The Third Ten

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Atlantic is clear,” Danny said. “Nothing is … shit.”

  Smug, George nodded. “Just as I thought. He jammed the image. Go home Joe.”

  “I’ll be a son of a bitch.”

  “Where … where …” Danny squealed. “Where are those twenty-four hundred?”

  Blip.

  George pointed. “There.”

  “Shit,” Danny exclaimed.

  “Get on the radio. Call Frank,” George said. “Call them now.”

  <><><><>

  “Oh, man, Robbie’s missing an early Christmas,” Frank said, then handed the binoculars to Hal.

  They had just gotten their suits at the warehouse, all the same, not much tailoring needed to be done, when Jimmy carried a bag outside and saw the smoke.

  A thin line of gray smoke carried to the sky.

  “Does Danny have people in this area getting supplies?” Jimmy asked.

  “Not that I know of,” Frank replied.

  “Then we have trouble.”

  They followed the smoke a short distance, then hit the roof of an old bus garage and that allowed them to get a good look.

  Hal peered outward, “It’s impossible to get a count how many there are.”

  “Wanna bet twenty-four hundred?” Frank asked.

  “How?” questioned Hal. “I mean, we monitor that.” He handed the binoculars to Jimmy.

  “Frank needs to go over who is on shift down there,” Jimmy said. “Someone could have jammed it or looped the image.” He lowered the binoculars. “Because they didn’t just get here. They’ve been here at least a few days. They’re clearing the overgrowth. They have a mess tent set up.”

  “Hence, our smoke.”

  “Fucking Fort,” Frank said. “It had to be him. There wasn’t even time to think about when we got back.”

  The radio crackled and George’s voice cut through. “Frank, you there?”

  Frank lifted the radio. “Yep, we’re here.”

  “We have something we need you to check out.”

  “Would be twenty-four hundred missing soldiers from up north.”

  “That would be them,” George said.

  “We have them. They parked their asses in the town of Revere. We don’t have a full scope of them, but they’re all there. They’re digging in. Clearing growth, erecting tents. I can’t see the heavy artillery, but I am betting they have it.”

  “How soon will you be back to talk about a plan of action?”

  “We’ll gather what info we can and head back now,” Frank said. “Will take us a couple hours.”

  “See you soon. Over.”

  Frank put down the radio.

  Hal asked. “We’re headed back already without Intel?”

  “Fuck no,” Frank replied. “I’m going in.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “What do you mean, go in, Frank?” Hal asked, following Frank around the clothing warehouse store. “And what are you doing?”

  “If I go in wearing my uniform, I’ll look threatening. If I go in wearing normal clothes I won’t.”

  “I have news for you,” Hal said. “You’ll look threatening no matter what you wear.”

  “Not true,” Frank lifted a hanger from the rank and blew off the dust. “I’ll wear cargo shorts. Who looks threatening wearing cargo shorts?”

  “He’s right,” Jimmy said. “No one looks threatening in cargo shorts.”

  Hal grumbled. “You said that the agreeing with Frank was a Robbie thing.”

  “When Frank isn’t right,” Jimmy said. “He’s right.”

  “So you think our big brother should just walk into the enemy camp of twenty-four hundred?” Hal asked.

  “No, but how do we know they’re the enemy.”

  Hal laughed. “They have tanks. What do you think?”

  “I think we have two choices,” Frank said. “One, I go, act like I live in the area….”

  “Live in the area,” Hal mocked. “Listen to you.”

  “No, I’m serious. Or we go get Henry to infiltrate.”

  That made Hal stop. “Why Henry?”

  “Well, you saw them. They’re mainly Asian. Chinese, Korean, something like that.”

  “Okay …”

  “Send Henry, he can slip in there unnoticed.”

  Hal’s mouth opened. “He’s Japanese.”

  “Yeah, so.”

  “They’ll know!” Hal blasted.

  “Oh no they won’t.” Frank waved out his hand. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’ll go in there. Actually, I’m gonna let them find me. We watched teams of four head out. I’m guessing they’re scouts. We’re gonna have them happen upon me. I need a baseball cap. Look for a baseball cap.”

  “Here’s one.” Jimmy tossed a cap his way. “I was already thinking about that.”

  “Yes.” Frank looked at it, then adjusted the camouflage cap with a skull embroidered. He placed it on.

  “And what about the language barrier?” Hal asked. “They don’t speak English. That’s what my men told me.”

  Frank grinned. “The translators from the future. They’re in the truck.”

  “Why did you bring them?” Hal asked.

  “You never know… and … whoa.” Frank lifted a tee shirt from the rack. “Captain America shirt. Perfect.”

  Hal tossed his hands out in defeat. “I give up. Why don’t we find you some empty beer cans while we’re at it, too Frank. Jimmy, you want to give it a try?”

  Jimmy shook his head. “No. Frank going in, understanding what they’re saying, acting as if he doesn’t, will give us inside information to what they’re up to. Because you and I both know, if they don’t think he understands them, they’re not going to be careful about what they say in the same room.”

  “So you’re just going to stand by while our brother, dressed like a redneck in a Captain America tee shirt, sets himself up to be captured. Possibly killed.”

