“What is it, Frank?” Henry plopped back down into the chair.
“This.” With a subtle ‘thump’ on the desk, Frank lifted his huge hand exposing the dead mouse. “Your friend.”
Henry jumped back, his chair squeaked as it nearly fell over. “Frank!” He saw Joe turn around in laughter. “This is not funny. Joe, your son is an asshole.”
“Oh, my God,” Frank shouted. “Here I was being nice, giving you your pal that you searched for and you call me names.”
“You’re right. Sort of.” Henry adjusted himself in his chair, pulling further from the desk. “Where did you find him?”
“Right where you saw him. In fact right after you left I picked him up.”
Henry looked up to Frank who so arrogantly and proudly ran his hand down his goatee. “Frank? That was six hours ago. You’ve been carrying around a dead mouse for six hours?”
“I didn’t think he was dead . . . not at first. But, if you want him to be alive we can pretend.” Frank grabbed the rodent and moved it to Henry, speaking in a high pitch voice. “Hi Henry.”
“I’m out of here.” Henry jumped up, shook his head at Frank then at Joe who still had his back turned laughing. “Frank, there is something wrong with you.”
“Me?” Frank dropped the mouse to Joe’s desk. “You were the one chasing the mouse around. A mouse.”
“You still don’t get it, do you?” Disgusted and perturbed Henry walked to the door. “Joe we’ll finish later.”
“Henry.” Frank called to him.
“What?” He hesitated as he opened the door.
“Don’t you want your friend?” Frank’s response from Henry came in the form of a loud slamming door. He laughed and turned back to his father who was tossing the dead mouse in the trash. Frank sat down. “I hope he doesn’t forget to talk to Ellen.”
“Why is Henry talking to Ellen?”
With a slight shrug, Frank leaned in his chair. “He helps. A lot more than I do. I think she tells him things that she feels she can’t tell me.”
“About Dean?”
“What else. Everything now in her life revolves around him.”
“Do you think it’s a good idea to have Henry helping her so much?” Joe asked. “Do you worry?”
“Nah.” Frank shook his head. “Henry’s my friend. And . . . he’s El’s friend. She really needs that now and I’m just letting her have it.”
“You’ve seemed to have mellowed since Dean died. You’re doing really good with this, Frank.”
“Thanks. It’s tough. And I’m trying. Especially since me and El are back together.”
“Let me ask you a question.” Joe folded his hands and leaned on the desk. “Would you and Ellen be back together, if say Dean wasn’t dead?”
“Dean is dead.”
“Answer my question.” Joe beckoned harshly.
“I don’t know . . . no.” Frank answered. “When we buried Dean, it seemed like we buried all of the problems.”
“If Dean were alive today . . .”
“Dad, can we not talk about Dean. It depresses me.”
“We have to talk about Dean, Frank.” Joe smiled widely. “He’s coming back.”
“Dean’s coming back? What? You mean we’re having a séance or something?”
“No, you idiot. We’re bringing him back.”
“From the dead?”
“No he’s never going to have died.” Joe raised his eyebrows.
“Dad?” Frank looked at him oddly. “Dean did die. I watched him die.”
“You’ll forget about it.” Joe chuckled.
“Are you all right?”
“Never been better.” Joe reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette.
Frank, whose mouth was open, shut it. He whistled some Beatles tune while tapping his fingers together as they were folded on his lap. “So,” he cleared his throat, “when is your next appointment with Andrea? You know, to see if the effects of that drug . . .”
“Frank! There’s nothing wrong with me. What I’m . . .”
Joe’s office door opened and Johnny peeked his head in. “I’m off, Pap.”
Joe looked up to him. “Be careful out there and try to bring back as many as you can. We are really over stocked from harvest, plus the greenhouses are filled. And anyone who’s seems sane. Anyone.”
“Got it.” Johnny gave a thumbs up. “See ya, Dad. Pap.”
Frank spun in his chair to question the run, but the door shut. He turned back to this father. “Dad? Anyone who seems sane? What’s up with that?”
