Down a side street, a black rectangular hole was the source of the disturbance. A large hanger door had been left open. Beyond it, the dark desolate surface of Kryo stretched for miles.
Trey stepped to the opening and paused, swallowing a huge lump in his throat. Was this to be his punishment for killing his mother? Was he condemned to live the rest of his life alone?
In the distance, a lone figure stood watching him. He strained his eyes, unsure it was truly a person. It could have been a rock or a fragment of a collapsed building.
The object moved. It was a living being.
He set out cautiously toward the figure that looked increasingly like a man. The closer he came, more details arose, broad shoulders and definitely a head. Colors emerged, light hair, bright clothing. It was Dylan.
A long arm rose to greet him with a wave.
The two young men met quite some time later and faced each other like strangers.
“It’s really you,” said Dylan.
Trey had thought the same. “Yeah.”
“What the hell happened?”
Trey shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I hear ya, bro. They . . . they took the girls.”
A cold, numb reality crept into Trey’s words. “I know. Were they hurt?”
“No. Not when I saw them last.”
“Good. That’s good. I suppose they’ll be all right.” He looked around the barren landscape. “What are you doing out here?”
“Walking to the city. Just like I was told.”
“By who?”
“Some dude stood right in front of me and said to turn around and go the other way. Then he vanished.”
A distant rattle turned their heads toward Sector C.
From the outside, the city looked more like a steel mountain with sheer cliffs. The large bay doors began to close with a mechanical grind.
There was no way to reach the door before it sealed them both out. Trey rolled his eyes. In some demented way, he preferred the thought of being banished alone.
The familiar whir of an alien spaceship fluttered the clouds overhead. An instant later, the underside of a disk-shaped craft broke into sight below the haze. There was nowhere to run and no place to hide. Even if there were, Trey could see no point in fleeing. They’d had him chained to the wall. They could have crushed him under their foot like a bug, yet they hadn’t.
Slowly, the disk descended to the surface, a stone’s throw away, stirring up fine black dust. Legs lowered from the craft’s midsection as it reached the ground. It bobbled slightly until all three feet touched. Hydraulics hissed and the draw gate hummed open.
A single set of alien feet began the descent.
Moments later, a naked black-eyed alien stared at them from Kryon soil. “May I approach?”
Trey and Dylan shared a quizzical look.
“Whatever,” said Trey. “Like we have a choice.”
The alien stepped awkwardly toward them, ending shy of arm’s reach. “I offer you transport.”
“Transport? To where?”
“That is up to you. You may be reunited with your female partners or you may be returned to Earth.”
“Uh,” Trey said, flabbergasted, hesitant to rebuke such a gracious gift. “What about both?”
“That is not for you to decide.”
“What about the girls? Can they go home?”
The alien nodded. “If they so choose.”
“Oh they will. Take me to Livy.”
“Whoa,” said Dylan. “This might be some sick joke. Where are the girls?”
The alien pointed skyward with a long boney finger. “They are on Baashzar, as it is now known, with the others of their kind.”
Trey scanned the wasteland. “And the men?”
“Many of your male counterparts have been taken to Baashzar. Others have chosen to join us in our new home, a place I shall not disclose. There are but a few rebels still in hiding. Their time is running short. Soon, we will not return here and their fates will be sealed.”
“I don’t get it,” said Trey. “The men and women were gonna be separated permanently.”
“I believe you do understand. You have shown a compassion for our race that cannot be ignored. But I urge you to make your decision without further delay.”
There was no choice. “Baashzar!” Trey shouted.
Dylan bellowed the opposite. “Earth!”
Baashzar
TREY ROUNDED THE curved hallway of the alien craft to see bright sunlight pouring in through the open exit ramp. Dylan’s heavy footsteps rattled the grated floor alongside him. A buck-naked alien escorted them from behind.
The flowery scent of a spring afternoon wafted through the opening on a soft breeze. Lush green grass swayed at the end of the ramp.
Trey turned to the alien. “I thought we were going to Baashzar.”
The alien nodded.
Dylan waited hesitantly. “Don’t leave without us.”
The alien nodded again. “But do not delay.”
Trey set off quickly, unable to wait any longer.
Dylan tromped along behind him.
A fresh path stretched ahead through beaten down grass. At the end of the route, a small crowd welcomed the arrivals with bright smiles.
