The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Why?”

  “Where in the hell do you get off just coming into my home like this?”

  “Um, Dean?” Frank waved his hand in front of Dean’s face. “I . . . live . . .” Bending down he peered into Dean’s eyes. “Man, are your eyes bloodshot. Are you all right?”

  “Get out of my house.”

  “Huh?” Frank asked confused. “Can I shave first?” He started up the steps. “My Dad will have a fit.”

  “Shave?” Dean laughed. “What’s the next excuse for you to stop by and see Ellen? Use my bathroom, peek in my room?”

  “Ellen?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ellen’s not here.”

  “Yes she is. She’s in bed.”

  “Up there.” Frank pointed.

  “Yeah.”

  Frank smiled. “She came back. Yes.” Hurrying, despite Dean’s yell, Frank bolted up the stairs. He stopped at the bedroom door and looked at the empty made bed.

  “Satisfied? Now leave her alone.” Dean crossed his arms.

  “She must have left.” Frank pointed.

  Dean looked in the room. “Oh.”

  “But, this is great. When did she come by? After her movie? Doris Day must hold positive effects” Frank walked to the bathroom.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To shave.” Frank indicated to the bathroom.

  “No! What the hell are you up to?”

  “Dean, I just want to shave. My dad will bitch.”

  “Shave at your own house!” Dean yelled.

  “I am!”

  “Now!” Dean tugged on Frank’s arm. “Out.”

  “All right. All right.” Frank shook his head. “I won’t shave. Fuck.” He went to the steps. “God, when did you become the un-morning person? See you at church.” Not wanting to argue because he was too tired and figuring Dean acquired that lack of being happy in the morning from living with Ellen, Frank just left.

  Dean shook his head when he heard the door shut. “The nerve. Wanting to shave. At least his big mouth didn’t wake the babies.” Chuckling some in disbelief, Dean went into the bathroom.

  ^^^^

  New Bowman, Montana

  The recorded organ music played into the street as Fr. O’Brien staggered out of the corner church first and waited for the congregation to follow.

  Hal walked down the aisle of the church behind the UWA soldiers who were in attendance and with Elliott. “I dread walking out.”

  “Maybe the others will be speaking to him, sir,” Elliott said.

  “Hopefully.” Hal dipped his finger in the holy water, blessed himself, walked from the church, into the foyer, and then outside. “At least he made it through the Consecration without slurring.”

  “Let’s not forget he didn’t stumble.” Elliott contained his snicker.

  “Cap . . . Cap . . . Captain.” Fr. O’Brien hiccupped. “Glad to see you this week.”

  “Excellent service as usual, Father.” Hal shook his hand.

  “How’s that brother of yours doing with the cloth life?”

  “Splendid. I must go. Have a good . . . holy day.” Hal flashed a smile and hurried from the grouping of men who all seemed to fight to get away from talking to Fr. O’Brien. He waited for Elliott. “If I wasn’t such a devout Catholic my entire life, I’d never attend Mass here again.”

  “You exaggerate.” Elliott smiled. “Um, Captain, are you still going to Beginnings today?”

  “Yes.” Hal replied. “Dinner with my family. You can’t come, Elliott. I need you here.”

  “No. No. I just was wondering if . . .” Elliott paused to think of a way to phrase it.

  “Yes?”

  “Will you be seeing Ellen?”

  “Probably. Why?” Hal asked.

  “Well, they left new Bowman early last night and I tried to call her . . .”

  “Maybe she was with Frank.”

  Elliott held up a finger. “I believe your brother was working at the time I placed the call.”

  “So you checked.”

  “Perhaps I couldn’t help but overhear him on the radio. I tried this morning as well. No answer.”

  “Did you try at home?”

  “Of course.”

  “Clinic?”

  “Yes.”

  “Containment.” Hal asked. “My father’s?”

  “Yes. Yes.”

  “Then she’s probably avoiding you.” Hal grinned and took a step away.

  “Then should I assume that she won’t be coming to our date tomorrow night?”

