Frank looked at the one guard. “Can you believe the way he talks to me? And I’m his older brother.”
Robbie just watched them take Ellen toward a clearing where a group of Society soldiers circled and all he kept thinking was, ‘where is Hal?’
“Down,” Sgt. Barnes ordered Ellen. He made her keep her hands on her head as she dropped to her knees. “Corporal, take care of this.”
“Frank.” She lifted her eyes. Her entire body shuddered and tensed when she heard the footsteps near her. “Frank,” she whispered out again then closed her eyes when she felt the hard metal of the revolver press to the side of her head.
“Do it,” Sgt. Barnes ordered.
It was Ellen’s final moment and her final thoughts. Everything seemed in slow motion and the ‘click’ of the revolver hammer rang too loud in her ear. The firing of the weapon would be evident and just as Ellen prepared for the ‘bang’, she heard the unmistakable . . . whoosh.
She caught the noise in the midst of its life saving sound and looked up enough to see the upward motion of the sword. Warm blood shot out and sprayed upon her face as the arm that held the revolver dropped with a smoothness, straight to the ground.
The corporal’s horrendous scream ended quickly. Hal, in Society uniform, with one foot forward, shoved Ellen face first to the ground as he pivoted his body, swung again, and decapitated not only the corporal, but in the finish of a swing, took off the head of another soldier.
Down came the sword through the body of another and in the ending of that disembowelment, he lunged the sword forward into the throat of Sgt. Barnes. A second or two had only passed but it was enough time to cause panic. It was enough time for Hal to smile and enough time for him to reach to his belt, lift two small explosives, toss one a foot from him, and the other Frank and Robbie’s way.
Flash.
Flash.
Everyone’s reaction was the same. Immediate screams as the bright flashes of white light sizzled like enormous sparklers across the ground.
“Now!” Robbie charged out, revved back his elbow and hit his guard. He turned to the stunned man and with a kick, he knocked him to the ground, then reached down and grabbed his gun. Aiming as he stood up straight, Robbie saw Frank bracing his guard. “You got him?”
The snap of the man’s neck and the drop of his limp body was Frank’s answer.
Robbie could hear the confusion. “Let’s go.” He reached for Frank.
“I’m blind.” Frank ran with Robbie.
“I know.”
“Just lead me to the truck!”
Robbie did. Latching on to Frank’s arm, he ran the twenty feet distance to the truck. Robbie didn’t hesitate. He flung open the truck door, tossed in the revolver, and grabbed his M-16, along with another explosive device.
He watched for a moment as the smoke cleared and the zapping white began to subside. Then Robbie tossed out the explosive into the middle of the confusion. When he saw the emergence of Hal holding Ellen, Robbie began to fire into the blinded Society men who ran amuck.
Ellen screamed hysterically as Hal set her down before the open truck door. “I’m blind, Hal. I’m blind.”
“Get in.” Hal pushed her inside. “Robbie, let’s take off. Get us a good distance away. I’ll shoot from the back of the truck.”
“Got it.” Robbie shut the truck door.
Hal hurried to the back of the truck. He had barely climbed over the gate when the truck began to move. He aimed steadily on the racing Society soldiers, shooting in a spraying motion and doing well until the truck swerved drastically left to right. “What the hell!”
“Sorry,” Robbie yelled back. “Frank’s driving!”
“Frank!” Hal screamed as he tried to fire and hit something. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m blind!” Frank yelled from the driver’s seat.
Hal’s voice squealed as he screamed. “And . . . and you’re driving! What in God’s name . . .” Hal held on for dear life to stop from falling out of the truck as it zig-zagged some more. In a rush of anger, he spewed rapidly at Frank. “What the hell are you doing driving if you’re blind?”
“I don’t know!”
