Aftermath_Beginnings Series Book 29

by Jacqueline Druga

  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 …”

  “How silly can you get?”

  Richie snapped his finger and pointed it at Father Michael. “Next thing I know he’s picking up the guitar. Brilliant, brilliant musician. I felt honored. I mean we were best friends.”

  Father Michael closed his notebook. “You don’t say.”

  “Best friends,” Ben from Fabric said with a sniffle and stifled sob. “Him and I were so close. The Silly Song?”

  “He uh, wrote it for you?” asked Father Michael.

  Ben from Fabrics nodded. “I mean look at the lyrics. How silly can you get? How Silly … can you get? I never ever meant to stray, but when he looked at me that way … the night was young and gay … gay…. pair-ee made me … forget. Gay Pair—ee, that’s the French pronunciation of Paris.”

  “I get that.”

  “Gay. I’ll miss him. He used to let me measure his inseam because it meant so much to him.”

  Father Michael ended the session, thanked him and walked away.

  Following twelve interviews, Father Michael sat on the wall at the Joe Park, eating an egg salad sandwich he picked up at Gemma’s bakery.

  While he did get some information, most of it was repeated. Was Robbie really that limited or was the memories of those around him selective.

  “Hey, Father Mike, how’s that egg sandwich?” Danny asked when he approached.

  “Not bad. Actually good. How’s your day, Danny?”

  “Good. Stressful, but all in the day of acting leader. What’s up with you? What brings you to Beginnings?”

  “I thought, to make my sermon at the funeral more personal, I would come to Beginnings and talk to people about Robbie.”

  “That’s a great idea. How’s it going?”

  Father Michael grumbled a sound of frustration. “Not as well, as I hoped. Everyone pretty much is telling me the same thing. I thought Robbie was more well-rounded.”

  “He was. Ask me something. Maybe I can help?”

  “Oh, yeah. How about this,” Father Michael said. “Is there anyone in this town who isn’t Robbie’s best friend?

  <><><><>

  “Is this talk going to make me upset?” Henry asked Father Michael as he worked on the small oven in the bakery

  “I don’t think so. I hope not,” he replied. “I’m trying to get to know Robbie so when I do the sermon it’s personal.”

  “I may not be the best person to talk to about him?”

  “I thought you knew him.”

  “Oh, I did. I knew him. I knew him. In fact I knew two different Robbie’s. The Robbie that was always in Beginnings and the Robbie that showed up five years later, totally a psycho and bad news.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “Welcome to Beginnings,” Henry said. “The wonder whacky world complete with a time machine. If you don’t like something, you go back and change it. Which isn’t fair. We can’t save everyone every time they die. We brought back Dean you know. He died. I kind of do see the reason behind that. Because let’s face it, we’d be up shit creek without a paddle. No offence for swearing.”

  Father Michael blinked a few times. “None taken.”

  “Robbie was bad news. He never showed up for his father’s contingency plan, wandered around for five years and then we pick him up, right? He’s bad. A bad seed. Frank refused to see it. Robbie was his baby brother, until Robbie went all bad, tried to rape Ellen, got kicked out, joined up with a band of Beginnings rejects, formed a coup and attacked Beginnings.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, really. Yep. Shot Frank, kidnapped Dean and a bunch of kids … this was before the time machine. Killed Denny. Yeah, bashed him in the head with a baseball bat. Frank ended up shooting his own brother.”

  “Robbie? The one that just died?”

  “That’s the one. But now, here comes the time, machine, right? Frank was supposed to go back in time and get information that was only available then. So he goes back, right, me and Dean are with him. What does Frank do? He calls Robbie. Tells him to get to Ashtonville, meaning where they will all be for the plague. Only the big goof forgets its ten years before the plague, and Robbie goes right then, breaks up Ellen’s marriage and marries her.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, well, wait ….” Henry paused in fixing. “We come back. Not only is Robbie married to Ellen, he’s still a prick and Frank’s the town drunk.”

  “How did he go from being a prick to this great guy?” Father Michael asked.

  “To some he’s a great guy. Truth is … we were so confused, Joe figured out we changed something and sent us back. Frank stopped Frank from making that phone call and instead mailed Robbie a letter saying do not open until such and such date. We came back. Frank was no longer the town drunk, Robbie was still a prick … t
o me.”

