The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

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The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20 Page 226

by Jacqueline Druga

Ellen had to pause in a stare of Billy, taking in his obscure comparison of his sleeping father and exploding head SUT. “Breakfast will be ready in a second. Did you wake Joey and Alex for me?”

  “Yes and they won’t get up. I’m sure they will. Of course, since there is no motivation, you can’t blame them. The education system in Beginnings needs totally restructured.”

  “Billy . . .”

  “When you place someone like Jenny Matoose in charge. I mean, Mom, she does well with small children but . . .”

  “Stop.” Ellen held up her hand. “Jenny does good.”

  “You mean ‘well’. She does ‘well’ Dad always says to use . . .”

  Ellen grumbled. “Billy.” She stopped him. “Try to act your age, please.”

  “Oh, yes. Let me rush to the school, pick up an exciting copy of ‘See Spot Run’, and race about with a fist full of brilliant color crayons.”

  “Yes.” Ellen smiled. “Why don’t you? Could you get Alex and Joey?”

  “They’ll be out. There’s time.”

  Ellen started to head back to the kitchen.

  “Mom, it seems weird not having Nick around anymore.” He lifted his spoon and played with it.

  Ellen paused before heading in the kitchen in a reflective manner. “Yeah, I miss him too.”

  “I didn’t say I missed him. I just said it was weird.”

  Rolling her eyes, Ellen tried again to get into the kitchen.

  “How’s Uncle Frank?”

  Sadly, Ellen turned again. “He’s bad, but we’re confident he’s going to pull through. Daddy woke me up last night to say his vitals are showing signs of his coming out of the coma so that’s good. We’ll give him the Salicain so he can get the added rest.”

  “He’s gonna hate that.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you think since he’ll be able to hear, see, and not react, that you guys are gonna mess with him?”

  “No,” Ellen said softly. “I believe we’re all more mature than that.”

  Robbie’s laughing entered the living room the same time, he did. “I heard that.” He shut the door. “Hey, El. Bill.”

  “Uncle Robbie.” Billy lifted the spoon.

  Ellen pointed backwards. “I’m going to get breakfast . . .”

  “Go on.” Robbie waved and slipped off his coat. “It’s cold.”

  “It’s winter,” Billy responded.

  Robbie walked up behind Billy and kissed him on the top of the head. “The phones are back up. I get to monitor them.”

  “It won’t be for long, Uncle Robbie. Really. Dad’s gonna get that arm back and you’ll be cool.”

  “Thanks, Bill.”

  “Speaking of Dad, check out the view of him.”

  Curiously, Robbie turned and looked at the office. He snickered. “That’s pathetic. Dean!” Robbie called. “Dean!”

  He too received no response.

  “Billy? Is he all right?”

  Billy shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Man, is he gonna have a red mark.” Robbie walked into the kitchen. “Hey, El, can I have coffee?”

  “Sure.” Ellen reached up, took a mug, and then returned to her pan. “What brings you by?”

  “Two things,” Robbie said. “I can’t quite get my hair right, not that it matters much because I’ll be in the Communications Room monitoring. But . . . you know me.” He took the cup and poured coffee. “Second. El.” He took on a saddened tone. “No one made me breakfast. I thought for sure with Andrea back I’d have something. She did leave me a muffin. But that was a muffin. Can you feed me, El?”

  Turning from the stove, Ellen smiled. “You know you can eat here. If you do me a favor?”

  “What’s that?”

  “While I get it on the table, you get my two up. Don’t wake, Josh. Mark pulled him last night to help in Tracking. Why, I don’t know.”

  “Josh watches the beeps well even though he doesn’t know what they mean.” Robbie grinned.

  “Where’s your prosthetic?” Ellen asked with an upward motion of her head.

  “Oh, Andrea took it from me. Her and Dad were arguing last night. They thought I couldn’t hear. She thinks I need to grieve my arm a little.”

  Ellen nodded. “Even though it is not like you to dwell on things, you do Robbie.” She poured the eggs into a serving dish. “You got over this very quick. You may very well be over it. But just prepare in case you aren’t.” She winked. “Besides, can I tell you something? I think you look better without it.”

