The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  Ellen just shook her head and returned to work.

  “Fuck. I’m on my way.” Frank looked back into the lab. He reached for the door to hold it open. Snap. “Ow. Hey Dean, scratch the killer babies. I have to go. Tracking just reported a breach from the south.” Slipping out from the lab, Frank released one more ‘ow’ before he bolted off to Tracking.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Snap.

  “Ow!” The Tracking door opened and Frank walked in. “What do we got?”

  Mark turned in his chair to Frank then back to the screen. “Just entered the sector near the front.”

  “How far?” Frank moved behind Mark.

  “Two miles and moving at a slow steady pace. ETA . . .” Mark pressed some keys. “Nine minutes. Course is straight, right to the road.”

  “Quisenart beam will get them if that’s the case.” Leaning into the chair to peer at the screen, Frank drew closer to Mark. “What is it saying . . .?”

  Snap!

  “Ow!” Mark screamed and jolted in his chair.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t need the beams with you around. Shit.” He tried to rub his own back. Mark swore he was burned.

  “Sorry. Fuckin Dean.” Frank shook his head. “I should be better once I run around naked in the grass.” He stepped away from the chair and reached for his revolver. Snap. “Fuck.” Frank shook his head. “I’m heading that way. You direct me on their course. How many?” He moved to the door.

  “Computer’s saying four. But . . . two of them are in excess of five hundred pounds.”

  “Or three men each.”

  “That would make a total of eight. Or a pack.”

  “Savage norm. Keep me posted. I’ll be there in two minutes.” Frank grabbed the door handle. Snap. “Fuck! I’m killing Dean.” He flung it open and charged out.

  Despite orders from Joe not to take a look alone, Frank rode out to the road that led directly to New Bowman. He took the bike with little fear on his mind. He had the Quisenart beam to semi-protect him and, unless they bombarded him with arrows and spears, he was safe. Not to mention there was only eight of them and Frank was up for good target practice.

  He stopped his bike a half a mile from the tunnel entrance where it was projected that the invaders were heading. Frank stood on the road and faced where they would supposedly appear, His M-16 was ready and the radio close to his mouth. “Position?” Frank asked Tracking.

  “Steady. Closing in. Not picking up speed at all. Direct course,” Mark told him.

  “Why are they moving like that? This is odd.” Frank kept his eyes open and his ears listening as well. Then he heard the scuffling of feet against the dry leaves. “Hold on, Mark.”

  “See them?”

  “I think . . . wait.” Frank placed his M-16 behind his back.

  “Frank, do you need back up.”

  “Right.” Frank scoffed and lifted his binoculars. “Fuck.” He released a short chuckle.

  “Frank.”

  Frank saw gold and that made him want a closer look in his binoculars. He saw gold reflecting off the sun from buttons and swords. The yellow head bands and gloves were almost like flags to Frank. “Mark, have Security down this beam. Get my dad to call Hal. We have two of his men.” Frank lowered the binoculars. “Man, they must hate working for my brother.”

  ^^^^

  “Tupperware?” Bev asked Trish, bewildered as they stood on the street in Beginnings.

  “Yes, those plastic storage containers.”

  “I know what Tupperware is., but a party?”

  “I used to be a Tupperware consultant. What a business boom it added to my wedding shop business. I found it rewarding and challenging and was thinking of picking it up again. A part time job. So will you?” Through the corner of her eye, Trish saw Jenny. Smiling, Trish waved. “Hi, Jenny.”

  Jenny kept walking.

  “Hmm.” Trish brought her finger to her mouth. “She must not have seen me.”

  “You’re talking to me,” Bev said.

  “Oh nonsense, why would she ignore me because I’m talking to you? Just because everyone hates you doesn’t mean they’ll hate me, right?”

  “But . . .”

  “So will you come to my Tupperware party?”

  “Why are you inviting me?” Bev asked. “No one asks me to come to anything.”

