The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  A guitar draped across the back wasn’t the normal attire for a minister of the cloth, but Robbie swore it was not just an instrument of music, but an instrument of confidence because he couldn’t appear before an audience without it.

  It did come in handy when he and Paul ripped into the rocked up opening hymn of ‘Walking with Jesus’. Everybody tried to sing the song but they were ill familiar with it. Andrea hummed and added her typical ‘Sweet Jesus’. Things were off to a good start, a new start in the new ‘Rev. Robbie’ Church of Beginnings. Then Robbie took the pulpit.

  “Morning.” Robbie grinned his boyish smile at the packed chapel.

  “Morning, Reverend.” They all chanted in unison.

  Robbie snickered. “Cool. O.K.” He nodded to the people, impressed at everyone who came to see him. So many didn’t have a seat it was like one of those Christmas Masses where people came out of the woodwork.

  After getting a proud look from Andrea, Jess, and Hal, then an embarrassed look from Joe, Robbie smiled again. “Let us pray.” He lowered his head as did everyone in the chapel. “God . . . thank you for, you know, everything. Help us to, uh, be nice and do good things. And, you know, guide us this week. Amen.”

  The congregation responded with a strong ‘amen’.

  Robbie looked up. “Church is ended. Don’t forget to pray. Have a good day. Paul?” Robbie stepped back, looked at Paul, nodded his head in a four count, and they broke into a religious tune.

  Andrea gasped loudly in pride as her hand laid firmly on her chest. Her eyes glossed over and tears formed in the corners as she listened to Robbie and Paul. “Sweet Jesus, how strong he was up there. Mm-mm-mm.” She tossed her head back and forth in a rhythmic manner. “The good Lord blessed him with the Good Word. Aren’t you proud of our boy, Joe?”

  Joe covered his eyes. “Christ.”

  Hal tilted his head. “I think he did well for his first time up. Frank?” Hal leaned forward to peer around Andrea and Joe. “What do you think?”

  “I love it.” Frank nodded. “Man, I’m coming to church every week. I can be like a real church going guy with Robbie as pastor. Fuck . . .”

  “Frank,” Joe grumbled.

  Frank ignored him “I can start earning brownie points with God.” He stood up when Andrea and Joe did. “Oh yeah, Frank Slagel, Christian man.”

  Hal slipped into the aisle. “Until you kill someone.”

  “That doesn’t make me less Christian, huh Andrea?” Frank tapped her on the shoulder.

  “You are protecting God’s children, Frank,” Andrea nodded. “You aren’t sinning.”

  “See.” Frank pointed at Hal. “Our Mom says I’m not a sinner.”

  “But you’re sadistic, Frank. Andrea, he’s sadistic,” Hal argued. “How can you say he doesn’t sin when he enjoys the kill? Do you know how he diced up the Savages with the perimeter beams? He lead them there by making them chase him.”

  “Sweet Jesus, Hal,” Andrea halted him. “You know your brother was only trying to find a quick, painless way to stop those who tried to harm us.”

  “Yeah,” Frank agreed.

  Hal shook his head. “Just what the world needs, a sensitive killer.”

  NEVILLE COMPETITION

  Top Ten Tally Sheet

  1.Frank Slagel1,372

  2.Sgt. Elliott Ryder1,050

  3.Robbie Slagel 955

  4.Hal Slagel 950

  5.Ben from Fabrics 901

  6.Dan 900

  7.Jess Boyens 890

  8.Corporal Tom Pallet 775

  9.Sgt. Michael Watson 725

  10.Dr. Dean Hayes 700

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  After taking a look around the area, Joe swung his hand down with a ‘good job’ handshake to Danny.

  Danny smiled. “Yeah, everyone worked hard, Joe.”

  Joe shook his head in amazement. The Neville Field, a half mile long obstacle course, was set just beyond the growing Security area. But what impressed Joe wasn’t the apocalyptic looking course. It was how it set down in the grade and bleacher style seating was erected for viewing pleasure. “You did good.”

  “Thanks. Jenny has a food booth set up. We have some mini Neville games for the kids.” A grin crossed Danny’s face. “And football season’s starting. We’re getting the sign ups done today.”

