The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “I’m with you.”

  “She only has forty-four in the bottle. Sixteen pills are missing.”

  “Did she drop them?” Frank asked.

  “Forget it.” Frustrated, Dean gathered up the pills and returned them to the bottle. “You aren’t getting it.”

  “Yes I am. This has nothing to do with math. You’re missing pills. Why are you so quick to think she’s taking them?”

  “Why are you so quick to think she’s not?” Dean came back.

  “Because it’s just not Ellen. It’s not.”

  “I know this. I do. But I am looking at it from a doctor’s view point now. Ellen has been disorganized, nervous, and making mistake after mistake in the clinic. She’s short tempered. Her back was extremely bruised, yet she’s showing no signs having any pain from those injuries. The pills, Frank. They’re missing.”

  “O.K. supposing you’re right.’ Frank lifted his hand. “What do we do?”

  “Nothing.” Dean locked up the cupboard.

  “Whoa. Wait. You went through all this convincing and sneaking and we aren’t gonna do anything?”

  “What can we do?” Dean questioned. “You tell me. You’ve been there. How can we get her to stop if she doesn’t admit or want to give up the problem?”

  “We don’t,” Frank said in defeat.

  “Exactly. So we watch her,” Dean explained, “We monitor the medication every day to try to see how much she’s taking. We can try talking to her, but that’s all we can do for right now.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  Dean started to leave the office and stopped. “There’s one other thing we can do. We can thank Johnny for opening his mouth. It may have caused problems for those two right now, but in the long run, Ellen will end up thanking Johnny.”

  “Just think . . .” Frank said, “How long would it of gone on without us even suspecting? Thank God, Johnny knew.”

  With a heavy breath, Dean nodded in agreement. “Thank God for Johnny.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  December 2nd

  A cup of coffee and a petri dish. To anyone else, it would have been an odd combination to see first thing in the morning but to Ellen, it was a peace offering. The coffee was fresh and hot and the house was silent. She lifted the petri dish and peered down to the ten spots of mold inside. It didn’t look real to her and it made her wonder if Dean had begun a new fungus series.

  The soft clearing of a throat made her look up.

  Dean leaned against the door way of the kitchen. “I’m ready to start breakfast for you. I thought you and I could eat before the kids wake up.”

  Ellen set down the dish. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Is it me, the mold, or both?” Dean questioned.

  “Everything.” Ellen leaned to the table and looked at the dish. “Dean? What growth is this?”

  With a chuckle, Dean joined her at the table. “Actually it isn’t a growth. It’s fake.”

  “I knew it. Are you testing me?”

  “Nope ,not at all. See those ten spots. It’s a symbolization.”

  “Of?” Ellen asked.

  “The ten days of silence. Things are dark right now between us. There’s no fresh conversation. You and I both know when things are dark and the air is stale, sometimes things are produced that you just don’t want. Hence the symbol of mold.”

  Ellen smiled slightly. “That’s really sweet.”

  “I thought so. Ingenious in my own way.” Dean winked. “El . . .”

  “Dean.” Ellen turned to face him. “Before you say anything, do you know why I’m not talking to you much?”

  With folded hands, Dean nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. The Anthium.”

  “You’re accusing me of taking it.”

  “I’ve not done that. I only asked you.”

  Ellen huffed and turned her head away.

  “You haven’t denied it. Ellen, come on. You know the symptoms you’re showing. What would you believe if you were me?”

  Slowly Ellen shrugged. “Just understand . . . I’m going through something right now. Bear with me, Dean. I’m having a hard time.”

  “Can’t you tell me what it is? El . . .” He laid his hand on hers. “I want to help you. I’d do anything to help you. Please?”

  Ellen’s eyes shifted to Dean’s. “Can you just give me the benefit of the doubt for a little bit longer?”

  “I wish it was that simple. I’m worried about you. Your actions, behavior, weight . . .”

  “Dean.” Ellen closed her eyes. “Forget it.” She started to stand up.

  “No, wait.” Dean stopped her. “Listen to me.” He dropped his voice, “I have been with you and stood by you through a lot. I’ll stand by you through anything. Know that. If you’re having a hard time, I guess . . . I guess me badgering you all the time and coming down on you isn’t helping.”