  “Exactly,” Trish said. “I feel bad for you and you seem like such a nice girl. You’re witty and talented. We have so much in common. So will you? This Saturday? What do you say?”

  “Oh, O.K.” Bev shrugged. “Shall I dress up?”

  “Please do,” Trish told her. “I always find it distasteful when people show up dressed inappropriately. You don’t need to bring anything. I’ll provide the snacks.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure.” Feeling the face muscles on her cheeks starting to really strain from the forced smile, Trish figured she’d better say goodbye before tears of pain streamed down her face. Waving, Trish stepped back and turned around. The moment she did, she released the phony smile and immediately sought out Jenny Matoose to read her the riot act on being so rude.

  ^^^^

  Hal looked and spoke so much like his father as he and Frank walked to Joe’s office where everyone waited. “Frank.”

  “I’m telling you, Hal.”

  “And I’m telling you. My men did not defect.”

  “They did too,” Frank insisted. “I said not to call you. Dad said you had to come.”

  “They aren’t defectors.”

  “Hal, I’m telling you they hate you. They said, ‘Please don’t call the Captain. We hate him.”

  “You’re so full of shit, Frank.” Hal shook his head as they reached Joe’s office. “The two men you have can’t be mine. Every one of my men are accounted for.”

  “Then you counted some twice because you forgot about these two.”

  “Impossible.” Hal was insistent. “They stole uniforms of ours. I know.”

  “Bet me.”

  “I’ll bet you.”

  “You’re that sure?” Frank asked.

  “I’m that sure,” Hal said arrogantly. “There isn’t a man that I am not aware of his whereabouts.”

  “What the fuck kind of sentence was that?” Frank shook his head. “You sure you want to bet?”

  “Positive. You name it. Anything.”

  “Good.” Frank held out his hand. “If you forgot about these two men, if they are your men, then Saturday night we make it a double date and you go out with Jenny Matoose.”

  Hal laughed. “You’re on. What about you?”

  “Name it.”

  “If I’m right, then you have to stand before your men and tell them they need to learn from my men because I trained my men better.”

  “Oh, beautiful. It’s a bet.” Frank reached out his hand. “Shake.”

  Hal extended his.

  Snap.

  “Ow.” Hal quickly retracted his hand. “Asshole.”

  Frank laughed and opened the door. “The Captain has arrived.”

  Sebastian and Anthony immediately stood at attention and saluted Hal.

  “Oh my God.” Hal’s mouth dropped open. Then his shock and happiness at seeing the two men he thought were dead left him the second he looked at Frank and saw his arrogant gloating smile. With rolling eyes, Hal moaned. “Oh my God.”

  There wasn’t a sound in Joe’s office when Sebastian and Anthony told of their findings, how they and two others were sent by Hal to find the two lost scouts who had gone northwest, how the other two men with Sebastian and Anthony were killed, and how they managed, wearily, to make it home.

  Joe sat behind his desk staring at the two New Bowman men before him. Robbie, Jason, and Henry were there too, all silent and waiting.

  Raising his eyes to Frank who stood antsy behind him, Joe let out a long breath. “Thousands?”

  Sebastian nodded. “Yes, there were thousands. The camp was about two square miles
and set up like an Indian reservation. Fields, everything. Home.”

  Frank nodded slowly. “That’s where the other hundred are headed. I told you, Dad. And . . . we can get a good computer count with the camera on the jet.”

  Joe agreed. “Is that what you have in mind?”

  “Actually,” Frank walked around the desk. “This is one of their bases or whatever you want to call them. They feed out from this place. I say we take them out.”

  Joe leaned back. “These men are saying thousands.. We don’t have that manpower.”

  “Fuck the manpower.” Frank walked around the desk. “Wipe them out. Dean-ami whammy them. Two highly concentrated, one-point-two-eight percent, carbon monoxide Dean-tip one missiles. That will take all of them out in less than one minute. Gone.”

