The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Whoops,” Dwight commented. “I think he fell.”

  Robbie’s laughter carried through. “Man that was funny!”

  “Oh!” Hal said loudly, “You aren’t hurt. Get up, shake it off, and try again.”

  Feeling the tension rise up her neck, Ellen shuddered. “Anyhow . . .” she sang the word loudly. “As I was saying about Rob, I mean, Dwight.”

  “Yes.” Dwight stepped closer. “Hey, did I say you were pretty?”

  “Yes,” Ellen answered him then returned to Jess.

  “Real pretty?” Dwight asked. “You are.”

  Ellen’s mouth opened then shut in politeness before she yelled. “Thank you. So, Jess. . .”

  ”Can I have you?” Dwight asked.

  “No,” Ellen replied. “Jess, I know you and Robbie are just . . .”

  “Please?” Dwight interrupted.

  Jess laughed.

  “No,” Ellen told him.

  “Then can I just hug you?”

  Ellen turned to face him. “I don’t think so.”

  Jess saw Dwight inching to her, the large man over shadowing her small frame. Holding back his laugh, Jess stepped forward. “Look, big guy. She’s married. Back up. Go to the Skills Room. OK?”

  Almost like a frightened child, Dwight nodded. “All right.” Pouting, he turned back around. “I’ll go sing. I just thought she was pretty, that’s all.”

  After watching him walk from view and looking up to the loud banging, Ellen returned to Jess again. “He’s tall. How big?”

  “My guess around six four,” Jess answered.

  “What did he do pre-plague?”

  Shouting from the Skills Room, Dwight answered. “I was a fireman. Helmet number AX8.”

  Ellen blinked several times. “Something is not right about a man remembering his helmet number. Anyhow, now that we have silence.”

  BANG.

  “Sort of,” Ellen continued. “I need to go over a few things if you’re gonna be helping Richie and Robbie in Containment while I’m gone.”

  “I’m not,” Jess said.

  “Where are they putting you? Security?”

  “No.” Jess shook his head. “I want to go. I . . . I want to leave Beginnings with you.”

  “You can’t.” Ellen folded her arms.

  “Why? I can watch out for you, help you, and I think I’m the perfect person to go.”

  “Jess, everyone thinks . . .”

  BANG. BUZZ.

  “God!” Ellen exclaimed, then watched the security door open and Dean waltz in.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer,” Jess whispered, then turned to see Dean. “Hey, Dean.”

  “Jess.” Dean kept his pace, pausing once at the noise above his head. “El, I think I made matters worse with Frank.”

  “Unless you’ve given him fuckin wings, Dean, I don’t think you can make matters worse.” Ellen folded her arms tighter to her body and fluttered her eyes in irritation.

  “El, I’m serious,” Dean said. “I told Frank. He wasn’t mad. In fact, he, Hal, and Robbie . . .” He stopped when he heard the voices. “Are they . . . chanting?”

  The loud unison voices of Hal and Robbie called out, “Frank. Frank. Frank. Frank.”

  Jess tugged his ear. “I believe they are.”

  “Why?”Dean asked. “What is Frank doing?”

  Ellen answered. “Jumping.”

  “Jumping?” Dean quizzed. “From?”

  Jess interjected the response, “From the bakery roof to here.”

  “What?” Dean laughed. “That a good thirty feet. He won’t even hit the roof.”

  Upon finishing that sentiment, the loudest of crashes screamed out with a thunderous blast on the roof. Making them all jump back in the hall was the loud ‘bang’ that not only brought down the de-hinged hatch from the roof, but the ‘uh’ from Frank with his sailing body that careened down to the floor at their feet.

  Ellen looked down at Frank. “No, Dean, he didn’t hit the roof. He went through it.”

  With a ‘whoa’ and a cat twitch of his head, Frank stumbled to a stand and peered up. “Talk about hitting the target dead on. Wow.”

  “Frank?” Dean questioned as he watched Frank brush off. “Are you all right? You could have been killed.”

