The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Don’t bother.” Billy took a breath. “I always seem to walk in the room when the most inopportune sentiments are spoken.” He moved to Joe. “Then again, they always seem to revolve around an unnatural relationship with you and Uncle Frank.” He kissed Joe on the cheek. “Night Pap. Sgt. Ryder.” Billy moved another step and turned with a snide look. “Father.” Holding his cup, he took a few more steps, lifted an index finger, and faced Dean again. “Oh, one more thing. This may help. If it concerns you about everyone hearing you and Uncle Frank are . . . gay? Trust me, in light of how you two are, this isn’t coming as a major news flash. Good night.”

  Dean finally moved his open mouth. “Where does he get that attitude from?”

  “No,” Joe grumbled. “You don’t even need to ask that, do you?”

  “To change the subject some . . .” Elliott interjected. “There are some bright spots to the broken radio silence.”

  “Yeah.” Joe tilted his head. “I did chuckle on the Dean skipping with Misha bit.”

  “I was thinking more on the lines of the Captain being all right,” Elliott spoke.

  Joe smiled. “Yeah, that was a bright spot. As soon as I heard Hal say, ‘Frank, get that goddamn radio away from me’, I have to admit, I wanted to scream.”

  Elliott smiled as well. “Yes, the Captain annoyance with Frank certainly indicated an improving health.”

  “I’m curious.” Dean spoke up. “Elliot? Why do you call him the Captain?”

  “He is.” Elliott answered.

  “He’s your friend,” Dean said.

  “My best friend,” Elliott corrected.

  “As sad as this seems, even at this point in time, I consider Frank my best friend but I don’t call him any salutations.”

  “He doesn’t have one,” Elliott stated.

  “Yes, he does.” Dean lifted a finger. “All the Society defectors, New Bowman men, some of his own men, and the people in Jordan call him General.”

  Elliott shook his head. “If Frank asks me to call him General, I shall.”

  “So Hal asked you to call him Captain?” Dean questioned.

  “No, not really. I just did. After the plague, it stuck. It’s like a nickname. He’s always been the Captain, Well, at first he was the Lieutenant then he was the Captain. He almost was the Major, but the plague hit.”

  Curiously Joe turned to Elliott. “Lieutenant. You knew him when he was a lieutenant?”

  “Yes. I knew him at least five years before the plague. We were friends,” Elliott responded.

  “Why didn’t I ever hear of you then?” Joe asked.

  “You knew me. Robbie did too. While you and I never engaged in conversation, the Captain always called me . . .”

  Joe’s eyes widened. “Chico.”

  Elliott nodded.

  “Chico?” Dean asked. “Hal called you Chico?”

  Elliott shrugged. “I don’t know why. He says I look Hispanic. I disagree.”

  With sarcasm, Joe asked. “Have you looked in the mirror?”

  “Yes,” Elliott answered. “I know I may look a little Latino but I am not.”

  “You are,” Dean stated.

  “No, I’m not.” Elliott rebutted. “My mother is pure Irish. My father is German. I know of no Hispanic in my blood line.”

  “Then you’re adopted,” Dean said, matter of fact.

  Elliott chuckled at that. “No, no I’m not.”

  “Yes, yes, you are,” Dean argued. “You have to be. The gene code found within your DNA dictates a . . .”

  “Dean!” Joe snapped with a slam of his hand on the table. “If the man says he’s not Hispanic or adopted, he isn’t.”

  “But Joe.” Arrogantly, Dean came back.

  “But Joe, my ass. It doesn’t matter.” When Joe saw Dean getting ready to argue, he stopped him. “It doesn’t matter, does it, Dean? For crying out loud, you’re sitting here arguing with the man. He should know if he’s adopted or not. And he should know if he’s Hispanic.”

  Looking at Elliott, Dean shook his head. “No. If he wants to believe that an Irish mother and German father produced a . . .”

  “Dean!” Joe yelled.

  “Fine.” Dean lifted his hands in defeat. “So, Elliott, say it.”

  “Say what?” Elliott asked.

  “Just once for me . . .” Dean leaned into the table.

  “I’m not adopted nor am I Hispanic,” Elliott said.