  “If they didn’t kill your guys, who were soldiers, they aren’t killing Frank,” Jimmy said. “And we won’t be standing by. We’ll be posted in a sniper’s position.”

  “And what happens if he gets surrounded or in a position where we just can’t start picking them off?” Hal asked.

  “Easy,” Frank replied. “Flash bombs.”

  “I’m sorry?” Hal tilted his head.

  “Flash bombs. You remember them. Dean invented them. They cause temporary blindness. I brought sunglasses.”

  “So you brought the translators, sunglasses and flash bombs?”

  “Hal, we were going way beyond the wall, I had to be prepared. I got all kinds of stuff. Maybe you weren’t thinking about it, I was.” He took off his white tee shirt and put on the Captain America one. “Oh, yeah. I look good. This might be my new uniform.”

  Hal did a double take looking at Frank in his new clothes. He shook his head. “We go to get suits for our brother’s funeral and you bring a small offensive and defensive arsenal.”

  “Why does this surprise you?” Jimmy asked. “Of course he would. He’s Frank.”

  Hal physically shuddered and verbally made a cringing sound. “Good Lord, you opened the door.”

  “Huh?” Jimmy questioned. “What are you talking about? Door? All I said was….”

  “No. Shh.” Hal reached out to cover Jimmy’s mouth, but it was too late.

  Jimmy finished. ‘… He’s Frank.”

  Hal cringed and held out his hand.

  Frank grinned. “I am.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Dean was looking for Joe. Andrea said he was working, but when he went to his office, he wasn’t there. Dan from Security said he saw him on the way to the communications room but he found only Danny and George.

  “We sent him home,” George said.

  “And he just went?” Dean asked.

  “Actually, he lost a bet. He had to go home and be with his family if he lost,” George explained.

  “Well, he’s not there,” Dean said. “Thanks.” He began to leave.<
br />
  “Everything okay?” Danny asked.

  “I just … I have the autopsy results. I wanted to share them.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Danny questioned. “I mean, didn’t the virus cause it?”

  “Actually, it’s a little more than that. If you’ll excuse me,” Dean left the communications room. He didn’t feel it was appropriate to discuss the autopsy with anyone else until he spoke with Joe.

  But first he had to find him.

  He began to look everywhere until he found him in the place he really should have checked first.

  The Social Hall.

  “Hey, Joe,” Dean said softly when he walked in.

  Joe was alone in the Social Hall, sitting at the bar, a bottle before him. He stared down to a cup of coffee and a filled shot glass beside it.

  “Dean.”

  “I um …. I have the results of the autopsy.”

  “And you thought I’d want to know them.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “I don’t need to. I know what killed my son.”

  “Do you, Joe?” Dean asked and set down the folder before him.

  “He went to the future, he caught an infection. Gonna bet without opening that folder, it will tell me my son had myocarditis. Which, is a complication of the flu or infection.”

  “Close.”

  “Close is good enough for me.”

  “Read it, Joe.” Dean pushed the folder closer.

  “No.” Joe slid it back.

  “Read it,” Dean said firm, then softened his voice. “Please.”

  Joe opened the folder, looked then shut it again. “I hate when you do this shit. You give me something to read. I don’t want to read it. I don’t want to read his weight, height and stomach contents. Tell me what you need me to know.”

  “You were right about the heart. But Robbie didn’t have myocarditis, he had hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. A heart condition that grew worse though the years. It was advanced. It went undetected and was a result of his rheumatic fever. It was bad, Joe. Later stages. He was lucky he lived this long. All it would have taken was one …”

  Joe held his hand up stopping Dean. He pushed the folder toward Dean, lifted the shot glass, downed the contents and stood. “Thanks.” He lifted his coffee and walked out.

  Did Joe really hear him? Did he even care? Dean received no response and stood alone in the Social Hall with that report.

  He wanted Joe to know and Dean told him.

  That was the best that he could do.

  <><><><>

  Father Mike believed he was given a great honor in being asked to serve the mass for Robbie Slagel. He was new in town, and Danny must have spoken very highly of him for the family to entrust him with the privilege. In doing so, they also gave him a task.

  Get to know Robbie Slagel.

  Father Mike didn’t know him, he didn’t have time to know him. Brief meetings, passing him in the halls of Containment. It wasn’t enough to deliver a sermon that would give comfort to the family and friends. The funeral sermon was one people remembered. They didn’t always remember the exact words or even what was said at all. They did, however, remember if it was boring, wrong, vague or generic.

  In his time as a Catholic priest, Father Mike had been witnessed too many vague and generic sermons. The loved one had passed and the priest didn’t know them. They’d take a skeleton sermon about God and living life and insert the name.

  It lacked meaning, because it lacked knowledge.

  Father Mike vowed he would not do that. Ever.

  In his entire career he never delivered a carbon copy sermon at a funeral. He tired as best as he could to learn about the person that passed.

  He would do the same for the Slagel family.

  With a few days to go before the funeral, Father Mike would use that time and talk to everyone and anyone he could to learn Robbie.

  One thing he did know, from time spent in containment, was that Robbie was close to Jess Boyens. And that was where Father Mike would start.