  “Frank.” Joe gasped at the thought. “That’s a lot of human lives vanished in an instant.”

  With his hands on the desk, Frank leaned down to his father. “Fuckin Savages mean squat. They’re killers and they are a threat to any means of freedom we will ever have in this country. Give the order. Take them out.”

  A long deep breath came from Joe, and then a squeak as he leaned somewhat sideways in his chair. He gazed up at Frank. “Do it.”

  “Yes.” Frank’s hand slammed on the desk as he backed out and extended a point. “Robbie, take Hal, go back to New Bowman, and gas up that jet. Secure her with two Dean tip ones.”

  “Got it,” Robbie nodded.

  “I’ll get the exact coordinates from these two men. I want a full surveillance with a peaceful looking recognizance, pictures and all. Then you find your spot. Drop your missiles.

  “Got it,” Robbie replied.

  “Hal.” Frank turned to him. “You train your scouts well. Pick me out eight of your best. In fact . . .” He reached for the phone and handed it to Hal. “Call Ryder, tell him to prep the men, ship them on a Dan-tram back here double time, and have them ready for a two day trip.”

  “They’re yours, Frank.”

  Frank nodded and moved with a rush to the door. “Dad, I’m headed up to the hanger. Get Dan and Johnny up there STAT. We’re getting the birds ready to go. I’m equipping them each with three Dean-tip twos and plenty of fire. They’re gonna fly. Hal’s men will go with them. I want to clear the path and take out those hundred that are homeward bound.”

  “Frank?” Joe questioned. “What’s with the two day trip?”

  “Oh, we’re landing. We’ll clear this fuckin sore spot in Washington like Normandy beach and when we have a safety situation, we’ll drop. If they’re even slightly communicating with other Savage camps, we’ll find it there.” Frank opened the door. “Gentlemen, let’s do this.”

  ^^^^

  Quantico Marine Headquarters

  “Birds in the air,” Steward said as he placed down the phone. “That’s the word. They’ll keep us posted. Mr. Slagel still wants our scouts to go out first light tomorrow. They are changing some of their courses and concentrating more north and south since this camp is large and on the west.”

  George had a serious look on his face that he hadn’t had since before the world ended and that was when he sent planes over to the Middle East. Slow, deep breaths came from George as he stared over the tops of his fingers. “Repeat the number.”

  “UWA scouts report possibly three thousand. Too many to count.”

  “Video tapes should reveal better numbers.” George leaned back into his chair with ease. It was not the time for any clanking noises. “Washington State?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you realize how far that is? Do you realize what this means?”

  “Beginnings, or rather Frank Slagel, was right,” Steward said.

  “Yes. They’re coming at us from somewhere and that somewhere.” George looked off in thought, “is not Washington State.”

  ^^^^

  Beginnings, Montana

  “Roger that, Big Boy. This is Eagle One giving a big affirmative.” Robbie spoke with radio charm, jet noise and all in the background.

  “How many do you think?” Frank asked.

  “A fuckin ton. I mean, I’m spotting what appears to be a small civilization.”

  “Any children from what you can see?”

  “That’s a negative.”

  “Hold on.” Frank looked down to the notes set before him by Joe. “Yes!”

  “Repeat, Big Boy. I heard an exclamation of joy.”

  Frank chuckled at Joe over Robbie’s words. “Our birds took out the ground movement. They’re awaiting your O.K.”

  “I’m awaiting yours,” Robbie said.

  “Got your target.?”

  “Affirmative.”

  There was a moment of silence before Frank spoke deeply., “Drop them.”

  “Affirmative. Locking in coordinates.” He moved the controls. “I’m going into radio black out.” Robbie lowered his sunglasses over his helmet, tilted the plane onto its side, and veered to the left, ready to make another swoop around.

  With a small shifting sound, the belly of the jet opened.

  The long double whistles preceded the single crack, then puffs of explosions. Robbie rode on.

  Within seconds and without warning, it was over.

