Sandcastle for Pegasus Read online

  Sandcastle for Pegasus

  Bob Avey

  © Copyright Bob Avey 2021

  Black Rose Writing | Texas

  © 2021 by Bob Avey

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.

  The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author.

  First digital version

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Print ISBN: 978-1-68433-757-6

  PUBLISHED BY BLACK ROSE WRITING

  www.blackrosewriting.com

  Print edition produced in the United States of America

  Thank you so much for checking out

  one of our Fantasy novels.

  If you enjoy this book, please check out our recommended title for your next great read!

  War of the Staffs by Steve Stephenson & K.M. Tedrick

  “Offers an enjoyable romp for high fantasy fans.”

  –KIRKUS REVIEWS

  For my lovely wife, Kathi, who graciously shared her life with me,

  but has now gone to be with the lord.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I would like to thank and acknowledge Emelia Monaghan for editing, Reagan Rothe with Black Rose Writing for believing in me, Christopher Miller for public relations support, the design team for the book cover, and the editing team for final editing.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Recommended Reading

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  BRW INFO

  CHAPTER ONE

  MARTIN

  May 4, 2020, 11:00 a.m.

  Martin Taylor’s first thought was that he was dead. His parents had died in an automobile accident a few years ago, and now he was suffering the same fate.

  His thoughts swirled, gathering and losing strength while he floated in a tunnel, barely aware of his physical being. The tunnel stretched about seven feet in diameter, and the walls were charged with energy, electrical perhaps.

  Martin dismissed the idea of death because—well, because he was here, wherever here was, and apparently cognizant on some level. He thought he heard voices, though the sound was so nondescript he almost dismissed it as having no immediate significance to his situation. “Welcome to Camp Hero,” the voices said, like a distant whisper.

  Martin couldn’t see anything. Whether that was because of a total lack of light or to his eyes not working, he wasn’t sure. He fancied momentarily that his mind had left his body to roam some mysterious realm where only thoughts existed, but that didn’t seem right either. He wondered if he could be dreaming or—if the accident was real—something much worse; he was trapped in a coma, his body stretched out on a bed in some hospital room while his thoughts, for the time being, were somewhere else.

  He had seen the oncoming car. But he had failed, let everyone down as he always did. And now, he was trapped in a ton of twisted metal. And what about his son, Luke? Luke had been with him.

  Martin tried to slow his racing heartbeat. This could not be real. He wasn’t dead. He tried to think other thoughts, anything but that. Like the fact that he was a good father and a good husband.

  Or like the fact that he had no confidence in himself. His whole life was one error or misjudgment after another. And now he’d really done it.

  He was trapped in a twisted automobile, and he and Luke were going to die.

  A deep-rooted fear, an overpowering sense of helplessness, threatened to engulf Martin. He focused inward, gathered a small moment of calm, and reflected on just how this might have happened. He remembered one of Grandma Phyliss’s old sayings. She didn’t have one for every occasion, but only those she thought mattered.

  “Confidence is a tricky suit of clothing,” she said. “Overplaying it can be detrimental, but underplaying it can be devastating.”

  . . .

  As far as Martin could recall, it all began with Luke’s doctor’s appointment, but not with just any doctor. Doctor Jackson Stewart was a psychologist who specialized in brain mapping, a diagnostic test in evaluating patients with autism and other mental disorders.

  On the way home, Luke grew quiet, as if lost in thought. Later, he shook his head. “I had another blowout with skates last night. I had it. I tired.”

  Luke raised his elbow, which sported a nasty bruise. “I hurt myself. I through.”

  Martin kept his attention on the road. Luke’s anger had risen along with his voice level, but that was Luke in a nutshell: sweet and loveable, but a nasty little dose of Jekyll and Hyde lurking beneath the surface.

  Roller skating was one of Luke’s few outlets, and the only thing he could do by himself, thanks to his sister’s love and intervention years ago. Krystal had her own life now, but Luke would never have that. He’d asked for a new pair of skates for Christmas. But Martin could read his son well, perhaps better than anyone, and he’d known Luke’s heart hadn’t been in the request.