  Hal stopped walking. “Um . . .” He held his finger on his lip as he stepped back to Elliott. “Knowing how much you’ve been looking forward to this, I’ll uh . . . see to it that she comes.”

  “I don’t want to force her.”

  “Oh, I don’t think it would be forcing. In fact, my sister is probably anxious seeing how she knows you have had some practice since your other . . . . date last night.”

  “Are you being sarcastic or serious?”

  Hal hesitated. “Oh, serious. Very.”

  “So it wasn’t a mistake lying about that?”

  “Not at all. No. In fact I think you should brag about the date. Let her know how comfortable you are becoming with women.”

  “Why am I not believing you?” Elliott questioned.

  Hal tossed his hands up as he stepped back. “You should. If you don’t, I’m your captain. I’m ordering you to.”

  Watching Hal walk away left Elliott, once again, wondering if he should take stock in what Hal told him. It seemed to Elliott--despite what Hal said and how much he argued the point--the more Hal was around his long lost brothers, the more the honorable captain showed his true colors of the ornery teenage boy all the Slagel’s said he used to be.

  ^^^^

  Beginnings, Montana

  “Christ,” Joe grumbled as he stepped out of the chapel with Frank. Robbie’s short sermon was still on his mind. It was at least longer than the previous week’s. Then again, Robbie didn’t give much of a sermon. It was just a basic breakdown of the prayer, Our Father, and what Robbie thought it meant. Joe didn’t mind that. He did mind all the music. Who was his son kidding? Joe knew Robbie only used his pulpit as a forum to try out the new songs he and Paul wrote. They had a captured audience before them and to pass them off as church tunes, they substituted Jesus or God for any female or other reference. They weren’t fooling Joe. They could get away with the song re-titled, “Jesus Take Me Home”, or even ‘Rock Me Over God’, but the second Robbie broke into ‘God Chewed Me Up and Puked Out My Heart’, Joe knew he’d hear that one on Country Night at the Social Hall.

  “That wasn’t too bad,” Frank said. “I still have time to do things and not lose any of my sleep time.”

  “Glad you liked the Mass. We need a reverend.”

  “We have one. Robbie.”

  Joe stopped walking. “Whatever, Frank. Anyhow, are you going to do your ridiculous fax to George?”

  “Dad, please,” Frank scoffed. “You’ll be praising my brains when you find out I’m right. This will work.”

  “I can’t believe I’m giving in to this. Do you realize how much time we’re wasting?”

  “But think of the lives we’re saving.” Frank held up his finger. “Besides, I’m right. I know I’m right.”

  “That remains to be seen. Get that fax out and make sure you tell him to respond ASAP.”

  “Got it.”

  “Don’t forget dinner tonight. Hal’s coming in.”

  “Got it.” Frank stepped backwards.

  “And don’t forget to shave.”

  “Fuckin Dean.” Shaking his head, Frank walked off.

  ^^^^

  Timing was everything and Frank wanted to time it just right. He knew if he went to sleep, the noise wouldn’t bother him. But if the noise was there when he tried to sleep, he basically would be screwed. He had a
lot to do before allowing himself to rest and getting the kids was one of them especially since Ellen had to work. In order to get things ready before leaving, Frank wanted to try to convince Dean to handle the kid part and get things situated and in order so he could enjoy the few hours of sleep he was allotted.

  He didn’t see Dean when he stepped into the Clinic lab but he heard him moving about. After a few moments of peering around, he saw him. Dean was looking under the main center counter. Walking over to him, Frank knocked on the counter top. “Hey. What are you doing?”

  With spring action, Dean stood. “Hello.”

  “Hello.”

  “Can I help you?”

  “Yeah, thanks. I want to know if you can grab the kids from Andrea so I can finish my work and sleep?”

  “Whose kids?”

  “Mine. Yours. Ours.”

  Dean chuckled. “There has to be a mistake. I don’t have any kids.”

  “Oh. I get it. Little man sarcasm. All right.” Frank nodded. “I’ll send El’s ass over here to personally tell you she’s withdrawing that order. Will that work?”

