The Strain
Beginnings Book 30
Jacqueline Druga
The Strain
Beginnings Book 30
By Jacqueline Druga
Copyright 2018 by Jacqueline Druga
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Thank you so very much to Kira for all your help with this book
ONE
Grief can cause a wide variety of emotions and personality changes. With the loss of a child being the greatest of losses there was no measurement. For as strong as Joe Slagel was, the loss of Robbie was more than he could handle. He watched the world end, die out, people he knew, loved, cherished … they all died. Yet, he stayed strong. But Robbie was different … it was Robbie.
The man who reasoned, led, and annoyingly was able to stay neutral, broke.
He was no longer the same man. He couldn’t breathe without pain or close his eyes without seeing the innocent smile of his youngest.
Robbie held a special space in his heart, that part that loved and warmed, when Robbie left, Joe swore he’d never feel again.
That was … until he saw Robbie again.
Dear God, he thought, what was he thinking?
It had been a long time since those in Beginnings took a step back to the old world and had a funeral. Robbie was the first.
Frank was the one. He initiated it, revived the funeral home and found the former mortician. He set up the mass, the entire thing and Joe hated him for it.
Hated him.
It was feeling toward his oldest son that he had never felt before.
Unadulterated, pure hatred.
Why? Like in the old world, when a parent lost their child to a drunk driver, a murderer, they blamed and hated the person that took their child from them.
Joe blamed Frank.
He didn’t look too much further than the facts, one of which Frank took Robbie to the future. Robbie was injured there, caught the virus there.
End of story.
Frank did it.
No matter what Frank, Hal, or Jimmy did to make the service special, Joe rejected it, fought with them, made snide comments and challenged them.
Because... Frank set it up.
Other than blaming Frank, in Joe’s heart and mind, blinded by his grief, Frank did it out of guilt.
That’s what he believed.
The assumption he operated under.
If bad behavior were a pot of milk on a hot burner, well aware of where he was headed, Joe’s bad behavior didn’t just boil over, it boiled over and caked on the stove.
Joe walked around with a shroud of insanity over his head, one he didn’t realize was there until it was lifted.
That took a while.
Where one would think the funeral service was the boiling point, it wasn’t.
He couldn’t see the point in a viewing or funeral. The viewing prolonged the pain again and the funeral just made sure there was enough salt that the wound never healed.
His mindset was not normal. It wasn’t where it should have been. Joe sat and listened to the various eulogies, he tolerated Frank’s. Jimmy surprised everyone with singing a cliché song, then Andrea in some sort of ill-timed attempt at being funny, had Elliot sing a hymn style version of the Silly Song.
Enough!
From his perspective, Joe stood at the beginning of the song, voiced his dismayed opinion and walked out of the service, only to be stopped by Frank who unwarrantedly chastised him.
That was how Joe saw it.
He didn’t care what Jason said, best friend or not. In fact, Joe didn’t even see Jason at the service.
“Okay, okay,” Jason held up his hand, conceding in the argument, as they stood outside the Social Hall. “You didn’t cause a scene.”
“Thank you.”
“More like ... temper tantrum.”
“The hell with you.”
“Joe, I’m only saying this because I am your friend. Perhaps you were a little emotionally charged over something that didn’t warrant it.”
“It was the Silly Song. The Silly Song at my son’s funeral.”
“That’s right and it’s the same son that made this whole town crazy about that stupid song. It was his song. But I am not going to argue with you. You did what you felt you needed to do.”
“Fine. Now, can I go into the hall and get my drink. Tomorrow is a big day. Tomorrow we get rid of the twenty-four hundred, and don’t say anything about that, there was a vote.”
“I’m not. I have a present for you. And I hope you don’t get angry.”
“A present?”
Jason nodded and reached into his inside jacket pocket, keeping his hand there. “I have been working on this nonstop since Robbie passed. I designed my time machine for good things. We all know we cannot go back and change things, but what if we could go back, without changing anything and steal one more moment … or two.” He handed Joe an envelope. “Inside there is a list of all the dates I remembered, that you and I were either at my quantum lab or hiding out in the safe house outside of Bowman. You know all the times we hid from everyone. I looked up our score cards and game sheets. I had dated them.”
“You kept them?”
“I keep everything,” Jason said.
“I don’t understand.”
“No one knew where you were,” Jason said. “So you could have also been at the Social Hall.” He then handed Joe what looked like an old fashion cell phone from the nineties. “Roy and I worked on this. Well, he helped, he’s been pretty busy. It works like the HG Wells. Pick a day from the list, enter it from date, then it will ask a four digit time. Use military. Hit the green button. It will link to my regressionator, as long as you tell me you’re going. I can make sure it’s on.”
“Oh my God,” Joe stared at the device. “What do you mean link up.”
“Works like the pendants. You don’t need to be in the lab. So if in the past you and I are at the lab, there’s no reason you can’t zap back to the Social Hall and watch Robbie play. Or wherever he may be. You’d just stand here and transport.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you won’t change time.”
