“Yeah.” Frank grinned and reached for the door.
“Frank.” Dean stopped him. “They’ll know if someone sees you peeking.”
“But I have to.” Slowly he opened the door, peeked through the crack, shut it and laughed. “This is too great.” He started walking. “We’d better head home. You know how Josh gets.”
“Yeah.” Dean wiped the tear from his eye. “I needed the laugh. How did you pull it off?”
“I’m Frank. I just spread the word. Everyone bought it. Why not?”
“Shh.” Dean backhanded Frank in the gut while whispering then pointed to Josephine in costume. “No laughing.”
Frank put on a serious face as they passed her. “Evening.”
Dean nodded at her. “Evening.”
“Evening, boys.” Josephine winked and moved her elderly body quickly toward the Hall.
Dean and Frank both stopped at the edge of the living section. At the same time, they both turned around, waited until Josephine disappeared into the Hall and burst into loud laughter again. Josephine was the icing on the cake, because she was dressed . . . as Frank.
^^^^
New Bowman, Montana
The child in Ellen couldn’t resist it drawing on the steam of the window she stood before. Her little finger made a squeaking noise as she drew a stick man and snickered at her own art work. Looking out Elliott’s window made her feel more nostalgic than she had ever felt before. The quiet quaint street reminded her of a home she hadn’t seen in forever . . . Ashtonville.
The smell of coffee reached her first then the reflection of Elliott in the pane of glass. She looked down at the mug extended in front of her. “Thanks.” She took it.
“You look deep in thought.”
“I am. You know, I think I saw a snowflake.”
“It’s October.”
“It’s almost November. I feel snow.”
“I hate snow.”
“Me too.” Ellen released the curtain, turned around, and gave a smile to Elliott. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, thanks. The nervousness is starting to leave now.” He took a liar’s breath. “Risking sounding as if I want this to turn romantic, do you want to . . .” He motioned his head and pointed to the fire.
“I’d love to sit by the fire with you, Elliott. I won’t think you’re trying to be romantic.”
“Thanks.”
Ellen sipped her coffee as she moved to the nicely blazing fire and sat down. “You know what sucks? This coffee is really good.”
Elliott paused slightly in his sitting. “You don’t like good coffee?”
“I love good coffee but our coffee in Beginnings sucks.” She faced Elliott. “And no matter what Dean and I tried to do to it, nothing worked.”
“What do you mean ‘tried to do with it’.”
“You know, chemicals and stuff.”
Elliott was grateful he wasn’t drinking his coffee. He would have choked. “Chemicals don’t belong in coffee.”
“Yeah, we figured that out. And they don’t mix well either. Oh, Frank got so sick. He still to this day doesn’t know what hit him.”
Elliott’s eyes widened. “Should you be telling me this considering I’m your new human guinea pig?”
“No.” Ellen chuckled. “Anyway . . . I wanted to let you know, I really love this house.”
“It pales in comparison to yours.”
“Yeah, but mine is new looking. This has charm. Do you suppose we’ll ever fix this world enough where families can live in a place like New Bowman instead of just soldiers?”
“I believe we’re close to that now. The only problem is there aren’t that many families.. The Captain wanted to suggest to, don’t laugh, Mr. Slagel.”
Ellen laughed.
“The Captain . . .” Elliott tried again. “Wanted to suggest . . . the possibility of moving the families here. Think of the yard space and the streets. The home life would be so wonderful for them.”
“What changed his mind?”
“I don’t think he’s changed his mind. I believe he hasn’t got to it yet.”
“I want to live here. I love New Bowman. It’s old world,” Ellen said with a bit of airiness.
“You do know you are welcome to bring the children here when it’s our time, or even for an extended visit if you . . . I’m sorry. I’m pushing.”
“What?” Ellen laughed. “No. You’re not pushing. Fall break at school is coming up. Maybe we’ll take you up on that.”
“Jess won’t mind?” Elliott asked. “Since you’ve worked things out, I don’t want to step on his toes.”
