The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Oh, sure there is,” Frank replied. “His arms . . . Whoops, sorry, his arm isn’t his only line of offense or defense. It probably would be easier.” He heard the snickering scoffs. “Fuck you guys, I’m serious. Watch.” Frank stood before Henry and placed his only free hand deep into his front pocket. “Hit me, Henry.”

  “Oh, Frank, I don’t know.” Henry shook his head. “I might really hit you.”

  Frank laughed. “Henry, please. If you hit me, you hit me. It’s not like I never took a punch before so go for it.”

  “Ok.” Taking one more look at an armless Frank, Henry, hating to do it, released his punch.

  In darting motion, Frank arched back in avoidance of the hit. Upon release of Henry’s immediate second punch, Frank ducked in a swopping manner. On his rise back up and before fully coming to a stand, like a shot, he ejected his head forward and snapped in a connection to Henry’s forehead.

  The loud ‘crack’ preceded Henry’s ‘timber’ fall. Stiff like an ironing board, Henry went backwards to the ground.

  “See.” Frank nodded.

  Hal looked down to Henry. “He’s not . . . he’s not dead, is he?”

  “Nah.” Frank shook his head and pulled his hand from his pocket. “He’s just out.” He rubbed his own forehead. “Man, he has a hard head.”

  Robbie nudged a still Henry with his boot. “He’s out cold.”

  “Yep.” Frank nodded. “OK. We still have time. Let’s move on to the punching bag before it gets too late.” He stepped over Henry.

  Robbie followed a walking Frank and stepped over Henry as well. “You should try swinging it at me.”

  “I have a better idea,” Hal said, stepping over Henry and catching up to his brothers. “Why don’t we practice Robbie’s reaction time? Both of us at once could toss thing at him.”

  Frank stopped. “That’s a good idea. Robbie, you game?”

  Robbie looked at his watch. “Yeah, but I have to be at Containment soon.”

  “I have to prepare for the meeting,” Hal added, “but let’s try.”

  Just as Frank was about to tell them, ‘sounds good’, he heard the hiss in his radio head set. He lifted it to his head. “Yeah, go on.”

  “Frank,” Mark in Tracking called. “We have one. A Savage moving fast into that region. We could take it out but this is perfect positioning. You may not get another chance.”

  “I’m on my way.” Frank reached for the knot on his rope. “I have to run. He untied his binding. “There’s a single savage up in the area behind the fields.”

  Robbie grinned. “No way. Are you . . .”

  “Yep,” Frank said. “If I want to try it, I’d better run. Finish up, Hal.” Frank took off running at top speed.

  As they were about to move on, Hal and Robbie stopped. As if they were connected by the same brain, both of them, seemingly in slow motion and at the same time, tilted their heads to the right in curiosity.

  “Robbie?” Hal spoke his name coolly.

  “Yes.”

  “Did Frank just . . . hop?”

  “I believe he did, Hal.”

  “That’s odd.” Hal shrugged. “Oh, well. What do you say we save the ‘tossing thing’ for later? I really have that town meeting to prepare for.”

  “Sounds good. See you at dinner?” Robbie asked.

  “I’ll see you then.”

  Robbie and Hal parted and walked away in two different directions.

  ^^^^

  ‘Heartbeat slow. Heartbeat slow. Breathing slow. Breathing slow.’ Frank pounded those thoughts through his mind as his feet pounded the hard cold ground in his rapid run toward the region behind the fields. ‘Heartbeat slow. Heartbeat slow’. Though getting that Savage was forefront, not hearing Dean bitch at him was almost equally important.

  He spotted the salvation of the region and two of his men with binoculars, peering out. “Down the gate!” Frank yelled into his headset. “Charlie!” he yelled to one of his men. “Open it up, I don’t want to stop!”

  Charlie turned to see Frank bolting his way. He listened for the sound of the downed perimeter and unlatched the gate. “Better step back.” He told Bill, the other guard. “Frank will run you down.”

  Bill looked back at a raging Frank. “Shit.”

  ‘Heartbeat slow. Breathing slow. Heartbeat slow, man am I running fuckin fast.’ Frank arrived at the gate. “Thank you!” he called out as he plowed through the openness of it into the region.

