The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “I wish we knew,” Ellen said.

  In the silent moment of thought, not only did the alarm blare from downstairs but so did Christopher’s voice, screaming. “Alien! Alien!”

  In a rush to the door, Robbie flung it open and bolted down the stairs. In his flight to the dining room, he lifted his M-16.

  “Alien! Alien!”

  With the butt of the rifle against his hip, Robbie pumped the chamber as he peered over Christopher’s shoulder to the monitor.

  Ellen entered the dining room, out of breath,. “What’s going on?”

  “Alien! Alien!”

  “There’s one.” Robbie moved from the monitors. “No need to worry.” He set down the M-16.

  “Why?” Ellen asked

  “The cheat path?” Robbie quizzed as he moved to the front door. “The minuscule window that has no warning time from alarm to beam?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They found it. They walked right through. It would be like finding a needle in a haystack or extremely lucky to do that accidentally. They had to know.” Robbie grabbed the front door handle. “If my timing calculations are correct.” He opened the door, then after looking out, he looked at Ellen with a wide grin.

  Curious, with her arms folded to her to block out the cold, Ellen stepped into the foyer. “What?”

  Robbie stepped back while opening the door wider.

  Elliott walked in. “I was, uh, in the neighborhood.” He set down his things. “Care for company?”

  ^^^^

  After a glance at Johnny, who looked as if he could drown in the soup he stared at, George returned to Steward. “So I told Boyens to watch his back. Doyle is a true defector and is using him to pinpoint him as a true spy.”

  “I agree,” Steward commented.

  “Now, back to ‘It’.” George questioned. “Do you think they dug in?”

  “Yes,” Steward replied. “They have to be hiding. Sir, there is no way ‘It’ made it to Beginnings yet. Boyens would have said something.”

  “Boyens, doesn’t know ‘It’,” George said.

  “True,” Steward commented. “However, come on. If ‘It’ shows up in Beginnings, everyone is going to know.”

  George bobbed his head. “You have a point. Do we still have search parties out there?”

  Bertha answered, “Yes. Both north and south, despite what Mr. Lange suggested. We don’t have many though.”

  Slowly George stood up. He rubbed his chin and gave another glance at Johnny.

  Steward had a suggestion. “We could put more troops out there in more of a circumference. However, adding any more would be noticeable. Any large movement can be considered an act of war. At this point in time, do we really want that?”

  Curiously, George looked at him. “Stew, we could crush them.”

  “Can we?” Steward asked.

  Before George scoffed in ridicule, he looked at Bertha. “We can, can’t we?”

  “Depends what route you want to take. If we want to drop a couple nukes, sure we’d take them out. Hand to hand and strict strategic? We’d pretty much have to send everything we have over there. Nukes are not the way to go. For the same reason our men, right now, are no match.”

  George lifted his hand. “I’m confused. We totally outnumber them.”

  “If I may,” Bertha stated. “Mr. Lang and I were discussing this.”

  George grumbled, “Thank you for letting me in on it.”

  Bertha continued, “They have something we don’t. A brotherhood.”

  “Christ,” George griped. “Of course it’s a brotherhood. It’s a goddamn Slagel State of the Union over there. But . . .” He calmed some. “You’re right. No longer are they a measly one hundred people behind a wall. With defectors and that new town they acquired, they’re pushing three thousand strong. And that’s three thousand with heart. We don’t have that here. We don’t have unity.”

  Steward agreed, “We need unity to stand strong against any overseas forces that try to get this land. You know that is going to happen. We feed. We have growth. We don’t have unity. We have nothing.”

  George nodded. “Any strong arm tactic we make on our own soil may defeat everything we try to convey to our forces. We can’t have that. We still have half a goddamn country to acquire, people and all. Trust me when I tell you, Beginnings is going to go after those people as well. We’ll be kidding ourselves if we think that they’re all going to settle and live happily ever after in the blooming state of Montana.” George paced some. “I don’t think for a second that pompous patriot Hal Slagel has stopped his so-called cavalry induced freedom fight.”