Livy stood hand-in-hand with Onna, her similarities to her natural mother as remarkable as her differences, a teen in denim alongside a pillar of grace robed in white.
Trey stuttered in his stride, realizing for the first time the truth in the alien’s word. It wasn’t for Trey to decide if Livy returned to Earth. And here she was, locking hands with the mother she had never known.
Livy broke free and ran toward him. He caught her into his arms and kissed her shamelessly for all to see. Their lips separated and their embrace grew stronger, more comforting, more consoling.
“I’m sorry,” Livy said, holding him firmly, “about your mother.”
He nodded, not yet forgiving himself.
Meagan clung to Dylan, her arm around his waist. A giant of a man watched awkwardly from several steps back. His rugged battle-scarred face carried a striking resemblance to Dylan, and in some strange twist of irony the darkly clad man also carried striking similarities to Captain Deek Jones, the fierce comic book character Dylan had once mimicked.
A gangly couple stood nearby, separated enough to be strangers but close enough to pass as an old married couple. The way their adoring eyes tracked Meagan’s every movement said volumes about their untold story.
Trey swallowed the guilty lump lodged in his throat. No parents greeted him. Arken and Sarah were gone.
A million miles away, his real parents waited for him, the ones he knew since birth, the ones he loved, the ones who loved him.
He squeezed Livy tighter still. She had to come with him. He couldn’t leave her. He couldn’t stay.
Trey pulled away to survey the potential new home.
Puffy white clouds floated in the blue skies. Waxy shrubbery peppered the rolling grassland. A narrow building stretched through the landscape, intersecting with similar structures like a giant crossword puzzle. Open windows dotted the exterior, and thin curtains fluttered in the breeze.
“Come with me,” said Livy, dragging him by the hand. “You should meet Onna.”
Livy’s mother straightened in a dignified manner at Trey’s approach. Favoring a heavily bandaged shoulder, she opened one arm for hug.
He greeted her with a gentle embrace. No words could express his sympathy, his guilt, his anguish.
None where needed.
He backed away silently and took Livy’s hand.
Onna bowed. “We owe you a world of gratitude.”
He kicked the grass. “Anyone would have done it.”
“I disagree, but this is no time for an argument.”
“No,” he said, gazing off toward Dylan and Meagan. “Some of us have to leave.”
Livy let go of his hand and plucked the black stone from her
pocket. Her eyes glossed as she stared at the transmitter. “It least we can keep in touch.”
Trey’s heart pounded with the implications.
She turned to Onna. “I’m so happy we got to meet in person.” She handed her mother the stone transmitter. “I’ll call you when we get there.”
Epilogue
INSIDE THE DARK bay of the old carriage house, Trey slammed the hood of his Nissan pickup. He smiled through the windshield and gave a thumbs-up signal. “Punch it!”
Trey’s father signaled back from the driver’s seat, a toddler perched on his lap. The proud grandpa leaned to the boy’s ear and spoke inaudibly, directing the child’s attention to the ignition switch. With a grind and a short sputter, the engine fired to life and purred quietly.
Trey walked to the driver’s side window and lifted a greasy palm for a high-five. His son left him hanging, busy working the wheel back and forth like a madman.
“Easy there, fellow,” said Grampa. He looked over his shoulder and dropped the shifter into reverse.
Trey grabbed the windowsill. “Hold on there, Dad!”
“Oh, we’re just backing into the driveway. You used to drive all the time, remember?”
“I remember begging you to let me get my permit.”
His father grinned reminiscently and the truck began to ease backward. Trey stepped away to avoid getting his toes flattened as the pickup glided out into daylight. With encouragement from Grandpa, the boy cut the wheel and the Nissan turned into the gravel.
Trey slid the heavy carriage-house door closed and turned to see Livy scuttling toward the parked truck. He picked up the pace and arrived at the driver’s window as Livy bounded up on the other side.
“Thomas James Collins the Fourth! What do you think you’re doing driving Daddy’s truck?”
The boy giggled the way he always did when his mother pretended to be mad. Immediately, he went back to steering like a wild child.
She lifted her eyes to meet Trey’s. “He drives just like his father.”
Trey smiled. “There are worse things to inherit.”
Mr. Collins cut the ignition and lowered his voice. “Still no . . . abnormalities?”
Trey rolled his eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t call it that. But, no, nothing.”
“And that’s a good thing, right?”