  “I’ve got you,” Mark spoke to Frank from Tracking.

  “Where is he?”

  “Man, Frank. He is heading right towards it.”

  ‘Yes.” Excitedly Frank clenched his fist and darted to the area not far from him. “I’m in position.” He stood there. “How far?”

  “You should be . . .”

  “Got him.” Frank smiled when he saw the Savage heading his way. “Oh, man. Is he a sight for sore eyes.”

  “Frank,” Mark spoke up. “Listen, there’s . . .”

  “Shh,” Frank hushed him. “I’m trying to enjoy this moment. Now where is . . .ah!” Frank shuffled some leaves to find what looked like a foot pedal. He gently rested, his foot on it.

  “Frank, look, I’m serious. You have to . . .”

  “Mark. Fuck. You’re ruining it. Do I have to shut you off?” Frank smiled and waved to the Savage who running his way.

  “Frank! You . . .”

  “Off.” Frank switched off the radio. He let out a relaxed breath and watched the Savage. “Come on. That’s it. A little more.”

  If he couldn’t before, the Savage now spotted Frank. He howled out a loud scream, lifted his spear, and picked up his speed.

  “Oh, yeah, that’s it. Raise that fuckin spear. Come and get me and . . .” One more wide pleasing grin swept across Frank’s face and after lifting his boot up a few inches, he slammed it down to the pedal.

  Just as the Savage let out his war call again and readied to release his spear, a shifting mechanical sound rang out. The already in progress cry-out the Savage made rippled into a ‘wa-wa-wa-wa-wa’ as the Savage dropped the spear and ejected high and out into the air.

  “Beautiful,” Frank commented watching the arms-flopping Savage free-fly out toward the grassy area. “Now I wonder if they’ll get him before or after he hits the ground?”

  The rustling of foliage was wild just before the group of snarls and the flash of flesh blurs that shot above the high thick weeds.

  The sound that emanated was sloppy and wet as only four killer babies successfully snatched up and pulled down the heavy body.

  “Not a rabbit or squirrel, huh?” Frank folded his arms. “No, that’s fuckin dinner guys.” he brought his finger to his ear when he heard Bill and Charlie screaming frantically behind him. They shouted something Frank couldn’t interpret through their meshed together voices. “What the fuck?” Frank turned around.

  War call.

  The tip of the spear lunged surprisingly within an inch of his face. With only a split second’s warning, Frank swung out his hand, batted away the spear and saw the second Savage a few feet from him. No sooner did the spear make it from face level, the Savage leaped for him.

  ‘You have to be fuckin kidding me.” Side stepping to his right and giving a slight pivot turn of his body at just the right time, Frank, with an upward swing motion of his left arm, caught the Savage in mid-lunge.

  The force of Frank’s punch to his gut nearly folded the Savage in two and he dropped to the ground. Before he could get back up, Frank reach down, seized the Savage by his hair, snatched him to his feet, and then after bracing him to his back, Frank wrapped his left arm around the Savage’s neck. “Man, you smell.”

  The Savage growled and squirmed.

  “I have to tell you, it’s good to see you guys.” Frank smiled and gave a jolt of his arm strength.

  Crack

  The Savage stopped moving and went limp.

  Dropping him some but still holding his hair, Frank turned on
his radio as he started to drag the body. “Mark.”

  “What the hell, Frank?” Mark breathed heavily.

  “You think you could have told me another Savage was up here.”

  “I tried. You shut me off.”

  “Oh.” Frank set down the Savage, walked over to the arm of the huge catapult, and placed it back in position. “Well, he’s taken care of.”

  “Good. How about the other?”

  “He gave new meaning to the term ‘fast food’.” Frank picked up the Savage again and dragged him to the arm of the catapult. He dropped him and walked back to his peddle. “Now I’m about to find out who was right, me or Robbie. Hold on.” Frank smiled and slammed his foot into the pedal. At that moment, he tilted his head in appreciation because the shift and whip of the catapult seemed like an intro to a song. It was a peaceful, almost beautiful orchestration. The silence of the sailing Savage carcass made only a wisp of a noise as it flew with speed toward the field. The rustling weeds from the rushing killer babies was a bridge and the powerful chorus was the leaping of the small predators in a growling hungry manner. The devouring of flesh was, in its own right, a solo of sorts.

