“Well . . . forgive me, but it’s been a while since I approached someone over matters like this.”
“I understand.”
Running his hand over the top of his head, Elliott took a breath. “You can tell me no, but I was wondering if perhaps you would like . . .”
“El.” Frank stepped right in between them. He put his back to Elliott and faced Ellen.
“God, Frank,” Ellen snapped, “Are you rude. We’re talking.”
“So, I need to talk to you. Now.” He looked at Elliott. “Do you mind?”
“No,” Elliott said.
“Yes,” Ellen came back.
“Elliott,” Frank said his name with a requesting tone.
“I’ll . . . uh.” Elliott pointed back. “I’ll give you a moment.”
“Elliott, don’t . . .” Ellen threw up her hands. “Thank you very much, Frank.”
“Oh, you’re welcome. If you needed him to get lost, you should have said something sooner. That was easy.”
“If I needed him to . . . . What do you want?”
“Wanna go out with me?”
“No.” Ellen started to walk away.
“Uh!” Frank shrieked out and grabbed his chest. “You’re killing me!”
Ellen stopped cold and turned around. “What is wrong with you?”
“You turned me down flat.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t.”
“Oh, this ought to be good.” Ellen made her way to him. “Why?”
“I’m nice.”
“You are not.”
“O.K., maybe not, but I’m a Christian now.”
Ellen laughed.
“I need to spend time with you, El.”
“Frank, I . . .”
“Besides.” Frank moved to her. “We won’t even call it a date if you don’t want to. We’ll call it uh . . . . matchmaker thing. Yeah, that’s it.”
“A matchmaker thing?”
“Yeah. See, it seems my brother, Hal, has this thing for Jenny.”
Ellen laughed scoffing. “He does not!”
“Ya-ha.” Frank nodded. “He told me so himself. And . . . He doesn’t know how to be alone or on a date thing with a woman and he, uh, asked if I would go. I said not unless I had a date.”
Ellen folded her arms, nodding and listening to Frank in an ‘oh really’ manner.
“Hal then couldn’t believe that I, Frank Slagel, the master, would have such a hard time getting a date. I explained to him I didn’t. That the women, even the attached ones, find me studly and . . .”
“Frank.”
“I’m not done.” Frank held up his hand. “But I couldn’t be with them because I only wanna be with you.” A bright look hit Frank’s face. “Hey, great tune.”
Before he could proceed to sing, Ellen halted him. “Fine. Yes, I’ll go.”
“O.K.” Frank nodded. “It’s a date. You tell Jenny. I’ll tell Hal and we’ll shoot for next weekend because we ship the brigades out this week and I can’t really . . .”
“Frank, all right.”
“Man, are you rude. Just when we got back together too.” He kissed her quickly on the cheek. “Thanks. See ya.”
Ellen, open mouthed, held up a finger, but Frank arrogantly walked away. Tossing out her hand, Ellen decided to find her seat in the bleachers, especially when she saw Danny take the microphone.
^^^^
It was a long, muddled version of ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ with a melody line that veered drastically off course at times but everyone, at Danny’s request, made it through. Barely.
“Each man starts with two hundred points,” Danny explained, “whether you’re top dog or at the bottom of the Neville rank. Oh, yeah, for everyone’s convenience, Trish has typed up little score cards so make sure you grab one and thank Trish.” Danny pointed to Trish.
Trish stood up from her seat in the bleachers, waving her hand with a bright smile to make sure everyone knew who she was.
Danny continued. “Joe will have eight shots at each man. Every hit you take will be twenty-five points off of your two hundred. If Andrea deems that you are not dead then, for finishing the course, you get a hundred points. Every single man has a chance to achieve three hundred right off the bat. The winner of the Neville course will not be determined by who took the least hits. It will be determined by which ‘alive’ competitor finished the course the fastest. Everyone understand?” Danny looked to the crowd who seemed to mumble in a ‘yeah-yeah’ manner. “Man,” Danny shook his head. “You people are making me feel like Dean. And speaking of Dean . . .” Danny grinned at a less-enthused Dean. “Let the game begin.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“Son of a bitch!” Joe shook his head. “Danny!” Lowering his gun, he peeked over to the commentator’s table. “Do something.”