  His son had been looking at riding lawn mowers for several months, and that was what he’d really wanted. An extravagant gift, but Luke had gotten pretty good at lawn maintenance, and Martin both appreciated and depended on his help. Mowing grass in Oklahoma’s summer heat was no picnic. During a moment of weakness, Martin had made a spur-of-the-moment decision to surprise Luke with the lawn mower, and he was glad he did. Finding the mower in the garage had made Luke beam with pride and joy: best Christmas ever.

  But that had left the problem of the old skates unaddressed until Luke’s birthday, which was today.

  “I’m sorry about your arm,” Martin said.

  “It not your fault.”

  “I’ll talk to Mom. Maybe we can go ahead and order the skates.”

  Actually, Martin had already ordered the skates over a month ago. He’d
talked the manager of the skating rink into holding them.

  “What happens to trains without engines?”

  Martin glanced to his left where several boxcars were parked along the track but kept most of his attention on the road. The traffic was heavy, but Luke seldom understood why Martin couldn’t give him his full attention while he was driving, “They’ll eventually get picked up.”

  “What about other trains? The train without an engine can’t go. They might crash.”

  Martin wondered where Luke might be going with this. His ramblings seemed random and even nonsensical, but Martin had learned that a common thread usually existed. The thread itself might matter or seem important only to Luke, but not always. “They probably won’t crash. That used to happen, though rarely. But now with computer systems and who knows what else, the companies probably know where everything is: trains and boxcars. Unless they have some kind of glitch, a crash is unlikely.”

  “What happens to trains without engines?”

  Martin gripped the wheel of his car, an older Audi with a lot of miles. When Luke got circular with his questions, it usually meant something was bothering him. “Did something happen during the doctor’s visit?”

  “Remember our vacation?”

  Martin thought back. They’d gone to Panama City Beach, Florida. “Yeah, wish we were there now.”

  “We forgot the sandcastle.”

  Martin glanced at Luke, who was staring straight ahead as if studying the oncoming traffic. He wasn’t looking side to side as usual, and he hadn’t once asked about the songs on the radio. Martin loved classic rock, and Luke loved what Martin did. He’d often ask about the music, wanting to know who wrote the song and whether it was their first hit. But sandcastles? Luke had never brought up that subject.

  They often vacationed in Florida. One thing they always did was build a sandcastle, except Martin usually did the building while Luke joined his mother looking for shells along the beach. They hadn’t built one this year. Someone had been watching them, or so it’d seemed to Martin. There had been someone at the pool, a tall man with dark hair and dark glasses, and again on the beach, the same man. Susan said it was probably nothing, just a coincidence, but it had made Martin uncomfortable.

  “It’s okay,” Martin said. “We’ll build two next year.”

  “I no go back.”

  Martin felt an empty sensation building in his stomach. “We can do something else. How about Colorado? That was fun.”

  “Doctor Stewart doesn’t like me.”

  Martin fought for composure. He’d known something wasn’t right the minute he and Luke had walked into Doctor Stewart’s office. “What makes you think he doesn’t like you? Did he tell you that?”

  “He put me in a chair like Doctor Monroe does.”

  Doctor Monroe was Luke’s dentist. Martin knew little about psychologists, but a dentist chair? “What happened after that?”

  “He put wires on me.”

  It was then that everything came apart. Martin saw another vehicle, a black BMW, charge directly at them.

  The road was open, and then it wasn’t.

  “What happening?”

  Martin was so unprepared. It happened so quickly he could not avoid what was sure to follow. The head-on impact of the collision would smash both cars into unrecognizable hunks of metal. He and Luke, in all probability, would not survive the crash.

  Martin saw the oncoming vehicle and its driver with clarity. He’d been in accidents before, and everything was a blur, but not this time. He saw the black BMW in amazing detail, as if he were watching a bizarre movie.

  Yesterday was Susan’s birthday, and today was Luke’s. They were going to celebrate this weekend—a party for both of them. Luke was going to get his skates.

  Do something, Martin. Turn the wheel.

  It was then that everything went black.

  CHAPTER TWO

  MARTIN

  May 4, 2020, 8:00 a.m.

  Something touched Martin, a warm and soft hand upon his shoulder. “Martin, wake up. You’re going to be late.”

  He opened his eyes, letting them adjust to the light filtering into the room while his mind came out of a dream about Luke’s doctor’s appointment. Had it been a dream?

  Susan hovered over Martin, her face distorted with concern. “You promised to take Luke to his appointment today, remember?”

