The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “You mean like a ghost?” Ellen walked to the door.

  Alexandra giggled. “Don’t be silly. Ghosts don’t bake brownies.”

  Ellen’s heart dropped to her stomach and she didn’t move. She had to stop herself from getting caught up in what her daughter said. “Alex, I know she used to make brownies before, but she doesn’t anymore.”

  “She did two days ago when I was visiting Katie in New Bowman. When I stayed overnight at her house.”

  “You . . . You must be mistaken.”

  “Me and Katie helped bake the brownies,” Alexandra rattled. “It was supposed to be a secret, but I can tell you. Right? Anyhow, we tried by ourselves but we made a mess. She saw us and said, ‘Sweet Jesus, look at the mess.’ We ran. We were scared . . . .Mommy?”

  Ellen knees buckled and she held onto the archway of the door to stop herself from falling.

  “Mommy?”

  “We . . . we have to go. Let’s go.” Ellen tried to control her hyperventilating breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Alexandra asked.

  “Oh, sweetie, nothing.” Ellen hunched down to her daughter’s level. “Thank you. Thank you so much for sharing that secret. I’ll keep it, but it was just what Mommy needed to hear.”

  “You needed to hear we tried to make our own brownies.”

  Ellen snickered. “Yes, that’s what I needed to hear.” She stood up straight. “Boys! Let’s go! Now! I have to hurry!”

  “Mommy?” Alexandra tugged on her leg. “Where are you going? Work?”

  “No, after I get you guys to school, Mommy’s going . . .” Ellen smiled. “To New Bowman.”

  ^^^^

  His mouth swishing from side to side almost in debate, Joe pulled the cigarette from his lips and dialed the phone. He cleared his throat and brought the phone to his ear. One ring. Two rings.

  “Yes?” George answered the phone.

  “It’s Joe Slagel.”

  “What a surprise, Joe. I didn’t expect to hear from you since you’re having phone trouble.”

  “Cut the shit, George.”

  George waited with a grin on his face. “What can I do for you, Joe?” he asked mockingly.

  “I have someone here who needs to speak to you.” Joe handed over the phone.

  Curiously, George waited. “Hello?”

  “President Hadley?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Sgt. Timothy Doyle, Eastern Caceres Society Master infantry trainer. It is my duty and privilege to inform you that I and six hundred forty-two finely trained Caceres Society soldiers have hereby defected to the United Western Alliance.” Sgt. Doyle handed the phone to Joe.

  Joe took the phone and spoke into it. “That will be all, George.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Ellen knew it wasn’t what she should have been doing. She should be working at the clinic and relieving Forrest from the night shift. She shouldn’t be in New Bowman but some things were more important that Forrest’s rest. She swore up and down her daughter’s secret would remain within her, but Ellen had to verify that secret. She needed to. Was Andrea alive? A part of Ellen knew it. She just knew it. The lack of mourning alone from the Slagel’s hinted at it. And then there was the wording. No one ever came out and said, ‘Andrea’s dead’. It was always, ‘Andrea’s gone.’ It was sanctuary for Ellen when she spotted Katie’s home. With everything that was happening, Andrea of all people could help and tell her exactly what she needed to hear.

  “Ellen!” Katie screamed joyfully as she darted from her house.

  “Hey you.” Ellen bent down to her. “Where are you off to?”

  “Monica at the House of Lesbians is teaching me poetry today.”

  “Oh, that’s nice.”

  “Can Alex come to New Bowman this weekend with you?”

  “I’ll make sure I bring her.”

  “Thanks. I have to go,” Katie spoke, upbeat.

  “Have fun.”

  “Bye!” The little girl’s one word rang out loud and long, trailing off as she ran about.

  Ellen rose slowly from her hunch and with her eyes focused on the house, she walked the path. Her heart beat so strongly. There would be no knocking and no alerting to the fact that she was approaching. The last thing she wanted was to send Andrea into hiding.

  Ellen took a hesitating courage breath at the front door then opened it. Immediately, the smell of chocolate pelted her. It was brownies. So predominant. So . . . Andrea.