“Well stop the truck, you moron!” Hal blasted. “We’ll take them out from . . .” The hard jerk of the braking truck sent Hal backwards into the supplies. He shook off the fall and heard the truck door shut. “I’m killing him.” The immediate sound of gunfire sent Hal scurrying from the back of the truck. He shrieked when he saw Frank, standing right alongside Robbie, aiming and shooting. “What . . .”
“The force,” Frank said and shot.
Robbie aimed outward as well. “He’s hitting them, though. Look.” He indicated then shot.
Perturbed, Hal stood beside his brother and lifted his rifle. “How in God’s name is that possible? How can he be blind and still hit his targets?”
Robbie snickered. “He’s Frank.”
Frank smiled. “I am.”
With a pause in his firing and a curl of his lip, Hal swung a look at his brothers. “I hate you both.”
^^^^
“Tell me about this Danny Hoi person,” George asked of Henry. They sat alone in what looked like a cafeteria, two cups of coffee between them.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Come on, Henry.” George leaned back. “It’s you and me. We used to be friends.”
“You were never a friend, George.” Henry stared at him.
“Yeah, I was Henry.” George winked. “Can we just put aside the petty bullshit and talk? You’re not breaking any Beginnings rules of loyalty. Hey, if it isn’t military or Society government, I’ll answer any questions you have. Fair?”
After a moment of contemplation, Henry nodded. “Fair.”
“Danny Hoi. Who is he and why all of the sudden is he a man in power?”
“Danny Hoi.” The corner of Henry’s mouth raised and he shook his head as his finger outlined the rim off his coffee cup. “He’s a very intelligent man.”
“I see. So are you. So are a lot of other people in Beginnings.”
“He invents things.”
“So do you. So do a lot of other people in Beginnings.”
“Not . . .” Henry lifted his hand from the cup. “. . . like Danny Hoi. His intelligence with electronics surpasses anything I’ve ever seen.” Henry partially closed his eyes. “He can look at something once, just once, and know exactly how it’s built.”
“Again I am . . .”
“Don’t.” Henry shook his head.
“Henry, we wouldn’t have had a Beginnings if it wasn’t for you,” George said. “Really. You fixed everything even when it was said it couldn’t be fixed. You invented things to make life easier and brought things back better than before. You ran Mechanics and made sure everything ran smoothly in Beginnings.”
“I’m not Danny. Danny brought back . . . he brought back life.” Henry finally looked at a curious George (No pun intended to my readers). “We thrive not only with new things he has done, gadgets and toys from the past, but with life again. It’s a whole different world since you left George. In the eight months Danny has been there, things changed. Money is back.”
“You’re kidding? Joe is allowing that?” George asked.
“Oh, yeah. Under Joe rules, of course. Money still isn’t important. It just buys the extras, the things that aren’t necessities. People earn Danny Dollars . . .”
“Danny Dollars?” George chuckled.
“Yep. Danny invented the system and pay scale. It uses a little debit card so to speak. People thrive on earning their Danny dollars. They use them to buy things such as crafts, clothes that aren’t issued, and household decor. They go out to eat at restaurants . . .” Henry leaned into the table. “Bowl. Go to movies. Remember Starbucks?”
“Absolutely.”
“It’s back.”
George couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh my God. You’re lying.”
“Nope. If you d
id it in the old world, you can do it in the provinces of Beginnings.”
“And it took this Danny Hoi to do this?” George asked.
“Yep.”
“Henry, don’t you think, eventually, all these things would have come back? I, myself, am working on a viable monetary system. We, too, are in the process of regenerating life. Heck, we even have Disney World half way up and running.” George noticed Henry snickering. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s just that . . .” After a shake of his head, Henry snickered again. “It’s just that Frank, Hal, and Robbie said once they secure your side of the country, the first thing they are doing is getting Space Mountain up and running.”
“Figures,” George grumbled.
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Back to what I was saying. We, too, are bringing back old world life. The Society is changing.”
“The Society is a totalitarian society that hinders freedom.”
“Still.” George lifted a hand. “You’ll have that.”