  Robbie laughed in sarcasm. “Oh, yeah, I look really good with one less arm. Let’s face it El.” Robbie’s demeanor dropped. “I look pretty lame either way now.”

  “Robbie,” Ellen whispered as she stepped to him. “How can that be? You’re the best looking man in Beginnings. There’s absolutely nothing that can take that away from you. You’re just too good-looking for that.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Get my kids and come eat.”

  Robbie lowered his head. Ellen’s words were nice, but they weren’t enough to erase the small rush of bad he felt hit him, but only briefly. He wouldn’t let that feeling stay. He got himself together, took his coffee and left the kitchen to get Alexandra and Joey. At the very least he would get to laugh at Alexandra and her morning hair. As Robbie passed Dean’s office, he caught a glimpse of Dean lifting his head from the desk, a huge red mark on his forehead, and his hair everywhere. Laughing, Robbie gave a thumbs up and ‘thanks’ to Dean for the smile, and sought out the other Hayes with bad hair

  ^^^^

  Through the lenses of the binoculars, it still seemed quite in the distance. But even that far away, the impact of the vision was there and Elliott could distinguish exactly what it was. The spraying upward motion of it brought back a ‘bad timing reflection’ of a childhood vacation to Old Faithful. He thought of his parents, the good time that they had, and in the midst of that pleasant reminiscent moment, Elliott remembered he wasn’t viewing water, but blood.

  He cleared his throat, lowered the binoculars, and handed them to Dan from Security.

  “Did you see?” Dan asked.

  “Yes,” Elliott replied.

  “Figured you’d want to be informed right away since you are being the FMM.”

  “The . . . FMM?” Elliott asked.

  “Yeah, Frank Mini Me. That’s what everyone’s calling you. I think it’s a compliment. Anyhow, seeing how you’re being the FMM acting Head of Security, this is your, excuse the pun . . . baby,” Dan snickered with a hint of sadism. “Usually Frank is notified and comes up with a plan of action.”

  “Thank you. Tracking picked them up?”

  “Yes, they did” Dan explained. “Seemingly overnight. Boy, that Josh is good with beeps. He doesn’t know what they are and can’t read the readout report worth shit, but he catches them. You know what I mean?”

  “How often does this happen?” Elliott asked.

  “They come in waves,” Dan answered. “We gain some, lose some, I’m not talking about Beginnings men. I’m talking about them. It’s almost as if they are reproducing, but everyone except Frank knows that’s not the case. They’re being moved here. Shipped in. But they seem to make this area a home.”

  “And Frank handles this?”

  “Alone, yeah. No one but Robbie ever wants to help. I mean, Sgt. Ryder, they are killer babies.”

  Elliott kept repeating in his mind with such astonishment. ‘Killer babies.’

  “The numbers are frighteningly high,” Dan explained. “Too high. They’re feeding well right now but if the deer do not keep going out there . . . they try to get in.”

  “You’ll have to excuse me, Dan, since I am not versed in dealing with . . . killer babies.”

  “Oh, sure no, problem. Why? Do you have questions?”

  “Yes. I heard the term before. I was always was told to watch out for them. I thought . . . I thought it was a joke.”

  “Nope.” Dan shook his head. “They are killer babies.”

/>   “Killer babies,” Elliott breathed out and stared at the area beyond the field gate. “What exactly is a killer baby?”

  “Marcus is almost one, but he’s been domesticated. They are sort of like him only wild and in the infant stage. However, some are reaching toddler age and at their fast growth, it won’t be long before they hit the adolescent phase. At least the ones Frank didn’t wipe out.”

  “So we actually have killer babies, killer toddlers, and killer adolescents?”

  “Yes,” Dan answered. “Vicious things too. They will tear you apart. To them, you’re a hefty T-bone steak.”

  “I see. Now would you say my best direction and course of action can be found out from Robbie?”

  “Oh, yeah. Robbie’s almost as good as Frank,” Dan said. “You have to do what Frank does and come up with a way to lower the numbers out there. If you keep the numbers down, they usually don’t try to come in because there is enough food.”

  “How has Frank handled this is the past?”

  “Usually he posts an extra guard or two on at night to keep an eye out in case they try to dig in. Or, you know, pop them off the fence if they fling themselves forward and get fried. They aren’t real bright.”