  The sound of dishes rattled along with humming that was muffled by the sound of running water. Quietly and smiling, with her heart beating in her ears, Ellen moved slowly down the hall toward the kitchen. The sounds and the smells drew closer. It was time. Ellen knew it and she stepped into the kitchen.

  The humming stopped and the dish dropped from her hand as she spotted Ellen. “Oh.” Aggie, a young woman with long brown hair, jumped in a startle. “Dr. Hayes.”

  Ellen couldn’t move. “Was . . . was that you humming.”

  “Yes. Why? I didn’t know you were coming.”

  Ellen’s head shook. “What are you doing here? I though Miriam cared for the children.”

  “She does but I help. We’re well, close.” Aggie smiled. “Did you bring Alex? You just missed Katie. Boy those two were so funny this weekend. They tried to make brownies on their own. I found such a mess . . .”

  “I have to go.”

  “Did you need something?”

  Ellen backed up. “I’m sorry. I . . . I have to go.”

  “Dr. Hayes?” Aggie called out. “Are you all right.”

  Ellen stopped in the hall and sadly looked back at Aggie. “I’m fine. I’m sorry.” With heartbreaking disappointment she didn’t want to show, Ellen fled from the house.

  ^^^^

  “Wonderful choice,” Todd smiled flirtatiously at Johnny as he folded a bright colorful shirt. “These Hawaiian specialty shirts go like that.” He snapped. “Eight Danny Dollars please.”

  “This is the first time I used this.” He handed his card to Todd.

  “Then you must have a ton saved up.”

  Johnny watched him swipe the card through. “Yeah, I guess I . . .” His speech slowed down when he saw the words on the LCD display of the machine, the words that read ‘dialing’. “Dialing.”

  “What was that?” Todd handed the card back.

  “It’s dialing?”

  “Yes, we call the main terminal.” Todd looked up when the bells of his store rang upon the door’s opening. “Oh, look! Captain Slagel.”

  Johnny cringed. “Great.”

  Todd wiggled his fingers in a wave. “Hello, Captain.”

  Hal kept his focus on Johnny. “Todd.”

  “Can I interest you in a wonderful Hawaiian shirt? It would be so you.”

  “Not today. Could you . . . leave us?” Hal requested firmly.

  Todd was confused. “But my shop would be . . .”

  “It will be fine,” Hal stated. “Leave. Please.”

  Todd exhaled in nervousness. “I’ll trust you. I’ll be back.” He smiled once more before dashing from the shop. The bells rang upon his exit.

  Johnny turned around with a perturbed look. “Bullying homosexuals now, Uncle Hal?”

  A glare was in Hal’s eyes as he locked them on Johnny. “Ellen vanished from her home last night. She was found in the woods beyond Sector Seventeen.”

  “Yeah.” Johnny snickered. “Heard Uncle Robbie forgot she was out there.”

  “Funny. But I heard you got in a truck with her last night.”

  “You heard wrong,” Johnny said snidely.

  “I doubt that.”

  “Oh, yes. That’s right,” Johnny said. “You’re never wrong.”

  “I’m not wrong about this.”

  “What are you implying?” Johnny snapped.

  “Perhaps you had something to do with Ellen ending up in those woods.”

  “Perhaps?” Johnny laughed. “No.”

  “If I found
out you did, I personally will take you . . .”

  “You know what, Uncle Hal? Blow it out your ass.”

  Hal blinked in a fake shock and offence. “Blow it out my ass? Hmm. Blow it out my ass?”

  “Fuck off.” Johnny shoved by him. “This little partial threat is the last threat you’ll ever make. I heard the ballots were counted. The decision will be announced and I’ll take great pleasure watching your ousting.” He moved to the door.

  “Shall I blow it out my ass while I’m frightened?”

  Sneering, Johnny snapped a view at Hal. “You’re an asshole.” He flung open the door and stormed out.

  “You forgot your shirt,” Hal tried to call out. “And . . . your Danny dollar card. I bet Ellen would love to have a shopping spree on you.” After lifting it and smiling smugly, Hal placed the card in his pocket.

