Sarge spoke loudly, “Sir! I was . . .”
“Shh!” Frank cringed holding his hands up. “My kids are sleeping. Now quietly explain to me why John is tied up.” Frank bent down to John and began to untie him.
“Sir, this man was at perimeter seven. He was touching the beam, sir, at zero two hundred-forty-five hours.”
Frank removed the gag from John’s mouth. “What happened, John?”
John gasped loudly for breath. “The man is a lunatic, Frank. I was suffocating. I have a broken nose. He almost murdered me. I was just checking the beam.”
“Sir,” Sarge interrupted. “I memorized the roster, sir. He was not on detail for rounds tonight.”
“What were you doing up at seven, John?” Frank asked.
John shook off his wrists as he stood up. “Checking Frank. I knew you didn’t have a guard at seven anymore. Jenny and I got into a spat and I went to the social hall until it closed and I figured I would check it. And I shouldn’t have to justify my whereabouts.”
Frank tried to remain rational. “Now . . . Sarge. John was just checking the beam.”
“But sir, he was . . .”
“Good job though. John, you have to admit it was a good job on his part,” Frank said. “But tell me why you went up there, Sarge? You weren’t working either.”
“To check, Sarge answered. “You said there were problems and I thought since it was known around the community that I wasn’t on watch that the perpetrator would return. He did.”
“Oh, this is such bullshit!” John in a huff stormed to the door. “I am a trusted original. First my nose gets broke then I get tied up and gagged. Do something about him, Frank. And don’t think I won’t go to Joe about this.” John stormed out.
From the slammed door to Frank, Sarge looked. “Sir, you aren’t removing me from security are you? I feel strong about this, Sir. What if that beam would have gotten moved? With the Cleveland run on his mind, your brother could have easily not thought about that beam and walked right into it.”
Slowly Frank looked up. “Robbie.” He whispered out then looked to the door. The John and Robbie confrontation immediately ran though his mind.
“The perpetrator may know I’m no longer up there.” Sarge still carried out his defense. “And whoever it is may . . .”
“I think . . . “ Frank held up a hand. “I think you have a point. Ignore what you see on the schedule and keep quiet about where I put you.”
“Perimeter seven?” Sarge asked.
“Yep. And you and I will be the only ones who know you’re there.”
“Are you beginning to believe that the problem lies within the community sir?”
“As a matter of fact . . .” Frank ran his hand down his face as he looked once more to the door. “I am.”
^^^^
Former Quantico Marine Headquarters
It stayed with him like a bad scent. George couldn’t shake what was bothering him until he figured it out. He tried to put it aside, thinking perhaps the answer would come to him while he wasn’t thinking about it, like when trying to remember someone’s name. In the middle of the night, he would jump up and say, ‘oh, I got it.’ But it was far past the middle of the night. And just like in the old world when something wasn’t right with his checkbook, George nit-picked the problem apart until he solved it.
None of it made sense. First, with the time machine trips, Joe was using his head. Actually with the advantage of the time machine, Joe was playing rather fair, gathering information about the society. The information from the first past trip bred the address of the Cleveland lab. Even that didn’t bother George. He knew nothing really vital could have been left behind. Or at least nothing Beginnings didn’t already know about. The future trip was what George couldn’t figure out. And vampire hours or not, it was time to call in part of his brain.
Steward did think even though he looked far too groggy to comprehend anything.
“But you made a valid point,” George said. “When I asked what is in the future, you said, ‘us’. Remember?”
“Yes. But what would Beginnings have to gain by eliminating us in the future. Nothing.”
“Could be they go to help themselves out,” George guessed with a shrug. “After all they are creating a biological weapon in that lab.”
“Maybe that’s the reason for the quarantine they scheduled.” Steward said. “But didn’t our person say the weapon is not created yet?”
“True. So they couldn’t bring it to the future.”
“Maybe . . .” Steward shook his head. “Nah.”
“What!” George barked.
“Don’t laugh. I was just going to say maybe they plan to bring the weapon back from the future. But if that’s the case, why did they take the vials from our freezer to Nebraska?”
Like the time it took him two days to remember the purple girl’s name in Willy Wonka, George snapped too brightly. “That’s it!”
“What?” Steward had a slight chuckle. “They’re bringing back the weapon from the future?” He snickered. “Again, why take our vials to Nebraska to work on them.”
“Because it’s not their goddamn weapon . . . it’s ours.” George nodded. “Bet me we nailed them with it. They thought we had it in the case. Obviously we didn’t. Hence the future trip to try to get it and get a jump on things.”
“Sir?” Steward stepped closer to him. “We have no plans to hit them with a biological weapon.”
Snide and arrogant was the deep chuckle that came from George when he looked at Steward. “We do now.”
CHAPTER NINE
December 3
Beginnings, Montana
It was the day before. Perhaps that was what drove Dean to nearly skip a night’s sleep. But he was filled with the excitement and fear of the future trip. There were a few things that still needed to be brought to the lab. Plus things needed set up. Dean swore before the sun set, he would have them done. So before the sun rose, Dean grabbed a jeep and headed up to the mobile lab.
