The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Yes,” Hal answered.

  “What month is it?”

  “December.”

  “Hold off until January or February. I’m sure you are handling things well enough you don’t need my input. Now . . .” Joe leaned back. “Jess Boyens. Something needs to move on this. He’s gonna have to go back to the Society soon. Update me.”

  Hal did. “Elliott’s been handling the last round of calls. Elliott?”

  “I handled the last three,” Elliott said. “We’re still having Jess cover his ass by not giving old information only new. Secondly, we don’t know what Johnny has told him or hasn’t. I can’t believe we’ve not heard anything about Bev’s death.”

  Joe nodded. “George can’t possibly know about that. Are we still sticking to the fact that Jess didn’t say a thing because he assumed George knew.”

  “Yes,” Elliott replied. “It’s been fortunate to us that the community isn’t fully aware of why Jess was detained. No one but Danny knew Sgt. Doyle fingered Jess. Jess has told George that Doyle isn’t a true defector. However, George doesn’t buy it and keeps warning Jess to watch his ass.”

  A pleased look hit Joe. “That works in our favor for when Jess tells George he has to book from Beginnings. Now even though we don’t have a good reason or time to send him back, I still think, just in case something pops up and he has to go, we should start prepping Jess ASAP. Hal?”

  “I agree,” Hal nodded. “Elliott, what about this evening. I can’t leave New Bowman. Do you think you can make time to talk to Jess?”

  “No,” Elliot answered. ‘It is my evening off.”

  “So,” Hal said.

  “So, I am looking forward to this evening off.”

  “What in God’s name for?” Hal asked.

  “To enjoy the evening off.”

  Hal grumbled, “Fine. What about first thing tomorrow morning?”

  Elliott inhaled with debate. “I’m sorry.” He exhaled out. “I can’t. I’m off tomorrow.”

  “I suppose you want to enjoy that as well?” Hal questioned.

  “Yes. It’s the first day off I have had in a while.”

  “But you have this evening off,” Hal stated. “And you have tomorrow off too. Father.” He looked at Joe. “I must apologize for the sudden rush of laziness in my men.”

  “Hal,” Joe had a soft edge. “The man wants a day off. You’ll have that.”

  “No I will not,” Hal argued. “Elliott, I understand this sudden need to be . . . lax, but it’s a simple meeting, I am sure you can find time.”

  “I can’t.” Elliott lifted his hands.

  “Why?” Hal asked.

  “Hal,” Joe interrupted. “Enough. Let the man have a day off.”

  Elliott spoke with some nervousness. “Captain, I wouldn’t be so adamant about it but I made plans.”

  “Plans?” Hal asked. “For tonight and tomorrow? What sort of plans?”

  “Hal!” Joe yelled. “Leave him alone. It’s none of your business.”

  “I beg to differ. Plans?” Hal looked at Elliott. “What are you up to, Elliott?”

  A knock at the door was Elliott’s saving grace.

  “Come in,” Joe called out.

  The door opened and in walked Frank. “Dad.”

  “Hey, Frank,” Joe spoke. “We’re a little busy right now. Is this important?”

  “Very.” Frank shut the door and walked close to his father’s desk. “Very. I have to say this now. If I don’t, I won’t and I may never say it. So just let me say it. OK?”

  Hal would have made comment about Frank’s inability to speak functionally, however there was just something so nervous and so down about his brother that no matter how much Hal wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to pull out a snide remark. He sat up with attention.

  “Go on.” Joe nodded. He, too, noticed Frank’s demeanor.

  Frank ran his hand over his hair and across his face then exhaled. “Before you say anything, I’m asking that you let me finish. OK?” Frank waited until he received agreement from Joe. “All right. Since I got out of the clinic, I have broken the trust of this community. I’ve broken rules. More than once, on a regular basis, I shut down the Communications Center tracking system and called the Society to check on Johnny. Now . . . knowing what I did.” Frank lifted his hand. “And knowing that it is wrong, I know what I have to do. I am . . . I am resigning from not only my head of Security position, but Security all together in Beginnings.” He looked at the silent faces that stared in shock. “So here are my keys.” Frank laid them on Joe’s desk. “My headset.” He removed it from his head, laid it down, and then reached to his belt. “The headset receiver.” He placed that down as well. “Walkie-talkie.” Down that went. “Revolver.” Frank slid it from the harness then, speaking as he did so, started pulling things left and right from his person. “Hunting knife. Dean-ami mini grenades. Four clips. Handcuffs, and . . .” Frank placed his boot on Joe’s desk, lifted his pant leg, and took off the small caliber pistol strapped to his leg. He dropped that on Joe’s desk top. “Mini-me gun.”