  “You’ve earned the title ‘Social Master’.”

  “Wow. Thanks.” Danny started walking, tugging Joe’s arm. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll stand and the clips.”

  “How many men will be competing today?”

  “Well, we guess fifty. I hope your arm’s in good shape. But some of these men . . .” Danny shook his head. “It’s the top guns we’re gearing to either knock out or secure.”

  “So I take it this isn’t the final competition.”

  “Hell no, Joe,” he spoke as he walked. “This is a real morale booster. With the Savages getting killed left and right and attacking, there are ample opportunities for points. We added four new Neville committee members.”

  “I bet they’re going nuts every time there’s an outbreak of Savage attacks.”

  “Yep. Of course, they don’t keep track, you know. It’s up to the men themselves to file their forms for the kills. Elliott would have missed out on a hundred and fifty points had Ellen not filed his papers for the lone-kills he made in that tunnel incident. And Frank, he miscounted on that last slice and dice Savage episode. He lost thirty-seven points.”

  Joe stopped walking. “Thirty-seven? I thought they got twenty-five for each kill.”

  Danny snickered. “Sorry. He said he couldn’t find a leg and an arm. We were kidding and said he’d only get half credit. He bought it.”

  “Serves him right.” Joe shook his head with a chuckle and moved onward to the gun table with Danny.

  Grace held her wide brim, flowered hat that blew in the slightly cool fall breeze as she led a group of six women toward the bleacher area. She stopped before the seating area, exhaled and smiled. She was so pleased while she glanced around at the competition scene.

  It didn’t take much for Jenny Matoose to see the reflection of Grace and her crew in the coffee urn. After checking her own appearance, Jenny left the coffee stand to go and meet the small group of women who acted and looked so feminine.

  “I’m Jenny.” Jenny smiled brightly and extended her hand to Grace. “You’re Judge Hawthorn, right?”

  “Yes, I am.” Grace shook her hand. “Jenny Matoose? Are you the young woman who I spoke with on the phone? The petitioner?”

  “The one and only.”

  “How are those signatures coming?”

  “Good.” Jenny nodded. “I’ll stop by tomorrow. I just wanted to introduce myself now.”

  “Will you be watching the sporting event?” Grace asked.

  “I will, but from my booth.”

  “They have you on display?”

  “No.” Jenny giggled. “I’m serving coffee and refreshments to . . .” Jenny stopped when she heard Grace’s gasp. “What’s wrong?”

  “Why do they have you doing such a menial job, when obviously you are a woman of stature here in Beginnings?”

  “I don’t know. They asked.”

  “They asked.” Grace shook her head so sternly. “I suggest you go to the man who asked you and tell him he should have a man serve the coffee. After all, not only are you a minority here, you are much more than a waitress. You are a leader.”

  “I am.” Jenny raised her head high. “I will.”

  “Good.”

  “They can’t take advantage of me like that.”

  “They certainly cannot,” Grace said. “Didn’t you tell me on the phone you organize the women here?”

  “I do.”

  “And they still have you serving coffee? Are any men doing jobs like that?”

  “No.”

  “Chauvinists,” Grace stated.

  “Bastards,” Jenny commented.

  “You must speak u
p, young woman. You deserve something with more prestige.”

  “I do,” Jenny nodded. “Thank you, Judge Grace. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow. Right now I have a wiry Asian man to contend with.” With her arms folded tight, Jenny stormed her way over to Danny. “Danny.”

  “Oh hey, Jen.” Danny was eating a cookie at her booth. “You look pissed.”

  “I am.” Jenny sounded cross. “You know, I’m a little angry, Danny. Why did you ask me to serve coffee when there are plenty of men who could do it? After all, I am a woman of stature in this community. I deserve much better than being a waitress. There are only eighteen women. Eighteen. And I serve coffee. It’s degrading.”

  “Oh.” Danny nodded. “Thought you wanted to be a part of the event.”

  “I wanted to help, but to be a coffee boy?”