  “See?” Joe waved a finger at Dean. “You can’t let a sleeping dog lie. You can’t drop this can you? Badger the man, why don’t you. Now this is weighing heavily on the man’s mind making him think his parents lied to him for all those years.”

  “I never said that,” Dean argued, “and that’s not what I want Elliott to say. I want him to call Hal . . . Hal. I don’t think he can. Come on, Elliott, say ‘Hal is getting better.’”

  Elliott mouth opened, confident that he could. “H . . . h . . .” He stopped, closed his mouth, tilted his head, and tried again. “H . . . H . . . H.” Clearing his throat, Elliott stood up. “I believe I have a town to check on and something called authoritarian rounds to make.” He moved to the coat tree and grabbed his coat. “Until tomorrow. Goodnight, Mr. Slagel. Dr. Hayes.” With his coat over his arm, Elliot gave a single nod, opened the door, and walked out.

  Dean grinned. “I knew he couldn’t.”

  The door opened and Elliot popped his head inside. “Hal. There I said it.” He smiled. “Goodnight.”

  Joe rolled his eyes. “Go figure.” He noticed Dean still staring at the door in awe. “What is it?”

  “Elliott.”

  “Do you find it hard to believe it was that difficult for him to say the name ‘Hal’?”

  “No.” Dean shook his head. “I find it hard to believe that Elliott doesn’t realize he has to be adopted.”

  “Didn’t I tell you to drop it?”

  “Yes.” Dean nodded and in the immediate silence, he tapped his fingers on the table. After a minute he looked at Joe. “But really, Joe, if you would look at the DNA test I ran, you would see that there really is no question.”

  Joe didn’t say anything. His groan and head dropping to the table was his only response.

  ^^^^

  What amazed Frank was that it didn’t matter how many years had gone by and no matter what memory he took himself back to, Ellen still looked the same. He supposed in her mind, or rather hoped, that she had replaced the teenage Frank with the more mature and ‘hot’ Frank when she reflected.

  A lot of things caused Frank to look back, usually little things said or done. He had a plethora of memories regarding him and Ellen. It was, at times, as if his mind was a bottomless vat and each time he’d reach in for one, he’d get one he had forgotten.

  Frank guessed his reflections were product of his seeing some ‘alone’ time with Ellen. A small tent was pitched not far from the house where Hal and Robbie were. He laid out the sleeping bags and basked in what would be the first private moment of the week. He planned no physical contact, no sexual or intimate thoughts even crossed his mind. It would be a night by themselves, just to sleep. That was it. That was enough for Frank. He supposed their earlier kiss was the reason his mind rewound. Stepping from the tent, feeling the flutter of his stomach still alive in the post thought of that kiss, Frank likened it to being a teenager. In fact, Frank didn’t recall getting so nervous or having those flutters after his first kiss. Of course, his first kiss was with Ellen.

  There were many ‘firsts’ that weren’t with Ellen, but the first kiss was unique. Actually, Frank was pretty secure in the fact that he could kiss well, even though he had never done so before and he carried that confidence with him. In Frank’s mind, he may not have been all that impressive the first time he made love to Ellen, but he was pretty sure there was a minuscule ‘swept away’ factor in that first kiss. There had to be.

  Self doubt of his teenage kissing abilities never really entered his mind until he was just about to enter t
he house. He paused on the porch where he and Ellen had kissed and he compared.

  With a ‘hmm’, Frank walked into the house. Perhaps the journey into the dining room wasn’t that long in the scope of distance, but in Frank’s mind it was a mile, because the entire time he was thrown into what he’d consider the lamest stupor.

  Did he or did he not kiss well in his youth.

  From Hal’s bedside, Ellen looked up with a smile when Frank walked in. “Hey, Frank.”

  Frank scratched his head. “Did I El?”

  “Did you . . . what?” Ellen asked.

  “You know.” Frank gave an embarrassed twitch of his head to Hal.

  Hal looked at his brother. “I believe we haven’t quite acquired your talent for mind reading. Did you what? And no, she doesn’t know or she wouldn’t ask.”

  “Kiss,” Frank replied.

  Ellen blinked in confusion. “Kiss what?”

  “You,” Frank said.

  “OK.’ Ellen nodded passively.

  “Not good?” Frank questioned.