  Martin studied Susan’s face, thinking, and not for the first time, just how lucky he was.

  “Happy birthday, my love.”

  “Thanks, but my birthday was yesterday.”

  “I know. I’m still celebrating.” He leaned close, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and then rolled over, dropping his feet to the floor. After grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he strolled toward the bathroom but stopped halfway. It still seemed to him that he’d already taken Luke for the appointment yesterday. Turning back, he thought about telling Susan but changed his mind. It was a ridiculous notion. The appointment was scheduled for today.

  “You were really thrashing around last night,” she said, as if reading his mind. “Swinging your arms and legs all over the place. You were talking too. Couldn’t make it out though, never can.”

  The expression on Susan’s face gave Martin more second thoughts. She was probably right, though he’d never confused a dream with reality. Even vivid and compelling dreams faded when he tried to remember them, or put the imagery into words, but not this one. He recalled every detail, especially the look on the other driver’s face. The man had not been frightened. If anything, the expression on his face had been one of satisfaction.

  Martin wondered if he could be losing his mind. He turned back and continued into the bathroom where he checked his phone.

  Sure enough, it showed Monday, May 04.

  In the bathroom, Martin pulled an old watch from the drawer. He had inherited the watch—expensive to this day—from his grandfather. Martin loved the old timepiece, a large, heavy thing that was state-of-the-art in its time. It too showed May 04.

  Triggered by the strange sensation of having repeated the day, Martin thought back and remembered the long talks he used to have as a boy with his Grandpa Frank while Martin was visiting. Several times, his grandfather had brought up the concept of time travel. Martin hadn’t really understood, so he had put the strange conversations out of his mind. However, he’d recently met a man named Tanner McIntosh, a rather rough looking character. Though, for reasons Martin didn’t understand, he’d found Tanner interesting. For one thing, Tanner was fascinated by unusual things, like time travel, though Martin had again put it on the back burner.

  After showering and dressing, he strolled across the living room and into the kitchen area. Once there, what was going to happen occurred to him before it happened, the notion rambling through his thoughts much like a sudden remembrance of something he’d stowed in the back of his mind.

  “Watch it, Suze. Luke left one of his cars on the floor. You’re about to step on it.”

  Susan let out a shriek. She kept a grip on the cup she carried, but there was no physical way for the contents of the cup to keep pace with Susan’s jerky movements.

  “Damn it, Martin.”

  Martin grabbed a few paper towels and cleaned the spill. “I tried to warn you. And I thought we’d agreed to try to not use that kind of language.”

  Susan went to the table in the breakfast nook where she plopped down in a chair, propped herself up with her elbows, and covered her face with her hands. “All right, all right. But you’re leisurely going through the morning like it’s a free Saturday or something. This is important.”

&nb
sp; Martin sat across from her, reached across the table, and gingerly took her hand, pulling it away from her face. His company had recently changed insurance carriers, and the new insurance company had asked for a psychological evaluation of Luke. “Sorry. Things are a bit crazy this morning. It’s that silly dream. It has me rattled.”

  “Yeah,” she said, “emphasis on dream. And you’re going to be late.”

  “You’re right,” Martin said. He got up from the table and walked toward the hallway. He would have to wake Luke, and that was something both he and Susan tried to avoid. It was best to let Luke do that on his own. Martin paused at the door and gently rapped against it. He was surprised Susan’s scream hadn’t brought Luke out of his room, but it had not. He eased it open. “Hey, big guy. Mom has breakfast, that fancy oatmeal you like.”

  “I no go back.”

  Martin thought about that for a moment. It seemed a strange thing to say, even for Luke. “No,” Martin said, “just this once. We won’t have to do it again. I promise. And we have the birthdays coming up this week. That should be fun. I’ve invited Candy.”

  A few minutes later, they all sat around the table.

  Susan kept checking her watch.

  “They think I’m crazy?” Luke asked.

  Martin and Susan exchanged nervous glances. “No,” Martin said, “nothing like that. It’s just something we have to do for insurance.”

  “You and Mom not go.”

  Martin raised his coffee cup and drained what was left. “Sure, we did.”

  A white lie, but sometimes that was best with Luke. “Mom met me at work the other day, remember? We both went together before we came home.”

  Part of it was true. Susan had picked Martin up from work a few days earlier.