  “I wouldn’t think so.”

  “No.” Dan shook his head. “Really, they are only children with a carnivorous killer side. What do they know? But for the most part . . . to keep the numbers down, he hunts them.”

  “Frank hunts the killer babies?” Elliott asked.

  “Yeah, he’s the only one that seems to have it in him to shoot them. The rest of us . . . yeah, we see what they do but from behind, with the exception of the leathery skin, they look like babies. So it’s kinda hard to just shoot them. Even though we have to keep telling ourselves they are killer babies, to me personally, they’re children. So do you think you’ll have a problem?”

  “Um, I don’t know,” Elliott said seriously. “But if it’s my job to lower the population, I guess I will, somehow. I’ll talk to Robbie.”

  “Good.” Dan gave Elliott a pat on the arm. “While you’re doing so, you may want to arrange some deer catching to dump out there for food.”

  Elliott nodded. “Anything else?”

  “Music helps soothe them at night. It calms them. They sing.”

  “They sing?” Elliott questioned as Dan started to leave.

  “Yes, but only Journey.”

  Nodding once more an ‘I see’, Elliott returned to staring out into the region. “Killer babies that sing Journey songs.” He spoke calm. “Ok.” He whistled. “Why is it . . . only in Beginnings?”

  ^^^^

  Despite what he believed to be a gut gnawing distraction, Dean tried to work in his lab. He’d look over his shoulder then back to his computer with a huff of disgust. Perhaps it would go away.

  A few clicks into his notes, the sound of it made him jump, a ringing phone. Dean picked it up. “Lab.” He shook his head. “Yes, I know.” He hung up. Again, he looked over his shoulder, returned to his keyboard only to be interrupted with the phone again. “Lab,” he breathed out. “Yes, Ellen, for the fourth damn time. I know! I know the phones are working. Now please get back to work. I’m busy.” Hanging up, Dean heard the tapping and figured it was time to face the situation he couldn’t pretend wasn’t there. “What!” he blasted at Henry who stood across the lab.

  “Thank you for acknowledging me, Dean. I’ve been here ten minutes.”

  “I know.” Dean spun in his chair and refaced his computer. “What do you want?”

  “Did you know you had a red mark on your head?”

  “Yes.” Dean clicked hard on the keys.

  “Really, Dean, if that is still remaining from waking up, you should try some moisturizer cream. That might mean your skin is . . .”

  “Henry,” Dean silenced him, “What is it? I know you aren’t here to look at my red mark.” Dean covered it with his bangs.

  “No, even though it’s pretty . . .” Henry wiped the smile from his face when he saw Dean’s seriousness. “Fine. The reason I’m here is I want to call a truce. We’ve been friends for many years and I want to put this behind us.”

  Dean stared for a second, gave a single nod, and turned back to his computer. “No.”

  “I think . . . no?” Henry asked.

  “No.” Dean continued to work.

  “Dean, I’m trying here.”

  “Yes and I’m trying to work.”

  “This is ridiculous, Dean,” Henry griped.

  “No, Henry. What’s ridiculous is the fact that you actually think I want a truce. I don’t.” Dean finally turned around again. “I want nothing to do with you. I made that clear.”

  “Harboring grudges is not good.”

  “Neither is harboring secrets that destroys a man’s marriage,” Dean snapped. “No. Go. Don’t ask again. To me, I don’t even know you.”

  Henry’s mouth dropped open. “Fine. I’ll go. Be like that. And just so you know, Danny Hoi and I are opening a sushi bar. There was a lot of debate and I was against it but after today, I’m for the decision. It’s a sushi named after you.”

  Dean’s hands paused on the keyboard.

  “Yeah, Dean. You’re name will be in parentheses under the Japanese name we give it. Of course . . .” Henry shrugged. “It will be little sushi, kind of bitter that will leave a nasty taste in your mouth and is pretty hard to swallow.” He started to leave but stopped in the door way. “We’re calling it. Futomara, meaning big dick.”

  Dean had heard enough. After closing his mouth he finally turned around. Henry was gone and Ellen stepped into the lab. “Hey, El.”

