stop or I'll shoot again."

  But Caleb couldn't. Just a few more steps.

  Rat-tat-tat.

  Tollen twisted in the air and flew back and Caleb stumbled. His sons looked up. He reached out for them but couldn't move.

  Laura was yelling, but he couldn't hear her words. Pain radiated into his legs and one arm. He fell on his side. The cold sliced into him like a razor. His own blood spilled outward. Flakes floated around his head. The world blurred.

  Laura's sobs punched the air's painful silence after the deafening gunfire.

  He lifted his head to look at the soldier in charge. "Please. They're my sons."

  The man shook his head. "Be still!"

  "No. I need to save the one you shot."

  The soldier jerked his gun at Tollen. "He's dead."

  "I can bring him back to life."

  He took a chance and started crawling toward Tollen.

  "Don't make me shoot you again."

  Out of the corner of his eye the soldiers took a collective step closer, their guns poised in a succinct line. He sensed their anxiety of this unknown. One shot from them all and he'd be gone in a second. There'd be no one to bring Tollen back.

  Rachel, come, unwrap my heart and set me free in you.

  But she remained lost to him. The trees rocked and the white turned black. He couldn't stay awake. He placed his face on the snow. So cool and welcoming.

  Laura's words floated to him through blessed darkness. "It can't end this way."

  "Don't screw this up," Ben yelled. "You'll be damning yourselves with these people from another world."

  "I'm part of their world, too," Laura pleaded. "I can heal this man. His name is Caleb Madroc and he has the power to bring the dead back to life. His people came here for a new life. Don't end it before it's begun!"

  Silence covered Caleb like the numbness that crept across his limbs.

  And then soft hands moved across his legs and arms. They touched him with tenderness, filling him with a life force. It grew like a light inside, warming his soul.

  "This is the only thing I can give you," Laura whispered. Her breath pulsed across his cheek. Snow crunched. More hands moved across him. He opened his eyes. Charlie worked his body.

  And his sons.

  They knelt before him in the snow and placed their small hands on his face. Such warmth in such cold.

  "Father," they said in unison and his heart cracked wide open.

  His skin stitched up. His wounds stopped bleeding. His life force grew strong. "Must. Get. To. Tollen," he rasped out. "Before it's too late."

  Laura and Charlie helped him up. He lumbered to Tollen and bent down to him.

  He willed life back into the one person who wanted him dead.

  Tollen opened his eyes, focused on him then pursed his lips. "Dead! You should be dead. Your sons dead!"

  "So should you," Caleb said. A piercing pain stabbed his head. A black haze covered his sight. He punched Tollen in the face with all his might before the pain took over. His former leader crashed down, unconscious.

  He jerked Tollen up, holding his arms back, and yelled to the soldiers, "Take this one and drug him, otherwise he'll kill you with his mind powers." The guns were lowered. He sensed the fear and wonder in the soldiers. Their helmets gleamed in the wintry sun, revealing nothing behind their shields. Some shuffled about, fear and unease in their hearts. Caleb shoved Tollen toward the leader who grabbed him and dragged him away.

  The men in white moved forward again to quarantine them. Whatever that meant, they were in it together. It had to be a better life than what his father had given them, an honest life.

  Laura locked eyes with Caleb then took a step toward the army. Holding her family's hands she walked with them toward their new world. A world of good. He had loved her in the brief moments they had. She had unraveled his heart to be filled again. And he could now give his full heart away—to his sons.

  He looked down at them. I'll find your mother. They nodded and each took one of his hands, fitting perfectly in his.

  There was nothing to hide now. The world would know what he was.

  Laura turned back to smile at him, and he stepped toward his future.

  ~ * ~

  If you enjoyed this book, please consider writing a short review and posting it on your favorite review site. Reviews are very helpful to other readers and are greatly appreciated by authors, especially me. When you post a review, drop me an email and let me know and I may feature part of it on my blog/site. Thank you.

  donnasgalanti@verizon.net

  Message from the Author

  Dear Reader,

  Is there a writer gene and is storytelling genetic? I like to think that we either are storytellers or we aren't.

  When I read pieces of my work in public, I often forget how dark my writing can be. One event coordinator noted the comedy in my reading about heads popping in vices and whatnot as I peered up with innocent eyes.

  This led me to wonder if there are sub categories of the writer gene just like there are sub genres in writing. If there is a "dark" writer gene, well, that fits me perfectly. I like writing from the dark places. To spiral my characters into tragedy—with a dash of hope. On the page I can act out horrific events by evil people and never get arrested. My blood pumps a bit quicker. My fingers fly faster over the keyboard. My husband wants to know how I can write this stuff.

  Ancient history was full of folks inducing pain in real people, not just characters on the page. Back then people acted out their aggressions upon the unfortunate ones, who were ripped to shreds by lions, skewered gladiator style, and tortured by medieval stretch rack.

  We're so much safer today reading and writing about tormented characters. If more people would lose themselves in dark writing instead of dark action, we'd all be better off. Plus there is just wicked fun to be had in writing the evil and tormented characters.

  This brings me back around to the question, if the writer gene does exist then are writers predisposed to write what they do? Dark fiction, young adult, fantasy, science fiction, romance, memoir. What in our writer gene predisposes us for that? If my son writes some day from the dark places I will know why and probably enjoy it immensely. My husband? Eh, not so much.

  ~ Donna

  About the Author

  Donna Galanti writes murder and mystery with a dash of steam as well as middle grade adventure fiction. She is an International Thriller Writers Debut Author of the paranormal suspense novel A Human Element, the short story collection The Dark Inside, and Joshua and The Lightning Road.

  She's lived from England as a child, to Hawaii as a U.S. Navy photographer. Donna dreamed of being a writer when she fell in love with the worlds of Narnia and Roald Dahl while attending school in a magical English castle where her dark imagination ran wild in an itchy uniform (bowler hat and tie included).

  She now lives in Pennsylvania with her family in an old farmhouse. It has lots of writing nooks, fire
places, and stink bugs, but she's still wishing for a castle again—preferably with ghosts.

  Website: http://www.elementtrilogy.com

  Blog: http://www.elementtrilogy.com/blog

  Twitter: http://twitter.com/DonnaGalanti

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/DonnaGalantiAuthor

  IMAJIN BOOKS™

  Quality fiction beyond your wildest dreams

  For your next eBook or paperback purchase, please visit:

  www.imajinbooks.com

  www.imajinbooks.blogspot.com

  www.twitter.com/imajinbooks

  www.facebook.com/imajinbooks

  IMAJIN QWICKIES™

  www.ImajinQwickies.com