  “Anything else?” Joe asked sarcastically.

  “Um . . .” Frank felt himself. “Just my carrots.” He pulled them out and set them down as well.

  “Good lord, Frank.” Hal looked upon the stuff in a pile. “Would you like to add any pocket change to that as well?”

  “Hal, there is no change in Beginnings.” Frank shook his head in disbelief.

  “First,” Joe spoke up. “You will take all of this stuff, including you carrots and little snack cakes . . . and whatever else shit you dumped on my desk and take it all back. I will not let you resign. Got that.”

  “But, Dad, I broke rules,” Frank argued. “Rules that I was able to break because I’m trusted.”

  ‘True.” Joe leaned back in his chair. “Yes, you broke rules but I understand why. Johnny’s your son. He was shot. It only goes to figure you would check on him. I can’t blame you and I won’t say anything. Now, I do need something from you.”

  “What’s that?” Frank asked.

  “You said you’ve been doing this since you got out of the clinic? Tell me Frank, why now? Why all of the sudden are you making a confession?”

  “Because one I feel bad and two, I have vital information that has to get out.”

  “And that is?” Joe asked.

  Frank let out a breath. “Every time I called, I got the same response. Johnny is making progress which told me he was in bad shape. The transvestite implied he was in the hospital. That explains why there hasn’t been any Society retaliation for Bev. Well . . . progress has been made. Shit can happen now. Today . . . Johnny answered the phone.”

  In a sudden movement, Joe looked at Hal. “Well I guess we got the sign and time we were looking for. If Johnny’s alive and well we need Jess Boyens over there more than ever.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Frank’s strong words were repeated more times than needed, ‘I fuckin hate you’ rang through Elliott’s mind along with Frank’s final salutation of, ‘I owe you, though. Thanks’, while Elliott placed the envelope in the small backpack and secured it closed. He reached to the back of his sofa and grabbed his coat. After placing on his longer black leather jacket, he lifted an M-16 and tossed it over his shoulder. He secured the backpack on his other shoulder and en-route to the front door, he lifted his guitar case.

  Glancing a ‘once more’ around his living room, Elliott opened up his front door and stepped onto the porch.

  “A-Ha!” Hal shouted, jumping out from behind Elliott just as he was about to step off the porch.

  Elliott almost lost his footing but did a smooth turn around and smiled at Hal. “Evening, Captain.”

  “Uh-ha.” Hal nodded and walked slowly around Elliott. “You have plans?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see.” With one arm draped across his waist, Hal tapped his index finger on his chin as he observed Elliott. “Guitar. Backpack. Matrix coat . . .” Hal
leaned in with a sniff. “Cologne.” He took a few more steps around him and touched Elliott’s head. “Not only do you have the gel on your hair to tame those unruly, near pubic curly head hairs, you . . .” Hal reached out and opened Elliott’s coat. “. . . have that black seduction shirt on.”

  Elliott laughed in ridicule. “Seduction shirt?”

  “Yes. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were going on a date.” Hal tapped the back pack. “An overnighter, perhaps?”

  “Captain . . .”

  “Is there a new gentlemen in town that you haven’t told me about?”

  “Captain,” Elliott scolded.

  “What, uh, are these so-called plans, Elliott?” Hal asked.

  “They’re of personal matters, sir, and I am not at liberty to say.”

  “I see.” Hal calmly nodded. “Then try this. Tell me what your plans are, Elliott.” Hal grinned. “And that’s an order.”

