The Third Ten

by Jacqueline Druga

  “That’s what’s being said.” Frank replied.

  “How?” Dean waited for something from Ellen. “How?”

  Ellen opened her bingo bag. She handed him a folded folder. “Take a look.”

  It didn’t take long to examine the lab work that Ellen presented to Dean. His face went from shocked, to anger to confused. He paced, holding his hair back, then after reading it once more, dropped it to the couch.

  “That’s in addition to the stuff on the list,” Ellen said. “That’s what they found hidden in the cryo lab.”

  “It’s bullshit, El,” Dean defended. “I’m not the mutilator. No matter what this says.”

  “Are you having black outs Dean?” Ellen asked.

  “Yes.” Dean nodded. “Yes, I am. Frank knows about it. I can’t explain them.”

  “Maybe you don’t remember being the mutilator.”

  Dean laughed. “To do ridiculous things like this is though provoking. It also shows this individual, the mutilator doesn’t really want to hurt anyone. Plus, my black outs aren’t long, and I usually fall over.”

  “What about waking up naked in the woods?” Ellen asked.

  “I can’t explain that. Why are you so quick to believe this?”

  “Your DNA …”

  “First,” Dean cut her off. “Obtaining my DNA without my permission …”

  “Recent DNA,” Ellen corrected.

  “How did you get it?” At the sound of Frank whistling, Dean only shifted his eyes then returned to Ellen. “Okay, you got recent DNA.”

  “Which is mutated.”

  “I’ll give you that.” Dean nodded.

  “Are you giving yourself the healing agent?” Ellen quizzed.

  “Yes.”

  “To test the reversal?”

  “No.” Dean replied. “I mean. Yes and No. The reversal does work, but with serious side effects. Not serious, but the stomach cramps are horrible.”

  “You’ve taken the reversal?”

  “I have.”

  “You’re testing on yourself?” Ellen asked.

  “No.” Dean rebutted. “I am healing myself.”

  “What?” Ellen asked.

  “Healing. I’m giving myself the agent to heal my brain. My latest scan shows scar tissue and damage from the chip. The last thing I want is to lose my sight even temporarily. So I thought, if I gave myself the agent, it would heal my brain. I haven’t run a scan. Why am I defending myself to you? Why is this so believable?”

  “Your skin, Dean was found under Henry’s nails.” Ellen snapped. “Henry scratched the mutilator. Unless there’s another reason for Henry scratching you.”

  “Henry didn’t scratch me,” Dean said.

  “The explain these.” Ellen lifted his arm, “And explain how Henry got your skin under his nails.”

  “I don’t know.” Dean flubbed. “Someone put it there.”

  Frank snapped his finger. “Exactly. That’s what I say.”

  Quickly, Dean turned to Frank. “You don’t believe I’m the mutilator.”

  “Fuck no. Someone is setting you up big time.”

  Ellen groaned.

  Dean smiled. “Thank you, Frank. Thank you for believing me.”

  “You’re welcome, but just me believing in you is not enough. You’re mutated.”

  “My mutation isn’t that much.”

  “You run fifty miles an hour.’

  Dean laughed. “I do not.”

  “Do too.”

  “No, Frank, I don’t.”

  “When’s the last time you ran?”

  Dean fluttered his lips. “I don’t know. Does the mutilator run fast?”

  “Very.”

  “I’ve given the serum to a lot of people.” Dean said. “It could be any one of them.”

  Ellen sighed out. “The fact remains, Dean, the evidence against you is mounting. It’s huge. I am coming to you first, before a course of action is taken.”

  “What?” Dean squeaked out the word. “A course of action? I’m innocent. I’m not the mutilator, and I will do anything. To prove that.”

  “Anything?” Frank asked.

  “Anything.”

  Frank smiled.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  February 17th

  The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the winter moon cast a bight reflection on the open area by sector thirty-two.

  It was just before six, and Joe was not a happy camper when he arrived in the jeep with Hal.

  “Make this good, Frank,” Joe said. “Robbie is manning my office and its ballot day.”

  “I know. I know.” Frank held out a hand.

