The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Did it fall in that box?” Todd asked.

  Andrea smiled. “Yes. How do you like that?” She placed the earring in her ear.

  Todd snapped out of that memory and looked at Danny and Henry. “I don’t recall seeing anyone near that box.” Todd’s hands slapped down to his legs. “Is that it?”

  Henry looked oddly at him, “Um, yeah.”

  “Thanks.” Nervously Todd stood up. “Sorry I couldn’t help.”

  “No problem,” Danny said then watched Todd leave. After he was gone, Danny turned his views to Henry. “What do you think?”

  “About?” Henry asked.

  “Todd. I think he’s covering something up. Did you see how nervous he got?”

  “Yeah.” Henry looked at the door. “It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “Ben’s in the competition and Frank’s the biggest threat. Todd wants Ben back so he’ll get Frank . . .”

  “Henry,” Danny halted him. “Where is your mind? I’m not saying Todd switched the clip.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No. I’m saying Todd . . .” Danny pointed to the door. “Knows who was in that box.”

  After submerging into thought while staring where Danny pointed, Henry slowly nodded. “Yeah . . . yeah, that’ll work.” Henry moved to the door. “But . . . I like my theory better.”

  ^^^^

  “Usually . . .” Joe was in an explaining mode as he walked the cryo-tunnels with Elliott. “Security checks every two hours on them if they’re working down here. Frank stops in on his night shift. You don’t have to. He does it for Bub. You know, to feed him and such.”

  “Bub?” Elliott questioned.

  “The lobotomized Savage Ellen and Dean have.” Joe reached for the cryo-lab door. “Here we are. This was once used to house our cryogenically frozen scientists, but now it’s the demented domain of the Hayes’. It’s where they do their vile, sick experiments I don’t want to know about. Not to mention, it smells.” Joe punched in his code. The door buzzed.

  Elliott halted him as he pushed it open. “The male Dr. Hayes isn’t in here, is he?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I’m not on his favorite person list today. I’d rather avoid another confrontation.”

  “I see. Though I avoid speaking to Dean at all anymore, I’ll set him straight concerning those rumors about you.” Joe tried again to open the door.

  “Rumors?” Elliott stopped him. “What rumors?”

  “That’s not why he’s mad at you?”

  “No. I asked Ellen out on a date and . . .”

  Joe snickered. “Sorry.”

  “What rumors.”

  “Well, the one where you were a drunk in the old world.”

  “Oh my God . . .”

  “Wait, it gets better. You were a womanizer and had just about every venereal disease there was and the best is, you were and still are a cross dresser.” Joe walked in the lab. “Ellen, look who I brought.” He waved to Bub across the room.

  Ellen smiled at first when she looked up at Elliott, then she saw how horrified he looked. “Elliott? What’s wrong?”

  “There are rumors going around about me.” Elliott stepped to the counter. “Have you heard them?”

  “Yes.” Ellen shook her head. “People do that around here. It’s a form of entertainment. Speaking of entertainment, don’t mind me while I work.”

  The bloody gloves were one thing, but Joe had to whine about the sliced open rabbit. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “A bunny hysterectomy.” Ellen smiled.

  “Why?” Joe asked.

  “Oh, Dean and his ideas.” Ellen worked. “He wants to try to create a false body that will sustain a healthy uterus so we can try to bring the hidden frozen embryos to term without endangering anyone, but . . . I think it has to do more with his cloning thoughts.” She slid a Petri dish near her.

  “Cloning?” Joe raised his eyebrow

  “Yeah,” Ellen snickered, “How about that? Can Dean get farfetched or what? Oh look, how healthy.” Ellen lifted the rabbit uterus and laid it in the dish. “I’ll just sew her up.”

  Elliott peered closer. “She’s not dead?”

  “Oh no, that would be cruel,” Ellen stated. “She’s just spayed now.” She reached for the sutures. “She’ll bunny-thank me later when she realizes she can get laid without multitudes of reproduction repercussions later.”

  “Christ.” Joe shook his head then peered at Elliott. “Holy shit, Elliott, does that hurt?”