“Jess,” Ellen blurted his name in worry. “I mean, no, he won’t mind. He’s not really a primary or even an understanding. He’s sort of, by an agreeable default, a . . . temporary.”
“I’m glad you worked things out with your friend.”
“I’m glad I can talk to you about it. I enjoyed our reunion last night. Of course I’m still sore . . .”
“Ellen?”
Ellen’s eyes grew wide. “No. No. I’m, not talking about that. We moved furniture around.” She giggled. “I thought we’d wake the neighborhood up.” She set her mug down. “Elliott I’m going to move closer to you, not because I’m hitting on you but because . . . I just want to be closer to you.” She inched closer. Slowly as if dealing with a child, she laid her hand on his bent leg and moved it to make room. She drew nearer until she saw his discomfort and then she stopped and backed up a tad.
“You must think I’m pitiful,” Elliott spoke softly.
“I think you’re intriguing. Why in the world would I even think of you as pitiful?”
“Because of the way I am with you. I’m so afraid to get close and move probably slower than I should.”
“You’re doing great. I like this pace. Don’t think I don’t. I need this pace finally. It makes me feel like you’re with me for . . . me.”
“I am. I want to be able to reach that point where I feel comfortable enough to kiss you. It isn’t because I don’t want to. We’ve just gone through so much self brainwashing.”
Ellen snickered. “Sorry. Self brainwashing?”
“Yes, all of us, especially those who helped found the UWA. We set down rules. We established the way we wanted to be. Well, The Captain brought it up so convincingly and with such a passion. It wasn’t until I got to know you that I learned it wasn’t for his patriotism as much as it was for his love of John Wayne but it worked. We learned to be alone. We worked toward acting honorable and strong for that one day when we may happen upon a society where our efforts and standards would be highly recognized and wanted.”
“You worked at being old fashion heroes in a devastated world.”
Elliott blinked in thought. “Perhaps.”
“And you are,” Ellen said. “Everything about you guys shouts hero, from the way you fight, dress, to the way all of you speak. I pray it never changes.”
Elliott seemed shocked by her final comment. “Speak? Do we speak differently?”
“Um . . . uh, no. That was a joke.” Ellen grabbed her cup to take a sip and cover up her snicker. “Are you going to keep it going?”
“The UWA code? I hope. We want to train more men and keep training ours. We have an entire eastern half of this country to take back.”
Proudly, Ellen looked at him as she set down her mug. “And together, we all will.”
“Yes,” Elliott near whispered as he locked into Ellen’s eyes. “We will.” He felt a moment and didn’t want to miss it. Hoping it didn’t come off as ‘thought over’ Elliott leaned down toward Ellen and there was a knock at the door. Elliott pulled back. “I’ll get that.” Just as he stood, Hal walked in.
“Elliott, there is . . .” His eyes shifted to the scene before him. “I’m sorry for the interruption. I totally forgot Ellen was here for the weekend.”
“Hal.” Ellen stood up. “Did Frank put you up to this?”
“No.” Hal shook his head. �
��Once again I’m sorry, but I need to steal Sgt. Ryder. Elliott? Can I steal you for a little while? Something vital has come up. It involves some secrecy. You’re my most trusted.”
Ellen saw that Elliott knew where he had to be and she didn’t want to place him in an awkward position. “Elliott, you know what? Why don’t you go? I am so, so, tired anyway.”
“Thank you.” Elliott nodded as he let out his tension. “Captain, there’s no danger, is there?”
“No. Just a phase of the Savage war we must cover and cover soon, especially with the ‘drop’ so imminent.”
“I see. I’m not in uniform. Should I change?”
Hal wanted to remain serious and in the Captain mode he had to be in at the moment, but he couldn’t. “Um, yeah, sure. Why not?”
“Right away.”
“Hal.” Ellen scolded, seeing through him. “Elliott, he’s joking.”
Elliott couldn’t assume. He just looked back at Hal.