  Soft, dazed, and with shock, Johnny finally gazed up. “Uncle Hal? Uncle Hal is alive?”

  Quickly, George looked at Bertha then Steward. He cleared his throat. “Yes, your Uncle Hal is alive.”

  “Oh, my God.” Johnny wisped out. “What is this freedom fight?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” George waved him off. “Anyhow, back to what we were . . .”

  “I talked to my father today,” Johnny spoke in a monotone.

  A stunned silence hit George and he shot a stare at Johnny. “What?”

  “I . . .” Johnny set down his spoon. “I was waiting on Sgt. Callahan. Her phone rang. I answered it. It was my father. I’m sorry for answering your phone.” He looked Bertha. “It was ringing. He said something about seeing how I was and he hung up.

  “You’ll have that,” George said.

  “And he said something else.” Johnny exhaled, “You have to tell me if it’s true. He said . . . he implied that I shot him. Did I?”

  George hesitated. “Yes. Yes you did. On your escape. It wasn’t the first time you shot your father.”

  Johnny’s eyes widened.

  “However.” George ‘upped’ his voice. “It was the first time you shot your grandfather.”

  Barreled. Johnny’s whole body visually trembled.

  “Sir?” Bertha, with concern, hurried to Johnny. “Stew, get me something strong to drink. Son?”

  “I shot . . . I shot . . . I shot . . . my pap. Oh my God. Oh my God.” Johnny immediately began hyperventilating.

  “Calm down.” George rushed to him, took the shot of whiskey Steward handed to him, and gave it to Johnny. “Down this.”

  The small amount of liquid waved in the glass as Johnny brought it to his mouth,

  With his and over Johnny’s, George guided him to drink. “You’re grandfather is fine. He’s alive. It was only a flesh wound. I’m gonna guess that was probably an accident. No matter what, I don’t see you shooting your pap on purpose. Now your father, that’s a different story.”

  A gasp escaped Johnny after the whiskey made its way into him. He set down the glass. “I shot my father.” Seemingly in a fog, Johnny stared straight out. “What happened, George?” With a sad innocence, Johnny lifted his eyes. “What happened that it brought me to the point . . .” His voice cracked. “The point where I’d shoot my own father?”

  ^^^^

  With an almost exasperating whisper, Ellen closed her eyes and brought the paper to her lips. “Frank.” She kissed the letter, opened her eyes, and smile at Elliott. “Thank you. Thank you for this.”

  “You’re welcome for that.” They were alone in the kitchen. Elliott leaned into her and kissed her forehead. “I am very glad I brought a smile so genuine to your face.”

  “Please know it’s not just this.” Ellen held up the letter. “It’s everything. It’s you showing up out of the blue and joining us here for an evening. This is great, Elliott.”

  Awkwardly, Elliott smiled. “I do have a confession to make. The visit . . . it wasn’t my idea. I am not a rule breaker. As much as I wanted to come out earlier, especially on Christmas, I couldn’t. I was under orders from the Captain. But . . . but Frank, he’s been down. When he approached me yesterday and asked if I would run a message to you, I didn’t refuse. It was my excuse to see you. Frank cannot leave the walls. However, when his mo
od pummeled today . . .” Elliott shook his head. “It no longer was my excuse. It was duty. This visit now is for Frank.”

  “His letter doesn’t reflect a major problem.”

  “Just a major missing, maybe?” Elliott asked.

  “Yes.”

  “He has issues, Ellen,” Elliott stated. “We’ll discuss them further but for now, this letter is his secret to you.”

  “So no one knew about this?” Ellen asked.

  “No.”

  “If no one knew why did I get a letter from Hal and my father as well?”

  Elliott chuckled. “The Captain busted me leaving so I was forced to tell the truth. When I did, in order for him to keep his silence, I had to wait until he and his father wrote you a message as well. I was blackmailed. It’s a Slagel thing.”

  “Elliott.” Ellen softened her voice. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “When you get back, can you watch Frank for me? Even at a distance. Watch him. He’s drinking again. I’m worried.”