Leaning into the microphone, Danny spoke, “The crowd would like to officially request that Dr. Hayes move it on the course.”
Joe checked out his watch. “He’s been out there fifteen minutes. Christ, I can’t even see him to hit him. Everyone else finished the course in five, six minutes.”
Danny shrugged. “Dean!”
“I’m almost done!” Dean shouted.
Joe resumed holding his pistol ready. He waited, aimed, and then the crowd cheered when Dean crossed the finish line with his arms held high.
“In a whopping fifteen minutes and thirty point eight seconds, Dean emerges unscathed and get three hundred points, jumping him to third place,” Danny said.
Joe thought Dean looked so arrogant and smug because he was small enough to crawl the course without ever emerging enough to get hit.
“Sorry, Joe,” Dean shrugged as he passed him. “Nice try though.”
Joe nodded once and watched the next participant get ready to take the field. He looked at the paint pallet gun then turned around. “Hey, Dean!”
“Yeah?” Dean stopped walking and looked.
Joe smiled, held up the gun, and unloaded the entire paint pellet clip at him. “Thanks.”
Dean closed his eyes and looked at his red soaked shirt. “They’re all alike.”
“Oh!” Frank cringed loudly and dramatically then nudged Hal. “Looks like your man took another hit.”
Hal shook his head. “It was a low hit, still not fatal.”
“His timing sucks.”
“What is it that you want, Frank?”
“Oh!” Frank shook his head and laughed. “Another hit. Dad’s nailing him.”
“Frank!”
“What!”
“You said you had a favor. Do you actually think acting like this is gonna make me help you?”
“No. It’s just fun. Anyway . . . Oh!”
“Frank.”
“All right. El said she’d go out with me.”
Hal smiled. “That’s great.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t trust herself alone with me yet, so she wants to know if you’ll do the chaperone bit. I know it sounds immature but you’re an honorable . . . OH!” Frank shouted. “Another . . .”
“Frank.”
Frank cleared his throat. “Guy.”
“I would love to chaperone. Thank you. I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks.” Frank pointed as Hal’s man emerged from the course. “Your guy sucked.” He shook his head and walked away.
Danny’s voice held enthusiasm. “And Dr. Winters says . . .”
Andrea shook her head as she stood before the UWA soldier.
“No!” Danny shouted. “He’s dead. Sgt. Michael Watson plummets to seventeenth place. Next up . . .”
^^^^
They stood from oldest to youngest, Frank, Hal, Robbie. In their line across, they showed how much of brothers they were. Their eyes all peering with concentration with their left arm draped across their waist, and their right hand to their mouths as all three bit their nails.
Frank shook his head and spit out a nail. “Dad’s hit him a lot.”
Hal
nipped his nail. “They were all minuscule hits.”
“He’s moving really fast,” Robbie commented.
“Fuck,” Frank stated.
“Shit,” Hal remarked.
“Trip,” Robbie wished.
Jess emerged. The crowd cheered.
Danny made the announcement. “He took all eight bullets. We await word from Dr. Winters. Nothing looks serious . . .”
In synch, all three Slagel brothers spit out a particle of nail.
Andrea gave a thumbs up and a smile.
“Yes!” Danny commentated. “He was hit but not deadly and Jess Boyens emerges with a whopping time of four minutes thirteen point six tenths. What a score to beat and he slips into second place.”
“Shit,” Hal shook his head.
“Man,” Robbie complained.
“Ouch.”
Hal and Robbie both looked at Frank.
Frank held up his finger. “I bit down too far. Blood. See?”
Hal and Robbie walked away from him in separate directions.
^^^^
“Next up,” Danny announced, “Ben from Fabrics.”
Daintily, Ben walked to the starting line. He nodded that he was ready.
Joe raised the gun,.
“On your mark, get set . . .” Danny said. “Go!”
Ben took a step.
Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang. Joe put the gun down with a smile.
Ben, with his chest covered in red paint, walked back off the course.
