Misplaced Trilogy

by Brian Bennett

  "She doesn't see many strangers," said Dylan.

  Livy looked up to Trey. "I'm no expert, but I think she's . . . normal."

  Dylan rubbed his daughter's back, waiting for Trey's response.

  "Uh yeah," said Trey. "I suppose."

  Livy bounced up from the bed. As if to guard the child's ears, she quietly offered her thoughts. "Even as a baby your eyes were bigger than your other features. And her eyes are brown."

  Trey cycled quickly through the short list of people he knew to be like himself - Livy, Gunther, Arken, and now Dylan. All had strikingly blue eyes. Except Dylan!

  "But,” said Trey, “he has brown eyes, too."

  Dylan shook his head, simultaneously denying the claim and shedding his projection. Beneath the dark-skinned, dark-haired persona hid a pale-skinned blonde with deep-blue eyes.

  The three unguarded teens stared at one another in silence, looking more alike than different. Dylan's wide muscular shoulders and Livy's petite frame were the obvious exceptions in their traits.

  "So," said Dylan. "Blue eyes are a thing?"

  "Maybe," Livy answered in a forced upbeat tone.

  Trey mentally added the topic to his growing list of questions for Arken. Something told him his father would be surprised by these new developments.

  An instant later, Livy burst into a dramatic projection that caught everyone in the room completely off-guard. It wasn't the first time Trey had seen Livy pose as the drop-dead gorgeous brunette with bouncing curls, but the timing threw him for a loop.

  Dylan's face went whiter than Trey thought possible.

  Livy smiled at Dylan. "You sense it now, don't you?"

  He nodded slowly.

  "You see," she said. "You couldn't sense our weak projections over top of your own. And now you know what someone's projection feels like. I think you'll recognize them from now on."

  Dylan's tough security guard exterior washed over him. Trey felt the strong waves pulsing from Livy and Dylan, both powerful, but as unique in tone as in visual appearance.

  Dylan stared blankly at Livy. A hint of disappointment showed through the scarred face as he failed to sense her vibrations through his own. Livy's projection faded briefly, then returned in full force.

  Dylan's teen appearance returned along with a broad smile. "Yeah, I got it."

  Trey threw on his most recent identity, a light cloak that just softened his features enough to be considered human.

  Dylan's gaze intensified. “How do I see through it?"

  Trey turned to Livy, as curious to hear her answer as the newbie.

  "I can't really explain it," she said. "I'm afraid it just comes with the experience of seeing an image and knowing the reality behind it. I practiced a lot with the stone transmitter back in Oklahoma."

  Dylan held his baby girl forward to get a look at her face, waking her again in the process. She pulled herself back to his shoulder in sleepy protest.

  "Well,” he said. “That isn’t as important to me right now. I'm just happy I can tell the difference."

  Wake Up

  THE HEADLIGHTS REFELECTED a steady stream of yellow dashes in the center of the long, straight two-lane highway. Trey glanced into the passenger seat long enough to see Livy fast asleep with her seat-back slightly reclined. The light projection she wore before dozing off still hummed quietly like the electric engine powering the small Prius. It still amazed him that even during sleep her projection bore a life of its own, taking on the light and shadows of its surroundings with no effort from its creator.

  He looked into the rearview mirror to Amy and Zach cuddled together in deep slumber. In addition to making a new friend and a formidable ally, the wild events of the long day had served to bring his friends tightly together once again. It was likely that whatever had wedged between Zach and Amy would return stronger with the strain of the inevitable separation in the coming fall, but it was pleasing to think the remainder of summer would be a happy one.

  The bright-green Longwood city limits sign welcomed him to the outskirts of his sleeping hometown. Before long, he turned into Amy’s driveway, where his pickup waited in the shadows.

  The passengers stirred as the car came to a slow stop.

  Zach stretched long arms. “You didn’t drop me off at home.”

  “I didn’t want to wake the girls,” said Trey. “I’ll take you in my truck.”

  The crew lumbered out of the car like zombies and stood waiting for someone to make the next move.