  “Frank, did it work?” Mark asked. “Who was right about what?”

  “Robbie was right. Oh, yeah. I have to tell him. The aerodynamics are much better when dealing with dead weight. We definitely have to kill them first for the full effect. But . . .” Frank started walking. “Either way is enjoyable.” Pausing to look and listen to the meal time noises of the killer babies, Frank smiled once more then returned to the sanctity of the Beginnings gate.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The sign on the over grown highway read Montana State Line: 40 Miles.

  Relief filled Christopher in his journey when he read the sign out loud, sounding it out slowly. “Moe-not-a-na.” He sighed. His twenty year old body was feeling the effects from the super long journey across what God had told him so many times was nothing but the Devil’s waste land. Christopher saw proof of that.

  He thought perhaps the barely dressed dirty demons with long spears that continuously chased him were demons. He had only seen them by that state called Texas, but when he ran into them again, it reconfirmed that it truly was going to be a battle of good versus evil.

  Despite his navigating and leaving his home, he was glad that the shine of good and God was still on his face because when Christopher lifted his covered head, the demons dropped the weapons and ran.

  In a sense it was comforting to know that the demons feared God.

  Christopher knew what miles were and he knew forty wasn’t too bad. He had done more than that while lost in the wilderness of evil, but he was now headed in the right direction. He found the correct road. It was a path directly to Montana and that was where he had to be.

  Once there, he would embark on his next task, the reason for leaving the sanctity of his home. He wouldn’t stop until he found Utopia, or rather Beginnings.

  ^^^^

  Joe looked pale. He really looked pale to Dean and in a sense, the doctor in him understood completely why that was, the surgery and the rush to get out of the clinic. Though Dean would have preferred Joe to be on clinic rest for a few more days, he took comfort in the fact that Joe assured him he wouldn’t be working. He was on sick leave.

  Noises that only the entire Slagel crew in one room could make were buried beneath Dean’s concern as he stared across the dinner table at Joe.

  Joe shook his head in disgust, played with the fake cigarette made for him and while in a silence, smiled at the arguments of his sons.

  It was a valid argument but in Dean’s mind, the ‘who could eat dinner with one arm better than who’ contest went single handedly-no pun intended-to Robbie. He ate his meal with grace and ease, unlike Hal who was a bit sloppy, or Frank who just lunged face first into the plate. While everyone thought it was the lack of arm usage on Frank’s part, Dean feared it was something else.

  “Are you not hungry?” Andrea’s motherly voice broke Dean from his concentration.

  “Um . . .” Dean stuttered for the words. “I am. It’s just my mind is occupied.”

  With a concerned, ‘oh’, Andrea nodded and laid her hand on his back. “I appreciate you coming over here to sit with Joe.”

  “Christ, Andrea.” Joe shook his head, chomping on the fake cigarette. “I don’t need a sitter.”

  Dean smiled. “It’s not sitting, Joe. I’m here more for me.”

  With his face covered in food, Frank lifted his head from his plate. “My dad needs to babysit you, Dean?”

  “God!” Hal snapped in irritation. “What is wrong with you? Just look at you, Frank.”

  Andrea handed a towel down to Frank, “Nothing a napkin won’t fix. Are you finished?”

  “Yes.” Frank lifted his plate. “It was very good.”

  “Look. You ate all your carrots.” Andrea smiled.

  Dean quickly looked up.

  “Correction,” Robbie added and lifted the empty serving dish. “He ate everyone’s carrots.”

  Taking a bite of his food, Dean mumbled out loud. “I have to tell him.”

  “What was that?” Joe asked.

  Dean shook his head.

  Hal checked out his watch. “It’s getting late. We should go.”

  Andrea sighed out when she felt the immediate tension and silence in the air. “It will go well. I feel it. Perhaps Robbie, you could lead us in a prayer before we go to the meeting.”

  “How about I lead us in a prayer at the meeting?” Robbie asked.

