He looked to his left and saw the waving fields. To his right there were even more. Frank couldn’t run backwards because that was heading directly to the heart of the killer baby region. The cracking of the frozen foliage rang out more and figuring he would just charge forward, Frank leaped.
He heard the growl and saw the blur. He knew what was coming and turned.
Another growl. Another blur and to his right, he pivoted.
He was encircled by a cloud of moving skin as it rose up from the icy fields it. They were all around him and they came fast. There was only one way to go and that was ‘up’. Just as Frank was going to do his best jump yet, they arrived.
There were at least twenty of them. With unison hungry growls, they lunged that final leap to him. With their blood laced jaws, they reeked of rotten flesh. They made it within an inch of Frank before they . . . stopped.
Frank could smell their breath, see their eyes, and sense their fangs a second before every killer baby fell to the ground around him in a praising mode and began to gurgle out what Frank believed could only be a Journey song.
“Oh,” Frank spoke and looked around in awe as more killer babies joined. With his hand on his hip, he nodded. “Oh, yeah, I’m their God.”
^^^^
“You what!” Joe blasted as he stepped from the Jeep with Frank in the field perimeter just before the killer baby region.
“I can’t kill them anymore.”
“What do you mean you can’t kill them?” Joe yelled. “They’re goddamn killer babies, Frank.”
“But Dad, they’re my friends.”
“Dear God,” Joe cringed. “You need to get that arm stitched.”
“I will. After.”
“After what?”
“Down the perimeter,” Frank spoke into the headset.
“Frank? What are you doing?” Joe asked.
“Watch.” Frank pushed open the gate. “But stay here. I don’t think they like you. Not that they told me. I don’t understand their language but I will.”
“Frank!” Joe watched Frank, confident and without a weapon ready, head straight to the field.
“Watch!” Frank called out. “Hello! I’m back.”
Joe mumbled, “I’m watching all right.” He pulled out his revolver. “I’m watching my son turn into fast-food.” It the midst of shifting the chamber on his gun, Joe saw Frank stop, and then he saw the movement. “Oh, my God. Frank! Get out of there!”
In a ‘don’t be silly’ fashion, Frank lifted his hand in a wave to his father.
It was like nothing he had ever witnessed. Joe’s heart dropped when he watched the complete blur of the oncoming attack lift up and shoot Frank’s way. “Frank!” Joe aimed, but it was in vain. The blur disappeared. Murmuring out a puzzled, ‘what?’ in his curiosity of what happened, he saw Frank turn around. In his arm he held a killer baby. “I’ll be goddamned.” He lowered his revolver and replaced it. By the time Joe looked back up, many more had engulfed a grinning Frank. Some sat on his shoulders and other fought to be in his arms. If Joe wasn’t mistaken, he swore they were singing.
The vision before Joe was one he had seen many times in his Catholic upbringing. Many times in pieces of religious art, the image of a loving St. Francis was encumbered with animals. Perhaps it was a demented comparison but in Joe’s eyes, Frank appeared the same way at that moment. It had a sort of peaceful effect. How fitting, Joe thought. St. Francis was the patron saint of animals and Frank, in his own way, was living up to his namesake.
^^^^
Should he had done that?
Robbie sat on the side of the bed in his room. His hand covered his eyes, his was head down, and water from his wet hair dripped across his fingers. His mind was not far from the events that transpired a half an hour before hand.
Perhaps as time passed in the day he would forget but at that second, that moment, he couldn’t think of anything else, not even the pain in his leg where he took that spear.
It was an inbred habit to take a demented moment to look and Robbie did as the second wave of Savages flew through the ‘upped’ fry beams.
Limbs and blood were tossed about and just as he smiled, forgetting that so many had made it onto the property, a Savage leaped off from the porch and onto his back.
Robbie went down. His body weight was sufficient in a struggle to regain his footing, but the Savage was joined by another, and both of them bracing him from behind opened Robbie up to the spear from the third. The spear that would have killed Robbie had Elliott Ryder not fired out at the right moment.
