Misplaced Trilogy

by Brian Bennett

  The voice returned, surrounding him from within the forest. “Trey, are you all right in there?”

  Agent Simmons was at his door.

  Trey forced his focus to the wooded surroundings as reality called him back to his body in the distance bathroom. He rocketed away to his home in Longwood for one final chance at finding Arken.

  The same lonely, empty house greeted him.

  An instant later, he looked over the agent’s shoulder as Simmons pressed an ear to the bedroom door, his hand gripping the knob.

  Trey’s eyes flew opened to complete darkness. He twisted quickly on his porcelain throne, struggling to regain his bearings, until the motion sensor activated, showering him in light.

  Squinting against the sudden brightness, he turned and flushed the toilet.

  He rose quickly and threw open the bathroom door just as agent Simmons entered the bedroom.

  The silver-haired agent froze in place. Trey stifled his rapid breaths to slow, steady draws.

  “All better now?” Simmons asked.

  Trey’s stomach churned like a meat grinder. “No,” he said. “Not at all.”

  Bugged

  AGENT SIMMONS DIRECTED Trey to the small table to resume the interview. Trey turned without pulling out the chair. “Do we really need to do this?”

  The agent furrowed his brow. “Excuse me?”

  “I think we’ve told you enough already,” said Trey, losing patience. “You either believe me or you don’t. So, what exactly do you want from me?”

  Simmons stared Trey down, cogs grinding in his discriminative mind. Finally, his tight jaw relaxed. “All right. I’ll shoot straight with you, kid.”

  Trey didn’t budge, reserving judgment for what would follow.

  “I believe the agency has been infiltrated,” said Simmons. “And from what I’ve learned, I think I know by whom.”

  Trey narrowed his eyes, daring the agent to accuse him or Livy. Even Dylan was beyond his own belief.

  “No one from your generation,” Simmons reassured. “You don’t have the age or experience.”

  Simultaneously relieved and offended, Trey’s hyper-reactive nerves flirted with throwing on a full-blown projection of a wrinkled old man convincing enough to fool anyone. Anyone but a camera!

  Trey gestured to the man’s jacket pocket. “Haven’t you used your little camera trick to flush them out?”

  Simmons nodded. “You bet we have. That’s why I’m thinking plastic surgery.” He worked his hands in thin air, eyeing Trey’s face like molded clay. “A little nip here . . . lower the cheek bones there . . . you get the idea.”

  Trey glossed over the discomfort of being visually sculpted and formed a rough picture in his own mind. “Then you’re most hideous agent must be your man.”

  “Or woman,” Simmons corrected. “But here’s the rub. Only five people are privy to the events transpiring in the last twenty-four hours, yet our alien visitors have kept in step with our every move.”

  “And let me guess,” Trey interjected. “They’re all nice-looking humans.”

  Simmons shrugged. “Eh, nice-looking? Not so much. But I’d be hard-pressed to find anything out of the ordinary about any of their looks.”

  “And you think I can?”

  “Not you, per say. Your blood.”

  Here we go, thought Trey. The poking and prodding was about to begin. “And when the blood test proves inconclusive, you’ll cut me open and see what’s inside. No thanks!”

  Simmons seemed mortified. “No! God no. Just a blood sample.”

  The agent shook his head, dejected. “I thought you’d be the easy sample to get.”

  Trey questioned him with a look.

  “I can’t just blood sample other agents based on a theory I have,” said Simmons. “It’s unsubstantiated! And even if I knew for sure, it defeats the purpose to ask the others for their blood so I can verify whether they’re undercover alien spies.”

  Trey had no idea what might be uncovered in his blood, but he felt certain there was a less dehumanizing way to find their spy. His brain tossed him a bone. “Unless it’s not a person. Your offices may be bugged.”

  The agent offered the most condescending gaze yet. “You’re talking about five high-ranking officials in the FBI. Don’t you think we know how to sweep an office?”