  “Hey.” Upbeat, Ellen stepped inside. “Thanks for taking my calls. Did you know you have a big red mark on your . . .”

  “Yes.” Dean patted down his bangs.

  “Frank’s blood.” Ellen set the two tubes in the rack. “DO you want me to run it?”

  “Um, no.” Dean shook his head. “I need you to go down to the cryo and check on our embryos.”

  “OK. Frank’s surgical site looked really good. Are you all right?”

  “No.” Dean stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. “Henry was . . .” He stopped when he saw Ellen pointing to her own forehead. “What?”

  “Red mark.”

  Dean grunted and pushed down his bangs again. “Henry was in here wanting a truce.”

  “I see. And you turned him down.”

  “Yes. Was I wrong?”

  “Only you can say, Dean. I’m not saying let bygones be bygones. I’m not saying be his best drinking buddy. You do what you feel is right. OK? No right or wrong here.”

  Dean nodded.

  “I’ll head down.” She kissed him on the cheek and started to leave. “Oh.” She skid to a stop in the doorway. “He is trying though. Rumor has it he is naming a sushi after you.” Ellen smiled. “That’s an honor and it’s really nice of him. See ya in a bit.”

  “Ellen . . .” Dean lifted his hand but Ellen slipped out. “Why am I always made out to be the bad guy here?” he spoke to himself.

  “You aren’t,” Andrea answered as she walked into the lab. “I’m not disturbing you. I’m just dropping something off.” She held up a requisition and a cup of urine. “Fridge?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have a red mark . . .”

  “I know.”

  Carrying the cup, and smiling pleasantly, Andrea took it to the fridge. “Not everyone thinks that.”

  “Thinks what? Dean asked.

  “That you’re a bad guy.”

  “Thanks, Andrea.”

  “You can’t be all that bad, Dean,” Andrea stated. “In spite of all those problems with Henry I heard about and still he has given you a lovely Japanese name.”

  “Andrea . . .”

  “Futomara,” Andrea sighed out. “I believe it means wonderful friend or something.” She shrugged and moved to the door. “Say it, Dean. Futomara. It’s beautiful isn’t it? It makes you feel al
l warm and tingling. Futomara...”

  Thinking of the true meaning of Futomara and Andrea’s reaction, Dean cleared his throat. “Perhaps if you’re female.”

  “Male. Female. Doesn’t matter. We all need a Futomara. I think I’ll have Robbie write a song using that word. Don’t be surprised if you’re sitting in church and Robbie pops up with a song dedicated to you called Futomara.”

  Listening to Andrea proceed to sing the new word on her exit, Dean just gave up and returned to work.

  ^^^^

  Happening upon it was exactly what Joe needed. Perhaps it was a sign, or just the pick me up that he was searching for. Whatever the case, it sent him into Frank’s room just to check on his sleeping son.

  Joe wasn’t sentimental but when it came to things his children made for him, Joe was a pack rat and a sap. He kept things, just like he kept that homemade birthday card Frank gave him. He looked at it as he settled into the chair by Frank’s bed smiling as he did. He read the words inside, written in crayon. ‘For what it’s worth. Happy day of your burth.’ Joe chuckled at the misspelling, even more so at the front of the card with the raw cover art done in crayons. How much time Frank had to put into the picture. In the background was a house. Stick figures with a slight resemblance were in front of it. The name of each person was over the head of their perspective stick figure. Frank. Robbie. Jimmy. Hal. Dad. Of course, Hal had a huge head and little body. Joe guessed that was subconscious. There was a birthday cake with burning candles, lots of them, and Frank’s stick man holding a hose putting out the flame that seemingly torched Hal.

  Joe set the card on the table next to Frank’s bed. He probably could have thrown the card away when he received it, but he knew it was from the heart.

  “I see you dug that up,” Robbie spoke softly as he entered Frank’s room.

  “Hey.” Joe smiled and patted Robbie’s hand when it rested on his shoulder. “It’s funny,”

  “Yeah it is. Of course, Frank didn’t intend for it to be funny. Well, except for Hal on fire part. He worked a long time on that,” Robbie said. “In fact he was so diligent about finishing it, he even ignored the call from Tracking that we had SUTs at the back gate.”

 

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