by Rae Knightly
Using this new source of energy, Hao began to scratch frantically at the snow again. He could not feel his fingers but went on anyway, and before long, he shoved his arm through the opening above his head, sticking his hand out to the surface, like a signalling flag.
* * *
On the verge of being overcome with emotion, Laura heaved Ben to his feet, placed his arm around her neck and encouraged him to walk away. He was too numb to resist and let himself be guided through the tunnel.
Mesmo closed up the tomb and, once they were out, made the snow collapse into the tunnel behind them.
The sun shone warmly on their skin from a beautiful, crisp sky. The significant flow of the avalanche was visible, and there wasn’t a soul in sight, though a helicopter hovered some way up the mountain.
Laura spotted the road they had been trying to reach for two days.
Has it only been two days? she thought in wonder.
Before long, she and Ben took a place in the back of a camper of a friendly couple of skiers who were headed to the city of Calgary. Ambulances and police cars sped by them in the opposite direction, rushing to the scene of the avalanche.
As they drove off, Laura stared out the back window and saw Mesmo standing on a ledge, his form barely visible. She knew instinctively that he had gone too far. A lump formed in her throat and she realized that, friend or foe, she would end up helping him.
* * *
Victor Hayward leaned back in his chair and peeked under the business table. He didn’t care whether the investors who surrounded him thought he had fallen asleep. He had stopped counting the hours since he had begun negotiating with the twenty-or-so businessmen, split evenly to his left and to his right. One of them spoke angrily, jabbing a finger at the perfectly polished oak table.
Hayward had long given up listening to the man’s accusations, especially when his emergency phone buzzed, indicating something was up with the alien.
He held the phone under the table and watched the video clip his contact had sent him. The grainy black and white image that filmed the alien non-stop had captured an unmistakable scene: the alien was having seizures. The video stopped when men clad in doctor’s coats and masks rushed to the alien’s side.
Hayward typed hastily: WHEN?
His contact replied: 15 MIN AGO.
Hayward waited impatiently for more. When nothing came, he texted: REPORT!
His contact wrote: ALIVE. BUT BAD SHAPE.
Hayward sighed in frustration, then texted: ON MY WAY.
He put away the phone and realized that the bothersome investor stared at him condescendingly while he continued to enumerate his grievances.
Hayward placed both his hands flat on the table, feeling the cool, soft surface on his skin. He let the investor blab away for some time, then said sharply, “Enough.”
The investor barely paused in his lecture, addressing the other men at the table who were all ears.
Hayward smacked both hands loudly on the table. “ENOUGH!” he shouted.
The investor plopped on the chair, his face turning pale as white bedsheets.
Hayward stood slowly, his imposing presence making up for his short stature.
“Enough of your whining,” he seethed. “Whining never made anyone rich. Whining isn’t what’s going to put money back in your bank accounts.” He displayed the back of his stubby hands, fingers spread out before his face. “These two hands built an empire through hard work and sweat. You wouldn’t know what that means because you’re just a bunch of scavengers, scrambling over each other to catch the falling crumbs. But I say, enough! I have an empire to rebuild, and I have two hands to do it with. You have delayed me far too long. I am needed at headquarters. This meeting is over.”
“But the oil…” someone ventured meekly.
“Forget the oil.” Hayward cut in. “Oil is a thing of the past. It is time to introduce new, boundless energy to the aviation business. Heed my words. Victory Air will be the first company in the world to introduce cutting-edge technology never heard of before.”
He glared at them, all twenty investors in turn, then straightened the jacket of his business suit and headed out with a confident stride.
He paused by the door and said, “Don’t forget who you’re dealing with. I am Victor Hayward. Remain loyal to me and gold will roll off the table into your laps. Or else, scatter back to the filthy gutter from whence you came.”
He waited until an assistant hurriedly opened the meeting room doors for him, then headed down the hall with a determined stride.
He had delayed too long. He needed answers, and he needed them now!
EPILOGUE
The crow rested on a rooftop, watching as a grey bus pulled out of a large station topped with the letters GREYHOUND STATION CALGARY. It kept its beady eyes on the boy seated with his forehead pressed against the windowpane. Their eyes met briefly before the bus turned into a bustling street.
The crow took flight, escaping the fumes coming from noisy cars and the shiny skyscrapers. It followed the sun as it descended in the sky, caressing the tips of the Canadian Rockies. Their snowy caps put on gowns of orange and red while stars began to appear in the dusk.