Dean was actually in a good mood, lack of sleep or not. Even Frank pulling him over for speeding didn’t bother Dean. He did get a little perturbed when Frank asked for the license and registration then proceeded to laugh at his own bad humor. But Dean ignored Frank’s immaturity along with the twelve work hour fine Frank imposed just to be funny.
It would have been too dark up at the mobile had it not been for the spotlight on the side of Jason’s lab building. It lit things up enough for Dean to shut the headlights off and making it to the CDC lab without tripping. He paused before going in to take a look at what would be his home for at least a week. The lab and the trailer connected together in some sort of ‘T’. The end of the trailer home was seemingly glued to the side of the CDC mobile.
Box in one arm, coffee in his other hand, the keys to the lab dangled from his mouth as he made it to the lab door. He set down the box and reached for the door. Barely did Dean touch it and the door opened. It creaked as it opened and Dean reached in and turned on the light. He was a bit apprehensive, first wondering if maybe Rev. Thomas was waiting to lunge at him. But when Dean looked in, there was nothing. Everything appeared fine, smelled clean, and was undisturbed. Chalking up the unlocked door to his own mistake of being absentminded when he left a few hours earlier, Dean picked up the box and went into the lab.
^^^^
A sip of his coffee, a pause in his walk, then Joe grumbled and shook his head at Henry. “Feel that?” He looked up to the sky that was becoming light. “Warmth. Total warmth. It’s December.”
“Not for long, Joe.” Henry walked briskly with him.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Oh, positive. Last radio contact from Robbie, where was he?”
“Chicago.” Joe answered.
“And?”
“He couldn’t go anywhere. Too much snow.”
“Exactly,” Henry said as they hit town. “We’re getting it Joe. And we’re getting it big time.” He shive
red. “Burr. I get cold thinking about it and why is the light to the social hall on?”
“Huh?” Joe’s head spun from Henry’s sudden switch of subject. He looked over to the social hall. The interior light peeked through the small window on the door. “Let’s go see.” He led the way over to the social hall and pushed open the unlocked door. Joe was surprised to see Frank sitting at the bar. “Frank?”
“Oh, hey, Dad. Henry.” Frank lifted a glass to his mouth, a bottle of whiskey before him.
“Frank?” Joe asked. “Why are you drinking at six thirty in the morning.”
“Night cap.” Frank showed the glass. “Winding down for bed.”
“So everything is all right?” Joe asked. “Nothing’s wrong?”
“Aside from Ellen still being too nice to me.” Frank shook his head with some sadness.
“Well, Frank.” Joe shrugged. “I told you she was pissed about our John interrogation. You should have apologized right away with me and Robbie. It loses its effect two days later.”
“I know.” Frank ran his hand down his goatee. “It’s just that she’s going on this future thing. How do I know she’ll be fine? What if something happens to her?”
Henry stepped forward. “I’ll talk to her, Frank. I’ll tell her now is not the time to be mad. Maybe I can get her to go over your house tonight.”
Frank looked up to Henry with a tired smile. “I would really appreciate that.”
“Sure.” Henry nodded.
Joe shook his head. “Fix your own goddamn problems, Frank. That’s the only way.”
“I know.” Frank finished off his drink and poured another. “I even tried. I went to Rev. Bob. He blew me off. He said I’m just overbearing and annoying.”
“The religious have a keen sense about them.” Joe gave a pat to Frank’s back. “And we’d better get going. Let’s go Henry.” Joe gave a motioning point of his head to the door. When he turned to leave, Sarge walked in. “Morning,” Joe told him as he left with Henry.
Sarge barely waved or got to respond before Joe and Henry were gone. “Hey, Frank,” Sarge greeted as he pulled up a stool next to Frank.
“Sarge.” Frank lifted up some, leaned over the bar, and grabbed a glass. “How was last night?”
“Calm. Boring.” Sarge shrugged. “Perimeter seven secure. For now.” Sarge folded his hands. “But I have a hunch something is gonna happen soon up there.”
“Oh, yeah?” Frank lifted the bottle, poured a drink in the glass and slid it to Sarge. “You and me both.”
^^^^
Reverend Bob was hungry. The short, rotund man with fluffy white hair ignored his growling stomach and made his way to the clinic. But community service or not, he was going to eat a hearty portion of eggs as soon as his blood tests were over with. He was glad that Dean was good about doing the test bright and early.
Not more than a few steps into the clinic was Rev. Bob when he heard the oddity of it. Laughter. Two voices, meshed together in a conversation that consisted of laughing as much as words. Wearing the smile it brought on, Rev. Bob stopped as he raised his hand to knock on the open lab door. He watched for a second as Dean stood with Ellen, in Rev. Bob’s opinion just a little too close, nudging her, smiling as they worked in more of a flirtatious manner than a work ethical one.
“Rev. Bob?” Ellen called out.
Out of his thoughts, Rev. Bob snapped. “Morning. Both of you are uh, working early I see.”
Dean nodded as he walked away from the counter. “Actually we worked really late last night.”
“You mean into this morning?” Ellen corrected.
“Do that a lot?” Rev. Bob asked.