  Jess was broken up over it, it was obvious. He was in his house and had called off for the day. The typically well kempt man, was disheveled and smelled as if he had been drinking heavily the night before.

  In fact, when he opened up Robbie’s bedroom door to show Father Mike, Jess hung his head low.

  The bed was badly made, a guitar was on the bed along with notebooks.

  “He was never neat,” Jess said. “I used to try to clean up in here. Now … I won’t touch it. Not for a while.”

  “I understand that. So Robbie was creative over organized.”

  “And lazy about it,” Jess smiled. “If someone would do it for Robbie he would let them. I appreciate you asking me about him.”

  “I need to know him better if I am going to give a sermon at the funeral.”

  “I’m the first?” Jess asked

  “The first. I am hoping you can also point me in the direction of others.”

  “All you have to do is stop anyone on the street and they’ll have a Robbie story.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  They made their way back downstairs and Jess fixed him a cup of coffee.

  “Tell me about Robbie,” Father Mike said. “What’s the first thing that comes to your mind?”

  Jess exhaled as he sat next to him. “Robbie was special. A beautiful man. I knew I was in love with him the moment I kissed him.”

  Father Mike paused as he started to sip his coffee. “So … Robbie was gay. Not that it matters, I just didn’t know that you and him were …”

  “No. No.” Jess waved out his hand. “Robbie wasn’t gay. Then again, many men in Beginnings say they aren’t gay and are in a male to male relationship. That’s because there are very few women.”

  “I see.” Father Mike picked up his little note pad.

  “We weren’t a … couple. We lived together.”

  “So you were close?”

  “Very.”

  “You say you were in love.”

  “I was. Robbie well … he wasn’t. He loved me, I believe he loved me, but not in the same way.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We were roommates. I thought Robbie knew I was gay. He didn’t. He was just being Robbie and I took it the wrong way. That didn’t stop us though,” Jess said. “We stayed roommates. Platonic and best friends.”

  “So you were his best friend?”

  “Absolutely, without a doubt,” jess nodded. “We had a special relationship.” He smiled. “He had this song. The Silly Song.”

  “Andrea mentioned that.”

  “Yeah. Everyone loved that song.” Jess paused. “He wrote that about me.”

  “He did.”

  “Yeah.” Jess nodded again and very slowly and dramatic recited some of the lyrics. “How silly can you ... get? How silly can you get?” His lowered his head and squeezed the corner of his eyes.

  Father Mike made a notation in his note pad.

  “He said that?” Dan from Security asked Father Mike. “No way. Yeah, granted him and Robbie were friends and close. But Jess wasn’t in Beginnings when Robbie wrote that song.”

  “Really?”

  Dan nodded. ‘Really. I won’t begrudge Jess. Yep. Him and Robbie were buddies. Some thought a little more, I knew better. Robbie was nice. He was nice to everyone and treated no one differently.”

  “Were you two close?” Father Mike asked.

  “Oh, yeah, very. We’re in security together. We were tight. In fact, to tell you the truth,” Dan said. “It was one night after darts, I believe a Thursday, that Robbie picked up the guitar and it was after our shenanigans, he wrote the song.”

  “The Silly Song?”

  “That’s the one. And if he were alive today, he would tell you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “Me.” Dan nodded proudly. “He wrote The Silly Song about me. We were best friends you know.”

  “So let me get this
straight. You and Robbie were best friends and he wrote The Silly Song about you?” Father Mike asked.

  “Exactly.”

  After making a note, he closed his note pad. “Thank you.”

  “Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike.” Richie rocked back and forth in the office chair in containment. “You came to the right man.”

  “Thank you. I figured since you knew Robbie before everything.”

  “I did. We played softball together. Robbie was a heck of a ball player. Played high school baseball. Had a scholarship but went into the service instead.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  Richie nodded. “He played ball for the Army for like two years. I don’t know what happened there.”

  “This is good to know. So he was athletic.”

  Richie nodded. “All the Slagels are. Well, maybe not Jimmy as much. He is kind of the nerd of the group.”

  “How did Robbie interact here with the residents?”

  “He actually started Containment,” Richie said “It was his and Ellen’s idea to start it. Robbie was the one that designed it.”

  “See? Another thing I didn’t know.”

  “They were a good yin and yang when things started. But they always had the residents in mind and their best interests. Robbie interacted a lot with them. He would come and entertain them.”

  “Yes, he was a musician.”

  “Started the first band in Beginnings.”

  Father Michael nodded as he wrote. “Yeah, and I kept hearing about this Silly Song.”

  “Ah, The Silly Song. Excuse me.” Richie pressed his thumb and forefinger to his eyes. “Just thinking of that makes me choke up.”

  “Wow. Robbie made an impact with that song.”

  “More than that. He … I …. It’s because of our friendship he wrote it.”

  Father Michael paused. “Is that so?”

  “The words go, ‘How silly can you get? How silly can you get’, right? Well, one night we were hanging out and this was before the plague. Robbie was a little drunk and was playing odd songs on the jukebox. Boy band songs. I said to him, “Man, how silly can you get?’ to which he replied …”