“Yes! Of course!”
Little Tommy gazed up with baby blue eyes, curious about the tone of his father’s voice. The boy was too young to understand the conversation, but Trey wished they hadn’t mentioned the topic in his presence. It was a habit best broken early.
A nearby horn sounded and a dark blue Mustang fast-back cut into the driveway, digging trenches in the gravel as it skidded to a stop.
Trey pulled Tommy through the window, eyeing Livy as he did so. “And you talk about my driving.”
Zach bobbed up from the car and slammed the door. “Hey, Collins family. I hope I’m not late.”
“Late?” grumbled Trey, lowering Tommy to his feet. “You’re an hour early.”
Zach pulled out his phone. “Four o’clock.”
Livy met him for a quick hug. “I said five.”
Zach scuffed the gravel. “I swear you said four.”
“No worries,” said Trey. “You’ll just have to occupy yourself while I get cleaned up.” He held up his greasy hands. “I obviously wasn’t expecting you to be early.”
Trey’s father rose from the truck. “Hello, Zach!”
“Hey, Mister C. How’s that book coming along?”
“Which one?”
“Uh, that one you’re always writing.”
Mr. Collins chuckled. “Just fine I guess. Maybe I’ll go kill a few darlings before dinner.”
Zach raised his brow as the author strolled up the sidewalk. He leaned to the boy clinging to Trey’s leg. “Hey, little buddy.”
Tommy buried his face into Trey’s knees.
“You remember Zach, don’t ya?“ Trey rubbed the boy’s blond hair, then gave Zach a wink. “If you’d come around more often he’d recognize you.”
“Touché, my friend.” Zach leaned onto the bumper of Trey’s truck. “That’s big city life for ya.”
Trey huffed sarcastically. “Springston is quite the mecca. How you can associate with us backward folk.”
Livy jumped in. “Seriously, Zach, it’s a forty-five-minute drive, tops.”
“All right, all right. I’ll pencil you into my social calendar. Wait, that’s right. I have no social calendar.”
Livy craned her neck. “We’ll just see about that.”
Zach peered down the road and did a double take. “Oh no. I smell a skunk.”
Livy elbowed him. “Is that any way to talk about your girlfriend?”
“Ex-girlfriend. And I didn’t mean Amy. You too are the skunks. Does she know about this?”
Trey spun to see Amy’s Volkswagen Beetle cruising the long narrow straightaway toward the farm. He was genuinely not expecting her, but not at all surprised. Livy had been itching to play cupid with the two since Zach and Amy finished college.
“Yeah,” Livy confessed. “She knows you’ll be here. And according to her, you never officially broke up.”
“Well, that’s true, but I heard through the grapevine she’s been dating.”
Trey chuckled. “You’ve been a sequestered monk?”
“Well, to be honest, it seems that way.”
Livy pushed closer, confidentially. “She’s a P.A. at County Hospital.”
“Oh yeah?” said Zach, feigning ignorance.
The VW bug weaved into the driveway and eased onto the grass next to Zach’s Mustang. Amy checked her makeup, then climbed from the car beaming. Leave it to her to make green scrubs and socks-in-crocks look sexy.
“Sorry, I didn’t have time to change.”
Little Tommy broke toward her. “MeeMee.”
She scooped the boy into her arms. “Toe-jam.”
Trey eyed Zach. “She comes around. Just saying.”
Amy smiled at Zach. “How’ve ya been?”
“Fine mostly. And you?”
Livy backed away sheepishly. “I need to help Mom in the kitchen. Y’all catch up.”
Trey took her cue and made a move for Tommy. “I’ll take him. We need to get cleaned up for dinner.”
Amy gasped, eyeing the boy in her arms. “You’ve been busy. Daddy made you fix his truck?”
“Oh, not really,” said Trey.
“Well his hands are a greasy mess.”
Trey gaped in shock. “How’d that happen?”
Tommy waved his filthy hands proudly. “Dadda.”
Trey’s jaw dropped. The slightest vibration fluttered from his son’s fingers, covering them in artificial grime. Trey’s surprise turned to worry, but his heart quickly filled with pride.
“That’s right, Tommy, just like Dadda.”
###
Thank you for reading Misplaced Trilogy. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to leave a review at your favorite retailer.
Thank you!
Brian Bennett
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The Magician’s Horses by Brian Bennett
Misplaced Trilogy Page 43