The crow beat its wings rhythmically, purposefully, until she found the Kananaskis Mountain Range and, further up, the town of Canmore. She swooped down just as streetlights flickered on and landed on a leafless apple tree of a yard she knew well.
Warm light splashed onto the ground from inside the house, rich smells seeped from the kitchen, and a man's contagious laughter escaped from the dining room.
Corbalyn cawed and ruffled her feathers.
The girl with the long, black hair lifted her head. She was sitting at the top of the deck stairs and when she saw the crow, she got up and approached the tree slowly.
Corbalyn began to clean her wings.
“Hello, you,” the girl said. “Feeling better?”
The crow took no notice and continued her task. Then she pulled at her tail, releasing a feather—her longest and most beautiful one. Holding the feather in her beak, Corbalyn observed the girl for a moment, then let go.
The feather floated to the ground, and the girl picked it up. She held it up to admire it. Finally, she looked at the crow with a gleam in her eyes. “A gift,” she whispered. “Thank you."
Corbalyn ruffled her feathers once more, then took off into the night.
The girl remained immobile, holding the feather in the palm of her gloved hands.
“Kimi? Dinner’s ready!” a woman’s voice called from inside the house.
The girl didn’t move, but when she finally did, she had a smile on her face.
THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES:
Ben Archer and the Moon Paradox
(The Alien Skill Series, Book 3)
www.amazon.com/dp/B089RTJ6VX
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PREQUEL:
Read the prequel to The Alien Skill Series,
The Great War of the Kins:
www.raeknightly.com
The Alien Skill Series continues!
Turn the page and start reading…
CHAPTER 1 Bob M.
When Ben and Laura stepped through the elevator door, they found Bob M. waiting.
Not that Ben took much notice: at that point, he felt emotionally and physically drained. He slouched behind his mother, studying the marble floor, anxiously waiting for her to get over the tedious but obligatory introductions, and then, maybe, they would finally let him get some rest.
Hang on for a bit longer.
A movement out of the corner of his eye startled him.
Tike?
But it had only been a flickering shadow cast by candlelight on the countertop of an open kitchen.
Ben swallowed.
He had already caught himself thinking that his dog was scamperi
ng at his feet several times in the past days, sending flashes of raw pain through his body. But that wasn’t possible, of course.
Tike’s dead.
“Laurie, baby!” The man who greeted them as they entered the tenth-floor penthouse, reached out his arms and pecked Laura’s left and right cheeks. He stood back and held her by the shoulders so he could take a better look at her. “It’s been so long!”
Ben heard the strain in his mother’s voice. “Hello, Bob.”
He glanced over her shoulder, remembering that Bob was the last name on the list his grandfather had left them, which meant it was someone they could trust.
The man with short, brown hair and neatly trimmed beard stuck his hands in his pockets casually. “Long trip?” he asked, drawing his eyebrows together.
Laura nodded. “Yes, we’ve been travelling for three days non-stop and just walked from the Greyhound Station.”
Bob sighed. “You should have told me, I would have picked you up.”
Laura shrugged. “It’s okay. I didn’t want to bother you…” She glanced around the apartment. “…and I wouldn’t have come if I’d known you were having a party.”
Ben suddenly realized there were wine glasses on the kitchen countertop and chatting voices coming from a balcony.
To their surprise, Bob burst out laughing. “This? A party? Oh, come on, baby. Have you forgotten already? This is Toronto. It’s Friday night. This is just a little get-together.” He cleared his throat as if he hadn’t meant to laugh so hard. “Don’t worry about it. These are just some friends. I’ll introduce you to them later. But I guess you want to freshen up first.”
Ben stared at his own frumpled clothes and muddy snow boots, suddenly acutely aware of his appearance. After all, Bob wore an elegant, black suit and white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. He fit perfectly in the minimalist apartment with uninterrupted windows overlooking the Toronto skyline.
“And, who’s this?”
Laura had been standing before Ben this whole time, for which he was grateful, but now she moved aside purposefully and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Bob, this is Benjamin. Benjamin, this is Bob.”
Ben glanced at his mother. “Bob M.?” he whispered. He hadn’t really cared to ask where they were going until then.
She nodded.
“Is he a wit…” He was going to say “witness of The Cosmic Fall,” but she widened her eyes in warning and cut him off, “This is Bob Manfield.”
