Migration: Beginnings (Migration Series Book 1) Read online

  “Well this,” Jason says as he pulls the pendant away from his neck to give the girl a better look, “is a really, really special thing. You see, my grandpa told me that when you find all the pieces that go with this, you can use it to walk all the way to another world, just like it’s in the next room.”

  Ainslie’s eyes get big, and she asks, “Really?”

  “Yep,” Jason replies proudly. “See, a long, long time ago, there were these people who lived in a faraway place. They figured out how to build a really cool machine out of a special metal. Any time they wanted to, they could walk through the device and end up wherever they wanted to be.”

  “Even on the moon?” she asks, eyes wide.

  “Even the moon,” Jason replies. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

  “Could we go there now?” Ainslie whispers. “Can we go to the moon, Uncle Jason?” she asks, her eyes big and bright. Based on the tone of her voice, Rhys wonders if she’ll ever go to sleep at this rate.

  “No,” Jason replies, shaking his head. “At least not yet. See, there was a bunch of bad, mean people who wanted to steal the device; they wanted to take it away from the good people so they could control it. So the really smart people, from so long ago, decided to take the device apart and hide it, saving it from being found by the bad people, and giving people in the future a chance to use it.”

  “Where’s it at?” Ainslie whispers and Rhys can’t help but smile at the little girl’s enthusiasm as he continues poring over the details of the report and photographs.

  “Well,” Jason says, “they took it apart and hid it all around the world so that someone in the future could find it. Someone really smart.”

  “Like Uncle Rhys?” she asks, and Jason smiles. Ainslie levers herself up on her elbows and glances over at Rhys, gives him a little wave, then lies back down. “So where can he find it?” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Rhys is still looking over the pictures, and there’s something familiar about the metal object in the image that he can’t quite put his finger on. The picture shows indentations, and Rhys could swear that the indentations make up some sort of pattern he’s seen before. It takes a second, and he rotates the picture a couple times before realizing that it appears to be some of the major constellations; he grabs a pencil as the picture prints out, and then starts connecting the different dots, finding Orion first, then Puppis, and finally Canis Major.

  “Hey Jase,” he says in an effort to get his husband’s attention. But Jason just turns to shoot him a ‘not now’ look as he goes back to the story.

  “Well they took the first piece and hid it so very, very high up, that it’s almost in the sky,” and he points to the piece on his necklace that shows a mountaintop, with a pinhole in a valley near the summit. “And the second piece,” he says, pointing at the waterfall that covers the second part of his necklace, “is hidden way, way deep behind a body of water. And the third one,” he says, his finger running over the third piece of the necklace that indicates some sort of cave, with a pinhole right through the middle of the entranceway, “is hidden deep, deep in the earth, where nobody can find it. The really smart people decided to leave each piece with a bunch of birds so that the birds would always stand guard over the pieces and not let anyone bad get ahold of them. You know birds can fly really, really high, and they can see really well, so they’d be able to spot the bad people from really far away, and keep them from getting the three pieces to put together.”

  It’s then that Rhys notices that in the picture, there is a set of wings indented into the beam on each end of the metal slab. He’s suddenly overcome with a cold sweat. Going back to the report, he reads that the beam was uncovered in one of the Anasazi caves, and, while it was deep inside one of the caves, it was found just a few inches down in the dirt surrounded by hundreds of mummified birds.

  “Jason,” Rhys says, but is dismissed by the quick wave of a hand.

  “And then what happened?” Ainslie asks through a yawn.

  Jason pushes Ainslie’s hair back, soothing the young girl, and within seconds, her breathing evens out though Jason continues the story. “When you get all the pieces, and you bring them together,” he says, but looks down and sees that the child is asleep, so he leans over and gives her a quick kiss on the forehead. Before he gets up, he finishes by adding, “It will give you wings so you can travel to the stars.” He leans over for one more kiss against her shock of red hair, and gently gets up, trying not to disturb the sleeping little girl.