  Trey rolled his huge blue eyes, reminding himself it was just as ludicrous to conceal such oversized peepers with a little cosmetic surgery. “You don’t know the technology those aliens have. It’s mind boggling. And it wouldn’t have to be inside the same office.” He thought back to his ventures using the black stone transmitters. “They have a range of fifty yards in any direction.”

  Simmons was all ears.

  Trey elaborated, growing more convinced of his own theory. “And I’m talking about visuals and sound. They could be standing next to you, completely invisible without you knowing it.”

  Trey snapped his head side-to-side, the hairs of his neck rising. “They aren’t here now. I’d know it.”

  “Nice one,” the agent said. “You had me going.”

  “But, I’m not screwing with you here. This is real.” Trey thought back to his out of body experience just minutes earlier, nervous the aliens could do the same. Arken had suggested his talent to travel without the transmitters was unique. He could only hope his father was right. Transmitters would have limits.

  The aliens needed the transmitters, he convinced himself. Why else would they use them? “I can tell you exactly what you’re looking for. Shiny black rocks no bigger round than a quarter.”

  “Rocks?”

  “Yes, rocks. Stones. They’re transmitters.”

  “Transmitters hidden inside rocks?”

  “No, the stones are the transmitters. They use some kind of quantum pairing that relays the vibration waves. I have no idea how they work. I just know they work.”

  “And how exactly do you know about these so-called transmitters?”

  Trey shifted uncomfortably in his shoes. “Livy and I used them to communicate when we first met.”

  “That’s funny, neither of you mentioned them.”

  “I guess it didn’t seem pertinent at the time.”

  Simmons crossed his arms. “Or maybe you’ll say anything to keep me from taking your blood. What are you trying to hide, Mister Collins?”

  “Nothing! I’m telling you, the place is bugged!”

  “I’m not saying I believe you, but even if it were true, how did they get them into the building?”

  “Did you hear me? Fifty yards! They could have dropped them onto the roof for all we know.”

  Simmons frowned, gesturing to the door. “Let’s go.”

  “Where?” Trey asked, not sure he wanted to know.

  “The infirmary. I’m getting a blood sample.”

  Trey offered an exposed wrist. “Fine, take all you want. It won’t be the only blood on your hands. If they know we’re here, we’re trapped like sitting ducks.”

  The agent turned. “They don’t know you’re here.”

  “What makes you so sure?” said Trey, following the agent toward the exit.

  Simmons opened the door and faced Trey to answer. “According to protocol, I would have followed Graff and McDonnel and processed you at Regional. And if either of them is asked, that’s exactly what I did.”

  Trey’s heart skipped a beat. “So, you’re leading the black-eyes right to my friends?”

  Simmons grinned. “Not exactly.”

  “Why? Where are they?”

  “I don’t know. And it’s best you don’t either.”

  Trey glared at the agent, unsure what to believe.

  Simmons waved him forward. “I tell you what. You give me a few drops of blood without a fight and I’ll put you in a family suite with Ms. Livingston.”

  Trey was thrilled by the option, but he couldn’t swallow the guilt of abandoning his other friend. “What about Dylan?”

  Simmons raised a brow
. “Sure, he can join you too if that’s what you want. But not until I’ve vetted him.”

  Dylan wasn’t going to be an easy interview and Trey knew it, but he felt better knowing he’d at least tried. “Deal. Show me the way.”

  Evidence

  TREY MARCHED ALONGSIDE Agent Simmons through the dimly lit halls of the vacated FBI complex. He rubbed the tender bump on his fingertip where Simmons had pricked him for blood.

  The silver-haired agent slowed to gaze up at the label marking the room. “Here we go,” he said, stopping abruptly. “You can settle in or tag along while I fetch your friends.”

  Trey was curious about the new quarters, but he enjoyed being outside locked doors in the flesh. “I could use the walk.”

  The agent marched on, showing no surprise.

  Trey thought back to the tiny vial of blood the agent had tucked away behind refrigerated glass. “How long do you think it will take to do the analysis?”