  “What?” Elliott looked confused.

  “That bruise on your arm.” Joe walked closer and lifted up the tee shirt sleeve. “You should have that arm x-rayed.”

  “It doesn’t hurt.” Elliott shrugged then looked quickly to the clank Ellen made when she dropped her instrument. “Ellen?”

  “Sorry.” Nervously she picked the tweezers back up. “Maybe you bumped yourself on the course yesterday.”

  “Maybe.” Elliott looked at the bruise. “I didn’t even notice it.”

  “What smells down here?” Joe asked. “It’s bad.”

  “Bub,” Ellen answered. “Frank fed him something yesterday. He has gas.”

  “Swell.” Joe walked over to a calm Bub. “Hey Bub. Look what I got.” Joe reached into his back pocket and pulled out something that looked like a pale beef jerky. “Want some imitation beef?” He waved it and Bub took it. “I know they. . .” Joe grabbed Bub’s arm. He looked at the healing wound. “He’s missing a chunk of his arm, Ellen.”

  “Yes. You wouldn’t let us give him can . . .” She cleared her throat. “A malignancy. So we removed a portion and infected that. No luck though. The cells are multiplying depressively rapid.”

  “Too bad.” Joe walked away. “I thought you were trying to use his skin for Jeff’s face.”

  Elliott blinked noticeably. “A face?”

  “We’re growing one for him or trying to,” Ellen answered. “Done.” She walked to the sink. “We did remove skin for Jeff from Bub’s butt. Check out the tank, Joe. Lips.”

  Motioning his head to Elliott, Joe led the way across the lab to a tank where the water bubbled around what seemed to be four sets of lips. “You have quite the variety.”

  “We’re trying.” Ellen dried off her hands and joined them at the tank. “We can’t decide which ones to try on Jeff next. Personally I like the fuller, Brad Pitt lips. And look Joe, three days and no fur yet.”

  “Well, we’ve seen enough.” Joe stepped back from the tank. “I just wanted to bring Elliott down here and prepare him ahead of time.”

  “That’s always best.” Ellen winked at Joe.

  “This.” Elliott pointed to the tank as he started to leave. “Is very impressive.”

  “Thank you.” Ellen smiled widely.

  “Such faith people must have and rightfully so. My God, with all you’re trying down here, I bet there’s nothing you can’t beat.” Elliott gave a nod and a smile then walked away with Joe.

  The smile Ellen kept on her face was forced until the moment Elliott and Joe were gone then her smile dropped and her eyes closed with worry.

  ^^^^

  Heber, Arizona

  The dried brush that scattered the ground of the forest sprayed upward when his knees slammed to the earth. He grunted and the huffing breaths of fear bellowed from him. He was a thin man, almost too thin, and he grabbed the ground with his black gloved hands and pulled himself to his feet. As he started to run, he felt the pain of the spear that grazed the skin on the back of his neck and tore the thin, tight ski-mask-style hood he wore. Every ounce of his body was covered. His clothing, jeans and a turtleneck, was dark. His speed increased as he tried to make it through the trees.

  Not far ahead of him, he saw the road, a road he had left to go into the woods to seek food. On that road there was an old motorcycle, one he powered with alcohol. The nearer he drew towards it, the louder the Savage screams became.


  His heart raced with the victory of his run. At the end of the woods was the road, the bike, his salvation, and . . . Savages.

  Two Savages leaped down from the trees. The first one struck him hard against his face with the side of a spear, knocking him back and on to the ground. The six that chased him lunged forward like excited animals. They had him. He was their prey and they were about to devour him in more ways than one.

  The man fought. His legs kicked, his arms tossed, and his body flung as four Savages fought to hold him down. One stood above him with the end of his spear pointing down; the other reached for his head.

  The savage gripped the hood with a sadistic look upon his face and attempted to lift the man by the hair. The hood slipped off.

  Silence.

  The Savage attack stopped and, after a moment of staring at the frightened man, the eight Savages took off running, screaming as they did.