  “What?” Ellen asked more baffled.

  “Is your answer OK?” Frank asked for reiteration.

  “You mean, kissing me now.”

  “Then.”

  “Then what?”

  “OK, not good or great?” Frank quizzed.

  “Huh?” Ellen was confused.

  “Then,” Frank stated.

  “Frank, you’re not making sense,” Ellen said.

  “El, I can’t be more clear.”

  “Yeah, you can,” Ellen replied. “All I got from you is, kiss, then, now, good, great. OK. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good God,” Hal interjected. “I believe I have seen this once or twice. Who’s on first. What’s on second. I don’t know is on third.”

  Raising one eyebrow, Frank looked at Ellen and gave a nod of his head to Hal. “Is he OK?”

  “I am beginning to wonder if you both are OK.”

  “Exactly,” Frank stated. “Was I?”

  “Were you what?” Ellen’s voice started to raise.

  “OK or better than OK?” Frank asked.

  Giving up, Ellen tossed her hands in the air. “Frank, you were phenomenal.”

  Frank smiled. “Thanks. What about Hal?”

  “What about him?” Ellen asked.

  “You said you were wondering if Hal was OK. Was he?”

  “Hal’s . . . . fine?” Ellen guessed the correct answer. “Does that work?”

  With a loud, taunting, ‘Ha!’, Frank pointed at Hal.

  Hal nodded slowly. “Now that we’ve established one syllable words do produce meaningful conversations may I ask what I am fine at?”

  “Kissing,” Frank answered.

  “Kissing?” Ellen asked.

  “Yeah.” Frank nodded.

  “I’m only fine?” Hal looked at Ellen.

  “You’re better than fine.” Ellen shrugged.

  “Whoa. Wait.” Frank held up his hand. “When did you kiss Hal?”

  She just about reached that point where she wanted to scream in the mist of Frank’s confusion, but Ellen retained a calmness. “It was that affair we had, remember Frank?”

  “She was the welcoming committee. She thought that would be the best way to welcome me,” Hal said. “After all, you were gone.”

  “Yeah, right. Enough,” Frank said. “I don’t think that playing up on Ellen’s promiscuity is very funny.”

  Both Hal and Ellen looked at Frank.

  “What?” Frank questioned their glances.

  Holding up his hands, Hal separated them at a distance. “That’s a big word for you.”

  Frank smiled. “Thanks. But . . .” He cleared his throat. “Back to Ellen and her wide variety of men. No offense, El, but this world without women has pretty much fed your old world habit.”

  Ellen’s mouth dropped open.

  “Oh, don’t give me that,” Frank said. “Miss Flirt. Miss Cheat on Pete.”

  “With you.”

  “Still.” Frank lifted a finger. “I kept scruples and morals. I’m proud to say I have only been with two women my entire life.”

  Hal spoke up with his usual sarcasm,. “And you have to wonder why she seeks other indulgence?”

  “Yeah, well,” Frank nodded. “My two are two more than you have.”

  “Good Lord, Frank, get off the ‘Hal’s a virgin’ thing. Please.”

  “You are,” Frank said.

  “Are you, Hal?” Ellen asked.

  Excitedly, Robbie raced into the room and held up a radio. “Hey! Check this out.”

  “You fixed the static problem?” Frank asked.

  “Yes, but even better . . .” Robbie upped the volume. “I went out and put the new receiver on the truck.”

  “The one from Radio Shack?” Frank questioned. “The satellite looking thing?”

  “Yep.” Robbie nodded. “Bingo.”

  It wasn’t perfectly clear, but clear enough to hear and the sound of it all made everyone shriek.

  “Oh my God.” Frank stepped to Robbie. “Beginnings.”

  “No, Frank.” Robbie smiled. “Home.”

  “Turn it up,” Hal requested. “Who is it?”

  “Frank’s men.” Robbie hit the volume again. “It’s the best we can get.”

  Elliott’s voice came through first, “Don’t bother Mr. Slagel with this. Just handle it, Dan.”

  Ellen smiled. “Elliott.”

  “Stop that,” Frank instructed.

  “Are you sure, Sgt. Ryder?” Dan from Security questioned. “They seem to be rather noisy.”