  “I guess.”

  “Thanks.” Frank started to leave. “Glad you’re in a better mood.”

  “Soldier.”

  Frank stopped. He looked around.

  “Soldier.”

  Frank stepped in the hall and peeked up and down. Slowly he looked back at Dean. “You talking to me?”

  “Yes.” Dean walked from the counter toward him. “Did you bring in my things yet because I can’t find them.”

  “Was I supposed to?”

  “Weren’t you?”

  “I don’t know.” Frank shrugged. “You’re the one that asked.”

  “Maybe not.” Dean stepped back. “I’ll wait for them.”

  “O.K., see ya later.” Frank turned and walked from the lab. He paused only briefly to wonder what ‘things’ Dean was talking about, then he proceeded to leave again so he could get the rest of his day in finalized order.

  ^^^^

  Quantico Marine Headquarters

  “I swear to God, if this doesn’t work, I’m gonna get pissed and probably shoot your ass,” George griped to Dr. Walker. “I have a flickering eye, a sloped face, a decrepit hand, and I want to at least hold my head up high!”

  “I’m a genetics specialist. I’m working on those virus after effects, but . . . Orthopedics is not my specialty.” Dr. Walker began to remove the halo brace from George. “I can’t believe of all the fields that the Society cryogenically frozen to start over the world, I cannot believe they failed to preserve a bone specialist.”

  “They did.” George winced in pain.

  “Where is he or she or did they die in the Cleveland incident?”

  George rolled his eyes. “The Cleveland people were cryo-experts. No, he uh didn’t die. He’s probably packing up the harvest in Beginnings. They call him field worker two.”

  “Ready?”

  There was a knock at the door.

  George looked up. “Come in. I’m ready, Walker.”

  Steward walked in, saw what was happening, and started to back out.

  “Wait!” George called out and felt Dr. Walker back up. “Not you. Him.” He pointed to Steward. “Stew, I know you have info.”

  “Yes. But maybe this isn’t a good time. I know how . . .”

  “Stew! Doc. Do it.”

  “Fine.” Dr. Walker, really hoping George’s neck would finally work, lifted the brace.

  Steward cringed.

  Dr. Walker mumbled through the hand that covered his mouth. “You, uh, know the routine. Back, forth, side by side.” He stepped back closer to Steward. “Oh boy.”

  Steward held in the wince that shuddered within him. He watched George go through the motions and waited for the inevitable moment when his head went somewhere out of control. But . . . it didn’t happen. George’s eyes widened in delight then, at the same time, he tossed his head back as if he were a stripper doing a dramatic flair, Steward and Dr. Walker gave each other a double high five.

  “Yes,” George graveled in excitement. He stood up, pulled his clenched fist into him, and did a little jig. He cleared his throat and sat back down. “All right. Business at hand. Good job, Dr. Walker.”

  Dr. Walker looked so proud. “Thank you, Mr. President. While you’re still in a good mood, I’ll leave you two to your business. Excuse me.” Backing up, he nodded to George and accepted the thumbs up given to him by Steward.

  After the door closed, Steward walked to George’s desk. “From Beginnings, sir. Their Danny Hoi scanned and enhanced the skin-maps.” He handed George the folder. “They didn’t fax very well, but you can see they are much better than the ones copied and fax.”

  George picked up his glasses and placed them on. “We still don’t know where the hell the beasts are drawing. Make a copy of these and forward them around to the men. Maybe someone recognizes the settings.”

  “Will do.” Steward took them back. “Information sheet on Beginnings thoughts.” He handed another paper to George. “Like us, they believe the maps, though many, are of only two camps.”

  “What does Clark think about this? Him and his estimates.”

  “He likes it,” Steward replied, “considering the jet video scan estimated a body count of thirty-seven hundred. Three times that would be in his ball field of what he theorized as Savages. Now Godrichson estimates a higher number of Savages but doesn’t believe them all to be part of this link up.”

  “So we’re all in agreement that we’re only looking at two more sites?” George asked.

  “It appears that way.”