“Lately,” Ellen answered, “And I suppose with quarantine we need the practice.”
Rev. Bob caught it. He guessed he wasn’t supposed to but he saw the wink Dean had given Ellen. “I’m here for my test.”
Dean held up a folder. “Just gathering your things. You can head to room three.”
Rev. Bob nodded, lifted his hand in a wave, and headed to the examining rooms. Dean and Ellen stayed on his mind during the walk. Perhaps he was putting more into what he saw but all Rev. Bob kept thinking about was how he kept dismissing Frank. He vowed as soon as he was done eating his eggs, he would dig up the list Frank had made him a few days earlier. The one Rev Bob laughed at, ridiculed, and made him call Frank an incurable paranoid possessor. But if his memory served him correctly, that list wasn’t compiled of jealous rantings. Instead it was compiled of valid points Rev. Bob never heard Frank trying to make.
^^^^
Cleveland, Ohio
The bitter cold brought in from the lake did not bother Robbie as much as the ice that formed on just about everything in Cleveland. The interstate was bad enough to travel without the ice that lay inches above the overgrown road. On foot was how they had to get to the lab that lay on the outskirts of the major metropolis. They were making their way through the frigid city whose layer of thin white made it look deader than any place Robbie and his crew had ever gone.
It was worse than any jungle Robbie had navigated himself through. The map of Cleveland was a mere joke. Instinct and gut feeling led Robbie to the research center. The giant ‘B’ of the Bowen name was tilted and its blue coloring cracked and faded. They found the cryo-lab. It lay in the third sub-basement level. Open doors were a path to it. Doors that were probably left open by Chester not that long before.
“Check out every single piece of paper. Read it, save it,” Robbie ordered out, stepping over the still decomposing bodies that had defrosted months earlier. Dried blood and vomit and part of the floor showed evidence of the plague they suffered--late--but by their own hands. A circle of justice, Robbie thought as he looked at those who suffered and died faster than they should have. “Let’s do this quickly, gentlemen. Scavenge this place. We have Chester’s house to find. And I have sight-seeing I want to get in.”
Throwing his rifle behind him as it hung over his shoulder, Robbie found a seat at a desk that sat just outside the cryo-glass wall. A notebook, dusty and covered with bloodied finger prints set on top of it. Finding his home there, Robbie began to read and search out the desk.
^^^^
Former Quantico Marine Headquarters
They weren’t one hundred percent readable but the information conveyed was clear enough. Behind his desk, George slowly sifted through the pile of papers. The words on some were sideways and George had to tilt his head as he read over every piece.
Steward’s hand pointed down to a letter as he stood behind George. “This is the best that can be done. Dean and Ellen were in the mobile all night.”
George adjusted his glasses. “Where did the fax machine come from?”
“A . . . Cole brought back a case of them from a run.”
George nodded. “I remember that. I was just afraid the fax in history was being used.”
“Sir? They have no phones. Why would History have a fax?”
“Oh, that annoying anal woman.” George grumbled. “These are just notes.” George shuffled through the next one. “Aside from the fact, I can’t make heads or tail out of . . . whoa.” he lifted a page high.
“That was the particular one that caught my attention.”
“Steward?” George shifted his eyes to look at his right hand man. “You’re not gonna tell me you were reading my faxes before me, are you?”
“No.” Steward stood up straight. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Just caught the letter’s first line, that’s it. No more.”
“Right.” George read some more. “Oh my God.” He moved to the next page. “Oh my God. How was this found?”
“Seems our Dr. Hayes, in all his hastiness of getting ready for the future trip, failed to lock anything up in the mobile lab including his personal file box. That was in with his . . .” Steward snickered. “Birth certificate, marriage license, and such. I thought it was brilliant of our person to think of looking in there.”
“Any idiot would know
if Dr. Hayes brought his personal file box to the mobile lab, there’s something in it. The original copy of these letters was returned?”
“Yes. And I’m sure unmissed,” Steward responded.
George read some of the letter out loud. “Bring back Dr. Dean Hayes. He could very well be your, the future of Beginnings, only hope.” He peered up. “Dean had died. They used the machine to bring him back to try to stop this virus. The antidote is in the case which definitely confirms we started it.”
“Is the virus in the case?”
“Can’t be. Not if they’re going into the future to get it. And look . . .” George showed Steward the letter. “They blackened out the Quantum Regressionator sequence. Godrichson’s an asshole.” He gathered up the faxes. “Get Davidson down from D.C. today. He’s our theorist. I want to talk to him.”
“I’ll take care of that.” Steward nodded and walked to the door. He stopped with a snap of his finger and turned around. “Just wanted to tell you, I sent a truck up to Vermont for our bio man, Dr. Radovich. Weather permitting, he should be here late tomorrow.”
“Good,” George said. “I need him to work on this virus. Whatever we get Beginnings with obviously does the trick.” He leaned back in the chair. “The thing is, they know it’s coming. We have to figure a way to hit them in a manner they won’t see until it arrives and since we have a date . . .” George tapped his hand on the pile of faxes. “We have to hit them long before they expect.”
CHAPTER TEN
Beginnings, Montana
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 193