“El, please.” Robbie chuckled. “It’s one person.” Taking another look at his doll, Robbie smiled and walked straight through the living, into the foyer and flung open the door.
The snow and cold air blasted him and a fierce storm blazed about making it nearly impossible for him to see. Robbie took a firm stand, raised the weapon, and zoomed straight out. The whistling of the wind was loud and visibility was virtually nil. A few feet from the porch was the clear path of scope he had. He would have to be quick with his shot. He wouldn’t have much time.
Just as he barely heard Ellen call out ‘they’re in’, Robbie saw him. Had he not been wearing all black, he wouldn’t have been visible. Still aiming, Robbie watched the thin built man make his way to the house.
He carried a heavy duffle that was black as well and his face was covered with a tight black hood.
“Stop!” Robbie called out. “Stop right where you are or I’ll shoot.”
“I don’t have a gun!” he called back and raised his hands. “Please, I’m cold.”
The voice sounded young to Robbie and the closer the man drew, the frame of his body told Robbie he was indeed young.
“I’m just cold.” He made his approach to the porch and exhaled when he saw Robbie. “Yellow.”
“Ex . . . excuse me?” Robbie asked, confused.
“You have hair. It is yellow.”
“Um, blonde. It’s called blonde.” Robbie lowered his weapon.
“I’ve traveled far. I’m looking for Beginnings.”
“You’re close,” Robbie replied. “We’re from Beginnings.”
“Praise. Oh, praise. I am . . .”
Just about the point when Robbie hit a piqued curiosity over the word ‘praise’, he spun in confusion when the young man dropped to his knees and bowed to the ground.
“What’s going on?” Ellen asked as she stood in the doorway.
“This is fucked up,” Robbie replied. “He’s looking for Beginnings. I think you scared him.”
“Me?” Ellen asked shocked as she looked down to the huddled man on her porch. “Robbie, get him inside. It’s cold out here.”
Robbie shrugged. “All right. Hey, you, get up. Don’t be scared of her.”
“I am not scared,” he replied. “I am just not worthy to look upon her.”
Ellen grinned. “Oh, I like him.”
Robbie laughed. “Funny. Come on, guy.” He reached down to the young man. “Come on in. It’s cold.”
Slowly he stood up. “My name is Christopher.” As he spoke, his words were semi muffled through the black hood. “Are you sure you’ll have me in your home?”
“Yes,” Robbie nodded. “It’s a blizzard out there.”
Ellen stepped back as Christopher walked inside with so much trepidation. She watched him stay back and set down his bags.
The closing of the door brought an immediate silence. Robbie shucked a chill. “So you’re looking for Beginnings, huh?’
“Yes. I have been searching forever. I got lost, but I am close now.”
Robbie moved the bags out of the way. “Why don’t you remove some of those wet clothes? I have to check you for weapons.”
“I have no weapons. We don’t believe in weapons and violence.” Christopher took off the long black coat he wore. Under it were still more black garments, a turtleneck and pants. He kept on his gloves and hood.
Robbie took his coat and hung it over the railing of the stairs. “We have coffee. Do you want some?” he asked as he led Christopher into the living room. “El, get him some coffee.”
“Coffee?” Christopher asked. “What is that?”
“This.” Ellen hurried, picked up her mug and returned. “Coffee. Smell it.”
Christopher took a whiff. “I know what that is now. You call it coffee? Yes. It is the drink of God.”
A slow upward nod accompanied Ellen shift of her eyes to Robbie as she spoke through her smile. “Won’t he do well with us in Containment?”
“You bet.” Robbie grinned.
Christopher gasped. “Your teeth are so white and perfect. Like God.”
“Yeah.” Robbie nodded. “That’s because I’m God-like.”
“Robbie.” Ellen shook her head.
“You are,” Christopher agreed. “Yet, you have an imperfection,” he indicated to Robbie’s missing arm,. “I bet you will get one right back.”
“Yep. It’s due back in a few weeks.”
“Ah. Praise.”
“Praise.” Robbie laid his hand on Christopher’s back. “This way. Why don’t you take off your gloves and ski mask? You’ll warm up easier.”