  “Shall I let Dr. Hayes know this?”

  Ellen thought about it. “If you think Dean should know, let him know. Play it by ear but do this for me.”

  “Without a doubt.’

  Excitedly, Ellen placed the letter in her pocket. “I’m glad you’re staying for a while. I can respond to these and hear you sing. Speaking of which . . . let’s head back in the living room. Christopher is enjoying you.” Ellen started to walk.

  “Speaking of which.” Elliott took hold of her arm. “Two things.”

  “What are they?” Ellen asked.

  “One. Why does that man call me the God of Hispanic Crooners?”

  “Um . . . Robbie gave you that name.”

  “I see.” Elliott nodded. “Secondly.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “He has no skin.”

  “Oh, sure he does. You just can’t see it.”

  “He is heading to Beginnings?” Elliott asked.

  “Yes, but don’t say anything about the skin thing. He’ll show up covered in black. He has orders to go directly to Frank.”

  “Ellen, do you not think that might be a grand shock?”

  “Yes.” Ellen grinned. “That’s the whole point so don’t blow it.” She took a step and stopped. “Oh, about the time when Chris unmasked himself to Frank, wouldn’t you love to be a fly on the wall?”

  Before giving him a chance to respond, Ellen had moved on from the kitchen. After a second of thought, Elliot chuckled. If he could choose a time to be a fly on the wall, Frank’s first viewing of Christopher would definitely top his list of moments.

  ^^^^

  The first of his two drink limit was poured from the bottle and glazed over the ice in the glass which perched upon the bar at the Social Hall. Frank didn’t bother capping the bottle. He knew he’d have another after he finished the one before him.

  The Hall was empty. It was after hours and Frank was on his break. He sat down on the stool. His elbows rested on the bar, his hands gripped the drink, and he looked down into the alcohol. He contemplated of how fast or slow he would consume that drink, not if he should.

  Eyes lost in a hypnotic stare of the ‘liquid’ reflection, Frank heard the odd opening and closing of the Social Hall door. He didn’t bother to look. He didn’t need to. The voice spoke up immediately upon entrance.

  “I thought someone was in here,” Jenny said, upbeat.

  Frank didn’t bother to turn around and his eyes stayed down.

  “I’m glad I couldn’t sleep.” She scuffled about the Social Hall. “I had that foot reading thing today and I know . . . whew!” She giggled. “I knew I left my fuzzy slippers here somewhere. Ah . . .” She sighed out. “Now I can sleep. I couldn’t sleep until I had them in my possession, you know.”

  Frank said nothing.

  “I thought I should look in the morning,” Jenny rambled, “but as I laid there, I kept wondering what will I do when I get out of bed? I won’t have my fuzzy blue slippers to put on. That depressed me. It’s cold. My feet will ache on the cold floors.”

  Slowly Frank lifted the drink.

  “Not to mention I think my pinky toe has arthritis and the cold will most certainly not help that.”

  Just as Frank brought the glass to his lips, he felt a firm grasp on his wrist. His eyes shifted to Jenny who stood right next to him.

  Firm, yet compassionate, she locked eyes on him. “Don’t. OK?” She released his wrist. “Oh, Frank, I know. I do. How you are handling everything is beyond me. There is so much pummeling your life right now that even the strongest of us would be weak. But not you. Not you.”

  “Jenny.”

  “No, listen to me. More than anyone, I understand you wanting this drink. More than anyone, you deserve this drink, but could you wait until after you’re done working? I feel safe with you watching us, Frank, but I’d sure as heck would feel a lot safer knowing you didn’t have that drink in you.”

  Frank swallowed. “You’re right.” He set down the glass. “You’re . . . you’re absolutely right.” Slowly, he stood up. “Jenny.” He looked at her with a nod. “Thanks.” Turning, Frank picked up his coat and began to leave.

  Jenny smiled. “You’re welcome. Frank? Did you want to talk about it?”