“I’m kidding. Let’s go.” Hal waved and moved to the door. “Elliott?” He waited for him to follow.
“One moment.” Elliott held up a hand and walked to Ellen. He saw Hal watching. “Captain, can you . . .”
Grunting, Hal turned his back.
“I won’t be long.” Elliott slowly leaned to Ellen and kissed her on the cheek. “Goodnight.”
“Night.”
Hal bobbed his head and opened the door. “That was it? I turned around for that?”
“You watched?” Elliott seemed so shocked.
“Of course, let’s go. Move it, Elliott. You’re moving like turtle.” Holding the door open, Hal waited for Elliott to walk out first then he wiggled his fingers in typical Hal Slagel arrogant fashion to Ellen and left as well.
^^^^
Beginnings, Montana
Henry snarled loudly once as Bev snickered at him when she walked by his table. “Why is she even here?” Henry slumped on his arm. “God. She’s pregnant.”
“It’s her right to be here too,” Hector told him. “Don’t seek out another thing to get upset about Henry. You have enough already on your mind.”
“You’re right.” Henry reached for his glass. It was empty. He lifted the bottle and poured but only a drop fell out. “Oh, my God have I drank that much?”
“Afraid so.”
“And I’ve ruined your good time. I’m sorry I made you sit here and listen to me ramble.”
“Don’t apologize. You needed a friend.”
“I still do. And . . .” Henry swayed as he tried to stand. “Whoa. And another drink.”
“No you don’t.” Hector stood as well. “The Hall’s closing anyhow.”
Henry squinted in his wobbly stand as he looked at his watch. “Shit. It’s that late. Man, I must have talked and talked.”
“If you need to talk some more, we can talk while I take you home. I did tell you I would do that.”
“Yes.” Henry nodded. “Home. God, I’m so depressed.” Almost in slow motion, he slid his hand over the bridge of his nose. “I better head home. Let’s go. And . . .” Henry staggered to the door. “You don’t have to leave. You can hang out for a while if I don’t bore you.” After several attempts to grab the door, Henry finally succeeded. “I could use the company. I’m still down.”
“Then I’m there.” Taking the door from Henry, Hector followed him out.
^^^^
Washington, D.C.
Room service and a hotel were two things Robbie never thought he’d experience ever in his life again, yet he stood drinking coffee from a cup brought to him by a badly dressed room service attendant, while standing in a hotel room straight from the world that was before God abandoned it.
Of course, Robbie knew it was set up for him. Though his room was presidential perfect, he had seen the rest of the hotel that still lay in shambles. And he saw outside. He was in a comfortable prison, or at least detention center to keep him from wandering about. Not that he wanted to wander about Washington. He actually wanted to explore Quantico, but he was brought directly to the Hilton from the airfield, given food, and guarded.
He peered outside his room’s window to the barricade below him. Trucks were lined up with spotlights surrounding. He was told it was for his protection in case the Savages attacked. Robbie didn’t buy it but he was amazed and taken aback none-the-less because he had the picture perfect view of Washington D.C. A town they started to revamp. The power was up partially which allowed the street lights to come on and Robbie could see what had happened to the once important and historical city. Had it not been for the dome, he wouldn’t have recognized the vine overgrown Capital Building with its cracked steps. The only thing that remained the same in the nation’s capital was the Washington Monument. It was undaunted. It was as if the architect that designed it wanted a creation that would withstand anything that could happen to the world. A keen foresight placed into its construction. It was so tall, so clean, so far above the earth that not even nature itself could reach up and touch it.
To Robbie, a part of seeing the monument was a sign of hope that life will always survive and go on. He just wished that beautiful sign of hope didn’t lie on the enemy’s side of the country.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
November 1
Beginnings, Montana
Henry felt daggers of pain through his head the second he lifted it from his pillow. The headache he experienced was one he was sure was a symptom of his imminent death. He didn’t want to move so he barely did from his side-lying laying position to upright on the edge of his bed. Even running his fingers through his hair hurt so bad Henry was afraid of what walking would do, but he had to get up.