  “Oh, wonderful suggestion.” Andrea pinched his cheek. “You are so Christian.”

  Frank stood at the same time as Hal and Robbie and like them, cleared the table. “We’ll all walk together.” He walked into the kitchen.

  Lifting his own plate, Dean stood and followed Frank into the kitchen. “Frank, you’ll let me know immediately, right?”

  “I will.” Frank nodded. “I promise. Then I’ll find El.”

  “Hopefully with good news.”

  Solemnly Frank laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Hopefully.”

  “Frank?” Dean called to him as he walked to the kitchen door. “You don’t have a good feeling, do you?”

  “I want to believe that things will go the way we want, Dean. I really want to believe that but right now, and a decision hasn’t even been made, but right now, my heart is breaking. So I guess . . . no. I don’t have a good feeling. Do you?”

  Dean only lowered his head.

  “Fingers crossed.”

  Sadly, Dean raised his hand with crossed fingers. He stood there thinking about the meeting that would decide whether or not his wife left her home, a meeting Dean decided he’d rather not attend. Hal held his vote for him. The decision would be one Dean only wanted to hear if it was favorable, but something told Dean it wouldn’t be.

  He listened to the sounds of the departing Slagel men, waited for the living room door to close, and then went back into the dining room.

  Slowly he rejoined Joe at the table. “What are we gonna do if they decide to make her serve her sentence?”

  “What can we do, Dean?”

  “Is it me or is Ellen’s ousting something none of us are dealing with?” Dean stared at his folded hands.

  “We aren’t. Really, we aren’t,” Joe said. “I think we all hold hope in the back of our minds that it isn’t going to happen so we aren’t dealing with it fully. Why would we? It’s Ellen. This is Beginnings, a place she started. How could we kick her out, right? Well, I hate to say it or to think it, but I think if the vote goes as my gut says it’s gonna go, tomorrow there’ll be a completely different feel around us regarding it.”

  Slowly, Dean peered up. “Sadness?”

  “No, Dean,” Joe said softly. “Hard reality.”

  ^^^^

  Henry wanted to scream. It wasn’t fair. His head spun in irritation. Both sides of the scale were weighed down by Hector on one side of him and Danny on the other
. They both laughed hysterically. The only balance was Josephine, who sat directly across from Henry at the table in the Social Hall and she just stared. She could have been sympathetic or offended but Henry would wager she most likely was far into a zombie drunken stupor.

  “Guys.” Henry looked from left to right. “It’s not funny. It isn’t. I got sliced with a sword, knocked on my butt, my neck hurts and . . . I was knocked out.”

  Danny controlled his laughter for a second. “Let me get this right.” He took a breath. “They just left you there.”

  “Yes.”

  Hector laughed loudly. “And the best part is no one found him for an hour.”

  “I have a concussion, you know.” Henry pointed to his head. “Josephine, what do you think?”

  “I think . . .” She hiccupped. “It’s all Frank’s fault. I hate that fuckin Frank. Speaking of the beast.” She pointed up with her boney finger.

  “What?” Frank approached the table with Robbie and Hal beside him. “Why is she pointing at me?”

  “I always point at freak sightings,” Josephine said.

  “Ha-ha-ha,” Frank scoffed. “Why don’t you keep on sucking it down? I hope one day you drown in it.”

  “I hope . . .” Josephine sloppily stood up and moved to Frank. “I hope one day you get run over by that wagon you keep falling off.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Frank peered down to her. “I hope Dean left that splinter in your ass and it gets gangrene,”

  “Why don’t you do us all a favor, Frankie, and have another heart attack.”

  “How about this? How about I jump out at you and you have the heart . . .”

  “Frank.” Hal jumped between the pair. “What in God’s name is wrong with you? Have some respect.”

  “For who?” Frank asked.

  “This woman.”

  “It’s fuckin Josephine.”

  “She . . .” Hal caught Josephine creeping closer. “She is your elder. She . . .” Hal noticed the wrinkled face so close. “May I help you, ma’am?”

  “Christ Almighty.” She pointed at Hal. “Do you look like Joey Slagel or what? Spitting image.”

  “Yes, I do.” Hal nodded.