  “Nah, but thank you anyhow.” Still down and not feeling any better, Frank left the Social Hall, but he left it sober.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  January 3rd

  “So you understand, Jess?” Joe asked as they sat in his office.

  “Yes.” Jess nodded.

  “You’ll make the phone call today,” Joe stated factually. “It has to be done. Give us six months. We’re not asking for a lifetime.”

  “I completely understand.”

  A fast, double knock rang out from Joe’s office door and before an invitation ‘come in’ was given, the door opened and Danny Hoi peeked inside. “You wanted to see me, Joe?”

  “Yes, Danny, come in.” Joe stood up. “Jess, I’ll see you later this afternoon.”

  Jess extended his hand to Joe. “Thanks.”

  After waiting for Jess to leave, Joe sat back down. “Sorry to get you up here in the middle of your morning rush.”

  “That’s OK. What’s up?” Danny asked.

  “The counter. The one you gave Frank.”

  “What about it?”

  “Is it accurate?” Joe questioned.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Does it matter who mans it?”

  Danny snickered. ‘No. Why?”

  “Well, Frank got a count this morning and it varied from the one he and Dean received the last time they went out.”

  “OK.” Danny nodded.

  “Well, my point is, Dean’s a scientist. Frank, well, he has problems sometimes with one plus one. Dean didn’t go with Frank today.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Danny shook his head. “It’s a scanner. It reads like our trackers. If Frank can read a number, Frank has an accurate count. What’s going on?”

  “The weather held us back from going out for a few days,” Joe said with concern. “We had a drop in numbers from that Savage camp.”

  “Did Frank spot them on the surveillance?” Danny asked.

  “Nope.” Joe shook his head. “He even went west. Nothing. So I thought Frank counted wrong but if that’s not the case, and the counter is accurate, then the camp is definitely missing some Savages. And the question would be, if they aren’t there . . . where are they?”

  ^^^^

  “Oh, yeah.” Frank grinned “Ouch.” With a grunt, he reached to his arm and snapped the arrow off just at the head. Holding what was left of the weapon, he readied himself and when the Savage charged forth, Frank seared the remaining arrow into him, neck first. Releasing an enjoyable ‘ha’, Frank lifted the Savage and ejected him over his shoulder.

  Next.

  Ignoring the pleas of Security asking if he needed assistance, Frank continued in his fight. With another swing of his body
and lift of his M-16, a sick smile hit Frank in the shower of blood that sprayed from the bodies he pummeled with the automatic weapon.

  Four went down.

  The rustle of leaves caught his attention, but he didn’t think much about it until he realized how far he had backed up into the killer baby region.

  Thinking, ‘oh fuck’ but being secure in the fact he could outrun any ensuing attack of small predators, Frank concentrated on the remaining three Savages he knew were in that field.

  They were there. He could smell them. The sound of flesh being devoured wasn’t predominant and a Savage lunch wasn’t being had by the nearby small predators.

  “Where. Where.” Frank readied his weapon as he stood at a complete standstill. The blood from the arrow head stopped dripping down his arm. “Where?’

  War call.

  Frank shifted a view to his left and up from the weeds lunged the Savage, but his leap was in vain. Mid jump, right behind him, flew a barrage of killer babies. Ready to chuckle out an ‘enjoy’, Frank felt the pelting of weight to his back. Reaching behind, he grabbed a handful of hair, snapped the Savage forward and bracing to snap his neck, Frank decided against it. The weight of the Savage was nil and with ease, Frank lifted him then tossed him out to where he knew the killer babies lurked.

  Turning, he knew the third had to be there. And he was.

  Waiting and ready, the Savage appeared too confident in his ensuring battle with Frank. Lifting his rifle, he just wanting to end it but Frank didn’t get a chance. Surprising even him, the four killer babies grabbed the Savage from behind.

  The horrendous screams of agony lasted only briefly, then they were followed with the upward ejection of flesh.

  “Fuck,” Frank grunted out. They weren’t supposed to be there. The killer babies weren’t supposed to be in that direction.