Slowly, with his hands on the bed, he lifted himself and, bare feet against the cold floor, he staggered away from his bed.
A groggy moan in the room made Henry stop cold. It wasn’t his. Panicked and afraid, he turned around to look and when he did, Henry nearly passed out. Hector was asleep in his bed.
Wanting to scream and feeling immediately sick, Henry bolted from the bedroom into the bathroom.
“God, no. It’s a mistake. I wasn’t with him,” Henry spoke through the dry heaves he fought in his lean over the commode. He closed his eyes tightly, still seeing Hector in his bed. His stomach pulled and twisted. It had to be a mistake. There was no way.
FLASH . . . The alcohol induced memory loss was gone.
“I really should let you get to sleep,” Hector said as he moved to the door of Henry’s home.
“Thanks. You were . . . you were a big help.” Henry followed him.
Henry moved to the sink. He breathed heavily as he turned on the faucet. When Henry splashed his face with cold water, he splashed himself with reality as well . . .
A laugh.
A smile.
A nod.
Hector hesitated in opening the door. “I really wanna go out on limb here. Can I?”
“Sure why not?”
“I’ll prepare for a hit.”
“A what?” Henry laughed.
There was a firm grip of a masculine hand behind his neck and Henry was pulled forward. Hector’s lips were wide and hard and the kiss was delivered was deep.
The drunkenness had to be the answer. It masked the reality of what was happening because Henry responded briefly before pulling back.
As his shoulders bounced up and down, Henry looked at his sweaty reflection in the bathroom mirror. He ran the kiss through his mind. He remembered that and then . . . he remembered the rest . . .
“I don’t understand.” Hector sat down next to Henry on the couch. “You pulled away. You responded then you pulled away.”
“It’s not me,” Henry told him. “I’m sorry. That . . . that was wrong of me. I got confused for a second. It was the alcohol.”
“I think it was something else.” Hector moved closer to Henry.
“Maybe you . . . maybe you better leave.”
“O.K.,” Hector spoke in a pacifying manner. “I will, b
ut only if that’s what you really want because how long has it been, Henry?” Hector’s knee brushed against Henry’s. “How long has it been?” His hand rested on Henry’s leg. “Since you have been touched?”
Henry looked down to the moving fingers that inched slowly up his thigh. Why was he letting Hector touch him was the question his mind pondered. Yet he didn’t pull back.
“Since you’ve been loved?”
Henry swallowed when the hand reached the top of his leg. He fought his pounding heart of nervousness. His pulling away was more of a lead. As Henry’s body leaned back on the couch, Hector followed.
The second Henry’s head hit the arm of the sofa Hector’s body weight was more into him and his lips were on Henry’s neck.
Each wide, moist sweep of Hector’s mouth against Henry’s throat sent a tingle he wanted to fight but he didn’t. He insisted in his mind that at any moment he would stop. He felt Hector’s hip brush against his leg, and then he felt Hector’s hand move with a firmness to a place Henry thought no man would ever touch.
Up and down the nape of Henry’s neck Hector’s mouth slid, biting, and pulling as his hand moved harder with every moan that Henry inadvertently produced.
Somewhere his body took over his mind. It was almost like a dream. The sexual feeling became so overwhelming, Henry no longer placed a gender to the touch. Feeling the room warm up, Henry lifted off his shirt.
“I want to make you forget about all that’s bothering you,” Hector whispered in his ear. “Let me make you feel good.”
A move of a hand, a press of his hips to Henry’s thigh, and Henry found himself sliding down on the couch, digging his hips into the cushion, and spreading his legs wider in some sort of invitation he had never given before. The sound of a zipper should have been Henry’s alarm. It wasn’t. It made him pause but it didn’t make him stop. He just kept his eyes closed, feeling the air of the room as the front of his pants opened more.
The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20 Page 134