The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Boys, clean up the mess. Son of a bitch bastard.” Joe bent down and picked up the remote. “You boys are lucky you didn’t break this.” He showed them. “See, property of the cable company and don’t think I wouldn’t have turned you in.” Joe handed the remote to Robbie. “Here, watch HBO.”

  “Thanks.” Robbie grinned.

  “You show favoritism,” Hal complained as he walked to the broken vase. “I get my ear ripped off, Robbie gets control of HBO, and I get blamed for everything when it was all Jimmy’s fault. I didn’t do anything.” He sneered at Jimmy as they bent down to the floor.

  “My God, Hal, when do you ever do anything wrong?” Joe said with sarcasm. “You know, some parents, they love when their kids are small. Me, I wait for the hassle free days when you boys are grown up. And when you, Hal, finally stop blaming everything on everyone else.”

  New Bowman, Montana

  “Dad, Frank’s cheating,” Hal griped as he walked away from the alley they occupied at the Dan-a-Rama Bowling Center.

  “I am not,” Frank yelled as he walked up behind him. “You just suck. Dad, he sucks.”

  Joe gave a nod to Ellen as he sat at the table with her and Robbie. “Nothing’s changed.”

  “You’re right,” Ellen said. “Hal is still blaming. Frank is still defending . . .”

  “And I’m . . .” Robbie held up his hand. “Still the quiet innocent one.”

  “And cute.” Ellen laid her hand on his leg.

  “Dad.” Hal pulled out a chair. “I am not blaming. I don’t know how the man is doing it, but I’m doing better than a fifty-four.”

  “Ha.” Frank sat down. “You suck. You get more gutter balls than anything.”

  “I do not,” Hal argued.

  “Gentlemen,” Joe warned out. “Can we behave? My God, Hal, you run this . . .” Joe paused when three UWA soldiers walked by with salutes.

  “Sir.” The one paused, saluted, and moved on.

  “President Slagel, sir.” Another saluted.

  “Evening, sir.” The third showed his respect.

  Joe looked to Hal. “Can you tell your men that is not necessary?”

  “Absolutely not.” Hal shook his head. “It’s a form of respect and you deserve it. I may run New Bowman, but you not only run Beginnings, you run us.”

  Frank snickered. “President Slagel. That should be me.” Kernels of the popcorn that sat on the table pelted Frank as everyone picked up a piece and pelted him. “What?”

  “Whose turn is it?” Joe asked.

  “El’s.” Frank pointed. “Go take your turn so Dad can take his and I can be declared the official, awesome Slagel bowler, the greatest of them all.”

  Hal looked so annoyed. “Is there anythingyou aren’t great in, Frank?”

  “Uh . . .” Frank looked up to the ceiling. “Nope. Robbie? Anything I’m not great in?”

  “No. Frank’s cool,” Robbie said.

  “I’m cool.”

  “Grow up,” Hal snapped. “Really.”

  “Me?” Frank laughed. “I’m not the one running around in a fuckin Civil War uniform playing cowboys and Indians with the fuckin Savages.”

  “No,” Hal quipped. “You’re the one who dresses and looks like a cross between Mad Max and Rambo playing Terminator with the Savages.”

  “Yeah, so. Your point?” Frank asked.

  Hal flipped him off.

  “Dad.” Frank swung his finger in an aiming point to Hal. “Tell him.”

  “Christ.” Joe rubbed his eyes. “How old are you? All of you.” Joe saw Frank counting on his fingers. “I was being facetious, Frank.”

  “Oh . . . huh?” Frank looked curiously. “Oh!!”

  “What!” Joe jumped from Frank’s yell.

  “You know what we have to do?” Frank said. “In order to save ourselves from any unwanted visits from our dead bitching brother, not that we mind seeing his ghost, but I think we should take this moment to think of Jimmy.”

  Robbie lowered his head. “Jimmy.”

  Hal nodded. “Jimmy.”

  Joe gave a bob to his head. “Jimmy.”

  Frank exhaled. “Jimmy.” He dropped his hand to the table with a hard hit. “O.K., El, bowl.”