  “Nah,” Frank scoffed. “But, Dean, if I was it would be no problem.” Frank winked. “Thanks to you, I’m a jackrabbit now and I have nine lives. Man, that was fun.” He walked backwards down the hall. “Hey, El, could you keep everyone clear from here just in case, you know, I fall through again.”

  Ellen nodded in normalcy. “Oh, sure, Frank. You go on.”

  “Thanks” Smiling and giving a thumbs up, Frank hurried from Containment.

  With her mouth swishing from side to side, Ellen calmly turned around and started to walk away. “Frank’s a jackrabbit with nine lives . . .” she whistled. “And they call my people insane. OK.” After singing out the last word and slurring it into a whistle of a happy tune, Ellen waltzed into the sanity of the Skills Room with the drunken former firefighter, AX8.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Former Quantico Marine Headquarters

  The walk was slanted with arrogance and the arms were held outward because they failed to be able to reach the body’s sides through the brawn. The stride was slow, almost too slow, and deliberate. The streets were quiet in Quantico City and the winter’s moon was too bright. No snow had fallen yet and that was always a bonus.

  Bertha felt a twitch of nervousness in her left forearm muscles as her arm brushed against the arm of President Hadley in their stroll. How much she wanted to sigh like the female that screamed inside of her. She wanted to sigh out, comment on how crisp, cool, and clear the night was, and reach down to take George’s hand.

  But she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. Perhaps it was the romantic that was embedded within the estrogen she knew she produced.

  “Sometimes,” George said as they walked through the town portion toward the special houses area. “Sometimes, when it’s quiet like this and the men aren’t being drunks, you can hear a hint of music carry through the air. Sometimes, it’s just the right kind.” He placed his hands behind his back, slowing his walk even more.

  “The . . . the right kind, sir?”

  “Yes. It could be rock and roll, country, or whatever, but the right kind of song just hits ya. Ever have that, Callahan?”

  “Well, sir, I’ve always felt a stir myself when I listened to the Village People.”

  “Macho Man?”

  “It’s my favorite song.” Bertha smiled.

  “It’s you.”

  With a blush, Bertha lowered her head. “Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome. This is nice.”

  “I was gonna say that, the evening air and all.”

  “I was referring to the walk.” George stopped. “It is a great prelude to where we are going. I appreciate you going to ‘Its’ House.”

  “Call it a protective instinct, but I don’t mind going to ‘Its’ house with you. ‘It’ is very frightening.”

  George shuddered. “True, but this walk with you is nice. I enjoyed it. It’s been a rough couple of days.”

  “Your son is making progress though,” Bertha stated. “They said the brain digression should be temporary.”

  “What did you tell Frank Slagel?”

  “That young Johnny is coming along.”

  “Good.” George started to walk again. “You know, Bertha, it’s been a few days and I wanted to do it again, but with Johnny and his health.” George cleared his throat. “That evening we had with the dinner, chess, and talking. I haven’t spent an evening like that in a while.”

  Was it a flutter in her stomach she felt? Whatever it was caused her breath to shiver. “I enjoyed it, too.”

  “It’s been forever since I spent quality time with a woman.” They edged the end of town, “When you’re married or involved with someone special, there’s more to a relations
hip than the physical aspect. Now don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed a good ‘bump and go’, but I always enjoyed the companionship more.”

  “Same here, sir.”

  “Now granted, there’s Stew. He hangs and talks but he’s Stew. And when he returns I’m busting his ass for staying at Disney World for so long.”

  “He needed a vacation, sir. Perhaps you may not want to be too harsh on him.”

  “It’s a goddamn apocalyptic world. No one takes vacations.”

  “Maybe it’s time to start,” Bertha suggested. “You, yourself might need a nice one in a quiet secluded place.”

  “I might need protection.” George raised an eyebrow.

  “I’d be happy to go along.”

  George hid his smile. “Anyhow as I was saying, you were a sense of companionship the other night like I hadn’t had in a while. You’re wildly competitive, a hell of a cook, and you share a doozy of a story.”

