Migration: Beginnings (Migration Series Book 1) Read online

  Migration:

  Beginnings

  Copyright © 2016 by Walter H. Hopgood

  Author’s Website: http://walterwrites.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.

  Edited by Amanda West Editing, found at: http://awestediting.com

  ISBN: 0-9972147-4-0

  Acknowledgements

  Without the help, support, and cheerleading of a few people this book would have never come to be. The author would like to thank the following people for their generous time and support.

  To Kim, for encouraging me when I approached her saying, “Hey, Camp NaNo starts next week. What do you think?”

  To Melissa, for reading the first couple of chapters and saying, “Yeah! Go for it!”

  To Anne, for reading through the very, very first rough draft and giving me pointers on what I fix here and there.

  To Cynsa, for reading through one of the very last drafts and giving me pointers on what should stay, what should go.

  To my writing group friends, who listened to me talk about Rhys and Jason on and on, and never once tuned me out, but instead encouraged me to get this done.

  To Alice Quist, for reading through the (mostly) final version, helping me see what final plot-point edits had to be made, and for the wonderful cover art.

  To my husband, for living with this project day in and day out, telling me to keep at it, and always putting up with all the crazy stuff I put him through.

  for Boo

  Prologue

  “Tell me, Mister Makota. What would your organization need with so many nuclear weapons?”

  Gareth’s first instinct was to have the man standing in front of him killed. But there was something so intriguing about the request, as well as the broad scope of what Makota had declared their use to be, that he waves off his trusted confidant with the smallest of headshakes. Clasping his hands together, Gareth leans forward and puts his elbows on the table, letting his head come to rest as he studies his guest. His family has always relied upon unrest to seize what they wanted, be it power or money. And with the world entering a more peaceful phase as of late, the thought of sending it into the tailspin of chaos intrigued him.

  “What business is it of yours?” the second man, Rustikov, responds, a sneer covering his face.

  Before Gareth can respond, Makota raises a hand to calm Rustikov and whispers something to him in their native tongue. Turning back, Makota nods his head as a sign of respect and replies, “My apologies Mister Roderick, but my companion seems to have forgotten his place.”

  The statement seems to anger Rustikov, evidenced by the way his face turns red in agitation as he spews forth a stream of what must be vitriol, all of it aimed at Gareth and his bodyguards. Gareth watches in amusement as the animated Rustikov nearly starts to foam at the mouth until Gareth reaches into his desk and pulls out a revolver. And with that, the room grows silent.

  “Mister Makota,” Gareth says, his eyes staying firmly planted on Rustikov’s figure. “As long as you agree to my price, you may have the requested number of weapons—as long as you agree to two additional terms.”

  Makota and Rustikov glance at each other before turning back to Gareth. “What would those terms be?” Makota asks.

  Gareth’s cold eyes once again turn to Makota. “First, you will give me and my associates twenty-four hours to vacate the continent.”

  “Done,” Makota replies, though his eyes dart from Gareth to the gun, then back again.

  Standing, Gareth buttons his suit jacket and adjusts his cuffs.

  “And what is the second term?” Makota asks.

  Picking up the gun, Gareth places it into Makota’s outstretched hands. “Please dispose of your companion.”

  There is an instant sound of yelling that overtakes the room, but Gareth ignores it. “Mister Iago,” Gareth calls over his shoulder as he confidently strides to the door. Iago is at Gareth’s side in an instant, opening the door and gesturing for Gareth to go through first. Once in the hallway, Iago shuts the door behind them, and the sound of a gunshot roars through the walls.

  As a smile overtakes Gareth’s face, he turns to his assistant. “I hear Cairo is beautiful this time of year. Would you get my jet ready?”

  Chapter 1

  Rhys is barely conscious of the world around him when he hears a sound from somewhere in the house that wakes him. For the first time in months, he was letting himself sleep in, enjoying the warmth of the light down comforter and decadent cotton sheets that cover the bed and flow past his long, muscular legs. Though his job has been demanding as of late, he’d scheduled a week’s vacation, and even decided to leave at lunchtime the day before vacation started, though that was more Jason’s idea than his.