  ^^^^

  Not that there was only one short man in town, Frank knew better. He knew many men were short. Actually, to Frank, most men in Beginnings were short so maybe he was mistaken. It couldn’t have been Dean he caught glimpse of walking with the girl, Misha through the living section. After all, not only did the man walk quickly and briskly, but Frank was sure Dean had kid-duty. He had to be home.

  Frank was pulling what he called an ‘all’. Day, evening and night. Savage surveillance had been postponed so tracking duty had to be increased in case of trouble. Frank was shorthanded with Robbie gone and Sgt. Ryder taking the day off. He not only had to check perimeters and tracking but Frank had to be available to cover. After all, cold and flu season had begun and it was taking its toll early.

  Frank was tired. He caught an hour’s sleep in his office and was grateful for that but his mood was far from the best. Edgy and irritable, he was bound and determined to not let the trick he hoped his eyes played on him in seeing Dean, to worsen his mood anymore.

  He gave him the benefit of a doubt. It was just after dinner, actually bath time. Where else would Dean be but with the kids?

  It was peculiarly quiet when Frank opened the front door. The living room was dim. The light was on, but the kitchen light was off. No dishes remained on the table. In fact, the house was clean. “Hello?” he called out as he closed the door and looked at his watch. It was still early, barely past eight-thirty. At that second Frank wondered if everyone went to his father’s for dinner.

  Hoping that wasn’t the case, because he only had a moment to eat and see the kids, he walked into the kitchen. A casserole dish was on the stove and Frank lifted the lid. “Dean,” he spoke to himself. “What is this?” He sniffed it. “It smells like Hector food. Whoa.” Frank reached in and took a piece of meat,. “He’s getting creative. Good job.”

  With a snicker, Josh called out from the kitchen doorway. “Dad. Who are you talking to?’

  “Myself, but directed at Dean.” Frank turned around. “This is good. Where are Alex, Billy, and Joey?”

  “They’re in bed.”

  “Bed?” Frank looked again at his watch, tapped it, and then listened. He hurried and looked at the stove. “What about their baths?”

  “Done.”

  “Done?” Frank smiled. “Thanks, Josh.”

  Josh snickered. “It wasn’t me.”

  Impressed, Frank nodded. “Dean’s finally getting on the ball. Where is he? Is he in bed too?”

  “No. He’s walking Misha to . . .”

  “What?” Frank’s voice raised. “Misha? Misha was here?”

  “Yeah. Like, Hector had that warmer break at the greenhouse and Henry had to fix it, so she . . .”

  “Came here? Was she here all evening?”

  “Yeah,” Josh nodded with a teenage snicker. “You didn’t think Dean cooked and did the bed thing, did you?”

  “Misha?” Frank asked with edge. “Let me get this straight. She was here all evening. She cooked, cleaned, and bathed my kids?”

  Nonchalantly, Josh nodded. “A-hmm.”

  “Fuck.” Frank shook his head in disgust and moved from the kitchen.

  “Dad, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he graveled and reached for the door. Just as he did, it opened and Dean walked in.

  “Oh, hey Frank,” Dean spoke. “Did you get to . . .” Abruptly Dean was knocked back a step when Frank raged by him and out the door. After the hard slam, Dean looked at Josh. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Dean looked back at the just slammed door. It didn’t seem like ‘nothing’ to him, but after deducting it probably was an emergency of some kind, Dean shrugged it off and removed his jacket.

  ^^^^

  The whisper of a knock on the bedroom door made Ellen chuckle. She was sitting Indian-style on the bed, with papers sprawled around her and glanced up, as Robbie peeked his head in. “You’re up?”

  Ellen chuckled. “It’s early. Why would I be sleeping?”

  “I haven’t heard from you.” Robbie stepped inside.

  “I’m sorry.” Ellen lifted the papers. “I got really caught up in this.”

  “What are you doing?” Robbie asked then moved to the bed and sat on the side.

  “Christopher’s assessment. It’s largely theory based but Dean and I go nuts on theories. That’s what I’ve been doing, going nuts.”

  “It seems like a lot.”

  “Well, OK, granted I went a little overboard.” Ellen gathered the papers. “But I wanted to make sure Dean had my opinion before he continued. Also, it would help him eliminate some of the thought process he would have to do if I didn’t do this. Does that make sense?”