  With his chest rising up and down in the heaviness of his breathing, the man grabbed his hood and placed it almost painfully back over his head. He grabbed the sunglasses that flew from him and put them on as well as he stood up. Looking back once more, the man ran forward, made it to the road, snatched up his gear, jumped on the bike, and quickly sped off.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Quantico Marine Headquarters

  George kept his index finger on his eyelid to stop the annoying twitch, that not only seemed out of control, but seemed to take over the entire half of his face. It got on his nerves and made it difficult for total concentration on his strategy paperwork.

  “Sir.” Steward knocked once on George’s office door then stepped inside. “I just . . .” He stopped speaking and stared.

  “What?”

  “Did you know your eye is twitching?” Steward pointed to his own eye.

  George, so annoyed, looked up with his left eye blinking, distorted, and rapid. “Thank you for telling me. Now what is it?”

  “Well, I faxed our scouting route to Beginnings yesterday . . .”

  “Yes I know. I got theirs.”

  “They sent ours back.” Steward laid a folder on his desk. “It seems they corrected it.”

  “Corrected it?” George opened the folder. He saw handwritten notes in Joe’s and Frank’s handwriting.

  “Basically Frank is saying we’re headed to far east in our search. Judging by the depth and angle of tire tracks and . . .”

  “Footprints in their video,” George reviewed the bad pictures. “We should change our course.”

  “Do you think they’re setting us up for a trap, sir?”

  George leaned back in his chair, only hesitating when his head brace clanked. He lifted the folder and read it. “No. No trap.” He traced his index finger over his lip. “Give these to Sgt. Doyle.” George tossed the folder. “Tell him to prep the scouts to take this course.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir.” Steward took the folder, subconsciously fearing his own eye would twitch if he stayed in the office much longer. “Why are we changing our scouting route based on this?”

  “They want to eliminate the Savages as much as we do and Frank worked on that. He may be a moron ninety-percent of his life, but in shit like this, he’s the best. Change routes.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tucking the folder under his arm, Steward walked from the office. Once he was outside, he closed the door and laid his hand over half his face. “Damn it.” He shook his head. “I’m twitching.”

  ^^^^

  Beginnings, Montana

  A little less than twenty-four hours in the Clinic and Frank was ready to leave or call for a guard to keep everyone out, if he could speak. In Frank’s mind, an injury that could have been fatal should have generated sympathy in people rather than the bad humor. He was losing it and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t scream, yell at them, tell them to leave, or be threatening. After all, how threatening was someone that only squeaked.

  If it could be done to him, it was. Dean worked on his last nerve by stopping in constantly to gripe or tell Frank things that would make him get mad. Then there was Robbie and his instigating about totally redoing Frank’s Security regiment, Danny dropping off that extra cell phone and telling Frank to call him if he needed to talk, and if Frank heard his father say ‘What’s that Frank? I can’t hear you?’ one more time, squeak or not, he was going to scream.

  Frank couldn’t believe the audacity everyone had. He himself would not have been so rude had he known someone in a similar situation.

  Ellen was his bright spot or so he thought. When she finally stopped in, Frank believed his day would get better until Ellen stayed way past her welcome.

  “Hold still,” Ellen told him, “this is the last stroke.” She lifted the razor. “Done.”

  Frank mouthed the words ‘thank you.’

  “You’re welcome. You needed it. Oh, I’m so glad we can talk.” She took the basin of water across the room. “What am I going to do about Dean and his attitude?”

  Frank closed his eyes. He knew enough about Dean’s attitude.

  “He hates Elliott and for no reason. This is so out of character for him. Really, don’t you agree?” Ellen went back to his bed. “Good. Elliott has given him no reason to hate him. Do you suppose it’s because he’s such a nice man? Of course you do. Thank you.” Ellen sat on the edge of the bed. “He asked me out on a date. A non-sexual date. Can you believe that?”

  Frank shook his head.

  “It’s true. Didn’t you think he’d ask me out?”