  Simmons glanced at his watch. “I’ll have someone on it first thing in the morning. After that, it all depends on what they find.”

  “And if they find nothing abnormal?”

  “Well, let’s just hope they do.”

  Trey rolled his eyes, hoping the man was wrong. “And what happens when your suspects are all clean? Will you finally believe the place may be bugged?”

  “You aren’t letting that go, are you?”

  “I’m telling you, someone should be searching for shiny black stones.”

  The agent stopped cold. Trey turned on his heels, curious about the hold up.

  The agent’s face paled to match his white hair. He pointed ahead. “Down the hall. There’s a conference room. I think I found your bug.”

  Simmons set off at a brisk pace and Trey rushed to keep up. When they reached the end of the long hallway, the agent stormed through an unlocked door on the right. Trey followed him into a small room that looked better suited for interrogations than conferences. A simple rectangle table in the center was surrounded by only four chairs. A large flat-screen monitor hugged the plain beige wall.

  Trey expected Simmons to feel beneath the tables for a bug, but the agent made a bee-line for the screen and woke it with a flash of his badge.

  Moving closer, Trey watched the agent navigate quickly through the login page and opening menus. His fingers swiped and poked the touch-screen as windows and images blinked before Trey’s eyes.

  Finally the agent’s hands slowed and lowered to his sides. He turned to Trey. “Is that it?”

  A crisp, high resolution image showed a plastic bag containing a single shiny stone. A small strip of paper beside the package labeled it #653.

  “Where did you get it? Where is it now?” Trey didn’t need to ask about its missing companion.

  Simmons closed the image, calling up a drafted map of the large campus. He quietly studied the diagram, then pointed. “We’re here.” His finger moved across the large map. “Evidence is here. That’s where we’ll find it.”

  Simmons tugged at his scruffy chin. He pointed to another building with a tap. “Most of the offices are in this building . . . mine . . . the Director’s.” He turned to Trey. “That’s more than fifty yards.”

  Trey studied the image. “Not a lot more. The aliens have stronger vibrations, more intense. They may have longer range than I do.”

  Simmons turned back to the map. “If you’re right . . . this is a game changer.”

  “You still haven’t answered. Where did you get it?”

  “It was recovered at a crash site . . . long before I joined the agency.”

  Trey fought back an uncomfortable laugh. “They’ve been right under your nose all this time.”

  Simmons cornered his eyes. “If you’re right.”

  “Oh, I’m right. It makes too much sense.”

  “Can you confirm it?”

  Trey shrugged. “Sort of. I can find out if it’s in use with a quick touch. That’s easy enough. And if I build up nerve, I can drop in on who’s on the other end.”

  “Let’s go then,” said Simmons, closing the display.

  “Not so fast. I have an offer of my own.”

  “Oh really?” The agent grew serious, challenging the bold negotiations.

  Trey held firm. “Yes! If I’m right, I’d like you to keep the results of my blood test between you and me.”

  Simmons offered his hand. “And the lab technician.”

  Trey agreed with a firm handshake, but before letting go, he added, “One more thing. When we get within range, they’ll know where we are, and they may not be happy when they figure out we’re onto them.”

  “Yes, I’m following.”

  “Dylan and Livy are defenseless if they’re locked in their rooms. You should let them go.”

  Simmons yanked his hand free. “Not happening.”

  “All right,” Trey insisted. “They go with us then.”

  * * *

  Trey looked into the clear, starry sky from the wide valley created by two monstrous buildings. Beside the long narrow sidewalk stretching out ahead of him, an unlit fountain sprayed a geyser of water two stories high. The mist escaping the plume created a colorful ring around the crescent moon.

  He picked up his pace, eager to get across the vast manicured lawn. He and his companions were like field mice ready to be plucked from the earth by raptor claws.

  Livy matched his footsteps, her fingers weaved tightly into his right hand. Ahead, agent Simmons led the way, Trey and Livy pressing at his heels. Dylan brought up the rear, his heavy footfalls tromping and scuffing the cement like someone with no cares.