“I cannot.” Christopher shook his head as he stood in the living room with Robbie and Ellen.
“Why?” Robbie asked.
“It isn’t right. You are from Beginnings. How dare I show my face?”
Robbie snickered. “Are you ugly?” He grunted when Ellen hit him in the gut.
“I am considered very attractive amongst my people but compared to you, I look very, very different. I am sure, being what you are, you know my race.”
Robbie had no clue what he was talking about but gave a fling of his hand with a nod. “Oh, sure we do. We’re from Beginnings. Feel confident. We’re used to anything.”
“Yes,” Ellen said as she folded her arms.. “Trust us, Christopher. Show your face. It won’t bother us. There’s nothing we haven’t seen.”
“Very well.” Christopher removed his gloves.
At that instant, Robbie knew something was strongly amiss when he saw Christopher’s hands. He thought at first it was the lighting making them appear that way, however the moment he removed his hood, Robbie knew the truth. No amount of lighting would cause what he witnessed.
They were good about it, both Robbie and Ellen. They never flinched, not even a millisecond when they both should have jumped back, screamed, and shouted, ‘what the hell’. But they didn’t. They looked upon Christopher calmly and they smiled very welcoming at him, despite the fact that they could see every muscle, vein, and corpuscle in his face and hands through what appeared to be translucent skin.
After a semi-awkward silent moment, Robbie gave an upbeat single clap of his hands. “Ok! I’ll get that coffee. You have a seat by the fire. I’ll be right back.” He received what he could only guess was a relieved look from Christopher. He whispered to Ellen as he passed her, ‘All right, this is a new one’. Robbie smiled once more and left the living room.
^^^^
Retroactive payback perhaps? George had to wonder. A few months earlier the father faked amnesia when George needed him to have it. Now the son had amnesia when George wished to God he didn’t. The recent bout with meningitis and trauma spewed Johnny into a mental state that was labeled temporary. George wondered for how long.
But there was a positive. Johnny was out of the hospital and sitting with George and Stewart at the dinner table. Johnny looked so sad as he stared down at his plate, not knowing what to say. George could only watch him and wish he could help the young man who looked so lost.
Johnny had lost a few years but not many and not completely. He knew George. He knew of his and George’s connection and a part of him, deep inside, understood why he was there. The reasons were lost and buried. Johnny couldn’t remember George ever leaving Beginnings, let alone himself.
After looking at Stewart, who fiddled with a roll, George reached out with a pat to Johnny’s hand. “It’ll be OK. Don’t try so hard. In fact, don’t even try to remember. It’ll all come back. I promise.”
Johnny only nodded. “It’s Christmas, George. What happened? Why am I here? Something happened, right?”
“Right, but the doctors said I can’t tell you.”
Johnny’s head dropped again. “I miss my grandfather. Christmas is his holiday. Can you at least tell me if he’s all right?”
“He’s fine, Johnny. Joe’s fine.”
“Does he hate me, George?” Johnny looked up. He gave a slight painful twi
tch of his head. “If I’m here, I left Beginnings. I know that. I never wanted my grandfather to hate me. Does he hate me, George?”
“No,” George answered solemnly. “I don’t believe Joe Slagel could ever hate you.”
Johnny gave a partial smile then suddenly his eyes widened when the kitchen door opened and Bertha, wearing a flowered dress and apron, walked in carrying a huge platter with a turkey on it.
Bertha set down the platter. “Sorry I haven’t been out since you got here, son. I’m Bertha.”
Johnny, still dazed in his stare at her, only nodded.
George whistled. “Hell of a job, Callahan, on this bird. Hell of a job. Now sit down and join us.”
“Thank you, sir.” Bertha pulled out a seat across from Johnny and Stewart. She flashed a smile, trying to make the boy feel at home.
Stewart noticed Johnny’s locked stare of Bertha so he leaned into him with a whisper. “Frightening sight, isn’t it? She’s the Twilight Zone Donna Reed.”
Johnny smiled.
George snapped with a point. “That’s what I want to see. A smile.” He stood up with the carving knife and planted himself before the turkey. For a second he took in the faces at the table and he exhaled in delight in the diversity at the Christmas table.
