The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  Finally finished, she pulled the door closed behind her and followed the voices that seemed to come from the reception area of the doctor’s office they had found. She heard talk of ‘this mountain or that’, but Ellen pain no mind to locations they spoke of as long as they spoke of safe locations to go.

  “How is he?” Frank asked immediately when he saw Ellen step into the reception area.

  “Right now he’s resting,” Ellen answered.

  “What do you mean resting?” Frank questioned.

  Sarcastically, Ellen looked at him. “Um, eyes closed, resting for healing sort of thing. What other kind of resting is there? He was injured.”

  “Yes, I know this, El. Can we wake him?”

  Ellen blasted a ‘what!”

  Frank peered to Robbie.

  Robbie shrugged.

  Figuring Ellen didn’t hear him, slowly Frank repeated the question. “Can . . . we . . . wake . . . him?”

  At first her jaw twitched then the pointing finger she lifted became a smack to Frank’s chest and she shoved him out of her way. “You’re an asshole, Frank.”

  Tossing up his hands, Frank walked behind her. “What did I do? I just asked.”

  “It was a stupid question,” Ellen snapped. “And no. You cannot wake him. He is sedated.”

  “Oh, way to go, El.” Frank shook his head. “Now we have to carry him. Robbie, let’s get . . .”

  “Wait.” Ellen halted his sentence and action with a single movement up of her hand. “What is the matter with you?” She glanced at Robbie. “Both of you. Do you not understand the seriousness of this? Hal had injuries, a lot of them. He took a high chest wound that came awfully close to puncturing his lung and incapacitating him completely. That broken leg that healed not that long ago? It’s screwed up again.”

  “Oh.” Frank waved out his hand. “Hal’s fine. We have to move him.”

  “Listen to you,” Ellen argued. “Hal is not fine. He needs to rest. It isn’t safe to move him,”

  “And it is not safe here.” Frank grew serious. “Period. We move him.”

  “Then fine,” Ellen said with some defeat. “But we move him to a safe hiding place. He can’t fight. He cannot do any running around.”

  “All right,” Frank nodded in agreement. “There’s nothing we can do strategically about losing Hal as a third but . . .”

  “Strat . . . Strat . . .” Ellen stuttered. “Strat . . .”

  “Strategically,” Frank gave her the answer. “Big word.”

  “I know the word, you moron. Hal isn’t a strategic piece. He’s your brother.”

  “He is my brother, but he is also my comrade, my left, right, front, and back hand man. We are a team.”

  Ellen huffed out. She look at a silent Robbie and took that as a good sign then, calming herself, she returned to Frank. “There’s something not right with you when you hit this mode. But . . . at least we’re hiding him.”

  “Yes.” Frank nodded. “Hide him, then you, me, and Robbie move on.”

  “What!” Ellen screamed. “Move on? To where? Why? The game is over, Frank. From this moment on the Game is . . . over.”

  “No, El!” Frank said strongly. “The Game is not over! There are at least three hundred Society soldiers out there and two days remaining.”

  “I find I hard to believe, Frank, that with that military mentality of yours, that you can’t find a place for the four of us to hide for the next two days,” Ellen argued. “I know you’ve tried and I know you can do this, but it seems as if every place we ran, they followed us like you led them to us. Now . . .” Ellen was about to continue when she noticed the silent eerie look on Frank’s face. “Whoa. Wait. No.” She shook her head. “You didn’t . . . lead them to us did you?’

  Frank said nothing.

  Ellen gasped. “You weren’t hiding us, were you? You were leading them to us?”

  “El, look . . .”

  “No.” Ellen fought. “No. What were you thinking?”

  Robbie stepped forward. “In Frank’s defense, the decision to make the Society follow us was a joint decision.”

  “I didn’t have any say so,” Ellen defended.

  “With all due respect, El,” Frank said. “You aren’t doing the fighting. We are.”

  “You left a trail?” Ellen asked. “Why in God’s name did you do that?”