The bullet hit the Savage just as the spear released. It sailed at a bad angle and landed in Robbie’s thigh. Then Elliott took out the ones that had him.
From that second forward, it didn’t matter how many Savages Robbie had taken out prior to that instant in the fight. It didn’t matter how many he stopped from getting Elliott. Right then, when he dropped from the spear, Robbie dropped in self-worth.
And the worthless stayed with him even after he was stitched and showered.
“Hey.” Elliott knocked on the door then opened it.
Robbie cleared his throat and stood up. “Hey, Elliott.” He reached for his tee-shirt.
“How’s the leg?”
“Good.” Robbie put on his shirt then ran his fingers through is hair to straighten it.
“You OK?” Elliott asked.
“Fine.” Robbie nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Did I miss lunch?”
A chuckle escaped Elliott. “No.”
“So, um, what’s up?”
“I’m taking off.” Elliott gave a backwards point of his thumb. “Gonna drop Chris off at Jordan so he can do the Ellen plan of heading to Beginnings unexpected and alone.”
“Then you’ll be back?” Robbie asked.
“Um, no,” Elliott responded. “I’m going home.”
“You are?”
Elliott laughed. “You seem surprised.”
“I am.” Robbie walked to him. “Look, Elliott. What about . . . what about staying.”
‘What?”
“No, I’m serious. Stay.”
“For how long.”
“For the duration of the month,” Robbie stated.
Again, Elliott laughed “I’m sure the Captain would love that.”
“Hal will live.”
The smile left Elliott’s face. “You’re . . . you’re serious.”
“Dead serious.” Robbie turned from Elliott and walked across the bedroom, keeping his back to him.
“Where is this coming from?”
Robbie softly released a chuckle as he stood by the window looking out. “I guess El didn’t tell you. She was probably was waiting for me to do it but she wants you to stay here, Elliott. She wants to use this time with you.”
“As much as my ego would love to believe that . . . You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Turn around and face me,” Elliott said as he reached back and shut the door.
Slowly Robbie turned from the window.
“Robbie, what’s going on?”
Robbie exhaled, “You have to stay.”
“I cannot stay. I am needed at home.”
“You’re needed here.”
“No, I am not.” Elliott walked to him.
“Yes, you are.” Robbie moved to him. “Look at me.”
“What about you.”
“I can’t . . . I can’t do my job.”
“That injury is hardly debilitating.”
Robbie closed his eyes and gave a twitch of his head in a frustrated moment. He looked at Elliott. “My thigh is not what I’m talking about and you know it.”
“No, I don’t. What are you talking about?”
“Today. You saw what happened today. You were there.”
Elliott head went back and forth in confusion. “So.”
“So?” Robbie asked passionately. “You saw how many there were. You saw what happened to me. What . . . what would have happened ha
d you not been here.”
“You would have handled it.”
“I doubt it.”
“And that.” Elliott pointed with an edge at Robbie. “Is your problem. Doubt.”
“It isn’t doubt. It’s the truth.”
Elliott stared for a second. “I have to go.”
“You can’t.” Robbie raised his voice as Elliott opened the door. “You hear me? You can’t! If you walk out, if you leave, you are leaving Ellen vulnerable because I can’t protect her!”
“Bullshit!” Elliott spun around. “Bullshit. Should my gut instincts doubt you then that would be reason for me to stay, but I refuse, refuse to stay because you doubt yourself. That isn’t good enough. This guilt . . .” Elliott’s hand flung out. “That you have decided to place on me . . .” He took a step to Robbie and whispered, “It isn’t good enough. You have the ability. What you faced today is nothing you haven’t defeated before nor is it something you won’t defeat again. Do you hear me?”
“Elliott.” Robbie’s head dropped.
“No, Robbie. No.” Elliott backed up. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t. Not once have I ever second guessed your protection over Ellen. Not once. Don’t allow me to leave here today worrying because you have decided you can’t handle things when they get rough.”