  A gangway offered a wide opening for them to pass through the building without entering. Once inside the tunnel, benches lined the glass walls on both sides. During the day, it might have been a social gather point, but at the late hour, it felt shady and dark.

  “This place looks smaller on the map,” said Trey, his words echoing through the deserted chamber.

  The agent’s white head bobbed in recognition.

  The end of the long hallway opened to another dark lawn. Beyond it lay another massive building.

  Two nerve-racking courtyards later, the agent turned to the unmarked entrance in the building’s midsection. He scanned his badge next to a glass door and punched in a code. He pulled open the door and held it for Trey and the others.

  Inside, an atrium stretched upward to a clear roof high overhead. A glass elevator sat idle, splitting the center of the building.

  A faint tingle tickled Trey’s senses, then faded. He turned to Livy. “Did you feel that?”

  She nodded, her bright-blue natural eyes wide and alert, free of any projections to dull her awareness of spies in their presence.

  Trey looked to Dylan. “How ‘bout you?”

  The big guy frowned, all traces of his dark skin gone. “I got nothing.”

  Trey nodded. “It’s gone now. But pay attention.”

  Simmons surveyed the group. “What variety are we dealing with here?”

  Trey shook his head. “It was too brief to tell.”

  The agent turned and waved them across the rough-hewn slate tile floor. At the center of the building, opposite the elevator, they entered a long hallway stretching the length of the building. The slate tiles gave way to a floor polished to a high gloss.

  They filed past large glass windows that offered a faint glimpse into dark offices and conference rooms.

  Midway along the corridor, Livy squealed, swatting the air around her face.

  A strong buzz circled Trey’s head, silently but fierce, like a chainsaw revved alongside a deaf man’s ear.

  The vibration darted from Trey, sending Dylan into a fit of ducks and swerves as the big guy poked jabs at seemingly nothing.

  Dylan straightened. The buzzing had silenced.

  Agent Simmons stared at the teens with a mortified expression.

  Trey ran his fingers through his short spiky hair.

  “They know we’re her
e.”

  Interference

  MIDWAY THROUGH THE long vacant hallway of a government facility, Agent Simmons turned to an unassuming stainless-steel elevator door and pressed the only available button, down.

  Trey and his two friends pulled up behind him and looked in both directions for signs of visitors.

  Simmons turned to his guests while the elevator hummed behind him. “Do I need to explain that you didn’t see anything you’re about to see?”

  Livy spoke for their group. “Do we look chatty?”

  The agent stared at their big blue eyes and pale, washed-out faces. “Hum,” he said with a grin. “I suppose not.”

  Down the hallway, a door latch clicked loudly, echoing through the empty corridor. Heads spun toward the sound.

  A sharply dressed handsome man stepped into view and walked slowly toward the elevator, his polished black shoes clicking on the hard floor.

  With each step closer, Trey felt the heavy vibrations surrounding the man intensify. Livy inched sideways, brushing against Trey’s arm.

  Trey whispered to the agent without moving his lips. “It’s one of them.”

  “Damn,” the agent muttered as the elevator slowly opened to a soft chime. He cleared his throat. “Director Tomlin! I must say, you were the last person I expected to see.”

  Trey eyed the man’s neatly kept dark hair and shrewd smile. “If that’s who he really is. He could be the janitor for all you know.”

  The man claiming to be the director stopped several yards away and habitually twisted one of his shiny cufflinks. “Simmons, you’re in over your head here. But it’s not too late to save your career.”

  The elevator doors drew closed, leaving them to face the imposter or retreat.

  Behind them another door rattled. Trey turned to see a woman square off in a tight black skirt and a silky white blouse.

  The director continued to work agent Simmons. “Turn over the kids without a contest and I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.”

  Livy stepped closer to Simmons and lifted toward his ear to speak. Discreetly, she slipped the pen from his shirt pocket. “Don’t do it.”