  Savage Camp number one . . . gone.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Beginnings, Montana

  “He seems a little agitated,” Patrick explained to Melissa. He opened John Matoose’s chart at the foot of the bed. “Dean won’t confirm orders to give him anything to calm him.”

  “Did Dean say why?” Melissa asked, looking at John who fussed and twitched.

  “He just said to see how long we can hold off. I guess addiction could be a problem.”

  Melissa tilted her head. “We saw it with that one post-op. O.K.” Melissa took the chart. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Did Dean say when we can?”

  Patrick looked at his watch. “He said he’ll stop by first. I’d better go. I told Jenny I’d stop by and have dinner.”

  “It’s awfully late for dinner.”

  “I don’t get done until ten. Hey, at least you’re taking the night shift for me tonight. Thanks for being early.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind. Marcus has been really bad today, so I needed to get out. Have a good time.”

  “Thanks.” Patrick moved toward the door.

  “Oh, Patrick, did you ask John if something’s wrong?”

  “I tried.” Patrick shrugged. “He doesn’t really make any sense.”

  Giving, a ‘hmm’, Melissa tucked the chart under her arm. “John? Is something hurting you?”

  John shook his head.

  “Is anything bothering you.” Melissa asked.

  John mouthed the words, “Help . . . room. In . . . room. Will . . . get . . . me . . . in room. Help.”

  Compassionately Melissa nodded. “I see. O.K.” She dropped her voice to a pacifying whisper. “I’ll be back. Let’s see what I can do.” Going over to the door, she joined Patrick in the walk out. “I see exactly what you mean.”

  John listened to the fading voices and tried to moan. He tried to moan loudly to be heard but it didn’t help. He couldn’t turn his head very well, but he did enough to see the curtain open from the other side of the bed. Raising his eyes, he saw someone take his intravenous tubing and emptythe contents of a syringe into his drug line.

  ^^^^

  Joe had to think of how to handle it. He decided to use Robbie’s reporting in as an excuse. After all, it wasn’t going to be long before that call was received. With his hands in his pockets and numerous complaints heavy on his mind--including one from Dean--Joe strolled from the peacefulness of his home to Frank’s house.

  Not far from where the modular homes were, Frank and Dean were issued a home in one of the last two rows which. to Joe, was a good thing. There were less townhouses around them.

  He lit a cigarette in his slow walk, blew out the smoke in a huge cloud then, instead of going into the house where the kids were
sleeping. Joe walked directly to the back where, rumor had it, Frank was.

  In the small back yard, no bigger than a living room, Frank paced around. He had a pen flashlight in his mouth with the beam shining down on the sheets of paper he read from.

  “Frank,” Joe called out softly.

  Frank took the pen from his mouth “Oh, hey Dad.”

  “What . . . what are you doing?”

  “Reading.” Frank held up the papers. “The Helen and Bobby story.”

  “That’s not . . .”

  “God, it’s a boring chapter. They’re rambling about their lives. Her kids. Her husband. His family. I think this chapter slows the book. There are no good sex scenes for me to enjoy.”

  “Good thing for the neighbors.”

  “Huh?” Frank asked confused.

  “Frank. I’ve received nine calls in the last ten minutes about you out here.”

  “Why?” Frank asked. “Am I not allowed to read?”

  “I don’t think . . .”

  “God, Dad, since when is a man not allowed to read in the back yard of his own home?”

  “Frank.” Joe took a hit from his cigarette. “Have you looked around? It’s not a back yard. It’s patch of grass.”

  “Still, what am I doing wrong?”

  “Frank. You’re a six-foot-three stark naked man pacing around his backyard patch of grass. That’s what you’re doing.”

  “Oh.” Frank looked down at his nude self. “Yeah.”

  “Why? Why are you walking around your backyard naked?”

  “I’m trying to stay on the grass.”

  “Good. Why?”

  “It’s not wet.”

  “Frank!” Joe snapped. “Why are you even doing it in the first place?”