“I can’t.”
“Since when?”
Robbie charged. “Since I lost my arm!”
“And you want to depend on me, right now, to do what you can’t do?”
“Yes.”
“All the more reason for me to leave.”
Robbie shuddered. “What?”
“You have it. You have this . . . this skill,” Elliott spoke emotionally. “You and your brothers all have it. It’s in you. You’re born with it. What some men wouldn’t give to have that internal instinct to protect and fight and emerge victorious. To be nothing less than a hero every single time. Let me tell you what it is like from an outsider’s point of view . . . It’s amazing. It is amazing to watch all three of you. And if you doubt your ability, even just a little, then you are passing up the perfect opportunity to regain every faith in yourself and to prove to yourself, mind and heart, that the rest of you is more than your arm alone ever was. If you need a crutch to stand on., if you need a crutch to give you confidence, then let this . . .” Elliott held out his hand in a point to the room. “Let this be your crutch. Let Ellen’s dependence on you be what you need to make you strong. I promise you that you can do this. The second you are needed, you will instinctively emerge into what you and your brothers naturally become. At the end of the next fighting moment, the next protective stance you take, you will again be that hero. I promise you, at that moment, you will need a crutch no more.”
Robbie wanted to speak. Elliott’s eyes locked dead on him with a strong look upon his face. Robbie wanted to say something, ‘thank you’, anything, even tell Elliott, ‘hell of a speech’ but he couldn’t. Ellen’s wisping, ‘Oh, Elliott’, stole the moment. The serious tension was broken and Robbie slightly snorted a laugh.
With his jaw tense and eyes even wider, Elliott turned around in shock to see Ellen standing in the open doorway.
“Oh, Elliott.” Ellen laid her hand on her chest. “That was beautiful.”
“Yeah, Elliott.” Robbie winked. “Beautiful.”
Almost embarrassed, Elliott closed his eyes and shook his head. “I must go.” He returned to looking at Robbie. “Instruct me to go.”
Robbie gave an upward motion of his head. “Go.”
Ellen smiled at Robbie and kept her stare on him. “Elliott, I’ll walk you out.” She turned and moved through the door.
“Elliott,” Robbie called. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“One more thing.” Robbie waited for Elliott to stop. “This . . . this me being down on myself . . . are you gonna tell my father and brothers?”
“Robbie.” Elliott stood in the doorway. “I admire all of you Slagels beyond belief. Believe it or not, at times I wish I were one of you. So with that on mind, you better believe, in typical Slagel fashion . . .” Elliott smiled. “I’m telling.”
^^^^
George rubbed the corner of his eyes and held the phone to his ear in Bertha’s office. “It doesn’t matter what the rumor is. They’ll shoot you. Get out of there. Did you make another connection to us?”
“Yes,” Jess answered. “I’ll tell you all about it when I get there but I have to get out. I’m on Robbie’s phone now and I know they’re looking for me.”
“Goddamn Doyle. I told you not to trust him.”
“He was convincing.”
“Get to Duluth. We’ll get you to Quantico from there. Can you get to Duluth?”
“Yes. I have had that Jeep hidden since you made the suggestion.”
“Then go. Go now. We’ll work this out. Give me an hour,” George said.
“Thank you.”
Exhaling, George hung up there phone.
Steward looked at him. “Was he caught?”
“Yes.” George nodded. “And we cannot afford to have another traitor shot. Whether Jess Boyens has one sheet of paper to give us or a shit load, Johnny arrived with nothing.”
“Jess has more than that,” Steward stated. “Doesn’t he? You knew they were on his coattails. You knew he would have to get out of there soon. That is why you set up his post here in Quantico for a while and that is why you never pushed him for information. If you took a chance to keep a phone call going, then you took a chance of him getting caught. If that happened, the most valuable information would never get passed to you.”
George nodded. “Beverly.”