  “So I take it you and Robbie weren’t best friends.”

  Henry blasted out a ‘Ha!”, then laughed and shook his head. “Far from it. We had a love hate relationship. I loved to hate him, he loved to hate me. We butted heads all the time.”

  “So, he didn’t write The Silly Song about you?”

  Henry laughed.

  “Do you know who he wrote it for?”

  “Oh my God, no offence again, but that song.” Henry complained. “Robbie didn’t write it. He never wrote it. He remembered it from an old movie and stole it. Yeah, stole it. He didn’t take credit at first, but everyone gave him credit. So he went with it. They sang that song all the time, praised him. They sang it rock style, slow, country... people in this place.” Henry shook his head.

  “Henry, I know you’re busy and all,” Father Michael said. “But I really think you may be a good one for me to talk to. Can you take a few minutes?”

  “Didn’t we already talk a few minutes?”

  “Yes, but I would like to talk more.”

  “You’re not gonna make me say Ten Hail Mary’s, Ten Our Father’s and Ten Glory Be’s, are you?”

  “No, why would I?’

  “Father O’Brien did when I didn’t fix the fan right in the church. When I came back he made me do it.”

  “You’re Catholic?”

  “No! That’s the best part. Robbie was there. Robbie was the one that put him up to it, instigated. When I told Father O’Brien I didn’t know the prayers, he upped the punishment, gave me a copy of the prayers and stood behind me as I said it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell him you weren’t Catholic?” Father Michael asked.

  “You’re new. You never got into a debate with a drunken Father O’Brien. Trust me it was faster to say the prayers.”

  “I won’t make you pray. Can you talk?”

  “Okay. Sure.” Henry closed the tool box. “Let’s go set at a table.”

  Father Michael followed him into the café of the bakery. He knew for as much as Henry was complaining about Robbie, there was something there and Father Michael was willing to bet, Henry was going to be his most informative

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Even if he didn’t know better, Hal would never buy Frank just wandering the woods for the hell of it. Everything he wore looked new, including the backpack he carried. If that wasn’t bad enough, there was the price tag that dangled from the sleeve of the tee shirt. Unfortunately, Jimmy noticed it through the binoculars and not only was Frank too far away, but was already being approached by two soldiers.

  Hal cringed, then wished he was a bug on a tree to hear the initial exchange. He could only imagine what it was.

  Frank was so obvious that he was trying to be spotted and even more obvious that he was trying to pretend he didn’t see them.

  The voices were distant and mumbled and when the soldiers called out to Frank, he stopped tilted his head and looked around as if looking for something in the sky.

  He then proceeded to walk in circles as if looking and then they approached, aiming at him, Frank lifted his hands. There was another verbal exchange and they led Frank away.

  “Okay,” Hal said. “They didn’t immediately check his bag, so that’s a good thing, they don’t see him as a threat.”

  “He’s not visually carrying a weapon. That’s good, too.”

  “Alright, so they have him, let’s go.”

  “I’m ready. Let’s do this. Wait …” Jimmy paused. “Should we check in? They’re expecting us back by now.”

  “No, no.” Hal waved out his hand. “We’re fine.”

  The plan was, after Frank was taken, Hal and Jimmy would sneak in the western portion of the small town. Surveying it didn’t show any guards or even many people there. Getting in would be easy. There looked to be a bank close to center of town and that was their target. Get to the bank’s roof and try to watch what was happening. Hal was certain Frank would be fine, but on the outside chance something would go wrong, at least he knew he and Jimmy, albeit small, were still a backup.

  Frank wouldn’t have called it a capture, more of a willing participant. In Frank’s reality, had it be a true situation they would have got him.

  He was willing and easy.

  He knew they weren’t that bright when they didn’t spot him and Frank kept walking a path so that they could.

  Then when they finally did see him, they hollered out to him to stop. Since Frank only understood them with the translator and didn’t want to give away that he knew what they were saying, he stopped and pretended to look around.

  “I said stop,” the one soldier said in his language.

  Frank stopped and acted shocked to see them. “What?”

  “Hands up.” They aimed at him.

  “Whoa, you have a gun.” Frank lifted his hands.