“I won’t change time. I will treasure every moment I steal with my son.”
“Keep in mind, Joe, once you use a time, you can’t use it again. You’ll run the risk of running into yourself.”
“I won’t. Thank you.”
Feeling slightly better, Joe went into the hall with Jason. He planned to view that list and dates and think carefully on when he would go back.
He would go back and see Robbie.
Maybe seeing him once more would make a difference.
However, at that moment, fresh from the service, the eve of the strike, nothing was changing Joe’s mood.
It only grew worse when he found out that, like he had gone behind Frank’s back, Frank had done the same. Only to the extreme. Not only did Frank insist that the town twenty-four hundred invaders from a foreign land were not a threat, he went to the town and dragged a couple hundred soldiers with him.
All to do what?
Get through to Joe.
Everything came to a head.
It took Joe to go to the extreme, to nearly order his son’s death to realize … how horrible, how completely utterly horrible he had been.
He was wrong on a lot of fronts, and when Hal suggested he step back, take some time, Joe did just that.
Not only was Joe carrying an unbelievable amount of grief, he carried guilt. He couldn’t face his friends, his people and most ce
rtainly his family.
So, like a teenager with angst, Joe packed a single bag and left a note.
He was going to take some time and leave Beginnings.
But there was something he had to do before he left. Something that would only take a few seconds and something he could only do in the town of Beginnings.
How much did he look at the list Jason gave him of the times and dates Joe was not near Robbie...? Almost enough to memorize it. He wanted to work his way from the most recent date. That way, even miniscule, Robbie wouldn’t have any recollection of strange Joe visits. But in a rush to get a fix of his son, he forgot about that idea.
Before leaving Beginnings, he called Jason, “Please fire up the Regressionator.”
Jason did.
Joe randomly grabbed a day from the last, set the date, time and year as he walked from the living section, looking as if he were texting. Then just as he hit the edge of town, he pressed the go button. A few flashes of light, slight pressure to his chest and he went from daylight to night. Busy street to empty. Warm to frigid cold.
It was midnight, January, the snow fell steadily and he could hear the motor sound of the plow. Frank had to have been out doing the roads, he had a thing about that and loved to be the one to clear the streets.
Joe wasn’t back for anyone but Robbie.
Robbie would be in one of four places.
Tracking, the Social Hall, Containment or home. Since he was near the Social Hall, Joe decided to try there first.
The single light above the door was on, but no one was going in or out.
Admittedly he was nervous. It had been a week since he had spoken to his son.
He made a promise to himself that no matter what, when he saw Robbie he wouldn’t act overwhelmed, even though he knew, inside he would crumble with emotions.
He pushed on the door to the Social Hall, there was no music nor sound when he stepped inside. The dart machine was powered down, the stage area was empty and not a soul was in the Hall.
The leader in Joe was irked, the last man or woman to leave the Hall was to power down everything and lock the door.
Maybe Frank was planning to come back.
Still, he had keys. Frank could just unlock it.
With a heavy sigh outward, Joe, hands in pockets turned to leave, planning on checking another place for Robbie.
“Dad?”
Joe froze.
When he heard the voice, it felt as if every bit of his insides, twisted and turned then fell to his feet.
The laugh. “What are you doing?”
Joe closed his eyes tight. He couldn’t turn around, he couldn’t. He feared he would just lose it.
“Um … wait,” Robbie said. “You’re still pissed.”
Joe couldn’t bring himself to say anything.
“If it’s any consolation, I’ve give you credit for downing that bear.”
The bear. Joe remembered that day well.
“Frank!” Joe called out. “Frank!” He moved his head back from the radio when he heard a scream. “Frank?”
“Dad, I’m a little busy. I need some help with the bear.”
“Goddamn it, Frank,” Joe said so perturbed. “There is no . . .”
GROWL.
“Jesus Christ.” And on Joe’s exclamation of blasphemy, he, Robbie, Hal, and Henry flew from his office.
When he arrived at the gate area, Hal acted chivalrously, holding him back because the sons could take care of that bear.
Joe allowed it to amuse him for a while, watching his sons get tossed about as they all made attempt after attempt to tackle that bear. He enjoyed their squeals and thumps and their little huddled strategy meetings on to bring the animal down, but Joe had enough. He had a busy day. Shifting the chamber on his forty-five semi-automatic, Joe twitched his head in disgust, waited until the bear threw the last of his sons, and then fired four shots, rapid and accurate, all to the bear’s head. The smile on Joe’s face lasted only for a moment before it was replaced with annoyance when Frank yelled out. “He’s weakened. Get him!” After raising his hand, Joe dropped it in defeat and finally chuckled as he watched his three sons, all together, shove the bear into the hole that Frank had created.
Snap-snap-snap-snap.
“Oh yeah.” Frank smiled peering into the crater. “He’s down.”
Robbie wiped the blood from his mouth. “We should go down there and collect some souvenirs.”
Hal nodded. “We should. Clip the claws. Frank?”