  “To trap them,” Frank answered. “Plan and simple, to trap them. Trap them, kill them, and take them out.”

  “That is ridiculous,” Ellen argued. “You had eight days to keep us hidden. Eight days. Well, I’ll tell you what, Frank. Forget these little pissy games you and your brothers are playing with our lives. Two days remain. We let Hal rest and we hide. Like I said before, this Game is over.”

  ‘We have to continue to fight them.”

  “Why?” Ellen was baffled. “In two days, it’s done anyhow.”

  “You think?” Frank’s voice raised. “You really think? Well if that is what is going through your mind, then you are wrong.” Frank’s hand swung about in his speaking. “In two day, yes, the hunt for you is over. And yes, if we hide, the Game will end. But if we hide, there will still be three hundred plus Society soldiers remaining and you know what? They’ll still be out here. They’ll still be the enemy because we, Beginnings, are still at war with the Society. So instead of three hundred soldiers chasing us from eight in the morning until midnight, instead of three hundred soldiers following rules established, we’ll have three hundred plus soldiers able to do whatever the fuck they want. It may not look it to you, but even though there are only four of us, we have the advantage right now and that is why we have to take them out before the official end of the Game. Because come January 23rd at noon, not only is the Game over, but so are the rules. And those three hundred society soldiers . . .” Frank dropped his voice. “They can hit us, any time, anyway, anyhow . . . . we’ll be fucked.”

  ^^^^

  The frosted reflection in the aluminum thermos made Joe smile briefly in an ‘old world’ memory. He never went anywhere without his thermos of coffee and he had never thought about getting one while in Beginnings. It was a perfect Christmas gift from Danny Hoi. A gift Joe finally got around to using nearly a month later.

  His tan canvas jacket buttoned nearly to the top, Joe sat on the concrete wall of the flagstaff on the edge of the ‘Joe Park’. The early afternoon streets of Beginnings were pretty barren. The snow fell, but Joe didn’t mind. It really wasn’t as cold as it could have been. He undid the cap of the thermos, took in that winter feel and smell of the cloud of steam that emerged, then he poured himself a cup.

  “It’s kind of cold . . .” Jenny’s voice carried down to Joe. “To be sitting out here. Don’t you think?”

  “Well, I just thought . . .” Joe looked up at Jenny who stood before him. Her full face was encircled and nearly buried behind the pink fur of the tightly tied hood of the parka she wore. “What in God’s name are you wearing?” he asked in reference to her winter outerwear.

  “Oh.” Jenny smiled, running her hand down the green sleeve that had big pink fabric flowers sewn upon it. “The last crew that went out found a shipment of military parkas. You gave them to Ben from Fabrics and he fixed them up. Aren’t they pretty, Joe? They’re the latest rage.”

  “Swell.”

  “Twenty Danny Dollars.”

  “Christ almighty. Twenty Danny dollars for a basic need. That’s a half a week’s work.”

  “Yes, but aren’t all fine coats worth it?”

  Joe grumbled.

  ‘May I join you?”

  “Yes.” He scooted over some. “Coffee?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “What brings you out here?”

  “I saw you,” Jenny said. “I can see the park from my desk. In all the years the Joe Park has been here, I don’t think I have ever seen you sit on the reflection wall.”

  “The reflection wall?” Joe looked to where he sat. “No, I don’t think I ever sat
here for an extended period of time. I never thought anyone would sit here for an extended period of time.”

  “In the spring, people fight for a lunch seat on the wall.”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “No, it isn’t. Not really.” Jenny smiled peacefully. “It’s a simplicity of life we all love. Thanks to you.”

  “I can’t take credit.”

  “So, you didn’t say. Why are you out here in the cold?” Jenny looked up. “And the snow.”

  “Well . . .” Joe exhaled. “You can say I’m reflecting. It’s been a long week, a long . . . long week.”

  “You have a lot on your mind with your family. I know. It’ll be over soon.”

  “Two more days.” Joe brought his coffee cup to his lips. “How’s John?”