  Rhys stretches, not quite ready to get up to start the day when he hears his partner Jason —now husband he considers, smiling—bounding up the stairs. And while he’s not unhappy about his husband’s intrusion into his sleep, he’s not quite ready to leave the warm comfort of their bed.

  Even with his head buried under the pillow, he hears Jason entering the room, the gentle swoosh of Jason’s socks against the hardwood floors announcing his presence. He feels the weight of Jason sitting down on the bed next to him.

  “Boo?” Jason quietly says as Rhys feels a hand snake under the covers and connect with his shoulder, trying to rouse him gently from slumber. “You gotta get up.”

  Daring to pop his head out from under the security of the pillow, Rhys glances up at Jason, who is a fuzzy shadow of grey, with a mop of dark, bed-head messy hair at the top.

  “C’mon, Rhys, wake up,” Jason says, leaning over him to the bedside table to retrieve Rhys’ glasses. “Here,” Jason offers as he leans back. Rhys turns over onto his back, dons them and finally opens his eyes long enough to focus, smiling at Jason’s disheveled look.

  Smiling up at his husband, with Jason’s emerald-green eyes gazing back at him—the same beautiful green eyes that Rhys had once compared (out loud) to “The color of the leaves of the mighty birch tree. You know, just before autumn sets in, with beautiful deep greens, and flecks of brown and gold,” which Jason knew was Rhys’ favorite tree, and therefore took it as the high compliment as was intended. As he yawns, memories of the previous day come back to the forefront of his mind. Thoughts of the two of them running into the Multnomah County courthouse just before closing time the day before, offering up a wad of cash to the tired looking clerk and asking to be squeezed in before the office closed up for the weekend—all because they finally could. Rhys leans up and grabs a quick kiss, trying not to exhale due to morning breath, then lies back down on his pillow with his arms tucked under his head, never breaking his gaze and shaking his head gently at his husband’s messy mop of chestnut-brown hair. “Good morning,” he finally offers with a smile, earning one in return.

  “Mom called,” Jason says as his nimble fingers reach out to grab Rhys’ hand. Rhys gives Jason a questioning look, so he clarifies, “My mom called. I kinda…well, spilled the beans, though it wasn’t really a secret. Especially after you posted it on Facebook last night,” he says with a wink.

  “Well, we were gonna have to tell them anyway,” Rhys replies sleepily. “Might as well have gotten it over with. How did it go?”

  Shaking his head, Jason replies, “Actually, better than I thought it would. She’s still mad they weren’t here to at least witness it and take us out to dinner to celebrate. Hell, you kn
ow my mom; she’s probably been planning our wedding for years. She sounded a little hurt that we just decided to elope.”

  “Dinner?” Rhys answers. “You mean take us and half of Portland out to celebrate.” It’s true; Jason comes from an affluent family who lives to lavish attention on family and friends. His father was one of the founding members of a gigantic software conglomerate and had retired early, cashing out all of his stock options and bidding the business world adieu for a life of leisure and philanthropy with his wife and two children. And when Jason brought Rhys home to meet them for the first time, he’d been welcomed with open arms.

  “Yeah, well, since they couldn’t be here, they got us a present.”

  Rhys cocks his head to the side and gives Jason a curious look.

  Grinning, Jason spills, “There are two first class tickets waiting for us at the ticket counter at the airport, and we apparently have a private bungalow at some resort on the beach in Maui.”

  “Maui?” Rhys questions as he stretches. He honestly should be more surprised, but life with Jason and his extravagant family has brought him more surprises than he can remember. Jason’s parents did everything they could to spoil their children while still keeping their feet firmly planted in reality.

  “But I thought we were going to stay home this week and just veg?” he asks. Not that Rhys was really complaining about having to go on vacation to the island paradise; that would be just stupid, he thinks, even as the words slip from his mouth.