“Bev.” Steward drew a breath through his nostrils. “I’ll get on the phone, get our people in Duluth ready for his arrival, and finalize things here. How long will he be in Quantico?”
“Not long. A man of his skills is needed,” George commented. “After proving himself, I’ll probably give him Callahan’s position down south.”
Bertha, who had sat quietly, widened her eyes when she spoke up. “But, sir sending him down south would . . .”
“Callahan, please,” George scoffed. “He works for us. He was trained to work for us. He’s a valuable man with valuable skills. Trust me when I tell you we need him in our training phases. Now we have to get him.” George took a couple of pacing steps. “We need to occupy Joe’s mind. We need something so they don’t notice Jess slipping out or go after him.”
“A diversion?” Steward asked.
“Yes,” George answered.
As Bertha nodded her agreement she noticed Johnny approach the open door and raise his hand to knock. “Yes?” she spoke to Johnny.
“Hey.” Placing his hands in his pockets, Johnny stepped inside. “George, I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“What is it?” George asked.
“I have a favor. You can say no.” Johnny’s voice took on a wave of nervousness. “I need to do something.” He closed his eyes. “I have to. Can . . . Can I call my grandfather, please?”
At first George wanted to blast out, ‘no!’, but he didn’t. Seeing how Johnny wasn’t really looking at any of them, George stole the opportunity to glance at Steward with a smile and whisper the words, ‘diversion found.’
^^^^
The last of the ten papers ejected from the printer in the clinic lab. Dean took them and tapped them on the counter to group them neatly. “OK, El . . . I mean . . .” He cringed as he turned around. “Misha, I’m sorry.”
“No,” she said mildly. “That is quite all right, Dean. I understand.”
“Thanks.” Dean walked to the counter and handed her the stack. “Here you go. I’d say this is homework. Get to know these results to look at. Up top . . .” Dean pointed in an explaining mode as he stood right next to her. “It tells you what type of test was run.”
“All these figures.” Confused, Misha looked through the papers.
“Don’t worry about the numbers. That�
��s my department. Separating them is yours. We get a lot of blood tests, especially this time of year. It’s cold and flu season so you have people coming into the clinic left and right, many who will ask to be tested for the plague.”
Quickly Misha glanced at Dean.
“Yep.” Dean nodded then shrugged. “Go figure. Every once and a while Jason thinks he’s cute and marks the blood work ‘test for plague’. If you see that, it will be with three tubes of blood. When people want to be tested for the plague, we run a standard CBC or complete blood count which is its proper name. White blood cell, red blood cell, leukocytes and so forth.”
“There are lots of code names to learn.”
“Yes. You learned yesterday to separate different types of samples. Now today you have to work on breaking down the requisitions for different types of test on those . . .”
Frank’s deep voice interrupted, “Dean.”
Dean turned around. “The stranger.”
Frank slightly rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He lifted his arm. “There was a Savage attack. I have an arrow head in my arm like a fuckin splinter. Can you get it out?”
Almost uncomfortable, Dean shifted his eyes to Misha. “Frank can you . . . Can you watch your language?”
“What?” Frank barked a scoffing laugh.
Misha lifted her arm. “It is all right.”
“Can you, Dean?” Frank asked.
Dean walked over to Frank. He peered at the wound in examination.
Frank’s eyes stayed on Misha who followed Dean.
“It’s not too deep,” Dean commented. “However I’m kind of busy. Andrea and Jason are in the clinic.”
“Figures,” Frank grumbled.
Misha looked from the wound to Frank. “It appears to not have been cleansed. I could clean that while you wait to be attended.” She reached for his arm.
Frank pulled back. “No,” he said firmly. “No, I’d rather not have you touch me. You or any woman for that matter.”
Politely, Misha smiled. “I understand.”
“Frank,” Dean scolded. “Why are you being like that?”
“Like what?” Frank asked.
“Really rude to her.”
“Fuck you, Dean. I’m not being rude.”
The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20 Page 269