“Well Frank, a little excitement never hurt anyone. It’s been quiet around here for the past couple of weeks . . .”
“Quiet? Oh yeah you would think. You were the drone for a while. We’ve had excitement. Didn’t we just finish off the lasts of the SUTs? Aren’t we planning on a run and hit to New Mexico?”
“Uh . . .maybe.”
“Maybe? Maybe?”
Joe rolled his eyes at his son’s dramatics.
“What is this maybe about running to New Mexico?” Frank huffed. “You know by the stats there are more of those SUTs. Don’t tell me I have to start calling you George.”
A grunting moan escaped Joe. “Christ. We’ll go to New Mexico, Frank. There’s just something important that has to be done first.”
“Like what?”
“Like bringing Dean back.”
Frank immediately stood up. “I’m getting Andrea or Jason. I really think . . .”
“Sit!” Joe ordered and waited for Frank to do so. “Now, I’m not off my rocker on this one Frank. I am not. If I didn’t believe it to be true, I wouldn’t have this attitude. Jason Godrichson gave me the proof I need and it convinced me that his time machine . . .” He saw Frank laugh. “His Regressionator really works. What?”
“A time machine? Dad, please.”
“Yeah well we had fifty frozen people in our tunnels and no one thought that was possible, did they?” He saw the smile drop from Frank’s face. “Exactly. Now the run to New Mexico will only have to wait until we do this.”
“It can’t wait, Dad. It really can’t. You just said so yesterday.”
“I know. But this is important, Frank. Can you trust me on this?”
“I will if you trust me on the New Mexico situation. Give me a scout troop to go down there and I’ll go . . . I’ll go with you on this bringing Dean back from the dead thing.”
“I’ll give you the scout troop. Get them together.”
“Thank you. Now . . .” Almost afraid, Frank returned to the conversation about Dean. “I’ve watched movies. How are we gonna . . . um, bring Dean back without screwing up.”
“Very carefully. We have to examine what will change and what won’t. In fact, I was gonna ask for your thoughts on the George situation and would it have been different if Dean didn’t die.” Joe saw Frank open his mouth. “Don’t answer right away. Give it thought. It’s important. But what’s more important is bringing Dean back. It’s more important than you know.”
“Why?” Frank asked.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Give me a hint.”
“No I’m not giving you a hint. Just trust me. And go back to work.”
“All right. And I’ll work on those thoughts for you.” Frank stood up and moved to the door. “I hope this works. I really do. This community needs Dean.”
“More than you know,” Joe said solemnly.
“I’ll talk to you later.” Frank opened the door.
“Oh Frank?”
“Yeah?” Frank slid as he stopped in his exit.
“Here.” Joe reached into the trash can. “Take your friend.” He tossed the mouse to him.
It bounced off of Frank’s chest and he caught it. “You know what? I’ll get Henry again with it.” Frank shoved it in his pocket. “Make him think there’s more than one.” Laughing, he left.
Joe laughed too, thinking how squirmy Henry was about the mouse then he stopp
ed laughing. “Wait a second . . .” He stood up. “Where in the hell did a mouse come from?”
^^^^
“El, please don’t cry. Please.”
Ellen remembered hearing Dean say that. She remembered how tight her eyes were as she laid on the floor in the hole and Dean with her, nearly on her, trying to calm her down. She trembled so badly as she cried. Memories seeped through her mind of the last hours, seconds with Dean.
Ellen opened her eyes and looked at the bright sun that warmed her through the chilly wind. Unprotected by buildings or trees, she sat in the underdeveloped section where they had buried Dean. She closed her jean jacket tighter around her bent up knees, Dean’s jean jacket. An article of clothing Ellen seemed to not take off or have far from her. It still smelled like him and Ellen prayed it never lost that. She had already lost Dean himself.
