Prime: The Messenger Series, #1

By C Amon Trant

Another new town, but Toby isn't sharing a bed with his brother or bed bugs.

Someone left Mom for dead. Dad is talking about castles and monsters. A stupid bird keeps attacking Toby.

And which of his new friends is trying to kill him?

     Light and dark, is the sun,

     Friend and foe, seem as one,

     Appearance is not what it seems.

     Destroy the thing that can't be destroyed,

     Some things are only in dreams.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C Amon Trant
• Release date: Dec 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201050313

C Amon Trant

C. Amon Trant is a retired physician, son, brother, husband, and -as his granddaughter so eloquently puts it- "GaGa." 

Book preview

Part 1

1

Toby’s first day of school at his second new school this semester.

Kind of reminded him of that school in Ohio. Was that two years ago? Three?

They all ran together.

Toby had a couple of minutes to spare, so he walked toward the restroom.

He saw the knot of guys at the far end but kept his head down and headed toward the first stall.

Fresh meat, said an older boy, much older, like too old for high school.

Toby saw him on the bus. Someone called him Raymond.

Two guys grabbed Toby. A third blocked the door.

Let me go.

Raymond stepped back toward the sink and wiggled his short, stubby fingers in the stream. Then stepped closer.

Something was different; it was like Toby heard something, but not with his ears-

A wet, stubby finger flicked Toby’s nose.

Toby’s head snapped back. Stop.

The goons laughed.

Something dripped down Toby’s lip and into his mouth.

Only water.

Raymond leaned closer and grabbed Toby by the hairs above his ear.

Toby grunted, but not from the pulled hair.

Pain.

Middle of his chest.

Each breath was agony.

The room spun.

Can’t — breathe.

Shut it!

Stubby fingers rifled through Toby’s pockets.

Raymond extracted Toby’s lunch money, cut his eyes at the stall, and said, Do it.

Raymond stood at the restroom entrance, his foot blocking the door, as the goons turned Toby upside down. They shoved his head in the toilet and scrubbed him around like a toilet brush, banging his head from front to back, side to side.

The flush roared.

Toby held his breath, but the pain-

The goons must have dropped him; his head bounced against the cold floor, sending stars across his already gray vision.

The smiling Raymond leaned into the stall and his front pocket. We will see you - tomorrow.

Everything became silent, like the forest after a kill.

The chest pain melted away with glacial speed, and his breathing became something like normal.

A couple of kids came in and acted like someone on the floor was nothing new.

Toby slowly sat up; water dripped from his hair.

He staggered to the sink, grabbed a paper towel, but the room spun again.

His reflection became the color of an overcast sky.

He sat on a toilet and put his head down between his knees.

Sweat flowed down his back.

Nausea.

Cramps.

The first bell rang.

Three minutes to get to the other side of the school.

He tried to stand.

Nope.

Found his feet on the second try and slowly exited the restroom.

Walked toward the office, but one of Raymond’s goons stood guard outside the door.

Keep walking.

Breathing ragged, Toby found the English class as the late bell sounded.

The teacher said, Mr. um he checked his roster, Peoples?

Toby stopped.

The bearded older gentleman looked over his half-glasses and raised those bushy eyebrows. We will be on time.

Toby nodded but concentrated on breathing.

He fell into his chair; it slid back a few inches.

And Mr. Peoples? drawled the southern gentleman.

Sir?

"It is against the rules to have dripping hair after gym class."

There is no gym class before first period, but Toby just nodded.

2

Like an anemic sloth , Toby barely finished the day.

The last school bell sounded, and riding the bus with Raymond and company was not an option.

He planned to walk home through some woods behind the school, but using the front door could expose him to Raymond and company again. Plus, he’d have to walk all the way around the school. The back door is right over there, but that’s off-limits. Why?

Because it’s a rule.

Leaving history class, he started toward the bus area, then turned right as if going to a restroom.

Head up, he acted like he belonged here.

A custodian.

Toby placed his backpack on a table and re-tied a perfectly tied shoelace.

The custodian was still there, so he tied the shoe again. The man finally disappeared into the band room.

A quick sweep of his area showed no teachers.

Don’t run.

He pushed the door open and slipped outside.

Stopping at a wall, he searched for threats.

Nothing.

He walked across the open ground toward the woods, over patches of dead brown grass and hard red clay.

Eyes forward: innocent people don’t check their six.

Every few steps, he picked up the pace.