  “You are absolutely right. You go watch the event with the other women.” Danny laid his hands firmly on her arms. “Todd from Fabrics wanted this job anyhow. You know, since Hal Slagel’s like the big coffee drinker and he asked, since he’ll be busy with his men, if we minded bringing coffee to him every once in a while, I think Todd . . .”

  “Hal wants personal service?” Jenny asked.

  “Yeah, but that would be degrading . . .”

  “No!” Jenny silenced him. “No. I don’t mind that.” She sighed dramatically. “Someone has to do it but not Todd. Hal hates him. I think he may want some now, don’t you think?”

  “He may.”

  Jenny smiled, rushed inside her booth, and filled a cup of coffee, that wasn’t even finished from the urn. Just as fast, she ran by Danny, flashed a grin, and headed to Hal as she tried not to spill anything.

  “Yep,” Danny spoke to himself and took a bite of his cookie. “It helps to eavesdrop in Beginnings.” Danny took another bite and swallowed. “You get to know just what buttons to push.” As he turned, he saw Josephine standing there.

  Josephine grinned widely with a wink. “You can push my buttons anytime, Danny Hoi.”

  “Uh . . .” Danny chuckled. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” Turning to make an escape, Danny squeaked a short shriek when Josephine pinched his backside. He smiled awkwardly to her and hurried away.

  Quantico Marine Headquarters

  The metal from the head and neck brace George wore clanked once as he sat back in the chair at his desk. He looked at Steward, who was seated across, and then to a very serious Dr. Walker who stood before them.

  “You were asking?” George motioned his hand.

  “Is it one of our chips?” Dr. Walker questioned.

  “We believe so, yes.”

  “Well, then the first time the desired effects will be given.”

  “It won’t overload it?” George asked.

  “Not if it’s one of our chips,” Dr. Walker answered. “See, they aren’t designed to override data and replace it. In order to get rid of the data stored in the micro chip you need to erase it and begin again. Any data, even the same data, will just be stored in the chip, as well as duplicate data. The effect you desire will not change but eventually it will overload and death will occur, probably by a brain hemorrhage.”

  “I see.” George tapped his fingers on the desk. “Thank you, Dr. Walker. That will be all.”

  Dr. Walker moved to the door.

  “Wait.” George called out.

  “Yes, Mr. President.” Dr. Walker turned around.

  “Your colleague made this special delivery tape. Is the program correct?”

  “Yes. It was a very simple program. Nothing major.”

  “How many times would you say that program needs to be loaded to start to, you know, overload?”

  “Five or six times if they’re using our chip.”

  George smiled slightly. “Thank you.”

  After Dr. Walker left, Steward watched the peaceful expression on George’s face. “You’re contemplating.”

  “I am.”

  “I thought you wanted to see how today affected everything.”

  “I do, but it’s genuinely sadistic.”

  “Why does Dr. Walker keep stressing ‘if it’s one of our chips’?” Steward asked.

  “Oh.” George gave a fling-off wave, “He knows that Squeak and Geek invented another microchip. He’s concerned. He’s looking at it from a doctor’s point of view.”

  “Are they using ours?”

  “Who cares?” George tossed up his hands. “How much different can it be?”

  “So you’re going to go ahead with adding the program anyhow, despite today.”

  “Yes.” George tried to nod, but couldn’t. He made a valiant attempt. “Slowly, we’ll over load it. Slowly.” George zoned off in the pleasantness of that thought.

  “What if he dies? I didn’t think that was our original intentions. I thought it was to break him mentally or get him on our side.”

  “Breaking him mentally goes along with this. Dr. Hayes will never work for us without trying to screw us, so in order for us to be one up on them in the scientific field, we’re just going to have to kill him.”

  “Then if that’s the final decision, why not just . . . kill him?”

  “What? Are you nuts?” George snapped. “Look at me. Oh, no. If he dies, he dies suffering a long torturous death.” George leaned back and grinned. “Something, you know, fun to watch.”

  Beginnings, Montana

  Just as Joe reached for the paint pellet filled clip, he jumped at the slight scream that came from Hal not far away. Chuckling, Joe looked at Danny who stood with him. “Three?”

  “Nah. Two. She missed the first time.”