Trying so hard not to, Ellen kept remembering their last moment. She closed her eyes and saw his face, the lips that brushed against hers trying to calm her. Dean’s face that held not one bit of fright, even though they knew they could die. She just wanted to feel what he felt. She just didn’t want to be alone or face the fact that she would never see him again. A part of her knew it. That moment, as they lay amongst the dirt, her heart was telling her that it would be the last time she would ever touch Dean again. And Dean knew it also. She could feel it when he gave into her. His lips and his body said it all.
That last moment with Dean was one she should have regretted happening. But it wasn’t, it was one she cherished. Feelings that she never knew existed came out in that time when she faced her death. And even though she always knew how strongly Dean felt about her, in that tunnel, in his arms, she felt it more than ever before.
Her numbing cold fingertips picked at the long grass, pulling some out and tossing it. Never would Ellen have imagined that when Dean Hayes died, he took with him such a part of her, that she felt lost.
“This should have been the first place I looked.” Henry spoke softly behind her, bending down and laying his hand on her shoulder with comfort.
“Why . . .” Ellen wiped her eyes. “Why are you looking for me?”
“To see if you’re all right.”
“I’m not.”
“I know.”
Ellen reached up to her shoulder, grabbing Henry’s hand. Her other hand ran down the mound of dirt that was still so fresh it failed to grow grass. “I miss him.” She started to rock back and forth. “I miss him so much.”
“El.” Henry’s knees fell to the ground; he put his arm around the front of her pulling her into him. “It takes time.”
Ellen dug the back of her head into Henry’s chest, holding onto his arm so tightly. “I’m trying to be strong I am. It’s just so hard.”
“And it will be.”
“And now Joe wants me to meet him and Jason tomorrow so I can relive that whole entire day all over again, to tell them about that day. I can’t, Henry.”
“Why does Joe want . . .” Henry closed his eyes tight. “El, did he tell you they can bring Dean back?”
She nodded.
“El, please don’t get your hopes up. Please.” He took his hand from hers and wrapped his other arm around her.
“I’m not. But they said they need my help. How can I talk about it, Henry? I can’t talk about him. I can barely make it through the day without him.”
“Then you shouldn’t get involved. Put out of your mind what they’re saying they can do. Ignore it.”
“I can’t. I want it to work. I want them to be able to bring him back.” Ellen began to cry. “With my whole heart I want it to work.”
“So do I, El.” He lightly kissed her.
“Tell me it will work.” Ellen painfully listened to Henry’s answer. His silence. “Henry?”
Henry couldn’t say anything though he wanted to. He didn’t want to add to the sadness he already felt seeping from her. But besides feeling Ellen’s sadness, he felt something else. Anger. Anger toward those who were leading Ellen down a path of misrepresentation. And he had to try to do something to stop that before they led her too far that she wouldn’t come back.
^^^^
With a loud shivering vocal chill of excitement. Joe brushed off his arms as he stood in Jason’s lab. “Son of a bitch. It works.”
“Awesome isn’t it?” Jason asked, taking notes as he spoke. “Did you feel anything weird? Any burning?”
“None.” Joe shook his head. “But that was a five minute trip. What about when you use the uranium?”
“Same. The energy needed to expel your physical being is the same. It’s just the power supply to do it that’s different. And that was very brave of you to go through.”
“What the hell.” Joe waved his hand. “Hell, I was a vegetable for a few weeks. What else could be worse.?
“Barbequed.”
The smile fell from Joe’s face. “Valid point.” He rubbed his hands together. “All right. Now that we know it works, when do we start?”
“Tomorrow we interview Ellen so we can find an opportunity doorway. Is Frank thinking about what you told him?”
“Yes.” Pulling out a stool, Joe waved to a caged rabbit and sat down. “Now when will we go?”
“Tomorrow night should be good. That way, if it works, no one will see you return from the time trip. Not even me, I should be at the social hall.”
“Sounds good.” Joe spotted Jason’s cigarettes. “Can I?”
“Sure.” He set his clipboard down. “You know Joe, this goes against everything I thought I’d do. You just can’t change history that much.”