  ^^^^

  Ellen dropped the flower at the bottom of the cross then lowered to the ground next to the small mound of dirt. “What am I doing?” she spoke to the grave. “I’m so desperate. I’m so . . . so lost that I am searching. I should be working right now and getting my head together, but here I am, chasing around a fantasy.” She chuckled. “Here I was taking a child’s story about making brownies and I misconstrued it into this big masquerade of your death, like they would let my big mouth daughter in on it.” She shook her head. “Yeah. I’m chasing around looking for you. When you’re . . .” Her hand moved to the dirt of the mound that had just started to settle. “When you’re right here.” She picked up a handful of dirt and let it fall through her fingers. Her eyes lifted to the cross with Andrea’s name on it. “Or are you?”

  ^^^^

  George thought it was a stroke of utter brilliancy.. It had to be. There was no way a man as loyal as Sgt. Doyle was defecting to Beginnings. One of the reasons Sgt. Doyle was placed so far up the trusted ladder was for his keen insight. On his own, Sgt. Doyle made the decision to infiltrate Beginnings. George had to hand it to him for coming up with it. He wished he would have thought of it sooner.

  When he first received the phone call, George was furious. After this temper tantrum the shredded remains of his office proved it. But as soon as he calmed down and thought about it, it made perfect sense. Plus, the phone call to the base in Minnesota helped. The CO there informed George he was clueless to what George was talking about.

  Steward looked nervous when he stepped into the office. “Sir?”

  “Hey, Stew come in. What do you have?”

  Steward hesitated. “Bad news.”

  Any ‘up’, any positive for George went out the window. “What is it?”

  Slowly Steward made his way to George’s desk. He tossed down a folder then sat down. “We went to Sgt. Doyle’s home. It’s empty. For a man who was going to be gone for a few weeks, there’s not a stitch of old world clothing left. Plus all his photographs and personal items are gone.”

  “Sentimental attachment,” George stated with a ‘so there’ attitude.

  “And we found that. I pretty much figured he left it for us to find. He knew when he defected we would search his house.”

  “Sgt. Doyle didn’t defect.”

  “I’m afraid . . . I’m afraid he did,” Steward said. “That folder contains copies of all reports of supposed defectors and he conveniently moved all of the most probable to one location.”

  “Minnesota.”

  “Yes. He gathered them together and waited for his chance. He probably was going to use some sort of routine camp check as his excuse to go out there. It’s all there in that folder.”

  George started to open the folder but stopped. “How does this affect us, Stew?”

  “Badly. Can he be replaced? Oh, sure, without a doubt. Yes, he was awesome in military strategy but so are others. He didn’t make any final decisions. We have our panel for that, but what we lost pales in comparison to what Beginnings just gained, a trusted key player who is fully informed of our military movements, actions, and plans. He knows it all. Put him together with the Slagel battalion and the UWA doesn’t need an army anymore.”

  George scoffed, “You’re exaggerating now. So he knows a lot. We’re still stronger. And who he is isn’t going to mean squat to Beginnings, at least not yet.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “After my initial anger, what was my next thought?” George questioned.

  “That he did this on purpose, to infiltrate.”

  “Exactly. Joe Slagel isn’t going to buy it. He’ll take whatever Sgt. Doyle says with a grain of salt. It will be a long drawn out process before any trust is given. Any vital information relayed to Beginnings is going to be screened and thought of as a trap.”

  “So you don’t believe Beginnings is basking in the gain yet?” Steward asked.

  “No. If a key player from Beginnings defected to us, I’d be apprehensive. Trust me, Joe Slagel isn’t dancing a jig yet. We have a lot of time before we can consider our loss of Sgt. Doyle a threat to us. About the only thing Joe may be enjoying is the fact that he added another six hundred men to his army.” George sat back in his chair. “I’m just grateful Sgt. Doyle didn’t give him the entire camp.”

  ^^^^

  “The whole camp?” Joe asked Sgt. Doyle with shock.

  “Yes, Mr. Slagel,” Sgt. Doyle answered. “We only brought the first bit because we weren’t sure how we would be welcomed. I gave the base CO instructions to play clueless should President Hadley ask about the defection, but he is to take that as his sign to pack up the rest of the camp.”

  Joe walked with Sgt. Doyle in an area not far from Bowman. Rows of military trucks piled with equipment were parked there. “You do realize I can’t trust this, not just yet.”