The afternoon sun, typical for a South Carolina September, weighed on his neck and arms.

Each footstep produced a puff of red dust. Cicadas argued with each other for domination.

Mosquitoes whined in his ears. Pines perfumed the still air.

He ran crossed the last bit of mown grass, and once inside the forest, he looked back.

Still alone.

A faint breeze carried the bus fumes from the parking lot. Faded and cracked letters spelled out ‘South Carolina Public Schools’ on the wheezing vehicles.

Toby pictured King Raymond seated on his throne at the back of the bus, holding court over those unworthy of their peace, freedom, and money.

Thankful to be free, for now, Toby jogged deeper into the forest, picking his way over logs, past brambles, and through thickets toward that trail he found exploring yesterday:

They packed up their clothes five days ago and left that long-stay motel near Lexington, their home for the last two months. Four days ago, they were in SC, at a furniture store, and Mom bought almost everything she saw.

Three days ago, the van arrived and loaded furniture into the new house, and they spent the last two days setting up

Mom paroled Toby last night, and he zigzagged through these woods. He never found the school because of mudholes and the variety of mosquitoes, some as long as his thumbnail.

Now, the trail was no better, but bugs were a smaller, more aggressive mosquito and something called ‘gnats.’ Didn’t bite much, but the tiny menaces liked eyes and ears.

He stopped.

A section over there looked familiar.

Did it?

He’d blundered into a muddy area yesterday. Couldn’t make that mistake again.

The trail disappeared into a thicket.

More mosquitoes and gnats buzzed his ears and attacked his arms.

The vegetation grew thicker with each step.

Several animal trails crisscrossed at irregular intervals.

Nothing looked familiar.

Something slapped overhead. A massive blackbird landed in a tulip poplar.

Something caught his eye: a lighter area in the center of the bird’s black chest, except the spot changed hue as the bird moved between sunlight and shadow.

And the bird was staring at something near Toby.

A rumble of distant thunder encouraged Toby to move. That trail looked good, but mud and foul-smelling muck forced him back.

Was that tree familiar?

His neighborhood was about four miles from school if he rode the bus, but only about a mile through the swamp.

When he faced the setting sun, their house had to be just south of west, but he couldn’t cut across the swampiest parts.

Another blackbird, with the same weird spot, landed overhead.

Dark clouds towered off to the west and blotted out the sun.

The breeze, kissed by the musty smell of rain, hissed through the pines.

Thunder hurried him along.

There, up ahead, that small cedar with the lump on the base.

Toby finally entered that new construction area at the back of his neighborhood.

He followed the red clay road, ready for paving, and a couple of turns later revealed his street and their new house.

A new house.

Not a room in a hotel with two beds.

For the first time in... he didn’t know, Toby didn’t have to share a bed with Chase or bedbugs.

Dad must have landed a fantastic job, but how long would they stay?

A flash of lightning.

His family moved a lot, often suddenly, but only once in the middle of the night. He used to think everyone moved all the time, but apparently not.

Thunder triggered his earliest memory: Chicago, hot, rainy night, in the car. Not going anywhere, just sitting in the car. All his memories from that time include the car.

He remembered that leaky hotel in Lexington, with the smells and the couple who fought every night.

Lightning streaked in the distance., followed by the punch of thunder.

Their last address was that hotel outside Franklin, with the door ten feet from the road. The manager looked at Mom with hungry eyes, and that cop treated Chase like a cat toy.

The wind gusted, and the air became alive with leaves.

A week ago, Dad announced his new job as a project manager for an HVAC company in Florence, SC.

Toby had to Google HVAC and the city.

So Dad went from stocking shelves in a grocery store to designing/installing industrial ventilation systems.

Florence is a small city in a rural state. How does it support dozens of hotels? It’s about halfway between New York and Orlando.

The first fat drops of rain slapped the road.

Toby ran faster and ducked into the garage.

The splatter of heavy drops soon became sheets of rain marching down the street. Leaves swirled and danced until too heavy to fly.

Thunder drove him inside.

Mom was on the phone, nothing in her other hand.

I... I can’t... No... Sorry... Really. I must hang up now. Good day.

Seeing Toby, she jumped and said, Oh! Ye gave me such a fright. She sheathed a knife that appeared in her hand almost by magic, smiled, and gave him a quick hug. How was school?

Fine.

The lie tasted terrible, but bullies were far from new, and he was not about to mention chest pains.