Ben turned his attention from his mother to the man, confused. “Manfield? Isn’t that Dad’s last name?” His mind whirled.
Bob tilted his head, his brown eyes boring into Ben’s. He held out his hand, which Ben accepted. “Hey there, squirt,” he said. He glanced briefly at Laura, then added, “I’m your Uncle Bob.”
Ben searched his mother’s eyes, but she looked away.
Bob shook Ben’s hand firmly, and for an instant, the boy forgot about their troubles.
I have an uncle!
“It’s good to see you again, Benjamin. It’s been too long,” Bob said, putting extra stress on the last words. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Ben as if he were expecting some kind of recognition from the boy.
Laura shifted and placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder again. “Actually, everyone just calls him Ben. And we’re pretty tired, Bob. Do you think we could talk later?”
“Of course,” Bob clapped his hands together, smiling. “Follow me.” He led the way into a stylish living room with black sofas and a glass coffee table.
Ben spotted several elegantly dressed people on the balcony which was decorated with white, Christmas-styled lights and candles, while upbeat jazz music played at a decent volume—enough to lighten conversation without drowning it.
A young woman wearing a tight, one-piece dress entered the apartment with a glass of wine in her hand. With the other, she removed her high-heeled sandals and thrust them aside, then smiled when she spotted them. “Hey, Bobby! There you are!” she called, pattering lightly over to them. “Who are your friends?”
“Hi, Pearl,” Bob said. “This is Laura Archer. And this is her son, Ben. He’s my nephew.”
Pearl squealed. “Your nephew? You never told me you had a nephew. Look at him! He’s your spitting image. But much more handsome.” She squeezed Ben’s cheek.
Ben prayed the dimly lit apartment hid his crimson face.
“This is Pearl,” Bob said, seeming a bit jumpy. “She works for me.”
Pearl waved a manicured hand at him. “Yeah, right. I clean up after you, honey.” She rolled her eyes at Laura. “He has such a scattered brain, this one. You’d think he’d be capable of organizing a simple social event, but guess who did all this.” She waved a hand at the decorated balcony.
Bob wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Yes, all right. I couldn’t do it without you, baby. You know that.”
She smiled approvingly, then waved her wine glass at Laura, “So, is it just you two, then?”
“…and Mesmo,” Ben blurted.
Laura tensed sharply beside him.
Bob frowned. “Mesmo? What’s a Mesmo?” Then his eyes widened. “Hold on a minute! No cats in my house. I hate cats. I’m allergic.”
Picturing Mesmo as a cat, Ben snorted before he could stop himself.
Laura coughed into her hand. “Hum. Mesmo is a friend. And no, he won’t be staying. It’s just the two of us.”
“I see,” Bob said, raising an eyebrow. Then, addressing Pearl, he explained, “Laura and Ben arrived from the West Coast earlier. They’ll be staying with me for a while.”
Pearl’s face brightened. “How lovely! I’ll finally have a decent girlfriend to talk to.” She winked at Laura, then turned to Ben. “And you? Have you ever been to Toronto before?”
“Erm…n-no.”
“Really?” she exclaimed. “You’ll love it here! There’s so much to do. Have you seen the CN Tower?” She took his hand and skipped lightly to the window with him in tow. “Look! You can see it from here.”
Ben swallowed and glanced back at his mother who directed a small smile at him.
Continue reading
Ben Archer and the Moon Paradox
(The Alien Skill Series, Book 3)
www.amazon.com/dp/B089RTJ6VX
About the Author
Rae Knightly invites the young reader on a journey into the imagination, where science fiction and fantasy blend into the real world. Young heroes are taken on gripping adventures full of discovery and story twists.
Rae Knightly lives in Vancouver with her husband and two children. The breathtaking landscapes of British Columbia have inspired her to write The Alien Skill Series.
Follow Rae Knightly on social media:
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E-mail: [email protected]
Acknowledgments
To Cora, Jonathan and Bob for their valuable insights.
To the people behind the scenes without whose guidance this book would not be what it is.
To you, reader, for taking the time to read
Ben Archer and the Alien Skill.
Thank you!
Rae Knightly
* * *
[1] Ina: ‘mother’ in the Dakhona language
[2] Angakkuq: ‘shaman’ in Inuit.
[3] Hokshila: ‘child’ in Dakhona