“You want to rule the world.”
“You make me sound like something out of a movie. My point to you is these things will come back eventually. What makes Danny Hoi so special that he gets to be so high in command?”
“Danny has something about him. People love Danny. He’s got pizzazz and probably could have convinced the Pope to perform Easter Sunday Mass, in the Vatican, nude.”
“Is that an exaggeration?”
“Nope.”
“I have to get this guy on my side,” George said.
“My turn. My turn to ask.”
“Go on.”
“Johnny.” As soon as Henry said the name, he watched George’s face drop. “I watched you turn down his phone calls. I watched you get angry. I thought Johnny was your golden child. What’s going on?”
Inhaling in thought, George rubbed his chin. “I’m glad you asked me that, Henry.”
“You are?”
“Yeah, because you are the only person here, in fact the only person, I can talk to that probably can tell me what’s going on.”
“I don’t understand.”
George folded his hands on the table before them. “When Johnny was making his escape from Beginnings, he was shot. It was touch and go. We thought we were gonna lose him. However we didn’t. He pulled through but not without complications. Perhaps because of the field hospital environment, I don’t know. He came down with meningitis. Now, as a repercussion of the meningitis and trauma, it appears, appears mind you, that Johnny can’t seem to recall the last two years of his life.”
Henry sat back in the chair. “Amnesia.”
“Retrograde amnesia the doctors are calling it. His memory may or may not come back.”
“And?” Henry asked. “I’m not understanding what the problem is.”
“The problem is . . .” George let out a long breath.
“You think he’s faking it.” Henry stated. “Is he?”
“You tell me.”
“How?”
“By telling me his demeanor when he left Beginnings.”
“If you’re judging Johnny’s legitimacy by his Beginnings behavior . . .” Henry whistled. “Johnny was mean, downright nasty mean. He tried to kill Hal twice and beat up Ellen. He set it up to make it look like she was insane. He tried . . . I would appreciate you not smiling right now.”
“Sorry.” George wiped the smirk from his face.
“Anyhow. No, Johnny had turned his back on us. If he’s saying he has amnesia, he has it, George. I know what he pulled back home.”
“I know what I see and what I hear now. A little boy. He’s not a man but scared little boy.”
“If he’s faking what are you gonna do about it?” Henry asked.
“Kick his ass. I won’t put a bullet in his head if that’s what you’re wondering. Nah, I love the kid. I wouldn’t do that.”
“He’s not faking George. Demeanor and behavior aside, think about it. What does Johnny have to gain? Really, what does he have to gain by faking amnesia?”
“Ah.” George lifted a discovery finger and closed one eye. “The proverbial question. The same one everyone asks. Johnny is a Slagel. The blood in that family runs long, thick, and deep. There’s an instinctive connection between them. A bond. If one hurts, they all hurt sort of thing. I say the question shouldn’t be, ‘what does Johnny have to gain by faking amnesia’ but rather . . .” George slowly looked at Henry. “What does Johnny have to lose forever, if he doesn’t?”
^^^^
Carefully Dean measured, stooping down to check that the clear liquid did not surpass the marking lines on the two beakers. After assuring they were accurate, he lifted the beakers and carried them halfway across his lab then set them on the center counter before Joe.
Joe smiled. “Thanks, Dean.”
“No more though.” Dean pushed a beaker to Joe. “This should be enough so that it doesn’t disrupt any treatment you or Elliott get.”
“I appreciate it.” Joe poured the liquid from one of the beakers into a small glass. “Speaking of Elliott, what’s taking him so long?”
“Speaking of Elliott . . .” Dean pointed behind Joe.
Elliott walked in with an exhaustion sigh. He stopped, backed up to the door, removed his bandana, and re-entered the lab.
Joe grumbled a snicker with a shake of his head. “He has to be so official.”
“Always.” Elliott walked to the counter and pointed to one of the beakers. “For me?”