“True.” Joe lit up. “But we’re not only changing history. We’re changing the future and that has to be done. It has to be. Besides, not much can happen just by bringing Dean back. At least I don’t think. But a lot can happen if we don’t.”
Jason made his way across the lab to the coffee pot he had set up. He pulled two cups forward but stopped mid pour to the sound of screeching tires outside of his lab. He gave a curious look to Joe. “Is that Frank?”
“Shouldn’t be,” Joe answered.
A double hard knock was the warning for his entrance. Henry walked in bringing with him a very strong presence. He closed the door.
“Henry.” Joe smiled. “What brings you here?”
Henry shifted his eyes from Joe to Jason.
Joe saw that. “What’s wrong?”
“It has to stop Joe. Stop it right now,” Henry stated. “I mean it.”
“What are you talking about?” Joe asked.
“This.” Henry’s hand motioned around the lab. “Dismantle this illusion.”
Jason took offense. “Henry, this is my life’s work. I don’t appreciate you speaking about it like that.”
“And I don’t appreciate what you two are doing to my friend.” Henry snapped. “It’s bad enough that almost every single person has gone through a personality metamorphosis since Dean died, but to mislead the person who is taking it the worst is wrong. Dead wrong. She hasn’t even begun to make that much progress, don’t throw her back.”
Joe slowly stood up. “Throw her back? Henry. I’m trying to help Ellen.”
“Is that what you call it?” Henry asked. “Help? No, Joe. Helping Ellen is walking her through what she is feeling. Telling her it’s OK to cry. Giving her ways to get beyond this. That’s help. Giving her false hope is not.”
“Henry, we’re not doing that,” Joe said. “And we certainly aren’t stopping with this plan. Aside from Ellen needing this, more so the community needs it.”
“The community just needs to move on Joe.” Henry spoke with passion. “You can’t stall things on one man’s H.G. Wells infatuation.”
Jason gasped a grunt that seemed a prelude to a vocally blasting statement.
Joe held up his hand. “Does insulating this man make you feel better? It works, Henry. I know. I just went through it.”
Henry laughed in a ridiculing way. “Listen to you.” He shook hi
s head. “You of all people, Joe, shouldn’t buy into this. Things happen for a reason. People, they leave us. It’s God’s will and there is nothing we can do about it. We can’t change that. We certainly can’t reverse time and we can’t bring Dean back. So quit telling everyone that.” Henry, with an angry spin and exhausted of argument, flung open the door and left.
Jason raised his eyebrows a split second after the door slammed. “Well.”
“Well.” Joe cleared his throat. “Won’t he feel like the fool tomorrow?”
“Absolutely,” Jason agreed and held up the pot. “Coffee?”
“Sure, why not.” Joe looked back to the recently closed door and shook his head with a chuckle. He looked forward to his relaxing coffee after the closed minded ignorance filled riot act he was read from hyper Henry.
CHAPTER THREE
The broken windows were blackened out by the trees that overgrew like a forest. At one time it was well maintained, but in the oval office where Steward Lange stood, the dead world was painfully evident.
His smaller frame body stood behind the desk. His eyes glued to the thick dust covered surface of it. He watched the answer to a question posed two weeks early, drop before his eyes. The question . . . what happened to George Hadley?
It had been two weeks since Steward had his last communication with the former president who was assuring him that Beginnings was on its way down. Two weeks of waiting and doing nothing. It could have been considered a waste of valuable time. In fact, many who worked with Steward insisted it was. But loyalty made Steward hold out.
It rattled and spun before settling on the dust covered surface of the desk. Steward reached down and picked up the thick gold ring. His eyes raised to Sgt. Timothy Doyle, complete in a Caceres Society uniform.
“Where?” Steward asked.
“Two miles north of Beginnings,” Sgt. Doyle answered, “and it was tricky. We tried to get into Miles City, thinking the president was held up there with some of our Enhanced soldiers. But Beginnings has wiped that out.”
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 159