  “Good. Get me Joe Slagel on the phone . . .” He saw Steward shaking his head. “No. Why?”

  “Fax number three.”

  “Oh, brother. These had to be sent by Frank.”

  Steward looked at the signature on the letter. “Yes. Mr. Slagel, security Slagel that is, states due to the possibility of a security breach and interception of radio and telephone communications, all strategic planning must be done via messenger or fax.” He started to hand it to George but took it back. “But he states, sir, you can feel free to call if you want to say ‘what’s up?’ With a snicker, he gave the paper to a grumbling George. “Not that my opinion matters, but he has a point.”

  George scanned through the letter. “Frank always has a point but whether it makes sense is what remains to be see. All right.” He set down the letter. “Draw up a correspondence in response and let them know we will oblige by this on the outside chance the knucklehead is right. Also let them know we’ll move into a higher security regarding action. Not that I think any of our people are communicating with the Savages, but on the slim chance they are, we’ll keep attack and scout plans to a minimal knowledge.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll get on that now.”

  “Thank you.”

  Steward stopped in the oddity of George’s verbal gratefulness. “Thank you for saying thank you.”

  Rolling his eyes, George sat back and wiggled his fingers in a ‘go on, get moving’ fashion. Once Steward was gone, George tapped his fingers on his desk. Slowly he moved his head side to side then stood. He walked over to his office door, carefully opened it, and peeked his head out to see if anyone was approaching. When he saw all was clear, he shut the door and his presidential demeanor changed. George grinned wide in excitement, started thrashing his head front to back, and singing in a rock style to his own melody, ‘I can move my head.’

  ^^^^

  Beginnings, Montana

  The dominant protruding bottom lip and the way his mouth hung was probably one of the main things that made Richie Martin not look like his old-self. Of course, he had a few new mannerisms to go with his new appearance. The ‘Stevie Wonder’ style slow swaying of his head that always ended with Richie rubbing his chin against his shoulder right before he did a quick twitch and smacked himself on top of his head to flatten his already flattened hair.

  “Man, Dan,�
�� Richie spoke, not slowly but more dopey with a far off gaze in his eyes. “She’s beautiful. Isn’t she beautiful?” Richie did his routine head thing. “Aw, so beautiful. I love her, Dan. Love her. Beautiful.”

  Danny sat there, with his hands folded and his mouth hanging open almost as much as Richie. His lips formed the letter ‘W’ over and over without a sound coming out.

  “J . . . J . . . just beautiful.” Richie rocked back and forth and smacked himself on the head. “Don’t you think, Dan? Huh? Huh? Huh? Huh?”

  Again the ‘W’ formed, only Danny held up a ‘wait’ finger, stood, and walked from the Skills Room. He saw Ellen walking down the hall. “W . . . W . . .” His voice squeaked and his arm swung out in a point behind him. “What the fuck happened to my legal eagle assistant number two?”

  “Who?” Ellen asked.

  “Your brother!”

  Ellen hunched and covered his mouth with her hand. “Come here.”

  Danny looked back once more and followed Ellen into her office. “Ellen . . .”

  “Don’t,” Ellen whispered. “Don’t let anyone hear you.”

  Danny reached back and shut the door. “They don’t need to hear me, Ellen. They can see Richie for himself.”

  “He’s having some problems.”

  “Problems!” Danny spun around once dramatically. “The man is gone. Left. Isn’t to be found. He was fine yesterday.”

  “That’s when he snapped,” Ellen said calmly. “He just snapped. It’s very common, you know.”

  “How is just snapping into the true meaning of mentally deficient, common?” With his hands on his hips, Danny leaned to her.

  “Danny, please. Be PC. I’m very upset about this.”

  “Yeah, El, you look it. What happened to him?”

  “Danny, I don’t want this to get around, O.K.? They’ll kick him out and . . . he is my brother.”

  “You caused this.” Danny pointed. “You wouldn’t let him out.”

  Ellen’s mouth dropped open in a gasp. “I did not cause this. I saved the community from his violent tendencies. It was my keen psychic foresight, you know.”