  “Jason, come here,” Rhys says, keeping his voice quiet, but conveying a sense of urgency. Instead of coming to his desk, Jason reaches for the door. With a quick look down at Ainslie, Jason makes a motion for him to follow and heads out into the hallway.

  “Leave the light on,” Jason advises as Rhys joins him in the hall. Rhys quickly closes the door behind him and almost shoves the pictures in Jason’s face. “You know she doesn’t like to sleep in the dark.” Jason glances at the pictures and asks, “What is this?”

  “Look,” Rhys says in a hurried whisper, handing the photos and the report over to Jason, who flicks on the hallway light so he can study them.

  Glancing over the report, and then the photos, Jason asks, “So what am I looking at, besides something that clearly says, ‘US Government—Official Eyes Only’?”

  “What’s the story you were just telling?” Rhys asks, pointing out the different features of the metal beam in the pictures. “Word for word. Tell me,” he says.

  “Come on, boo,” Jason says, putting a calming hand on Rhys’ chest. “It’s just a story that my grandpa used to tell me.”

  “I know that,” Rhys says with an impatient tone to his voice. “I’ve heard it enough times to almost know it by heart, but still…I want you to tell me. Everything.”

  “Rhys, it’s not like some piece of metal is going to let us sprout wings and leave the planet.” But Rhys doesn’t change the expression on his face. Jason adds, “Seriously. It’s not.”

  Glancing over the report, Rhys points out a specific section and reads it aloud. “Metallurgists have taken a small sample, though the metal is so far unidentifiable. It is thick, like a steel beam, but strong and light, like carbon fiber, and has a natural resonance as if it were generating power, but nothing is visible to indicate as such. The artifact was found underneath a few centuries of dust with the mummified remains of birds placed around it. There were additional carcasses placed around the cave entrance as if to keep it under watch at all times, like they were guarding it against some unknown intruder.”

  Looking up into his husband’s face, he can tell that Jason is having just about the same reaction that he had earlier in the office. Jason raises a hand to his mouth; a muffled, “Oh my God,” coming through his clenched fist. As they both stand there, contemplating the possibilities, Jason seems to go from overwhelmed, to desolation, to disbelief, and then begins the emotional journey anew, as Rhys stands there like it was scientific fact, holding the evidentiary report in his hand.

  They both stand immobile for a few seconds, the silence of the house enveloping them. Jason finally ends the stillness with nonsensical sputtering as Rhys goes back to examining the paperwork again.

  “I need to sit down,” Jason finally says, so Rhys puts a hand on his shoulder and starts guiding him toward the stairs, Jason throwing in an occasional, “Oh my God,” and “This can’t be real. Can it?” He finally ends at the bottom of the stairs with, “It’s…But it’s just a story!”

  The couple heads to the front of the house, Rhys keeping an eye on Jason, making sure he doesn’t tumble over his own feet. They get to the kitchen, where Donna is holding court over a giant pot of marinara sauce, which she uses for the basis of her big neighborhood dinners. She glances up and seeing Jason’s face, says, “Good God, son, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Mom,” Jason says as Rhys plunks him down in one of the seats. “I…” he starts. He looks like he’s trying to
talk, but nothing comes from his mouth.

  “Jason, you’re starting to scare me,” she says as she puts the wooden spoon down, and lowers the heat on the stove. She crosses her arms and aims a concerned look at her son, then up at his husband. “Rhys, is he okay?”

  “Donna,” Rhys begins, his voice sounding a lot more formal than he expects it should. He clears his throat, and begins again. “What do you know about Jason’s necklace?”

  At first, Donna cuts her eyes to Rhys and cocks her head to the side, obviously considering the situation. Rhys gives her a little nod, as Jason reaches up and runs his fingertips over the metal around his neck, and as he does, Donna Frost’s face goes pale; she looks visibly shaken. She takes a deep breath and, her voice almost a whisper, announces, “That old fool,” as she takes a seat at the table, Jason and Rhys glancing at each other. She stares at them both for a moment, then nods as if to indicate the necklace, pointing to it a beat later. “It’s real, isn’t it?” she asks.