  “Wonderful. He’s loving the UWA training. It is so extensive. They’ve recently moved out of New Bowman for a two week wilderness survival training.”

  “They do that?” Joe looked puzzled. “I never knew that.”

  “Yes, it’s designed to help them when they go out on scouting missions.”

  “So how much longer until John is full-fledged UWA?”

  “Two more weeks,” Jenny said proudly. “Then we’ll be able to see him. This once a week, a few hours here and there is terrible. John said that UWA spirit is holding up well in Hal’s absence. Everyone is concerned and awaiting his return.”

  “Yeah,” Joe said sadly. “Me, too.”

  “What is it, Joe?” Jenny noticed the drop on Joe’s face.

  “Well, you know we’ve been monitoring the Game, sort of. It’s limited. The limited monitoring was a blessing. Now it’s a curse. Something has happened to Hal. He got hurt. I don’t know and we haven’t heard anything since.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I want to say all is fine but . . .”

  “Then say it,” Jenny said, perky. “Really. Say it.”

  After a few blinks of contemplation, Joe nodded. “All is fine.”

  Whispering, Jenny leaned to him. “But I’ll still pray if that helps.”

  “It never hurts.” Joe winked.

  “How are you feeling, Joe?”

  “Honestly? Good,” Joe replied, “but tired. Elliott and I are trying to squeeze in all the communities work, security work, along with having a close watch on this Game. It’s exhausting.”

  “But things are running smoothly, oddly enough.”

  “Oddly enough, I’m gonna agree.” Joe took a swig of his coffee. “All hell is breaking loose outside of our walls. I’m just grateful that inside of these walls, people are happy.”

  ^^^^

  “I have racked my brain all night and morning.” Hector followed Misha around the file room at the clinic.

  “Hector, I am very busy,” Misha said coldly and shut the file cabinet.

  “I don’t care. Aren’t you listening?”

  “I am very busy. I cannot talk.”

  “I deserve more,” Hector argued. “I have spent every single day with you. I have courted you and have come to know you. I fell in love with you and asked you to marry me. You said, ‘yes’. Misha, you said . . .” Frustrated was the grunt that came from Hector when she walked away to the other side of the room. “You told me you would marry me. Then out of the blue, out of the complete blue, you break it off. You won’t look me in the eyes. You ignore me. I have racked my brain.” He followed her back to the filing cabinet. “All night, I tried to determine what it was I said or did. My heart is breaking here.”

  “You think mine is not?” she asked and opened a file cabinet.

  “If it is, tell me what I did.”

  “I cannot. It is not important. It is just over.”

  “Bullshit.” Hector slammed the file cabinet and blocked Misha from reaching for it.

  ‘You will not take that tone with me.”

  “And you will tell me why you broke it off. You will tell me why I saw a side of you last night that I didn’t think I’d ever see.”

  Misha chuckled a laugh of disbelief.

  “What? You don’t think?” Hector asked. “Nick reached out for you. You wouldn’t look at him. That was wrong. That was really wrong. He is an innocent.”

  “I cannot have him be a part of my life.”

  “That’s cold. He’s a child. He can’t distinguish things. You can’t open and shut your heart to a baby. My son . . .”

  “He is not your son!” Misha snapped.

  “I consider him my son.”

  “He is Henry’s son.”

  “And I assumed responsibility for that child!” Hector yelled. “Henry was granted full custody because I wanted to help him. I needed to help him. I consider that baby as much my son as Henry’s.”

  “The mother and the father. You and Henry,” she said near whisper.

  “Yes.”

  Again, Misha chuckled. “It figures.”

  Rapidly, Hector shook his head in confusion. “What is this about? This new attitude. I deserve to know.”

  “No you don’t but I will tell you because I do not want you asking me or bothering me again.”

  “Fine. Tell me.” Hector lifted his hand. He had an intent stare upon Misha as they stood close at the file cabinet.