  Ellen shook her head.

  “Can I try to at least take your mind off of whatever it is?”

  Ellen saw the slight smile on his face. “What’s going on?”

  “When’s the last time you checked on our growing embryos?”

  “I thought they aborted.”

  Dean shook his head. “We have one viable genetically altered rabbit fetus. What do you say . . .” Whispering and seductive, Dean spoke as his fingers trailed over her hand. “Tonight, you and I get Frank to watch the kids and we’ll go down to the cryo and implant that fetus into the surrogate rabbit.”

  Ellen looked in debate. “That does sound nice.”

  “Just you and I alone in our world. We can use the time together in an environment we both love. How long has it been since we dedicated an entire evening to our work?”

  Ellen shrugged. “A while.”

  “What do you say?”

  Exhaling, Ellen looked at Dean. “Yeah. That sounds really nice. I need that.”

  “Thank you.” Dean kissed her. “Now how about breakfast?”

  Ellen nodded and as Dean stood up, she pulled forth the petri dish. She smiled as she stared down at the mold. It meant so much to her. As Ellen held that dish and stared to the spots, she stared at her days of silence. In actuality, Ellen had been silent to Dean longer. He just didn’t know. But what made Ellen feel better than getting that mold was Dean’s attitude. He had to know something was going on. He had to. There was no way he was buying her having a drug addiction. His badgering was only his way to get her to open up. With that thought, Ellen had another. If Dean was trusting her about not using the drug, then perhaps tonight, when they were completely alone, it would be time to trust Dean and tell him all about Johnny.

  ^^^^

  Usually when Sgt. Joshua Owens was in Hal’s office, it was to get instruction, fill in for Sgt. Ryder, or drop something off. Having meetings with the Captain usually incorporated all of the ‘officers’ in the UWA and it had to do with strategy or training. Rarely was it one on one. “That can’t be good,” Owens stated and pointed to Hal’s leg.

  Hal looked down. “It feels fine.”

  “Should that cast have come off so soon? I mean, taking it off yourself. I, uh, don’t know Captain.” Owens shrugged. “I broke my leg in the sixth grade. I recall it being two months . . .”

  “Four weeks,” Hal stated. “Blue said it had to be on four weeks. It was a very hairline break.”

  “Has it been four weeks? I don’t . . .”

  “Owens.” Hal took a breath. “Have you ever wondered why you and I never had a personal meeting?”

  “Funny you brought that up. Yes, I have.”

  “This is why.” Hal sat on the edge of his desk before Owens. “I’ve known you since I recruited you into the Army a long time ago. Do you recall that?”

  “Yes, you tricked me.”

  Hal was aghast. “I did not. I was honest. And did you not end up in Hawaii with me?”

  “Yes, sir.” Owens nodded.

  “There. Had you not been there, you would have succumbed to the plague becau
se you wouldn’t have been privileged to the experimental drug. So come to think of it, you really owe me your life.”

  “I guess I do.”

  “Good. Now that we have that settled. You know why you’re here, correct?”

  “Sgt. Ryder mentioned something about a promotion?”

  Hal winced. “No. If I were to promote you that would bring you up in rank. I should really do that just to spite Sgt. Ryder for being so overly dramatic.”

  “I’m not getting a promotion?” Owens asked. “I thought I was. I’ve been a valid part in the movement and . . .”

  “I know. I know,” Hal interrupted. “This meeting is about the promotion you already have.”

  Owens blinked in confusion. “Excuse me?”

  “Yes. See, this afternoon will be the first official meeting you attend in Beginnings and I wanted to go over some details prior to that.”

  “I’m going to a meeting in Beginnings?” Owens asked.

  “You’ve forgotten?”

  “Did I know?”

  Hal grunted. “Yes, I told you two days ago.” He made himself so perturbed. “This is the exact reason you’ve never attended before. You never remember. How long have you been on New Bowman’s Council?”

  “We have a Council?”

  Again Hal grunted. “You, me, and Sgt. Ryder.”