  Hal stepped from the jeep. “Please don’t tell me this is over something stupid.”

  “No, it’s about the welfare and safety of the community.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  At that moment, Dean stepped from the jeep.

  Joe closed his eyes. “What’s going on, Frank?”

  “Yesterday, in your office, you listened to what Danny suggested.”

  “I did, but we agreed the evidence is too much to ignore.”

  “And I say Dean’s not the mutilator.”

  Hal tossed back his head. “Here we go again.”

  “Fuck you, Hal, hear me out.” Frank argued. “Dad, I saw the mutilator, sort of. He was a blur. He runs fast. Like me.”

  “Because he’s been mutated like you. Dean’s been mutated.”

  “Yeah, but he doesn’t run fifty five miles an hour.” Frank defended. “He’s been taking the healing stuff for his brain.”

  Almost as if they didn’t believe, both Joe and Hal bobbed their heads.

  Frank continued, “I’m gonna prove Dean can’t run fifty-five miles an hour.”

  “How?” Joe asked. “By racing him.”

  Hal scoffed. “Good God, Frank don’t be absurd. Any idiot who runs fifty miles an hour can claim they don’t run super fast, and they can just fake how fast they run. Use your head.”

  “I did.” Frank pointed to his temple. “Yes, anyone can hold back. But will they hold back when chased by …” he turned the spotlight into the section behind the fence. “Ah, hear them? They’re back.” Frank grinned.

  Dean peeped out an ‘uh’.

  Frank laughed.

  “Frank,” Dean shook his head. “You said nothing about the killer babies.”

  “Wait. Wait.” Joe spoke. “You mean to tell me you want to put Dean into the Killer Baby section?”

  “Yep. See. I figure if he has as much of a mutation as me, they won’t go after him at all. Maybe. Even if he does have my mutation, and if they go after him, he’s gonna have to run. If he runs fifty five miles an hour, instinct will kick in and he’ll fuckin’ fly. If he can’t run that fast, well … Dean’s breakfast.”

  Joe nodded with a closed mouth. “I have to admit, that’s pretty smart thinking.”

  “What!” Dean blasted.

  Hal, who had slid his hand over his eyes, looked at Joe with disbelief. “You cannot possibly believe this is a good thing to do.”

  “Actually, I think it’s a great thing to do.”

  “How … how can you say that? He’s putting this man’s life on the line.”

  “Well …” Joe tilted his head. “See, Frank swears the mutilator runs fifty plus miles an hour. If Dean can run that, he will run that when pursued by those killer babies …”

  “Toddlers,” Frank corrected.

  “Who gives a rat’s ass, Frank?’

  “They do.”

  Joe grumbled, “As I was saying ... I don’t care how confident you are. When they chase you, you run.”

  Hal was in debate, and his face showed it. “Okay, just suppose, Dean doesn’t run that fast. Then what?”

  Frank confidently nodded. “Dino, the new breakfast cereal of champions.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  Frank shrugged. “No guarantees, but I’ll try to stop it.” He sniffed. “Dean, you ready?”


  “No.” Dean answered.

  “Dean, you said you’d do anything.”

  “Frank, you ass, I didn’t say I’d be bait. I can’t outrun those things.”

  “Good.” Frank said. “Show us.”

  “Can’t we just race? Or … or better yet …” Dean upped his voice. “Hal can chase me with a jeep.”

  “Hal won’t hit you if you can’t outrun him.”

  “Then you. You’ll hit me.”

  “True.”

  “Enough,” Joe said. “Frank, what’s the plan.”

  “Well, I figure I go out with the jeep. I take Dean out a bit and leave him there. Whistle, say ‘breakfast’ and we’re off.”

  Joe nodded. “Good.”

  Dean groaned.

  Hal shook his head.

  With a clap of excitement, Frank walked to Dean. “Ready?”

  “Would it make a difference if I said I wasn’t?”

  “Nope. In.”

  “Fine.” Dean, sluggishly got back in the jeep.

  Frank spoke into his radio, “Down sector thirty-two. Thanks.”