^^^^^
Frank’s voice sounded more like the over-dub of a Japanese movie than anything else. “Watch out, Hal,” he spoke deeply. “I will take you.”
“Ha!” Hal sounded the exact same way. “Not if I get you first with my Kung Fu grip.”
An immediate growling between the two men occurred over the dining room table and they lunged their dolls at each other.
In his passing of the table, Joe stopped, looked down, and shook his head. “Christ.” He moved to the living room and paused again when he saw Dean on the couch with Billy. The Einstein lunch box was perched at his side. A shift of his eyes brought in the view of Henry and Joey in a strong tug of war with the long arms of Stretch Armstrong. “I’m in a goddamn retro Christmas nightmare.”
“Joe,” Andrea scolded in her passing. “Of all days can we not blaspheme?”
“Why? Andrea.” Joe followed her as she made it to the kitchen. “Look at everyone. Thank God Henry’s only here with his toy for a short visit. Is it weird or is it me?”
“It’s you.” Andrea opened the oven door and peeked at dinner.
“No, Andrea, it’s not.” Joe went to lean on the counter but was stopped. ‘What?” he asked as Andrea pulled him away.
“You’re blocking my view of my Diana Ross doll.”
Joe grumbled, “And you say it’s me. I’ll go in the other room and wait. Maybe I’ll talk to Elliott. I know he’s normal. He got a pocket watch.” Joe walked out and immediately to Elliott who stood watching everyone with a look of enjoyment on his face. “Having fun?” Joe asked him.
“Everyone is so funny,” Elliott answered, “Thank you for inviting me to your home.”
“Glad to have you, Elliott. It feels . . .” Joe took a deep breath. “It feels like Christmas. Hal is here. The little ones are running about and the smell of food is filling the house. The only thing missing is Ellen and Robbie.”
“I believe they are here in spirit.”
“Well.” Joe rocked from heel to toe. “Ellen certainly is with her gift giving.”
“Tell me, Mr. Slagel, what was Ellen like at Christmas time? Did she travel to your home?”
“No. Ellen had the biggest house, therefore she hosted Christmas Eve and Christmas. Hell, she hosted every holiday. I’d go up a few days ahead of time and the boys would come in with their families. It was always a big deal.”
“This has to be hard for you,” Elliott said. “Have you ever missed a Christmas with your children?”
“Every once and a while one of the boys would be overseas. You’ll have that with the service. But Ellen, yeah, this is hard because this is the first Christmas ever that I don’t have her around.” Joe hunched at the shrieks from Hal and Frank. “Sort of.”
“So Ellen had a lot of holiday spirit.”
Joe chuckled. “Ellen had a lot of money and credit and made it the holiday spirit. She loved giving gifts, like now. And she always give the most annoying and loud gifts, like now. Well, with the exception of that pocket watch she gave you.” No sooner did Joe say that, his head sprang up when the cartoon woodpecker’s loud laughter rang out along with the ‘Woody Woodpecker’ music. “What the hell?” Joe looked around.
Elliott pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s six o’clock.” He smiled and showed Joe the Woody watch.
“Swell.”
“Dad,” Frank’s deep voice spoke right behind Joe.
Joe hesitated before turning around. Something about the slight inquisitiveness in Frank’s tone made Joe not want to see what he wanted, but it was Christmas. Calmly, Joe turned. “Yes, Frank.”
“Tell Hal to give me back Steve Austin’s arm.”
“Christ Almighty.” Joe looked behind Frank to Hal. “You’re goddamn grown men so act it! Hal, give him back the arm.”
Hal snidely walked to Frank and handed him the toy limb. “Grow up.”
“I told you I was telling.” Frank popped the arm back on the doll. “This is my special gift, too.”
“That’s because you’re special, Frank,” Hal stated.
“Hal,” Joe grumbled.
“Finally.” Frank smiled, pleased at the doll, and placed it in the front pocket of his tee shirt. “All these years of waiting and Santa finally brought it.”
Elliott, who was taking a drink at that moment, choked.
Hal laughed.
Joe closed his eyes. “Frank, don’t walk around saying that. OK?”