“Sure. I’ll go.” Frank sniffed through his blood clogged nose. “I wonder who shot him.”
Joe’s voice was crass. “Who do you think?”
Joe cleared his throat. “You’re right. I was irked. But it was funny.”
“You really think so? Because you didn’t act it.”
“Yeah, well, Frank does that to you.” Grabbing a big breath of courage to face him, Joe turned around. Then he couldn’t help himself. “Oh my God, Robbie.” He reached out, grabbed hold of his son and embraced him. It took everything in him not to break down and cry.
“Whoa. Hey.” Robbie stepped back “You alright?”
Joe nodded, stepped back and squeezed the corners of his eyes.
“Dad?” Robbie questioned. “You look tired. Are you sure you’re okay.”
“Yeah, yeah. I was just …” Joe paused. Think, Joe, think. “I was just, the bear, you know, it made me think of how close I came to losing you boys.”
Robbie snickered. “Sorry.” He snorted. “You just weren’t this upset when it happened.”
“It took me a little to process.” Joe smacked his chest. “I need a drink.”
“Bar’s open.”
“Yeah.” Joe calmed his breathing and walked around to the bar and grabbed the bottle pouring a drink. He stared at Robbie for a second. He looked good. He had to tell himself, he had a dozen more ‘Robbie’ trips he could make and not to overwhelm himself with the first one. “So where were you when I walked in?” Joe asked.
“Bathroom.” Robbie stood by a table by the stage, his guitar case open. “Don’t think I’m harping on anything, but you really look beat,” Robbie asked as he lifted his guitar from the stage.
“It’s been a heck of a day … week for that matter.”
“The Bev thing.”
Joe looked up. “The ... Bev thing?”
“Um, Dad, yeah, the Bev is dead we need to find the killer.” Robbie put his guitar in the case.
“Oh, yeah, yeah, the Bev thing. I forgot about it. Yeah, that’s what it is.” Joe downed his drink and poured another. “Actually, I do have something on my mind. Let me ask you a question.”
“Shoot.”
“If I was every mean to you or your brothers...”
Robbie laughed. “Dad, you’re never really mean. Irritated maybe ….”
“No, I mean, like say I was out of line, just downright horrible to one of you. Maybe I was going through something—”
“Like when Uncle Jerry died.”
“Excuse me?”
“When Uncle Jerry died, you were pretty nasty with us. Like poor Frank, you took it out on him.”
Joe sighed out, recalling that. “Because he had the car when I got the call to go to the hospital.”
“Yeah, he flew in on leave and didn’t have a car. Borrowed yours to Christmas shop, you kind of lost it on him.”
“I totally forgot about that,” Joe said. “Apparently you didn’t,”
Robbie shook his head. “Well, Dad, you were pretty bad with him.”
“I was. Yeah. I was.” Joe finished his drink and got, yet another. “He forgave me.”
“You don’t handle grief well. That’s what Sergeant Pletcher told us.”
“Did I ever apologize to him?”
“In your own way. Where is this coming from?”
“I think I’ve been pretty hard on Frank lately.”
“Not like that, though,” Robbie said.
“Yeah, just like th
at.”
“No, Dad,” Robbie said seriously. “Not like that. I don’t think you’ll ever be like that again. You kind of learned your lesson.”
Joe didn’t … obviously. He truly believed it was bigger than when Jerry died, after all, it was his son. And like with his brother, he struck out at Frank. “Why do you think I aimed it at Frank?”
“Dad,” Robbie chuckled. “Why are we talking about this? Honestly, you haven’t been bad with Frank lately.”
“I know. I know. But why do you think I took it out so badly on him.”
Robbie shrugged. “He’s the oldest and, despite how crazy Frank drives you, you are closest to him. That was always my theory. You hurt the ones closest to you.”
“If I ever treated Frank that bad again.”
“It would have to be something big to cause it.”
A huge lump formed in Joe’s throat and it took him a second to be able to speak. “Yeah, say something bigger. Say I treated him like that again. How would I go about fixing it?”
“Depends who died. Because that’s the only way it would happen.”
“Say it was you.”
“Ouch.” Robbie smiled. “Me, well, that would never happen, because you know I would never want you to blame Frank.”
It was like a knife to his gut. Joe wanted to scream.
“It’s kind of morbid …”
Bang! The door the Social Hall flew open and Frank walked in.
“Oh, yeah,” Frank said. “Streets are clear. Fuckin snow isn’t gonna last. Fuckin teasing me. Already warming up”
Joe lowered his head. “I didn’t remember it snowing.”
“Ever?” Frank asked as he walked to the bar.
“What?” Joe asked.
“You said you don’t remember it snowing.”
“Yes,” Joe said.
“Ever?” Frank asked.
“What are you talking about?”
“You don’t ever remember it snowing?”
“Of course I remember it snowing,” Joe snapped.
“Then why would you say that?”
“Because I didn’t remember it snowing today.” Joe said.
“Did you forget?”
Robbie laughed. “Dad, you walked in from the snow.”
The Strain Page 1