^^^^
Hal stomped like a baby when he finished the course with three non-fatal hits but with a speed of four minutes forty-eight seconds, nowhere near Jess’s time. Robbie, with only two hits, knew he didn’t beat Jess either when he didn’t come close with a four minute forty-eight time as well. Robbie acted polite though and told Jess how really well he did and saved calling him a ‘dick’ for when he was out of ear range.
But the popping of Joe’s gun and the sound of empty hits became the tension of the day as Elliott moved through the course.
Ellen, along with everyone else, watched nervously as he dodged every pellet Joe shot at him and he did it with, what seemed to be, as much speed as Jess.
Jess appeared calm but his eyes were glued to the course.
Sounding like he was announcing golf, Danny spoke. “Not a hit taken. The tension mounts. Sgt. Ryder nears the end of the course with speed. The score to beat is four minutes thirteen, point six . . .”
Joe’s firing gun silenced Danny.
Elliott stood straight up.
“Fuck.” Frank flinched, biting his bottom lip.
“Oh yes! Joe Slagel fired his last shot and he missed!” Danny bellowed. “Sgt. Ryder darts to the end of the course. If he beats the Boyens time he will certainly knock Frank out and give him a run . . .”
“Danny!” Frank screamed. “Shut the fuck up!”
Elliott rolled through the finish line. There were no cheers and a hush took over the entire area.
“He’s unscathed,” Danny commented. “Not a hit with a remarkable fast time of . . .” Danny paused dramatically to build tension. “Four minutes thirteen and . . . nine tenths seconds. Sorry Sgt. Ryder.”
Amongst the disappointed ‘ohs’, Frank was heard.
“Yes. Yes. Oh, yes.” He marched to take his place with a point to Elliott. “Too bad. Watch the master.” Swinging his point to Danny, Frank grinned. “Give the mike to my brother. Thanks.”
Hal, reluctantly moped his way over to the table.
“With enthusiasm please!” Frank shouted.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Hal spoke in the microphone. “The most electrifying warrior in the post apocalyptic world, a hero . . . a Neville . . .”
“Do the echo!” Frank shouted.
“Frank-ank-ank-ank. Slagel-gal-gal.”
Frank held his hands up high as the crowd golf clapped. He pointed to his watch like Babe Ruth to the stands. “Four minutes flat if I stop to take a breather.”
A rush of moans came from the spectators.
“Ready!” Danny shouted. “Aim.”
Joe clicked back the hammer.
Danny covered the microphone and inched his way to Joe. “You’ll have to get him right away.”
“I know,” Joe nodded. “He’s in my scope.”
Danny removed his hand and opened his mouth, readying to nod with his order. “Go!”
Joe fired.
Frank went down.
No sounds.
Danny shifted his eyes. “Is he pulling a Dean?”
Joe shook his head. “He’s too big to do that. Is he even moving?”
“What’s he up to.”
“Give me the goddamn mike.” Joe took the microphone. “Frank! Frank! Get up! Enough of this arrogant shit.” Joe peered out. “Frank, goddamn it, I’m ruling you out.”
From her seat, Ellen slowly focused and, nearly in a daze, made it down to the grass and to Dean. “Something’s not right.”
“He’s playing around,” Dean said.
“No.” Ellen shook her head. “I feel it. Something’s not right.” Without warning, Ellen took off. She ran past the commentator’s table despite the calls out to her, rushed through the brush, and straight on to the course. Her single, panicked scream ‘Dean!’ shot through the air,
With speed, Dean flew that way, leaping his way through everyone and onto the course. He stopped out of breath and dropped down to the ground. “Oh my God, Get a Jeep! Hurry!” His views shifted in confusion to Ellen.
With her eyes glazed over with fear and worry, Ellen peered up. “Dean.” Trembling, her views went back down and her hands cradled Frank’s head which rested on her lap. Blood poured from his neck and Frank didn’t move.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“I’m gonna need at least three units. At least . . .” Dean pounded out orders to Jason, Johnny, and Andrea. “Keep the bag free flowing. Andrea clamp him. Jason in my lab, get me the P.C.R.S. just in case, STAT . . . and somebody . . . get her out of here!”