  “Well…” Rhys begins, though his voice trails off. Clearing his throat, he adds, “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

  “So they found it? Just one piece, or all three?” Donna asks, not waiting for an answer.

  “Oh God,” Jason says again, leaning down to put his head between his knees. Rhys puts a hand out, rubbing his hand along Jason’s back to comfort him as their world starts to spin out of control.

  “Just one,” Rhys manages, as he gives Jason’s shoulder a squeeze. Leaning over the table, he hands Donna the report, then helps her focus on the right spot and is unnerved by how wide her eyes get. “This is what was filed by one of my teams this afternoon,” and goes back to pointing out the different parts of the report.

  “Son of a bitch!” she says, taking off her glasses and putting them down on the table. “I really thought he’d lost his mind after all those years. In the end, he,” and she turns to Jason, “your grandfather, he had some trouble realizing the difference between reality and…” She waves her hands as if she can convey the world of a person’s imagination. “But I’ll be damned; turns out it was real after all…”

  After a painful silence, Rhys finally asks, “So you know the stories as well?”

  “Yes,” Donna offers as she leans over and scoops up her glasses. “He used to tell me when I was a kid, but he said that for generations the tradition was to go from grandfather to grandson. I was supposed to be his ‘failsafe,’ though, because of the war. Just in case.” She lets out a sardonic laugh and says, “No wonder that man kept on me to get married and have a baby from the time I started dating.”

  Jason finally seems to gather his wits about him. He sits up and rubs his hands on his pants. “Well I don’t know about you two, but I could use a big-ass glass of wine right about now.” He starts to stand, but Rhys just pushes him back down into the chair and squeezes his shoulder.

  Giving him a look, Rhys says, “I’ll get it, sweetheart,” and starts to head to the small closet that they’d converted to their own personal, if tiny, wine cave. “You two should go veg on the couch,” he says as he heads back, a half-magnum of Pinot in his hand, “and I should go get my notebook.”

  “Amy,” Jason says by way of excuse. “Her dad’s working late again, so she’s sacked out on the sofa.”

  Rhys just nods and leans down, giving his husband a quick kiss on the top of his head before putting the wine on the table, and goes to get the bottle opener. He grabs it, along with three glasses, and heads back to the table, where he spots Jason and his mother, both still with awed looks on their faces. He makes quick work of the cork and pours out a glass for Donna, sliding it over to her, and then for Jason, who accepts it without a word, putting it to his lips and taking a deep, appreciative pull of the rich, plum-colored liquid.

  Pouring his own glass, Rhys sets it down and grabs a pad of paper and a pen from the nearby junk drawer, and sits down and takes a sip of his wine. He swallows, letting the liquid warm his throat, then puts down his glass and picks up the pen. “So where should we begin?” he asks.

  Jason and Donna take turns glancing at each other, and then at Rhys. Donna finally breaks the silence, saying, “You probably know the stories better than I do, Jason,” and grabs her glass, shaking her head before taking a sip.

  “But…” he says though, after a look from his mom, he acquiesces. “You know, if I’d have known that this was something real, I would have—I don’t know—written them down or recorded him or something.”

  “Sweetie, you were seven years old when he started telling you all his stories. I bet he probably didn’t even think they were true—at least not at first. Although,” she says, her eyes far away as she considers something. “You know he had a whole bunch of old journals; I packed all his personal stuff away after he died. It’s tucked away in a few boxes in our attic down in Eugene, so they’re probably in there.” Looking around, she asks, “Should I drive down and get them? His boxes?”

  “Not yet,” Rhys says, shaking his head. “How about we just sit down, and you can start from the beginning. Just don’t leave anything out, okay?”

  Taking a deep breath, Jason nods and starts to tell the story about the summer between first and second grades when his grandfather shared the family stories with him for the very first time.

  Seven-year-old Jason is out of the car and rushing up the steps of his grandfather’s house before his father even has a chance to turn off the car’s engine. Jason’s always loved visiting his grandfather, though it has become less frequent now that his family moved down to Eugene. His grandfather still lived in a more affluent part of Portland that abuts one of Portland’s biggest parks. But this trip is special; Jason gets to spend the first two weeks of his summer vacation with his grandfather. It’s the time between first and second grades, and to Jason, September seems like a million years away.