“Why?” Frank asked.
“Why do you think, Frank?” Joe snapped.
“Dad, wouldn’t it be ungrateful of me if I didn’t give credit where credit was due?”
“To Santa?” Joe asked.
“Yeah. he gave it to me,” Frank said.
“Frank!” Joe snapped. “Santa didn’t give you that doll. You know better.”
“If Santa didn’t give it, then why did it say from Santa? Huh?” Frank raised an eyebrow.
“How old are you?” Joe questioned with edge.
“Um, uh, thirty.” Frank nodded.
“Thirty my ass.” Joe shook his head. “You’re forty, Frank. Forty goddamn years old and you’re still believing in Santa.”
“Yea,.” Frank replied.
“Frank!” Joe yelled. “You can’t run around believing in Santa at your age. It took long enough the first time to break you from that habit.”
Frank gasped, “No wonder I never got my Bionic Man doll. Last night I believed again and this morning I got it so what does that tell you?”
“It doesn’t tell me there’s a Santa,” Joe argued.
“Dad!” Frank barked. “Don’t even tell me you’re gonna say there isn’t a Santa.”
“That’s . . . that’s . . .” Joe shifted his eyes around to the immediate silent room and the children that suddenly looked at him.
“Dad?” Frank asked. “Are you saying there is no Santa?”
On the spot, and Joe knew it. Tiny questioning faces of children watched and waited. “No, Frank. I’m not saying that. There is a Santa.”
Frank smiled and walked away.
The arrogant chuckle was more on a whisper’s level as Hal walked by Joe with a pat to his father’s back. “Way to encourage him. You’ve no one to blame but yourself.”
^^^^
Jenny Matoose could have pretty much verbally snapped off and mentally annihilated Henry over the looks of disgust he tossed at her at the dinner table. As she savored her Brussels sprouts she envisioned watching Henry weep, then stomp like a child and storm upstairs. Jenny could have done that but she chose not to. It was Christmas dinner. Instead, after a few bites of the soft green roughage, she smiled a food covered toothy smile, and enjoy the little gags that emerged.
It
was last one. Slowly, Jenny placed it in her mouth and chewed with an enjoyable ‘hmm.’
Henry’s mouth dropped open. “God,” he whispered then received a warning nudge from Hector.
Exhaling, Jenny wiped her mouth. “Hector, in all my years in Beginnings, I have to say they were the best Brussels sprouts ever. So tender and tasty.”
“Thank you.” Hector smiled. “The harvest for them was good.”
“Delicious. Thank you for having John and I over.” Jenny rubbed her stomach. “I’m stuffed. I ate so many of those sprouts. I know I’ll get gas, but it’ll be worth it.”
Henry’s vocal sound of disgust brought immediate looks from everyone.
Misha smiled politely. “Dinner was lovely, Hector. I am grateful to you and Henry for having me as well.”
Hector reached over and laid his hand on Misha’s. “It was our pleasure.”
“I love it here in Beginnings. I just love it.” Misha glanced at John who sat in his UWA uniform. “Private Matoose, do you find it difficult not being home?”
“I find it difficult being away from my wife,” John replied, “but not so much Beginnings. Home is where Jenny is.”
Jenny let out an ‘ah’ about the same time Henry released yet another sound of disgust.
Misha thought Henry was just being amusing, not serious. “Do you and Jenny plan to live in New Bowman?”
“No.” John shook his head. “I wouldn’t mind it, but not when you have children.”
“You have children?” Misha questioned.
“One.” Jenny lifted her finger. “But she’s frozen right now. Dean plans to bring her out of the process as soon as he knows it is foolproof.”
Misha blinked, confused. “Dean?”
“Dr. Hayes,” Jenny explained.
“Yes.” Misha nodded in understanding. “He’s a very brilliant man.”
“He’s a borderline pedophile.” Jenny wisped out.
“Jenny.” John had a slight scold. “Stop that.”
“John, I’m not convinced,” Jenny stated.
Hector saw the confusion on Misha’s face. “Rumors floated around awhile back. It’s fine,” he told her. “Don’t worry about it. I live here and I can’t figure it out.”
The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20 Page 264