  As Frank climbed into the jeep and started it, Joe walked to Dean’s side. “Good luck.”

  With pitiful eyes Dean looked at Joe.

  Joe stepped back as Hal opened the gate and Frank pulled through. Quickly, Hal secured it.

  “What do you think?” Hal asked.

  Joe shrugged. “I don’t know. In any event, it should be fun to watch.” He laid his hand on Hal’s back.

  At first Hal nodded, then realizing what he agreed to, snapped a look at his father, then out to the field as the jeep disappeared.

  ***

  His knees were scraped, his nose bled, and he could still smell the foul stench of Killer Toddler salvia on his face, but Dean was alive. He got a good distance, until he heard Frank whistle, then out like a bullet shot a Killer Toddler. A good thing was, they weren’t as agile as when they were babies. A quick dart and the toddler slammed into a tree.

  Frank’s commentating of, “Oh, that had to hurt.” Didn’t make Dean laugh. He never realized how far a hundred yards was until he lost direction and was chased by the jaws of death. He didn’t make it, his legs charged as fast as they could go, but as he neared the fence, his bad knee gave out and Dean collapsed to the ground.

  A growl.

  Saliva

  Dripping.

  Teeth.

  “Stop!” Frank called out.

  Dean was afraid to turn around. Already he caught glimpse of it through his peripheral vision.

  The Killer Toddler dropped to Dean’s side. The heavy weight of it flipped Dean on his back.

  “Give him love,” Frank instructed.

  The child began to do just that by lashing his tongue happily, all over Dean’s face.

  “Enough, Frank. Get him off!”

  As soon as Frank stopped laughing, he called for the toddler.

  On his back, propped up by his elbows Dean stared as Frank cuddled the kid, as if it were his own.

  When he knew it was safe, overcome with relief, Dean plopped back onto the field.

  ***

  There were four people coming out of Joe’s office when he arrived and it wasn’t even seven AM.

  At least he knew Robbie wouldn’t be sleeping on the job.

  Having bid goodbye to Hal, who returned to Bowman, Joe walked into his office.

  “Oh, it’s you. I thought it was more ballot banshees.

  “Ballot banshees? Has it been that bad?” Joe closed the door.

  Robbie lifted the stack. “Half gone, half of those returned.”

  “Talk about an on the ball community.”

  “How’d it go?”

  “You mean with Dean?”

  “That’s where you were.”

  Joe opened his mouth … but a single knock and the door opened.

  “Morning, dear,” Andrea entered the room, kissing Joe on the cheek. “You were gone early this morning. Everything all right.”

  “Yeah, yeah, little incident at the back gate area. No one was hurt.”

  “Oh, good. With Dean a little off kilter, I’m not wanting too much trouble today. I wanted to take this Sunday off.”

  “Enjoy. Grab a ballot.”

  “I will.” Almost giddy, she reached for the table and Robbie handed her a ballot. She stepped back with a gasp, hand to her chest and a proud smile.

  “What?” Joe asked.

  “He looks so leader like. Aren’t you proud, Joe?”

  “No, Andrea, more so annoyed that he’s still in my chair.”

  “Oh.” She darted a kiss on his cheek. “See you at lunch. I take it you won’t be coming to services.”

  “Lots to do Andrea. Lots he knows to do.”

  “You are the leader.” Folding her ballot, and placing it in her handbag, Andrea hurried as if she forgot, kissed Robbie and then left.

  Joe stood with his hand on the door knob. “A lot to discuss, Robert. Get out of my chair, go to breakfast, and be back here in two hours for a meeting.”

  Robbie whined. “Another meeting?”

  “Yeah, but this one really has to be kept under wraps. Okay?”

  “Got it.” Robbie stood from behind the desk, and Joe quickly replaced him.

  Robbie walked to the door, stop, backtracked and grabbed a ballot. He filled it, folded it and placed it in the box on Joe’s desk. “See you in a couple.”