  “Good night,” Livy finally said, turning to the house.

  “Night,” the others replied in unison, breaking off toward their respective destinations.

  Trey climbed into his truck and watched the front door to see that Amy and Livy made it safely inside.

  Zach rapped on the passenger-side window and signaled to unlock the door. Trey reached across to flip the lock, uncertain of the last time it had been used.

  Zach pulled himself into the seat and sat staring blankly at the small house as lights went on and off progressively from room to room.

  When the last light remaining was the bedroom, Trey fired up the engine and backed out the driveway.

  He glanced at the dash-clock. “Joe’s is still open.”

  Zach rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, I guess I could eat.”

  The entire drive home from the amusement park, Trey had thought about questions he wanted to ask Zach once they were alone, but they seemed less relevant with the passage of time.

  After a few miles of silence, Trey brought up a less personal topic. “So, it’s good to have another set of eyes out there, right?”

  Zach looked confused. “What?”

  “Dylan. Someone else watching for black-eyes and their spies on the ground.”

  “Oh, yeah. Sure,” said Zach, yawning.

  “It’s kind of encouraging that we’re the only ones he’s spotted. Don’t you think that says there aren’t many of them poking around?”

  Zach tipped back his seat. “Or they don’t care much for amusement parks.”

  “Well, yeah, there’s that.”

  After minutes of silence, Trey added. “I’m glad the big guy is on our side. Did you see the size of his arms?”

  When Zach didn’t answer, Trey glanced over to find his friend snoozing.

  A mile or so up the road, he turned into Longhaven housing development and coiled through the lavish streets to Zach’s place. The large brick home sat totally dark as he cut into the double-wide driveway.

  Stirred awake by the jostle, Zach straightened his seat-back and yawned widely. “I thought we were gonna eat.”

  “Nah, forget it. It’s late.”

  Zach gave him an apologetic frown. “I can throw together a sandwich if you want to come in.”

  Even if it weren’t late, Trey wasn’t fond of the salads on a bun Zach pushed off as food. “I’m good, thanks. Get some sleep.”

  Zach didn’t argue and rolled out of the truck.

  Before long, Trey pulled into to his own driveway. The two-story farm house sat dark except the kitchen and the back porch light, both undoubtedly left on for his benefit.

  Once inside, he spotted a note in his mother’s handwriting centered on the kitchen table.

  He smiled. Leftovers were in the fridge.

  * * *

  Trey stared at the crack-laced plaster ceiling. His alert mind peaked with awareness while his body lay numb and motionless like a log. Convinced he had fallen asleep, he tried to lift away from his unresponsive body as he had done in the past, but some unknown force held him rigid as stone.

  A presence lurked in the nearby shadows, adding to his feelings of dread.

  “Arken? Is that you?” His words danced through his mind and echoed inside his skull. His mute, unfeeling lips made it immediately clear he hadn’t spoken aloud.

  The being in his room didn’t acknowledge.

  A faint rustle of fabric and a shrill squeak of wood told him whoever was there had adjusted in a
chair. Unlike his voice, the sound hit him as clear and real as midday. Other sounds flooded his senses. A breeze whispered through an open window. Quiet, steady breaths came from the corner in calm, relaxed waves, unlike his silent panic-stricken gasps.

  “Livy?” he asked, speaking through his mind rather than his tongue.

  He strained to raise his head, but like the rest of his body, his neck failed to budge.

  Desperately, he fought to move a finger or even a toe. Only his eyes were capable of any motion.

  Forced to stare up at the dark, cracked ceiling, a realization crept into his thoughts. The white walls bordering the ceiling were not his bedroom.

  Memories of his recent dreams returned, reminding him of his notion that somehow they forewarned of dire events to come.

  Where was this place? A hospital room?

  “Mom? Is that you? Say something, whoever you are.”

  When no response came, his heart raced. The silent pounding multiplied feelings of helplessness and dread.

  He raised his internal voice to a shout. “Wake up!”