  “Where did you come from?” one asked.

  “What? I don’t understand you,” Frank said.

  “Where are you from?’

  “What?” Then Frank slowed down his words. “Can … you … speak … English?”

  “What is he saying?” the one asked the other.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What?”

  The one soldier nudged him with the gun and pushed him forward.

  “Oh, no,’ Frank said less believable. “You want to take me. Oh, no. Okay.”

  As they inched him along the roadway, Frank thought about if it had been a real situation. What would a normal person do?

  So he asked, “Why am I going with you? Who are you? Why are you speaking a foreign language??”

  “We do not speak your language, when we get to camp, we will find someone who does,” said the one.

  Frank merely replied. “What?”

  They walked for merely twenty minutes at a pretty slow pace. When they arrived at the town, a temporary perimeter was set up. It wasn’t tight or strong, two armed guards held a post.

  Everyone looked at him as he walked through town. Frank’s eyes shifted, trying to count what they had and memorize who was there.

  Tents lined the streets, one was a mess hall tent. Frank had to admit the food smelled good. He took a double look and sniff as he passed.

  They led them to what was a lawyer’s office. From what Frank could tell it was a headquarters, many soldiers went in and out and when they escorted Frank inside, an older man was behind a desk, surrounded by another four men. The elder man stood when he saw Frank, and engaged in conversation speaking Chinese.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  “We found him in the wooded area. He was alone.”

  “Did you see anyone else? A camp or town nearby?” the leader asked.

  “No, sir. Plus he is not armed.”

  “Why did you bring him here?”

  “He looked odd.”

  Hey now, Frank thought, that’s not nice.

  Frank cleared his throat. “Excuse me? Why am I here?”

  The older man walked to Frank and spoke with poor English. “We speak not English.”

  “No shit.”

  “General Liu.” He placed his hand on his own chest.

  “Lou, I’m Frank.”

  “Frank.”

  “Yes.”

  He held up his hand turned to another soldier, “Go get Mr. Huang.”

  The solider nodded and rushed out.

  “Interpreter,” the General said.

  “That will be handy,” Frank said, but he knew it wasn’t necessary.

  He stood there stared at the few minutes that he waited, when another Asian man entered. He was not a soldier and was dressed in jeans and a tee shirt. In fact, it was newer clothing and Frank noticed the same items in the store.

  “Hello,” he said in English. “My name is Ed Huang.”

  “My name is Frank.”

  The general said, “Ask him if he knows why he is here.”

  Ed turned to him. “Frank. Do you know why you are here?”

  �
��No. I haven’t a clue. Are they looking for people?”

  Ed faced the General and interpreted. “He said he was hoping you were looking for people.”

  ‘Huh?’ Frank thought. ‘That wasn’t what I said, was it?’

  “Ask him what he was doing in the wooded area?”

  Ed interpreted. “What were you doing in the forest?”

  “Just walking and looking around.”

  “He said he was wondering aimlessly.”

  ‘Oh come on. I did not say that.’ Then Frank thought maybe he should clarify or make something up.’

  “I was looking for food.” Frank said. “I’m hungry. I had a muffin. Some old drunk lady made it and I refused to eat it because it was poisoned.”

  Ed gasped.

  “What?” Frank asked.

  Ed face the general. “He is hungry. He was looking for food. Apparently, an elder witch poisoned his entire village.”

  ‘Fucking knew it,’ Frank thought. ‘Fucking Josephine.’

  “Could it be ours?” the general asked. “One of our exiled?’

  “I don’t know.”

  What are they talking about? Frank understood the words not the meaning.

  “He doesn’t seem that bright,’ said the general.

  ‘What the fuck.’

  “Ask him if he knows what is going on here? What he thinks this is.”

  “Frank, do you know what is going on here?” Ed asked.

  “Survivors,” Frank answered. “Since you’re all like Chinese, I’m guessing you survived the flu, and all came together. Were you out in San Francisco? Bet you were?’

  “What did he say?” the general asked.

  Ed turned from Frank and faced the general. “You’re right. He’s clueless.”

  The general smiled.

  Frank didn’t. Not because he was upset, mainly because he was glad they underestimated him. He would continue to play dumb and get as much information as he could before leaving. Hopefully, they’d let him.