  “You have not been honest with me. Honesty in the beginning wouldn’t make a difference now, because there would be no ‘now’ had you been honest. There would have been no us.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Honesty. You failed to tell me that the reason you are a father to Nick, isn’t out of friendship or loyalty. It is out of your love for Henry.”

  “Henry is my friend.”

  “Henry was, or is, your lover.”

  Silence.

  The hiding of his heavy breath of ‘uncovering’ was hard to do. Even in the quiet, Hector swore even his fast beating heart was heard. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. His eyes just locked on to Misha’s and his jaw twitched in nervousness and anger.

  “You can’t respond, can you?” Misha asked. “Because it is true. It is bad enough that you did not tell me you and Henry were lovers, but you did not tell me you were a lover to many men here in Beginnings.”

  Hector’s eyes closed.

  “You have no respect for yourself, your body. You performed unnatural acts with men that make me sick. The flesh was so important to you, that you forgot principal. Marry you?” Misha laughed. “I can’t stand to be in the same room as you or look at you. The thought of your touch makes my skin crawl.”

  “How . . . how . . .”

  “How did I find out?” Misha asked.

  Hector nodded.

  Misha opened her mouth to speak but stopped. “It is not important.”

  “Yes, it is. It is very important. How did you find out?”

  Misha stayed silent because it was an invasion of privacy and a promise to her friend, Ben, to not tell that he gave her information.

  “Misha. How?” Hector asked.

  After a swallow and a smug look, Misha lifted her head. “Dean.”

  Hector stared for a second then stormed out.

  ^^^^

  “Christopher, sit down,” Dean instructed with the perturbed tone of a parent. He pulled a chair out from the round table in the clinic lunch room. “Sit.”

  “This is an odd place to meet.”

  “It’s less cluttered and there are less visual distractions for you,” Dean told him. “No one comes in here.”

  “What is this place?”

  “It’s a place where clinic workers come to eat.”

  “Are we going to eat?” Christopher asked.

  “No.”

  “What is that?” He pointed.

  “A refrigerator.”

  “Ah.” Christopher nodded in revelation and pulled out the small note pad he had. “I know of the term. Refrigerator.” He flipped through a page. “Yes. Here. Are there small frozen children in that refrigerator, Dr. Hayes?”

  “What?”
Dean asked shocked.

  “In the cryo-lab. Frank, God of Warriors, told me you have his frozen child in the refrigerator.”

  “Well, yes, but only until I figure out how to defrost him correctly.”

  Christopher looked baffled.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Dean prepared to sit down. He dropped a folder before Christopher. “I want to sit down and explain to you some procedures that I . . .” He stopped in the middle of pulling out a chair when he heard the strong calling of his name.

  “Dean!” Hector called hard and stormed into the lunch room.

  “Hey, Hector.” Dean smiled. “What’s going on?”

  “Why did you do it?”

  “Excuse me?” Dean asked.

  Christopher tugged on Dean’s sleeve. “Perhaps he is asking about the frozen children.”

  The left half of Dean’s mouth raised in a snicker as his attention turned to Christopher. He wanted to laugh, but realized Hector’s inquisition was serious. Returning his views back to Hector, before he could say anything, unexpectedly the side of Dean’s jaw was greeted with the tightly closed and fiercely delivered fist of Hector.

  The crack rang out. Christopher shrieked and Dean stumbled back.

  Dean ricocheted in to the counter, and he barely had time to even think what had happened. Half way into a repercussion spin of the first hit, Dean was grabbed by Hector and punched again.

  Enough was enough. About the point where his adrenaline kicked in to cover any pain, the ‘whys’ of the accosting were no longer important to Dean. Defending himself was. The second his vision, the vision so precious to him, went blurry for an instant, Dean become enraged. The shot to the eye went too far. Shaking his head from the third hit, Dean looked in enough time to see yet another punch coming.

  His tee-shirt still locked in the grip of Hector, Dean ducked out of that punch and quickly swiped out his leg across Hector’s ankle.