Dean last words still echoed in Ellen’s mind as she sat on the couch in the waiting room The redness of his face, Frank’s blood that covered Dean, and the wide swinging point at her that covered the sight of Frank on the operating table was the last vision she had seen that afternoon.
Hours had passed.
Joe had finally stopped verbally blaming himself. He stared with the worry of a father through the waiting room doorway, waiting for answers that were taking so long to come and looking as if he himself took a beating. It was quiet, so quiet.
Robbie paced and Robbie rambled. Anger laced his every word as he barked out orders and vowed to head an investigation despite having to send out scouting troops. He took on a role not asked of him. He slipped in charge. He chose an evidence team to comb the area. He picked three men to question everyone. And even though fingers were pointing Dean’s way from so many people, Robbie knew that wasn’t where his answer lay. Despite the Dean and Frank ongoing feud, Frank was not only Dean’s one and only ally, he was Dean’s one and only real friend. Dean was not responsible.
Robbie, like he did with the mobile lab a year before, would find the truth even if he had to collect every single speck of paper and hair, because he knew the answer would not only tell him who shot Frank, but it would also tell him who Rev. Bob was protecting and using Andrea as the ‘George’ cover up.
Ellen was proud of Robbie, but she felt badly for Hal. Hal was so concerned over Frank that Ellen feared the ‘Hal’ repercussions when he realized Robbie pulled Beginnings’ rank over him. Robbie told Hal that even though he would run Security, he needed someone to fill Frank’s shoes, to pull the protection and perimeters. With Hal running Bowman, only one other man could do that, Elliott Ryder. Robbie factually stated ‘we have to have him’. Hal lifted a gracious hand, didn’t say a word, and nodded.
Ellen could feel the antsiness of Hal’s heavy breathing as it moved the couch.
With is hands folded
as his elbow draped across his knees, Hal looked the worst.
Sitting next to him, Ellen reached over and laid her hand over his. Immediately Hal took it and slipped his fingers in between Ellen’s then brought her hand to his mouth.
The dried blood that covered Hal’s hands could have been gloves. It laced his skin and cracked from his tightly clenched fist.
She heard his cry out in her mind and she could still see him rushing into the obstacle course area.
“No!” Hal dropped to his knees by Frank. “Where’s the Jeep? Where’s the fuckin Jeep?”
The Jeep screeched to a halt and came as close as it could get to Frank, but it was still far enough away that the injured Frank had to be moved.
Hal slid his arms under Frank’s huge frame and, with a strong grunt that caused the vein in his neck to bulge, Hal lifted Frank.
It still was so much of a blur to Ellen. She remembered how strong her heart beat in her ears as she rushed to the Jeep to ride with Frank. She could clearly see Hal supporting Frank’s body as they rode to town, his hand over Frank’s wound, holding it with pressure, and Frank’s pulsating blood that seeped through Hal’s fingertips with every beat of his heart.
The tight grip Hal held on Ellen’s hand released and Ellen knew. She looked up. Dean and Andrea were walking into the waiting room. Ellen, like Hal, Robbie, and Joe, charged forward.
Andrea did that doctor thing, holding up her hand to stop any questions from being thrown at her before she had a chance to speak. After a deep breath, she spoke. “Frank’s fine.”
Her words were the shot of relief everyone needed. In unison, they gasped. Hal lifted Ellen in an embrace and when he set her down, Ellen kissed Joe then laid her hand on Robbie’s back.
Robbie folded his arms tightly and nodded.
“We had . . .” Andrea explained, “a lot of damage to repair. That’s what took so long. Fortunately we got Frank in here, stopped the bleeding, and operated. He lost a lot of blood and we’ll have to keep him down for a few days. The bullet made a clear anterior entrance on an angle, which worked in his favor.” Andrea pointed to her own neck. “Had the bullet gone straight, it would have severed the brain stem and Frank wouldn’t be with us. It did however do major damage in two places. One was to the jugular vein, which we repaired. The other . . .” She exhaled, “the vocal chords, which we hope we repaired. There is a chance . . .” Andrea spoke to all those who listed so intently. “There’s a chance that Frank may never speak again.”
The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20 Page 95