  Jason doesn’t wait for his parents, and instead turns the doorknob and bounds into the house, with the limitless energy of a child happy to be seven. “Grandpa!” he calls, then runs into the den, where his grandfather is usually found. He’s not there today, so Jason runs back out and passes his parents as he heads for the kitchen. “Grandpa!” he calls again, but still no answer.

  “Out here, little one,” he hears and realizes his grandfather must be in the backyard. Jason bounds through the kitchen door and leaps down the back stairs, finding his grandfather sitting under one of the large shade trees in his backyard, a book in his hand and an empty plate and glass sitting on the blanket with him, remnants of a long forgotten breakfast from earlier that morning.

  “There’s my boy,” he says, putting his book down as Jason runs pell-mell into his grandfather’s waiting arms. “How was the ride?” he asks as Jason climbs into his lap.

  “Boring…” Jason answers. “But I found some really cool rocks yesterday. Maybe this week we can go find some more?”

  His grandfather, Jackson Dexter Gamble, nods. “We’ve got two whole weeks, kiddo; that’s plenty of time to get to do whatever you want!”

  Jason’s parents, Mike and Donna Frost, appear at the back door a few minutes later, after getting Jason’s things settled in Donna’s old room. Jackson and his late wife, Debbie, had refurbished the room after Donna moved out years before, and turned it into a part-time office for Jackson and a sewing room for Debbie, with a sleeper sofa that could be used for company. Jason announced that he and his grandfather would be “camping out in the backyard,” though he needed to clear that with his grandfather first. Still, he’d insisted on bringing a sleeping bag and a pup tent that was about six sizes too small for anyone out of primary school.

  “Hi, Dad,” Donna calls as she makes her way out into the backyard, Mike right behind her. “You want me to make some lunch?”

  Picking up his book, Jackson says, “Guess I didn’t realize it was already lunchtime. That’d be fine.”

  “Can we eat out here, Grandpa?” Jason asks.

  Nodding, Jackson gives his gra
ndchild a smile. “I wouldn’t have it any other way…”

  Jason’s parents leave late that afternoon to head back to Eugene because Mike’s, once again, on a critical deadline for work. Before they leave, Donna makes Jackson promise to remember to keep her little boy fed, and to call them if there was anything they needed. But Jason and his grandfather wave her off, and the rest of the world is nearly forgotten for the next two fun-filled weeks.

  A few days into his stay, Jason insists on eating outside. His grandfather throws together a quick meal, and tells Jason to start collecting some of the fallen branches stacked along the fence, and put them into the stone fire pit that sits alongside the large deck. It was perfect for dark, moonless nights, and could easily be used to cook food, as long as the flame wasn’t too high. Jason runs out and starts filling up the firepot with as many branches as he can carry, his grandfather laughing when he sees the amount of wood Jason’s stacked.

  “That’s enough, kiddo,” he says, and tells Jason to get a newspaper out of the recycling container, and he can start the fire himself. It’s one of Jason’s favorite memories of that summer.

  Long after they’ve had their fill of hotdogs, he and his grandfather sit before the firepot, mesmerized by the glowing coals as the sounds of the neighborhood occasionally spill into the yard. Even without the fire, it was a warm evening, so both are clad in just T-shirts and shorts. Jason fills his grandfather in on how his first year of school went, and about all the new friends he’d met. He yawns and his grandfather gives him a questioning look, asking, “You about ready for bed, young man?”

  “Oh, I’m not tired,” Jason protests. After a beat, he adds, “Tell me a story, Grandpa.”

  “A story, huh?” Jackson considers. “Okay…but stories are best told when you’re roasting marshmallows. You want to?”

  “Can we?” Jason asks, his eyes wide.

  “Go on in and get the bag; they’re in the pantry—just look to the left when you open the door.” He stands up, then adds, “And I’ll find us some sticks.”