“Yes.” Dean answered. “Enjoy. In fact . . .” He lifted a bottle of moonshine. “After today, I’ll have one as well.”
“Dean.” Elliott brought the beaker to his nose and sniffed. “Thank you. It has been so long since I have had a drink and I certainly need one.” He took a sip, gasped a little, and smiled. “Especially since I just spoke to Henry.”
Joe lifted his glass. “That would do it. Now . . . tell me the wrap up.”
“Henry states that George is remaining relatively calm despite the total annihilation today,” Elliott explained. “But according to the Swahili speaking announcer, it wasn’t a total annihilation. Eight Society soldiers are still unaccounted for.”
“Eight?” Joe asked. “That’s an odd number.” After a shrug, he took a drink. “I wonder what happened to them?”
^^^^
“All clear.” Frank lifted the hatch from the floor of the dark abandoned building. “You can come out now.”
Coughing a little from the dust, Ellen crawled out. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” Helping her out, Frank nodded. “There were only eight. One started running, but we got him.” He slammed the hatch. “We had to hurry though. It was almost midnight.”
“This is insane, Frank.” Ellen dusted herself off. “I mean really insane.”
“It could be worse.” Pulling a couple of crates forward, Frank aided Ellen in sitting, then sat next to her.
“Worse?” How do you figure?”
“We could be dead.”
“I was almost dead,” Ellen griped. “I’m tired. We had a good day yesterday and then they found us. We ran all day today and most of this day I spent blind.”
“Me too.”
“Yeah, but you still did your thing.”
“True.” Frank shrugged.
“How much longer?” Ellen asked.
“A couple more days.”
“No, I mean longer,” Ellen questioned. “You’re keeping tabs of soldiers. How many more hits will they do?”
“It’s hard to say.” Frank rubbed his hands together in a loss for words. “There were originally six hundred twenty-three soldiers. After today there are four ninety-eight. They could send them all at once or in spurts. My guess is spurts.”
“Can’t we just find them and take them out?”
“We could,” Frank said. “But do we want to run around looking for them?”
“No, you want us to run.”
“We’re not running, El,” Frank
kissed her on the cheek. “Trust me, we aren’t running. We’re moving around a bit, that’s all. In a few days, you’ll look back and laugh at this adventure.”
“I doubt that, but hey . . . at least our book is still intact.”
“True.”
“So what’s next, Frank? In your opinion, what’s next?”
“Smooth sailing.”
Ellen looked at him in surprise. “What?” she laughed. “No more hits? You’re nuts.”
“No, El, really. We’ll be in Utah before they even can touch us. Come on, nothing ever happens in Utah, right.” Frank gave a playful nudge to her. “It’s a piece of cake from here on in.”
“Smooth sailing.”
Frank winked. “Smooth sailing.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
January 20th
“Five!” Robbie called out immediately after he fired a shot. His voice echoed back to Frank, who stood with Ellen at the other end of the tunnel they were in. He shot again. “Six!”
“Keep it going,” Frank yelled back, then looked out with his back. “Come on, Hal.”
“Frank.” Ellen tapped him on the shoulder.
Bang.
“Seven!”
“Frank,” Ellen tried to get his attention.
Frank ignored her. “Come on, Hal. Where are you?” He shook his head at the nearing sound of trucks.
Bang. Bang.
“Eight and nine!”
“Frank. This is not smooth sailing, This is not the way I wanted to start my day,” Ellen griped.
“El, please.”
Bang.
“Ten!”
“Frank.”
Frank spun around to her. “You are gonna make him lose count. Now stop.”
Ellen growled. “We’re like sitting ducks in here. How long do you think it will be before they come through this end of the . . .”
Frank fired a shot forward into a charging Society soldier.
“Tunnel,” Ellen continued. “See.”
“Oh, stop. It was just one.” Frank pumped the chamber on his shot gun. “Eleven!”
Robbie fired. “Twelve!”
Ellen held her ears.
The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20 Page 284