  After hearing a few of Hal’s ‘no, that quite all right’, Joe returned to listening to Danny explain.

  “So just be careful when you . . .”

  “Excuse me,” Jenny sang as she went by Joe and Danny. “Joe, Hal is so understanding.”

  “Yeah, he’s a pip.”

  “I just can’t believe how badly my hands shake.” She walked into the booth and poured another cup of coffee.

  “Jenny, why don’t you just hand it to him instead of giving it to him on a tray?” Joe suggested.

  “Would he mind?”

  Simply closing his mouth, Joe shook his head.

  “Good idea. Maybe I’ll blow on the coffee so it isn’t so hot. What do you think?” Jenny spoke with rapidity.

  Joe just winked and nodded. “Danny. Clips.”

  Danny snapped out of the daze of humor he found in Jenny and tried again to give Joe the explanation. “As I was saying . . .”

  “What . . .” A thin female finger came in and touched upon the row of clips lying on the refreshment booth counter. “. . . are these?” Ellen poked her head between them with a grin. “They don’t look like our normal clips.”

  “Ellen,” Joe said her name with irritation. “Does this concern you?”

  “No, but oh!” Ellen said perky.

  Joe cringed. “Stop that.”

  “I just saw the light on the pot was on. The coffee’s done.”

  “Christ.” Joe shook his head, perturbed. “Get a cup and leave us alone. Danny, explain.”

  “Do you think I can?”

  Seeing that Ellen was occupied with the coffee urn and Jenny was gone, Joe exhaled. “I believe so. Go on.”

  “Now each clip can be refilled with pellets if none get broken inside and clog it up. These bad boys.” Danny pulled out a pellet. “Can break very . . .”

  “Oh!” Ellen interjected excitedly. “This is good. New Bowman has great beans.” She saw them looking at her. “And the coffee’s warm.” She giggled and moved out of the booth. “Bye.”

  Danny closed his eyes as the red paint rolled down his hands when his two fingers, that held the pellet, squeezed together tightly with Ellen’s scream. “Thanks.”

  Joe snickered at Danny’s covered hand. “You were saying about how easily they break?”

  “Funny.” Danny grabbed a napkin and wiped off his hand. He picked up another
pellet. “Now, hopefully I can . . .”

  The pellet popped, squirting paint everywhere when Hal’s sudden shriek carried over.

  After looking over to see Hal flinging off the coffee Jenny spilled on him, Danny, again, closed his eyes. “I give up.”

  The way she laughed as her mouth hovered the rim of her coffee cup was a view of Ellen Dean didn’t want to stop. She was smiling and, to Dean, that was a good sign even if it was at Hal’s expense.

  There was nervousness in his approaching Ellen. How could there not be?

  “Hey,” he spoke softly as he neared her.

  Ellen stopped mid sip and turned around. “Hey. Did you see Jenny and . . .”

  “Yeah.” Dean scratched his head. “About this morning in church.”

  “What about it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re ... you’re welcome.” Ellen shifted her eyes with a giggle to Hal who tried to dry of his pants. “I wonder where Elliott is?”

  After rolling his eyes, Dean answered. “I heard he was off with Frank somewhere.”

  “You’re kidding?” Ellen fully faced Dean. “Why is he with Frank? That’s a scary thought. Elliott’s a nice man.”

  “Yeah. El, listen. About Elliott.”

  “I’m not arguing with you. You made your point. You’re pulling me if I don’t pull those tests. I’ll do the test.”

  “I’m sorry I took that stance,” Dean said.

  “You had your reasons.”

  “And you had yours. We’ll run the test, see the results, and then you and I will discuss the next step. O.K.?”

  Ellen nodded. “You don’t suppose Frank’s tying him up somewhere because Elliott’s so close to him in the competition.”

  “I don’t think Frank would stoop . . .”

  “I wonder what they’re doing,” Ellen looked around.

  “Ellen.” Dean stated her name firm. “What is it about Elliott?”

  “He’s my friend.”

  “Since when do you continuously revolve the conversation around your friends?”

  “Why are you getting defensive about Elliott?” Ellen asked. “You brought him up.”