  “They’re just missing Frank. Go get the ‘Best of Journey’ and play it. It’ll calm them. And don’t forget to feed them. Hector has three deer in stock for that.”

  “Speaking of Hector, did you hear?”

  “Honestly, Dan, radio airwaves are not the sort of thing for this.”

  “You don’t even know where I’m going with it.”

  “Put it this way,” Elliott said. “If it deals with Hector, it deals with Misha. If it deals with Misha, you’re talking about Dean. Am I heading in the right direction?”

  “Yes.”

  Gloating Frank smiled. “Told you, guys.” He wiped the gloating look from his face. “Sorry, El. Man, Misha must of left Hector for Dean.”

  “It can’t be,” Ellen whispered out.

  Even Hal was puzzled by the topic. It had to be big. “What else could it be?” He looked at Robbie when he heard the snicker. “What? What do you know?”

  Robbie gave a ‘be quiet’ wink. “Just listen. I’m sure they’ll say it.”

  “Sgt. Ryder, I’m really bothered by this.”

  “I’m positive, absolutely positive there is no truth to this.”

  “Yeah, I know that. I just am bothered how rumors fly. Just know I’m doing my part, as one of Frank’s men, to assure everyone that it’s just Dean’s wishful thinking and in no way, no how, are him and Frank gay lovers.”

  “What!” Hal barked out with a laugh.

  Robbie snickered. “Told you.”

  “Fuckin Dean. There he goes again.” Frank tossed his hand outward. “Man, when is he getting over this crush on me?”

  “Robbie?” Hal gave an upward nod of his head. “Set that down and we’ll listen.”

  “Ok.” With a step and a slight turn, as the radio in Robbie’s hand hissed and another voice came through, Robbie quickly turned again to get Beginnings to return.

  “Whoa. Wait,” Hal called out. “Back up.”

  Robbie did.

  “Turn.” Hal instructed as he listened to the radio. “A little more and . . . there.”

  The foreign speaking voice came through.

  Ellen looked to Hal with question. “What language is that?”

  With certainty, Hal answered. “Swahili.”

  Frank’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God. Robbie, good job. You picked up Africa.”

  The crease near the corner of his mouth show
ed Hal’s amusement with Frank, but more so it showed his pleasure in what he heard. “No, big brother. It’s not Africa. It’s the Society.”

  “Uh, Hal?” Frank said. “I know you’re medicated, but the Society guys, they speak English.”

  “Um, Frank?” Hal mocked his tone. “I know but right now they are using Swahili as a code to transmit information. I know Swahili fluently. And now we know . . .” Hal grinned. “The Society’s final attack plan.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  January 23rd

  Richfield, Utah

  THE FINAL DAY

  The width of the trench gave barely enough moving room, but the length was sufficient. It was a product of continuous work on Frank and Robbie’s part. Sandbags were spread about the top and weapons lined up within reach. Frank double checked the mortar launchers then looked at his watch. “Where are they?”

  Hal set down a rifle against the wall. “You know they’re on their way. When will they arrive is the question.”

  “And will they arrive within the scope of the game and the rules?” Frank questioned.

  “Let’s hope.”

  Robbie approached with an ‘all ready’ and an exhale.

  “Is the chopper loaded?” Frank asked.

  “Fully,” Robbie answered. “I did a weapons check. The side gun works, not that I know who is gonna fire it, but it works. The front shooters are in order. The missile launchers are working but without a test, who is to say.”

  “How many missiles?” Frank questioned.

  “Four. Not many.”

  “It’s enough,” Frank said. “We may need you from the air. How’s El?”

  Turning his head to the right, Robbie indicated to Ellen who stood by the ladder. “She’s ready. Anything over the radio?”

  “Hal picked up that they are in route. They honed in on our chopper signal and think we are in hiding.”

  Robbie observed Hal peeping over the trench edge with binoculars. “We’re sure they are coming from that direction?”

  “Through the river and over the hill,” Frank explained. “Like a bad fuckin Christmas song. We’ll see them coming when they hit the top. Not until then can you lift the bird. When you guys are in the air, we’ll do a first wave wipe out with heavy duty Dean-ami, then take the rest out when they charge. You do not return until we give you an all clear.”