  “And yourself, sir. I chuckled for hours over that one tale of how you handled that Middle Eastern leader. You never finished the tale on how you ended the budding military confrontation. ”

  “Well, it was easy,” George said humbled. “I scared the hell out of him. He didn’t expect me, myself, to attend peace talks. I flew my ass right over that table, grabbed that cocksucker by his tyrant military uniform collar, and said to him, ‘Look you son of a bitch. Withdraw those goddamn troops. Back them up now or I’m kicking your ass right here. It’s you and me, pal.’ He was shaking, but he withdrew. The entire U.S. just thought we hashed it out verbally.”

  “I liked how you proposed getting into a boxing ring with him.”

  “It worked with that one guerilla leader. Hey, I can’t expect our boys to fight, if I can’t fight myself.”

  Bertha shivered. “You’re such a strong man. I always admired your roughness.”

  “It’s a gift.” George tilted his head and stopped walking again. “You’ll join me again for dinner, right?”

  “Anytime.”

  “But now . . .” George whistled. “It.” He pointed to the house.

  Her voice held her newly alerted concern. “Where are my guards, sir?” Bertha rushed to the door.

  “Probably devoured by It.” George raced in behind her.

  Upon bursting in the door, with a feeling of bad stirring in her gut, Bertha withdrew her revolver. Pumping the chamber and holding it ready, she charged into the quaint living room.

  She didn’t know what to expect, but she knew expecting the worst wouldn’t be in the wrong direction. She aimed her gun left to right with her eyes peeled as she checked out the clean living room with one table lamp.

  “It!” George called out when he walked in. “It!”

  “Something is not right.”

  “Maybe It is sleeping?” George questioned. “And the guards just went home.”

  “No, sir. My guard are twenty-four hours. I have to check upstairs.”

  “You don’t think ‘It’ killed them do you.”

  “Possibility.” Bertha softly headed to the stairs.

  “Hold it,” Georg called out, his eyes transfixed.

  “What is it?”

  “Christ.” George rubbed his eyes as he lifted the sheet of paper. His heavy grumbling breath rang out.

  “A note.” Bertha walked up behind him. “What does it say, sir?’

  After inhaling, George read it. “Asshole, I always resented how you chose my destiny. I never made any bones about hating it. I fought, struggled, and caused dismay for a long time but I also planned. My minimal devastation and disruption is finished here. I’m off to where I not only can be of value, but can aid in causing even more devastation to you and your so-called Society. To the feeling of Freedom and the cause that calls me, I head to Beginnings. Signed, (As you refer to me) It. PS: Thanks for the eight soldiers. They were and will be a great help.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Bertha flew to the front door. “Sir, I’m on this. I will start an immediate investigation as to where and when It went, but in the meantime, I’ll alert our outside forces to keep an eye out.”

  “We at least know which direction they are heading. We just don’t know which route.”

  “Will find them.” Bertha opened the door. “I apologize, sir. I cannot believe that eight of our men helped It escape.” She flew out the door.

  “Oh, I believe it.” George mumbled to himself. “What I can’t believe is that It went to Beginnings.” George closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. “This is not good.”

  ^^^^

  Andrea’s mood was pretty upbeat, despite the fact that she hadn’t left the clinic all day. Cold and flu season was upon them and she had to wonder what happened to the days when people didn’t run to the hospital every time they sniffled.

  She supposed there was ‘just cause’ for the hysteria every time a bug went around. After all, aside from Dean and his little experiments, the residents of Beginnings did see two extinction-causing plagues in their lifetime.

  Tired and wishing she had more help in the clinic, Andrea headed down the main corridor to go home. She knew had she not been switching the words to ‘What a Friend We Have in Jesus’ and singing her own rendition of ‘What a Futomara We Have in Jesus,’ she would had lost her cool when she walked by Dean’s lab.

  “Dean?” she called out in the bright lab.

  No answer.