  Rolling her eyes and shaking her head with a half smile, Ellen stood up. “I’m bowling. I hate bowling, I suck. But . . . I’m enjoying this.” She gave a smile to everyone at the table. “Thank you for this night.” She walked up to behind Joe, wrapped her arms tightly around him, and held her lips to his cheek for a long time. She pulled back and kissed him again. “Thank you, Joe. I love you.” Another kiss and Ellen headed toward the lane.

  Robbie shifted his eyes from Joe to Ellen. “What’s wrong with her?”

  Hal turned around and watched Ellen find a new ball. “Is she all right, Dad?”

  Joe just held up his hand.

  “Probably fuckin Elliott Ryder,” Frank stated.

  “What?” Hal’s hand slammed on the table. “What does Elliott have to do with Ellen’s mood?”

  “Everything,” Frank answered. “Probably. Well, mostly nothing, but I had to blame him for something.”

  “You’re an asshole,” Hal snapped. “You should be as nice as Elliott.”

  “I am.”

  “Boys,” Joe spoke out. “Frank, I want you to watch Ellen.”

  “Why?” Frank looked over his shoulder at her then back to Joe. “I’ve seen her bowl.”

  “No, Frank,” Joe tried again. “I want you to watch her.”

  “Dad, I’ve seen her bowl. Is she gonna do something different?”

  “Frank!” Joe yelled.

  “Is she gonna cheat?”

  “Frank!”

  “Dad!” Frank held up his hand. “Don’t yell, fuck. Dean hasn’t deemed me normal yet.”

  “Frank!” Joe lost it. “Listen to me for crying out loud! I just want you to watch her! Watch her! All right!”

  “All right! I’ll watch her!” Frank heard the ‘clunk’ of Ellen’s ball hitting the gutter suddenly. “Fuck! El!” Frank stood up. “God, you suck.” He marched to the lane, complaining to her. “If I’m gonna watch you bowl can you at least get the ball halfway down the fuckin alley.”

  Joe watched in disbelief as Frank went over with Ellen. He looked to Robbie who was snickering, then Hal who sat, mouth open, ready to say something obviously sarcastic. “Don’t.” Joe held up his hand to Hal. “Don’t. I know.” He glanced at Frank again who looked to be bitching at Ellen. “Oh, brother, do I know.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Quantico Marine Headquarters

  The Society soldier amused himself making shapes from the smoke rings that came from his mouth on the cold October night. He was standing outside the main gate, not far from the big red ‘stop’ sign, biding his time until he could switch places with Pvt. Hancock who was warm and toasty inside the watch booth.

  He paced as he thought of the redundancy of his watch. Nothing ever happened. No one ever came in and no one left. The most excitement he had when he held watch was when a bear wandered close. Ten more minutes, he thought, ten more minutes until he felt warmth. Not that it was all that cold out, but the continuous exposure wreaked its effects.

  The simple crack of a twig and a bird call that shouldn’t have been heard alerted the soldier with some excitement. Walking back toward the booth, he raised his fist to knock on the glass when he heard another crack. “Pvt. Hancock, hit the lights.” He called out as he raised his weapon and took only one step.

  Four of them flew at him. Each sailed with a high pitch whistle and each arrow landed with a deep, deadened thump center of the soldier’s chest. They wailed into him with such a force it sent him back and spinning face first into the glass of the booth he was so close to.

  Pvt. Hancock heard the ‘smack’ against the glass and he turned around to see the face of his partner sliding down and out of view. “What the hell?” He lifted up his rifle and opened the booth door only to be hit with a barrage o
f arrows he was helpless to avoid. Screaming from the burning, deep immediate pain, Pvt. Hancock stumbled back into the booth, spun around, and fell face forward into the counter. Not only did his fall push the arrows the rest of the way into him, but his face landed on the intercom camera and his hand on the compound warning sirens.

  Sgt. Barrett, the Sergeant in Charge, scurried to his the security monitors when he heard the blasting of the outside sirens. “Hancock, come in,” he radioed. “Hancock, whats going on out there?” He shifted his eyes to the camera in the booth and saw it was blackened. “Hancock, come in. Do you read me? What is . . .” It took another shift of his views to the monitor to notice and when he did, he lifted the phone. The monitor that displayed the inside of the booth was not blacked out. It was blocked and the closer Sgt. Barrett looked the more that he realized all he could see in that camera was the blankly staring eye of Pvt. Hancock.