He strategically changed the subject by opening the refrigerator and pointing at her new cell phone. Who was that?

People from yer school. Always trying to wheedle me into something.

Looking for a snack, You used to volunteer at my old school all the-

No.

But-

Won’t make that mistake- Her eyes widened. Tobias!

He followed her gaze to the muddy prints.

Sorry. He took off his shoes.

She grabbed some paper towels and pointed upstairs. Homework.

But-

One raised eyebrow ended the conversation. He slipped off his shoes, placed them in the garage, and headed up the stairs.

Forcing the bedroom door open, he walked around the piles of stuff and pushed another pile of stuff off the bed.

He propped up his head on his pillow, watched funny videos online, and he’d get to the homework.

Later.

3

After dinner, Toby was helping with the dishes when Chase grabbed his car keys.

Where are you going? Toby asked.

The mall.

I want to go.

Chase rolled his eyes.

Mom, Toby said before Chase could say no.

Mom was cleaning the oven. Her raised eyebrow said, solve yer own problems, or I will.

Chase limped toward the door: his leg was always worse with cold fronts.

Toby started upstairs to get his shoes when he remembered: in the garage.

After banging most of the mud off, Toby hopped into Chase’s new car, new for Chase anyway.

Neither had much to say as Chase navigated the development.

Toby marveled at the large homes and manicured yards.

Chase stopped at the main road, mumbling something about a car turning with no turn signal when he sat upright, head still, his gaze darting between the rearview and side mirrors.

What’s wrong? Toby said.

Quiet.

What is your problem?

Shut up, he hissed from the side of his mouth.

Toby scanned the area. Traffic was heavy, but nothing dangerous.

Sit still, stupid.

Toby looked behind.

Don’t.

What?

"Don’t - turn around."

Why?

Chase gave another warning glance.

What is with him?

Toby looked in the side mirror: A Deputy Sheriff pulled up behind.

As if taking a driving test: Chase placed his hands at ten and two, sitting straight, eyes ahead.

Waiting until the traffic was clear, Chase activated his turn signal, merged into his lane, accelerated to five mph below the speed limit, and drove straight down the road.

But he activated his turn signal long before their turn toward the mall.

Where are we going?

Quiet! he snapped, without turning his head. Chase turned the wheel using a smooth hand-over-hand motion and entered some random neighborhood.

Toby looked at the side mirror; the Deputy continued down the main road.

What are you doing?

Chase checked his mirrors.

They stopped in front of a house. Who lives here?

Chase stared into the rear-view mirror. Seconds later, his shoulders relaxed, and he sighed.

Did you get a ticket already?

No. Chase pointed at Toby. Do not tell Mom or Dad about the cops.

Why?

"Not — a word." Chase turned in a cul-de-sac and went back toward the main road.

Ever since the accident, Chase was too weird.

After a silent lap around the mall and a stop at a shoe store, the trip home was as silent as it was uneventful. Chase parked behind Mom’s car. Not a word.

Toby pretended to ignore him: he could outrun Chase but had to sleep sometime.

In his room, Toby still could not believe this was his room. Filled with his stuff.

He started a new game: driving stolen cars through various American cities’ streets, then checked that website for cheat codes.

In the background, his TV showed a movie with castles and sword fights.

He took another big bite of pizza he’d snuck out of the fridge

He drove the digital car up a virtual ramp as an analog glob of pizza sauce landed on the carpet.

Crap!

Toby scrambled to clean it but only made it bigger.

4

Everything went wrong : his alarm didn’t go off, Mom didn’t check on him, he couldn’t find his shoes (still in the garage), and he missed the bus.

Mom and Dad were gone, and Chase had an early class.

Chase said, You walked home yesterday. Why make me late, too?

He planned to walk to school, but with an earlier start.

Toby jogged out the door, toward the back of the subdivision, down that red clay road, while avoiding several mud puddles swollen from the storm.

The trail was right over-

He heard something.

No. He heard nothing but bugs and a distant mockingbird, but there was something right over-

No, he’s late enough now.

He took a few more steps into the woods...

What is that?

He looked back across the deserted construction sites.

This is stupid.

He took another step, and...

Something is in there.

The puddle didn’t look too deep-

What am I doing? he mumbled to no one.

He was wearing new pants, new shoes, and he didn’t want muddy feet all day.

He paced around the murky perimeter.

Sat on a block of bricks, as if