  “You know my family…go big, or go home,” Jason replies. “So get up and pack a bag, and I’ll cook you some breakfast. The plane leaves in three hours.”

  If Rhys wasn’t fully awake before, he sure was now at hearing their scheduled departure. His eyes grow big as the news runs through him like a jolt. “Three hours?” he asks, his body tensing as he quickly tries to untangle from the comforter and sheets, bounding out of bed a heartbeat later. He’s secretly happy with his balance and reflexes; if he were as klutzy as his husband, he would have face-planted into the floorboards for sure. “Are you serious?” he asks as he dashes to the closet.

  “Your suitcase is over there,” Jason says, bobbing his head to indicate the well-worn bag sitting next to his dresser. “Got it out after I talked to Mom, and you were still dead to the world.” He gets up from the bed, stretches his long, lean frame, and crosses to Rhys, where he leans in and grabs another kiss. “I already started you some coffee, sweetpea, so get a move on.” He turns and disappears a moment later, Rhys watching his husband’s lithe body disappearing out the doorway. Rhys barely has time to notice however, as his mind bounces with different thoughts about their island getaway.

  Rhys walks to his antique dresser (that Jason had carefully restored and gifted to him when they bought the house) and pulls out a handful of socks, underwear, and undershirts, and heads back to the closet to grab some shirts and pants, including a couple of Jason’s T-shirts that he’d been trying to snag. For being in his mid-30s, he’s still in pretty good shape; not as muscular as Jason, but then again, Jason has more time for the gym than he does. Rhys’ work in the field as a biologist, prior to landing his job with the State of Oregon, has always kept him active and lean, and morning runs or evening walks with Jason don’t hurt either.

  He makes it downstairs a few minutes later and deposits the suitcase by the door, and strides into the kitchen, where Jason greets him with a cup of coffee. Taking a sip of the rich, warm brew, Rhys sighs happily and says, “Have I ever told you that I love you?” He leans over and steals a kiss as Jason grabs a bagel from the toaster and plates the eggs he just scrambled.

  “You’d better,” Jason teases. “After all, you did marry me yesterday, Mister Tambor.”

  Rhys can’t help but smile once again at the previous day’s memories. “Well, you did ask me, Mister Frost-Tambor,” Rhys playfully counters. “And I can’t think of a better way to spend a perfect Friday afternoon.”

  The pair makes eyes at each other like two teenagers, not like a couple that has been together for going on eight years. And for all their differences, they seem to somehow make it work. Rhys, a scientist with the Oregon Department of Environmental Safety, is as equally at home on a computer doing studies as he is out in the wilderness doing actual fieldwork and is absolutely nothing like his husband. Jason, who was brought up as a free spirit, took his time getting through college, finally deciding on an art history and business administration double major.

  And while the two are so disparate in everything from their fields of work (Jason often took temporary jobs, like opening a gallery for a friend, or throwing special events, and is currently between jobs) to how they were raised (Rhys was raised as an Army brat by a very militaristic father and schoolteacher mother), they fit together perfectly.

  Jason adds the final touches to Rhys’ breakfast and puts the plate down in front of him. “I’m gonna go get a shower,” he announces, running a hand through the mop of dark hair on Rhys’ head. Rhys enjoys the nimble, but strong fingers as they scratch at his scalp. “Eat up,” Jason says.

  As he digs into his breakfast, Rhys watches as his husband disappears from view and hears him double-timing it up the stairs. He wonders how lucky he is to have found such a great partner, pondering their past and now boundless future as a married couple as he takes a bit of the chewy sourdough bagel—the ones he’d once said were a favorite and Jason never fails to keep at least a few on hand.