  ^^^^

  George wished he could just jump up. He was grateful that he was able to at least lift himself to a sitting position on the bed.

  “Doctor!” he called out wanting so badly to find out what the sirens and commotion were. He heard the running footsteps drawing closer and closer and then the door to his room burst open and Steward raced in, still wearing pajamas.

  “President Hadley.”

  “What’s going on out there?” George asked. “Why are the sirens blaring?”

  “Sir we have two men down at the front gate. We believe we have security breach.”

  “And you people are panicked enough to set off the siren?”

  “But sir . . .”

  “It’s two goddamn miles, Steward. Two miles from that post to right here. We have ninety-eight hundred men on this base. I doubt ninety-eight hundred men stormed our gate. Get four brigades get up there, block the goddamn two miles, and end this thing.”

  “Yes sir.” Steward began to leave.

  “Stew,” George called out. “Get back to me. I want to know what or who breached our security.”

  Only nodding, Steward raced out.

  Beginnings, Montana

  “Here.” Jess extended the white tee shirt to Henry who sat shirtless on the couch. “This will work.”

  “Thanks.” Henry took the shirt and put it on. “I can’t believe how easily they popped.”

  “They’re messy too.” Jess sat down on the chair.

  “It shouldn’t stain the carpet,” Henry stated. “I didn’t use anything in the blood that should stain.”

  “I’m not worried about it.” Jess reached to the table and picked up what looked like a small bullet. “These are brilliant, Henry, brilliant.”

  Henry smiled. “Thank you. It seems no one labels anything I make as brilliant anymore.”

  “Really?” Jess grabbed a squeeze bottle with a red substance. “I think it takes a really great mind to not only design the gun for the fake paint, but make pseudo bullets.” He squeezed the red substance in. “Of course, filling these are a pain in the ass.”

  “We have a lot to fill.” Henry grabbed a bullet.

  “We have all week.”

  “I appreciate the help. And also . . .” Henry motioned his head to the seat where Nick slept. “With him.”

  “He crashed fast.”

  “Yeah. I have such a hard time with him.”

  “You don’t try.” Jess picked up another bullet. He saw the quick glance he got from Henry. “Do you think you do?”

  “No.” Henry shook his head. “I don’t. I thought I would. I remembered when El was pregnant I was so excited, but Nick scares me.”

  “Do you think if you and Ellen were actually a couple, you’d be different?” Jess asked. “I hope you don’t mind me asking. Conversation, you know.”

  “I don’t mind.” Henry filled his bullet gently. “And as far as being different with Nick, I don’t know. It’s hard to say. But El and I would have never been a couple.”

  “I’m sorry.” Jess lifted his drink to his mouth but stopped when a knock was at the door. He looked at his watch. “Who could that be?”

  “You could answer it and find out.”

  Jess chuckled. “Or better yet.” He cleared his throat. “Come in!”

  “That’ll work.” Henry snickered and took a drink of his whiskey.

  “Hey Jess.” Johnny walked in. “Henry.”

  “John.” Jess showed him the bottle. “Want a drink?”

  “I need one, but no thanks. Is Uncle Robbie here?”

  Jess shook his head. “Nope. He’s gone.”

  “Man.” Johnny tossed his hand out. “I can’t find a single family member. Where the fuck is my family?”

  Henry had to laugh. “They all went out together to New Bowman to have a family night.”

  “What?” Johnny’s mouth opened wide. “A family night? Why wasn’t I invited?”

  Henry shrugged. “Maybe they don’t like you.”

  Jess quickly gave a swat to Henry even though he thought it was funny. “Johnny, it was something you’re grandfather put together for Ellen.”

  “Still.” Johnny reached down and snatched up the bottle. He saw Henry’s empty glass, took it, and filled it. “They tell me to get the baby, that they want to see the baby, and then they all disappear on me. Shit.”

  Jess shook his head in disbelief. “I cannot believe the way you two complain about having to get your children. I’ve never heard of that. No offence.”