  “Absolutely. We figured as much. That’s why we brought the camp with us, supplies and so forth. That is also why we are turning over any and all weapons. We will be very congenial. We only want to hop aboard, so to speak.” Sgt. Doyle smiled then looked over his shoulder at Frank’s yelling.

  “Tear off them CS patches, gentlemen!” Frank blasted out. “Toss them in the box. We’re gonna have a fuckin bonfire.”

  Joe motioned his head. “Frank.”

  “I would consider it an honor to meet Frank Slagel. I’ve heard so much about him.”

  Joe grumbled, “Frank.”

  Frank held up his hand then turned to Dan. “I want every single man searched for even the smallest weapon. Everything is to be counted and taken. Got that?”

  “Yeah, Frank. What are we doing with it?” Dan asked. “This is a lot of shit.”

  “We’ll load up the trucks and dump it on my brother.” Frank grinned. “Thanks.” He then walked to Joe. “What’s up?”

  “Frank.” Joe took on the introduction honors. “I’d like you to meet Sgt. Timothy Doyle. He headed this defection. Sgt. Doyle, this is Frank Slagel.”

  Sgt. Doyle snapped to attention and saluted Frank. “Sir.”

  “Excellent start.” Frank gave a swat to his arm. “At ease.”

  Joe continued, “Though Beginnings has its army and the strict code of ethics of the UWA decision is enforced by their leader, Frank pretty much has the military say so over the whole ball of wax. You can say he outranks everyone in that aspect.”

  Frank nodded proudly. “Doyle, you headed this up?”

  “Yes,” Sgt. Doyle answered. “You can say I’ve been wanting to do it for some time. When the UWA started really hitting our camps, the urge in me became impatient. My contempt for the Society and all that they stood for grew every day, so I started plotting, shuffling, and grouping together those who were rumored to be planning a defect. Just to clarify . . .” He had to question, “The UWA division? That is the second cavalry?”

  Frank rolled his eyes. “With Civil War uniforms, fashion boots and all. You don’t just become one of those. We have different training aspects, like the old world, Army, Navy, Air Force and so on.”

  “Which division would we be joining?” Sgt. Doyle asked.


  Joe answered. “Most likely the basic infantry, but I suppose some of your men will want to be official UWA soldiers. I have to tell you, Hal doesn’t take it lightly. Dress. Walk. Talk. Act. Learn. It’s a whole different ball game. The women love it.”

  Sgt. Doyle smiled. “I haven’t seen a viable woman in quite some time.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” Joe said. “We don’t have many. Speaking of the UWA, here comes the second in command now.”

  Sgt. Doyle turned around to see where Joe was looking. He was taken aback. Walking his way was the first real glimpse of what he had only heard rumors. “Looking at the uniform, I think I may consider this UWA.”

  In usual fashion, Frank’s eyes rolled.

  Elliott Ryder approached in full uniform. “Mr. Slagel, the Captain said my help is needed.”

  “Without a doubt,” Joe replied. “Elliott, I’d like you to meet . . .”

  “Sgt. Doyle,” Elliott stated the name. “I recall you from my processing at the former Quantico.”

  Sgt. Doyle extended a hand to Elliott. “I have to apologize, but I don’t recall the face. I’ve seen so many.”

  “I understand.” Elliott nodded. “Mr. Slagel, may I speak to you for a moment?”

  “Sure. Frank? Can you take Sgt. Doyle and see what else he brought with him.”

  “Yeah,” Frank answered. “Let’s go.” He gave a motion of his head to Sgt. Doyle.

  He waited for Frank to leave then Joe faced Elliott. “What’s up?”

  Dean interrupted, “Joe.”

  “Dean.” Joe turned to him. “I’m talking. Christ.”

  “Just give me a second.” Dean looked frazzled. “Am I getting this right? You want every single one of these men to be medically processed as new survivors?”

  “You got that right.”

  “Six hundred?” Dean asked.

  “Yes,” Joe said with some irritation.

  “Joe, how am I supposed to that? Processing these men will take forever.”

  “Dean, that isn’t my problem. You’re the medical head honcho. You deal with it.” Joe took Elliott’s arm and pulled him aside. “Now, what’s up?’