  Rhys’ phone makes a beeping noise, notifying him of an incoming email. He reaches over and grabs it, checking his email to make sure he’s not missing anything important at work, and checks the news sites to see what’s going on in the world. As he’s web surfing, he gets a text alert from one of the cable news giants. He clicks the link and gets so engrossed in the story that he doesn’t hear the water turn off upstairs and starts when Jason appears back in the kitchen, hair still wet from his shower and clinging to his forehead. He smiles at the sight, as it reminds him of the time Jason accompanied him as a last-minute, substitute intern on a work trip into the remote wilderness of Klamath Falls, where they’d spent two weeks being totally drenched by the never-ending rain, though Jason loved every minute of it. It was soon after they’d started dating, and that trip was when Rhys knew that Jason was the only one for him—working alongside other interns, and keeping everyone’s sprits high. Even when things went fubar, Jason kept a smile on his face, his happy attitude infectious to the other team members.

  Going back to his phone, he scrolls to the headline that reads, ‘White House: Terror Alert Levels To Increase Due To Unspecified Threat.’ He puts his napkin on the plate and drains his coffee cup. Turning the phone to Jason, he shows him the headline. “Might be a bit of a rough travel day,” he says, handing his phone over.

  Rhys stands up from the table and says, “I’m gonna shower.” Reaching the stairs as his mind wanders about their trip, he stops and says, “You wanna leave the car at the airport or take a taxi?” But before Jason can respond, he adds, “Oh, and what about Baxter?”

  Picking up Rhys’ plate, Jason replies, “Mom said they were sending a car service for us; that’s why I got you up.” Glancing at the clock, he adds, “They should be here in about twenty minutes.”

  “And Baxter?” Rhys asks. Baxter was Jason’s ancient calico cat he’d gotten when he was still in college that adored Jason and tolerated Rhys. Usually.

  “Relax,” Jason says. “Mom’s coming up to house sit while we’re gone. My dad’s heading to Europe tomorrow for a few days to attend some conference, and she said she needed something to do. They’re going to come up this afternoon, and he’ll leave from here in the morning. Besides, it’ll do Mom good to get out of Eugene for a while.” When Rhys nods, Jason adds, “Now go! The car should be here soon.”

  Rhys takes the briefest of showers and searches for a comfortable outfit (anything with buttons just doesn’t sit well with him on airplane rides), so he grabs a pair of jeans and his Portland Timbers T
-shirt, puts them on, and heads down the stairs; sitting on the final step to slip on his running shoes just as he hears a car pull up in the driveway.

  “Car’s here,” Jason calls from the next room, and walks in, cradling Baxter in his arms. He gives the cat one last loving cuddle, then puts the animal on the floor and watches as it scurries away. “You ready to go?”

  “Absolutely,” Rhys says with a smile. He gets up and grabs his backpack and suitcase, steals one last kiss, and follows Jason out to the driveway, where their honeymoon awaits.

  The trip to the airport is relatively quick since it’s early enough on a Saturday morning that there’s hardly any traffic. The couple checks in with the airline and drops off their luggage, and grabs their boarding passes, waving back to the airline ticket agent when she wishes them a pleasant flight.

  The security lines aren’t too populated since Saturdays are generally slower travel days, so it doesn’t take the pair any time at all to reach the first TSA security agent. They hand over their boarding passes and identification and are soon ready to go through the magnetometers when a burly looking agent stops them.

  “Excuse me, sir, but you’re going to have to take that off. It’s going to set off the alarm,” the agent complains, pointing to Jason’s ever-present triangular shaped metal necklace. It is something that he never takes off; when Rhys had first asked him about it years before, Jason said that it was something his grandfather had given to him when he was young. He promised to never be without it, and to Jason, promises were everything—especially to his beloved grandfather.

  “It never has before,” Jason counters. Rhys reaches out to touch Jason’s arm just as his husband goes to counter the agent’s stance. Rhys gives Jason’s arm a gentle squeeze, giving his husband a silent plea, feeling hopeful when Jason backs off a bit. There were some TSA agents who you just didn’t mess with, and Rhys hopes the broad-shouldered man standing just inside the magnetometer giving them a death glare, isn’t one of them.