  “None taken,” Henry said.

  ‘None taken,” Johnny repeated and set down the bottle. “Wait. If Uncle Robbie, my Pap, and my father are all in New Bowman, who’s protecting us?”

  “Dan,” Jess answered.

  “Dan? Dan?” Johnny finished his drink. “God, we’re in trouble if the Savages hit. Hey . . .” He set down his glass and looked at the table. “What in the world are these?” He picked up the clear red plastic shell.

  “Bullets,” Henry explained. “Not real ones. They’re my new paint pellets. We had come up with rigging a new gun for Neville Day, but I thought this would be easier. They go in a real clip and are used in a real gun. They’ll sting, but they’ll pop.”

  “Oh, these are neat. Is this for when Pap uses us as target practice?”

  “Yep,” Henry nodded.

  “Did Dr. Dean see these?” Johnny asked. “If he didn’t, I have to tell him. With that fake kill thing he has going with my Dad, he could place an ‘X’ on one of these, say it was a real bullet, and fake kill him again.”

  Henry reached up and took the shell. “You should tell him.”

  “I will. He’s been struggling to come up with physical ways to take him out. Maybe I’ll get lab time off for helping. Neat.” Johnny reached for the bottle again. “I’ll have one more and let you two be unless you need some help. I’m not doing anything.”

  Henry moved over on the couch. “Have a seat but watch your hand. These things get messy.”

  Johnny peered at Henry with the tops of his eyes, poured more into his glass, set the bottle down and, for his own reasons, happily helped put together those paint pellets.

  ^^^^

  Dean must have looked at the clock for the tenth time in that hour. He was getting ready to go to bed, pacing around in only a pair of sweat pants. He calculated how long it had been since his last call. He picked up the phone to make sure it was working--there was the possibility that it was broken--and, seeing how he had it in his hand, he dialed.

  After a single ring, Elliott answered the phone. “Captain Slagel’s.”

  “Sgt. Ryder,” Dean spoke. “This is . . .”

  “Dr. Hayes. Yes.”

  “Did she get back yet?”

  “No, sir, she did not.”

  “What are they doing? Do you know?” Dean asked.

  “No, sir, I do not. Family time is what the Captain told me. I’m just babysitting.”

  “Is my daughter all right?”

  “Fine, she’s still sleeping like the last time you called.”

  �
��O.K., Sgt. Ryder will you tell her . . .”

  “You called? Yes, sir, I will. I’ve written each message for her.”

  “Tell her this time . . . I’m going to be going to bed. If she can, please tell her to call me in the morning.”

  “I’m writing that down now as we speak, Dr. Hayes.”

  “Thank you. Goodnight, Sgt. Ryder.” Dean hung up the phone and shook his head. He placed the phone on the coffee table and headed to the kitchen for a drink. He barely passed the door when there was a light knock. Dean back stepped and opened it. Before he could immediately close it, Bev slipped in.

  “Hi, Dean.”

  “Out.” Dean held the door open.

  “You shouldn’t do that. It’s drafty.” Bev shut the door.

  “Bev, I did not invite you in here. I want you to leave.” He reached again for the door.

  Bev laid her hand on his. “Ellen’s away. Wanna play?”

  “Out.”

  “I thought you could use the company since the news of our affair has gotten out.”

  Dean nearly dropped over. “What? You’re believing your own lies now?”

  “Dean, I’m crushed. With all that we’ve shared, how can you deny it?”

  Dean laughed. “What is this all about? Who’s gonna walk . . .” Dean watched her lift off her shirt. “I get it.” Dean nodded. “Who’s coming?”

  “Us, I hope.”

  “God,” Dean cringed. “You know someone’s on their way over here. Who did you beat to the . . .” Dean snapped his finger when there was a knock on the door. “Knew it. What did you do, hear this person in the Social Hall say they were coming over?” Arrogantly Dean opened the door.

  “Hey, Dr. Dean.” Johnny stood there snickering with Henry beside him.

  “Great.” Dean smelled the alcohol on the two. “What . . .”

  “Sorry.” Johnny stepped into the house. “Hope you don’t mind. We have something we . . .” Johnny quickly shifted his eyes from Dean to Henry.