  With every effort to rouse himself exhausted, he resigned to relax and wait out the disturbing episode. Perhaps an important message lay hidden within his surroundings.

  Another pattern of vague sounds hit his curious ears, the faint tap of a bird pecking and scratching at wood.

  Paper rustled. No, it wasn’t a bird. Whoever was with him was writing.

  He smiled, pleased to have identified the sound.

  Slowly, his awareness drifted inward, away from the small room toward complete darkness. He opened his eyes, fully awake, sitting in his living room chair, the plate of microwaved leftovers getting cold in his lap.

  Dylan

  TREY SCRUBBED THE hundredth splattered bug carcass from the grill of Livy’s Toyota Prius. Their amusement park excursion the day before had taken quite a toll on the bug population in Northern Ohio.

  Livy had finished the easy work and sat sunning herself in a lawn chair, her denim shorts and t-shirt sleeves rolled up as far as they could go.

  Trey shook his head, convinced she was more pale than when she first sat down. He sprayed a quick mist of water toward her. “You can show a golden tan year round. Why torture yourself?”

  She tugged the rolled sleeve to peer at unexposed skin. “A little sun is healthy. And it’s not torture.”

  “Whatever you say,” he said with a grin. “Feels pretty nice over here in the shade though.”

  “You just want me to help you pick off bugs.”

  He hit her with a full burst of water.

  “Trey,” she scolded. “You soaked my phone.”

  With a guilty grimace, he turned quickly to his work and focused on a stubborn sticky spot.

  “That’s odd,” she said, moments later. “I missed a call. It must have been while I was washing the car.”

  The words barely registered, until she added, “It was Jeremy. I wonder what he wanted.”

  Trey shrugged. “Maybe it was a pocket dial.”

  “Oh wait, he left a message.”

  Trey pumped a mist of Bug-n-Tar remover across the bumper and relaxed onto the grass for it to soak.

  Livy lifted from her chair with the phone pressed to her ear. “You should listen to this.” She worked her thumbs on the display as she approached and leaned over to hold it between them.

  The speaker blared Jeremy’s message. “Hey, guys. This is Jeremy. You know, the guy from Treasure Bay. Give me a call as soon as possible. It’s very important.”

  Livy ended the call. “What do you think he wants?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  She nodded, pressing the return call option. Trey rose and stood at her side as they waited for an answer.

  “Hello,” came Jeremy’s voice.

  “Jeremy, it’s Livy. I’m here with Trey on speaker.”

  “What’s up?” Trey added.

  After a pause, Jeremy said, “Who else is there?”

  Trey gazed over the front yard and the empty driveway. His father had been gone for hours. His mother was inside with the windows sealed up tight, the air conditioner working overtime in the summer heat.

  “It’s just the two of us,” Trey answered.

  “I’m calling about Dylan,” said Jeremy. “He’s gone.”

  Livy showed concern. “What do you mean, gone?”

  “I mean, he packed his stuff and took off with Pearl.”

  Trey eased considerably. “So, he wasn’t taken.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” said Jeremy. “I guess you haven’t seen him then.”

  Livy jumped in. “Why would we have seen him?”

  “I guess I was hoping he tried to join you.”

  Trey furrowed his brow. “Join us for what?”

  After a long pause, Jeremy answered. “Life.”

  Livy moved the phone closer to her lips. “What’s going on, Jeremy? Why would you think that?”

  The phone went silent.

  When Jeremy finally answered, his voice sounded shaky. “I didn’t think he’d actually leave . . . he’s been spouting off for months about starting a new life where Pearl can grow up normal.”

  The uncomfortable thought of Dylan and Pearl living in the spare room above the carriage house crossed Trey’s mind. “Don’t worry. If he shows up here, we’ll talk sense into him.”

  Jeremy laughed sarcastically. “Thanks, but you don’t talk sense into Dylan. I doubt he’ll come your way, but promise me that if he does, you’ll keep him there. His gramma is the only one he’ll listen to. That’s why he left without even telling her goodbye.”