  “Really? And I’m on it? Why didn’t I . . .” Owens stopped. He saw the look the Captain was giving him. He was being questioned about something he should have known. Being on Council sounded like such an official status that if Owens wanted to keep the position, he had better stop being so absentminded, or at least acting as if he were. “I believe I have been on Council for some time.”

  “Yes, you have,” Hal spoke passively. “Good. Now we can move on to the point of our meeting. I believe we can start without Sgt. Ryder, since we’ve done that so many times.” Hal nodded. “The reasons.” He raised his head to the knock at the door and then looked at his watch. “Come in.” Just as Hal slid off his desk, Sgt. Danny Lewis stepped inside with a salute.

  Closing the door partially, Sgt. Lewis gave a cordial nod to Owens and walked in. “The scouts arrived back early. He’s in the hall.”

  “Excellent,” Hal said with excitement. “This is a surprise. He can settle in prior to the meeting. Are all the arrangements made?”

  “Absolutely, sir. Since the Hoi-tell is not quite done, I’ve secured a room with Privates Duncan and Higgins. They have one of the tidiest homes and it’s closest to town.”

  “Very good thinking. Very good,” Hal complimented. “Quickly, in one sentence, prepare me.”

  “He’s not the leader but a trusted advisor who helps the Texas town run smoothly. I believe he’s in agriculture.”

  “Anything I should be forewarned on?”

  Sgt. Lewis took a second to think. “No. Shall I get him?”

  “Please.” Hal straightened his appearance and gave a motion of his head for Owens to stand. Sgt. Lewis opened the door again and in walked a thin gentleman of average height. Pushing forty, he wore his hair in a ‘cowboy’ long style and looked like something from the Old West as well.

  He took off his hat when he stepped in and extended his hand to Hal as he spoke with a deep Texan accent. “Sir, heard a lot about you. I haven’t seen much, but I’m impressed of what I have seen of this place so far.”

  “Thank you.” Hal shook his hand. “I’m Capt. Hal Slagel.”

  “Warren. Warren Baydy.”

  Slowly Hal reiterated just to be sure. “Warren . . . Baydy?” He shifted his eyes to Lewis. “My Sergeant didn’t inform me of that.”

  “Oh.” Warren chuckled. “No, that’s actually my name. B-a-y-d-y. Baydy. Not like the actor.”

  “I see.” Hal nodded to Lewis. “Sgt. Lewis, could you secure Mr. Warren Baydy’s bags at his accommodations and find Sgt. Ryder. My God, can the man be on time for anything?” After Sgt. Lewis affirmed the request and left, Hal held out his hand in introduction toward Sgt. Owens. “Mr. Baydy, this is our third Council member of New Bowman. Sgt. Joshua Owens. Sgt. Owens meet Warren Baydy.”

  Warren extended his hand then turned his head suddenly when the door was dramatically flung open.

  “All right,” Elliott spewed forth in annoyance. He lifted the paper he held in his hand. “What is the meaning of . . . of.” He moved his eyes to the stranger. “Excuse me.”

  Clearing his throat, Hal smiled awkwardly. “And making an impeccable initial impression is my first Officer, Sgt Elliott Ryder. Sgt. Ryder, meet Warren Baydy from the Texas town.”

  Elliott reached to shake Warren’s hand and chuckled. “Warren Baydy? From the Texas town?” After the handshake, with his views on Hal, Elliott nodded in disbelief. “Mr. Baydy, you’ll get along very well in Beginnings. There’s a Julius Caesar in Containment now.”

  Hal almost died. “Mr. Baydy, I apologize for my former first officer’s remarks. You see we and Beginnings deal with a lot of . . .”

  “No need,” Warren interrupted. “We have them too. The stragglers that take on famous names. Heck, we had Rev. Jesse Jackson. The guy talked so smoothly and preached so well, we would had been fooled had he not been Hispanic like yourself, Sgt. Ryder.”

  Hispanic? Elliott looked at Warren confused. “Sir, I . . .”

  Hal leaned to Elliott with a whisper. “You have been saved. Do not correct the man.”

  Elliott smiled. “I am so glad you understand. I apologize for the insult.”