  Since he wanted to tell her he’d really rather not hear about Elliott, Frank came up with a communication brainstorm. Pen and paper. Smiling, he tapped Ellen’s hand then pretended to write in the air.

  “Oh, good idea. I’ll write him a thank you note. What should it say?”

  Frank shook his head ‘no’ then wrote in the air again.

  “You don’t want me to write Elliott a letter?”

  Frank nodded.

  “You do.”

  A shake of Frank’s head.

  “You don’t. Which is it? Do?”

  Frank shook his head.

  “O.K., you don’t want me to write Elliott a letter. Then who?”

  Frank violently shook his head, pretended to write again then pointed to his chest.

  “You? All right, I’ll write you a letter.”

  Frank’s head went back to his pillow. Ellen began to ramble. He heard her but what specifics she gave was beyond Frank. He knew she talked about dinner and how long she would be at the lab. She told him gossip and answered questions for him. Just at the point when Frank thought all he needed was for Henry to walk in, Henry walked in.

  “Hey, Frank. Hey, El.”

  “Hey, Henry.” Ellen snickered and deepened her voice “Hey, Henry.”

  A quick, mean shift of Frank’s eyes went to Ellen.

  Henry laughed. “I brought you a present, Frank.”

  A smile crossed Frank’s face.

  “Yeah, since you can’t talk. By the way, I heard the bad news.”

  Frank perked up with concern.

  “Yes.” Slowly Henry shook his head. “I hear you won’t be able to sing again.”

  Ellen laughed loudly. “Good one.”

  “Thanks.” Henry grinned.

  Frank rolled his eyes.

  “Part one of the present.” Henry held up a finger. “Since I know you so well, Frank, until you can talk, if I’m around, I’ll be your mute interpreter.”

  “Oh Henry!” Ellen said with excitement. “Are you gonna read his mind or lips?”

  “Both I hope. Frank.” Henry faced him. “Try it. Say something. Move your lips.” Henry watched with intent.

  Frank had his moment. If by chance Henry could read his lips, he wanted to mouth something important, so he did. He moved his lips to the sentence ‘I wish you both would let me have peace.”

  Rubbing his chin, Henry nodded after staring at Frank. With certainty, he faced Ellen. “Frank said he wants us both to look
at his pee.”

  “Really? Why? Is it not looking right?”

  Henry looked at Frank. “Something wrong, Frank?”

  Frank tried to grunt. He couldn’t. He just moved his lips slowly and with annunciation, ‘get out.’

  “O.K.” Henry nodded. “El, he said get a towel.”

  Shrugging, Ellen retrieved one and handed it to Frank. “Here you go, Frank. Isn’t this easier with Henry interpreting?”

  ‘Yeah, real fuckin easy.’ Frank thought.

  “Your other present,” Henry said. “Ready?” Without waiting for a nod of agreement from Frank, he raced out of the room and returned with his hands behind his back. “All right. I made these for you. When you’re mad and want to scream.” From behind his back, Henry brought a small sign on a stick. It simply said, in plain black letters, ‘Fuck’.

  Frank nodded impressed and took the sign.

  “But . . . when you’re really, really, really mad.” Henry brought another sign out from behind him. The letters were big and bold with plenty of exclamation marks. ‘FUCK!!!!!’

  Frank grinned and snatched that one up.

  “Henry, how ingenious of you,” Ellen complimented.

  “Thanks. I had to do something. He just isn’t Frank if he’s not saying fuck.”

  With his mouth closed tight, Frank had to agree.

  “Hi-de ho!” Jenny be-bopped into the room.

  Frank held up the milder swear sign.

  Jenny giggled. “I just wanted to see how Frank was. How are you, Frank? Good.” Jenny tapped him on the leg and stood behind Henry, who sat on the bed talking with Ellen. “Ellen, I heard from Joe you’re going out on a date with Elliott.”

  “I am.”

  “When?”

  Ellen shrugged. “I guess when he gets some time off.”

  “You know what we should do,” Jenny suggested. “He and Hal are close. Since Frank is laid up, why don’t the four of us do a double date?”