  Robbie nodded then shook his head.

  Ellen smiled. “All right. See.” She glanced down to her notes. “I have the Christopher story written here then I give my interpretation, or rather theories. Using the large body of God’s tears, we went west to the coast. Which . . . made perfect sense. Remember he was telling us after God had saved them and led them from the catacombs of death?”

  “Yes.”

  “OK. He and his friend went topside when he was seventeen. He said he was in a place that was a girl’s forest.”

  “Did you find the forest on the map?”

  “I tried. I’m looking. I’m looking and . . .” Ellen pulled forth the map and pointed with her index finger.

  “Hollywood. Holly . . . wood.”

  “Exactly, which . . . explains the close proximity walk.”

  “Through the tunnels and sewer system for three days,” Robbie said. “So you think they live in LA?”

  “Yes. Many of those buildings have sublevels underground that connect from building to building, which would explain how their civilization expanded some.”

  “And they lived underground all those years. Is that the explanation for the skin factor?”

  “No, I have that figured out,” Ellen responded. “Remember Chris told us of the false prophet who led them to the Walls of Salvation when the world was dying? He described seeing these cement walls. He said they were large tubes above the ground and they went into the buildings below.”

  “A nuclear power plant.”

  “Exactly,” Ellen nodded. “The power went down and the core cooled, but the radiation was at a constant leaking level which would manipulate their genes. The radiation would also burn off their skin. Dean’s gonna have to come up with why the offspring are translucent as well. OK, so then here’s my theory on God.”

  “Go on.” Robbie got comfortable on the bed.

  “Chris said that God arrived and the false prophet wouldn’t let him in. Chris said they were all very ill and God fought the prophet, defeated him, led them from the combs, and then healed them. God . . . . is a doctor and he kept them underground, not as some sort of sick dementia on his part, but as a precaution because God knew the elements would kill these people without the protective layer of epithelial.”

  “Not to put a hole in your story but there
has to be a sick dementia. He’s calling himself God and you’ve heard Chris talk.”

  “Yes, well, after a few years the leadership went to his head.” Ellen shrugged. “Speaking of Chris, where is he?”

  “He’s watching the tracking system for me,” Robbie answered, “so I could come see what was up with you. I see you’ve been busy.”

  “It’s fun. I got caught up.”

  “It’s a lot of work.”

  “It’ll help Dean.”

  “And here I thought you were just getting tired of me.” Robbie smiled.

  “Who me? Never. No, I needed to work. Something is going on.”

  “What do you mean?” Robbie asked, looking at her oddly.

  Ellen exhaled and ran her had through her hair. “This is gonna sound insane, but something is happening with Frank. It’s nothing bad but he’s reaching out. He’s placing a call to me. He’s really down, and I can feel it.”

  Robbie stared at her for a second.

  “You think I’m nuts.”

  Slowly, Robbie stood from the bed.

  “Robbie? What is it?”

  With his back to her and his hand on his hip, Robbie spoke in a daze, “It’s amazing.”

  “What is?”

  “Even way out here, this far from home, you’re sensing him.”

  “I may be off.”

  Robbie shook his head and faced her. “No way. No . . . way. If you say he’s down, he is. Now, I’m just a little worried for him. Frank’s not been Frank.”

  “I know. His mood has been different. With all that happened with Johnny and . . .”

  “He’s drinking again, El,” Robbie injected.

  “He had an incident where he had a drink and . . .”

  “No,” Robbie nearly moaned out the word. “He’s . . . he’s drinking regularly again.”

  “How regularly, Robbie?” Ellen asked as she stood from the bed and walked to him.

  Deeply through his nostrils, Robbie drew a thinking breath. “From what I’m hearing, everyday.”

  Ellen’s eyes closed.

  “He hasn’t owned up to it with me,” Robbie said. “I asked him. He’s lying about it but with all that was happening, OK, I understood the weakness. Johnny. My Dad. But now with you sensing something is wrong, what if he goes back over that edge? Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe you’re only sensing his missing you.”