  With a look of relief, Hal glanced to Warren. “Mr. Baydy, Sgt. Owens will keep you company for a moment. Will you excuse us?” Hal took hold of Elliott’s arm. “Sgt. Ryder.” Calm Hal opened the door, stepped into the hall, waited for Elliott and then, with a close of the office door. he spun. His voice stayed low but the intonations screamed aggravation. “What in God’s name were you thinking? Do Dean and Ellen have you on some sort of experimental drug? That was not like you.”

  “He’s early. How was I supposed to know he was in there?”

  “Good Lord, Elliott. Try knocking.”

  “I was upset about this.” Elliott handed him the paper. “Are you lacking the nerve to tell me or did you just not want to hear me bitch?”

  “Me? Lack nerve? Bite your tongue. No, in lieu of your recent behavior, cut it the hell off.” Hal reviewed the note. “I have been busy. I intended to speak to you later about this.”

  “Do you understand what you are asking me?” Elliott questioned.

  “Oh, absolutely. Are you or are you not concerned for Ellen?”

  “Yes, very much so but . . .”

  “Were you or were you not . . .” Hal ignored Elliott’s rolling eyes and sigh. “. . . the one that came to me just yesterday stating she is becoming too withdrawn and that we must pull out all measures to get her in New Bowman indefinitely.”

  “Yes, but . . .”

  “This.” Hal waved the letter. “. . . is the measure we will take. You and I failed to convince her. This will do it.” He gave the letter back.

  “A-ha.” Elliott nodded calmly. “Let me get this straight. You want me to approach Ellen, tell her I am certain my time on this earth is limited, and it is my strongest desire that she leave her husband so I may spend my final days alone with just her.”

  “Oh, quit being so melodramatic. It doesn’t say that.”

  “Captain, you have here for me to convince her to leave her husband by playing on her compassion and guilt over my terminal illness.”

  “Yes.”

  “I will do no such thing.” Elliott handed the letter to Hal. “No.”

  “No? No? I believe Elliott, you will.” Hal smiled and placed the letter in Elliott’s hand. “Or you’ll do something to that effect.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Then it’s not a problem. You refuse.” Hal smiled with a sigh as he reached for the door. “I think I go meet with Owens right now.” He paused before heading into the office. “Did I tell you he’d make a wonderful
first officer?”

  Elliott shook his head, speaking to himself as Hal disappeared into the office. “He wouldn’t.” After looking down to the letter again, Elliott grunted. “He would.”

  ^^^^

  Steward Lange’s hand banged on George’s desk. “Begging your pardon, but this is too extreme. I must advise against it.”

  “You’re not thinking about what I said,” George stated.

  “I heard.”

  “So did the others.” George stood up. “They agreed.”

  “They aren’t thinking.” Steward’s eyes followed George as he paced. “I have the rescue operation in progress. As soon as we hear from Johnny, we will tell him to give us four days. That allows the time for travel and trouble. He will meet one man at . . .”

  “I know,” George interrupted. “But when will we hear from him? One month, Stew. It has been nearly one month and all I got was a single call that consisted of a mention of my name.”

  “And you think attacking Beginnings is the way to get him out?” Steward shook his head. “We’re in the throes of building and trying to accomplish an overseas movement. Right now, that side of the country isn’t worth our time. We out man them. Out power them.”

  “Then what are you worried about?” George asked.

  “You don’t think they know how many men we have?” Steward stated with seriousness. “They do. We send a few hundred. Clearly they aren’t stupid. They are going to know it’s a ploy of some sorts.”

  “Exactly!” George pointed. “I want them to. At first it will appear as an attack. We will move them in, form a front line, and hold a position. We will not fire. I’m certain Joe Slagel will call because it will seem odd to him. At which time, I will inform him it was an attention grabber to set up peace talks and then I move my men out.”

  “And it is your hope that this peaceful, fireless exchange will be the calling card for Johnny? That he’ll see this as a diversion and make his way to our men somehow?”

  “Absolutely. Wouldn’t you?” George asked. “We are in a sound cease fire. I attack without shooting. Johnny is smart. He’s gonna see the retreat of our men as a ride back here for him and Bev. And if not, we’ll set up peace talks on that side of the country. I’ll get him out.”