  “Sweet Jesus, does he think the electricity is cheap? Hard working men keep the power up, Dean.” Shaking her head with a mother scold look, she walked over to his computer, “He left it all booted up.” She reached for the mouse. “When will that boy . . .” Andrea froze upon glancing at the information on the screen. “No.” She stood up, then with a shift of her eyes, she noticed the thick stack of papers on his desk. With a quick ruffle through the stack, a confirmation hit her along with outrage. In keeping up with the current trend in Beginnings, Andrea stormed off ‘to tell’.

  ^^^^

  “Christ, Elliot,” Hal grumbled as he flicked on the light to his office. “Do you never have a moment where work is not foremost?”

  “Captain, this is important. I’ve been busy.”

  “So have I.” Hal walked over toward his desk. “I have been running three communities, plus I’ve not had the ample opportunity to work on my society strategy.”

  “You’ll be even busier in a few days,” Elliott said. “That is why I must push this talk. We haven’t had it. Ellen’s ousting is schedule to begin less than a week.”

  “Yes, I know this.”

  “There are things to prepare.”

  “Yes, I know.” Hal nodded.

  “There are arrangements to be made, or shall I say rearrangements of UWA men who could take over responsibilities, that will be lacking.”

  “Yes, I know this.,” Hal stated more perturbed. “And you’ve come up with these men.”

  “Yes. Now, number one. To take my position here in New Bowman . . .”

  “Wait.” Hal held up his hand. “Where will you be?”

  “With Ellen.”

  Hal laughed. “No. Correction. I’ll be with Ellen. I’m leaving with her.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir. But I’ll be going with Ellen.”

  “You hate her.”

  “I do not,” Elliott defended. “We mended ways.”

  “That doesn’t matter. I feel I’m the better man to go.”

  “I’ll argue with that.” Elliott gave a firm nod. “I also am in a pseudo sort of relationship with her.”

  “Well, I happen to be like a brother to her.” Hal tossed up his hands. “My father prefers me to go.”

  “Really. Well . . .” Elliott stepped closer to Hal. “Dr. Hayes himself asked me to be the one to go.”

  “He did not.”

  “He did too.”

  “When.”

  “A week ago.”

  “No way,” Hal scoffed.

  “I’m afraid he did.”

  “Swear to God.”

 
Elliot lifted his right hand. “I swear.”

  “Damn it.” Hal blinked. “Does Frank know?”

  “No, I don’t believe he knows.”

  “Then guess what?”

  “What’s that?” Elliott asked.

  Hal grinned. “I’m telling.”

  ^^^^

  “What, Andrea? What?” Joe, feeling pulled, complained as Andrea led him into the clinic lab.

  “You have to see this.”

  “I don’t give a shit about what Dean does in here, at least not right now.”

  “You’ll care about this.”

  “I highly doubt that. I care about my fake drink at the Social Hall.”

  “Look.” Andrea pointed to Dean’s desk.

  “What? You’re showing me how much a mess Dean’s desk is?”

  “No, Joe. I’m showing you how much a mess Beginnings is gonna be in.” She handed Joe a stack of papers. “And you as leader better do something now.”

  ^^^^

  “So I don’t get it.” Richie Martin dropped what would be his lunch for his shift on Ellen’s desk in Containment “How did you end up getting the day shift around here?”

  “I’ve been in Beginnings longer,” Jess replied.

  “Yeah, but . . .” Richie plopped down in Ellen’s chair. “We all know about you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why you were in here. At least I do. You were here to be a living resident observer. You were being detained.”

  “Yeah, but no one is supposed to know that.”

  Richie shrugged. “But I do. So knowing what I know, how are you trusted more than me to get the day shift?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be trusted?” Jess asked.

  “You are Mr. I Spy Society guy.”

  “Yeah, so. You were Mr. Society Errand Boy,” Jess rebuked. “But you won’t have to worry about it for long.”

  “True.”

  “I mean, you’ll have the day shift.”

  “I won’t be around,” Richie said.

  “Where are you going?” Jess asked. “Because I won’t be around.”

  “I’m going with Ellen.”