  Livy seemed more sympathetic than Trey. “Don’t worry, Jeremy. He’ll get in touch. You’re his best friend. But if we hear from him, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Late that evening, Trey hadn’t seen a sign of Dylan. With each hour that passed, he found the odds less likely, and admittedly he was relieved.

  He plopped onto the couch in the dark living room and thumbed the TV remote. His father had resigned to the study for the night, and his mother had sacked out early, complaining of an early start the next morning.

  He straightened his posture and prepared to practice exploring the world as only a projection. For reasons he didn’t fully understand, he always avoided practicing in his room, keeping his bed reserved for sleep.

  Having the TV on didn’t disturb his efforts, and it served to cover the weirdness of sitting alone in a trance-like state. His parents knew a great deal about his origins, but only his biological father, Arken, was aware of his ability to move about as a projection outside sleep.

  He closed his eyes and focused on his internal vibes. With little effort, he opened his projected eyes. He scanned the room in hope of finding Arken waiting in the shadows. His calculations had put their scheduled meeting two days away, and as expected, he was alone.

  He rose from the sofa and paced weightlessly around the living room, planning how to locate Dylan and thwart any surprises.

  He paused to will himself directly to Dylan’s whereabouts. It didn’t work. It had never worked to project to an unspecified location. He knew it would fail before he tried. He’d learned this from repeated attempts to locate Arken. He settled on a place more concrete; perhaps Dylan had already returned to his grandmother.

  As quickly as he could form the thought, he materialized outside her small house. He smiled, looking down the long row of nearly identical houses; he strongly doubted he could have picked out the correct house so easily in person, even in broad daylight.

  The empty driveway told him Dylan had not returned, but a twinge of doubt in his locating ability made him hang around for further verification.

  He paused at the front door, nervous as always about invading someone’s home uninvited. Above his head, a clipped wire protruded from a small hole drilled into the siding where the surveillance camera had hung.

  His thoughts turned to Dylan’s grandmother, the half-blind woman wh
o could see projections. Though he felt confident she couldn’t see him in his current form, he decided not to risk it. Dylan wasn’t home.

  A fraction of a second later, he stood outside Amy’s small, run-down house. The only cars in the driveway were Livy’s freshly waxed Prius and Mrs. Parker’s rusty Chevy Cavalier.

  He combed the nearby surroundings for Dylan’s vehicle, appearing in different locations with split-second response. He widened his hunt to encompass a half-mile radius. Satisfied, he streaked along the highway at lightning speed, slowing only to identify cars traveling a route toward Amy’s. He repeated a similar sweep in Zach’s neighborhood and finally in his own.

  Convinced that Dylan would not be knocking on their doors any time soon, he let his projection vibrate out of existence and opened his eyes.

  Discovered

  ONLY DAYS AFTER Dylan’s disappearance, Trey stood next to Zach, both eyeing a charcoal-gray Mustang coupe. Bright yellow letters formed the word Reduced across the glimmering windshield.

  “It really is a bargain,” said Trey, disappointed.

  “Yeah,” added Zach, matching the sentiment.

  They turned to the olive-green Toyota RAV4 that would soon be Zach’s first set of wheels. It was far from boring, and though slightly used, it was an excellent vehicle, one many in the small town would envy.

  Inside, behind the large showroom windows, Zach’s father stood firmly negotiating the deal with Slim Tim.

  Trey sighed. “I still can’t believe he caved and is buying you a car.”

  Zach showed no interest in what was going on inside. “Yeah, well, don’t think it had anything to do with me. When I mentioned all the trips they’d be making to the university during the holiday breaks, he suddenly changed his tune.”

  Trey pretended to wipe a tear. “It’s terrible having rich doctors for parents.”

  Zach shoved him hard. “Like you have room to talk. Look at the shiny truck your folks bought you.”

  “Hey! At least I worked for it.”

  “Yeah, if you call feeding rolls of newspaper into the press work.”

  Trey stiffened in mock offense. “It was dangerous. I coulda got one hell of a paper cut. Maybe lost a finger.”