  Joe nodded. After the door shut, he too grabbed a ballot. But before he filled it out, he lifted the phone and dialed. “Hey, Danny. Joe. Listen. You know that little thing you were talking about, that project? Meet me here in two hours and do not tell a soul. I mean it. Tell anyone and you’re off council. Yes, I can make that decision. Bye.” Joe hung up. He lifted a pen from his shirt and stared at the ballot in his hand. He really thought it would be a harder decision, but when actually faced with it, it was a lot more cut he dry and easier to do than Joe imagined. He made his selection.

  ***

  The kids were all still sleeping when Dean called Ellen to request if he could spend the day with them. Take them to services, and so forth. Like a typical weekend Dad, Ellen commented. Dean didn’t appreciate that.

  Nor did the kids appreciate being woke up. Admittedly, Ellen didn’t try too hard to rouse them out of bed, it was only seven in the morning and services weren’t for another couple hours.

  She hadn’t much sleep, and figured after Dean took them, she’d catch a nap. Nap and enjoy the house all to herself.

  The coffee had just gurgled its sign that it was complete when the doorbell rang. Immediately following she heard the door open.

  ‘Is that you, Dean?”

  “Yeah.” He answered and closed the door.

  “I’m in the kitchen. Want coffee?”

  “Please.”

  “Be right out.”

  After pouring and fixing two cups, Ellen brought the mug to the dining area. “How did it go today? She asked as she emerged. “Holy shit.”

  “Thanks.” Dean looked up from the table.

  “Holy shit, Dean what happened to you?” She set the coffee down, referencing the bruises, fat lip, and swollen nose.

  “Frank.”

  “Frank beat you up?”

  “No, Frank put me through the ringer.” He pulled his lip.

  “Quit playing with you lip.”

  “Sorry. Where are the kids?”

  “Sleeping.”

  “I asked you to wake them.”

  “I did. They wouldn’t get up. I figured I’d have some coffee and then get them. You have time. Quit playing with your lip.” She pulled his hand from his mouth. “So, do you and Margaret have big plans for the day?”

  “Yes. I take the kids and she’s in Bowman with Jason. They’re doing the Catholic church but and then she’s helping him organize his cases for the week.” He noticed the curious look Ellen gave. “What?”

  “What’s up with them two?’

  “What do you mean?�
��

  “I mean, all of the sudden they’re awfully cozy. Church, cases, phone calls.”

  “What do you mean phone calls?”

  Ellen shrugged. “She called him from the lab yesterday.”

  Dean nodded once.

  “Does it bother you?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Uh, Dean, she’s your woman. Carrying your child.”

  Dean took a sip of his coffee, winced at the pain and peered at Ellen. “What do you know?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You. I know you. I know you very well. The thing with me and Margaret suddenly doesn’t bother you? What do you know? Your attitude implies you know something.”

  “Why, Dean, my attitude? Is there something I’m not supposed to know but do know. Because if there wasn’t then your wording would have been to ask me what I think I know, instead of what I know. So maybe I do know.”

  “About?”

  “You tell me.”

  Dean grunted.

  “Anyhow …” Ellen sighed out. “You said Frank put you through a ringer.”

  “To be mild. He took me to the Killer Baby area. Oh, I’m sorry, toddler area. Had them chase me.”

  “And?” Ellen asked.

  “I don’t run fifty five miles per hour.”

  “You have to.”

  “No, El, I don’t. Why would you say that?”

  “Your mutation level is as high as Frank’s.”

  “But I don’t run fifty miles an hour.”

  “So, what now?” Ellen asked. “Danny plan.”

  “Yes, do you know what it is?”

  “Yes. And I’m not allowed to tell you and you aren’t allowed to tell anyone about this testing, in case someone is setting you up.”

  Dean raised his hand. “Scout’s honor. I can keep my mouth shut.”

  “Dean? Why don’t you run fast? You have to. The mutation had to affect you somehow.”

  “It did. But it’s not running that I do super fast now.”

  “Don’t say it’s sex because you’re really in trouble now.”

  “Ha. Ha. Ha. No, it’s thinking.”

  “You always thought fast,” Ellen said.

  “Yeah, but now, I think really fast. I mean any figures, I glance, and I have the answer... Reading … I can finish a book in two hours and comprehend it.”