Robbie inhaled and laid his hand on his stomach. “Over three hundred society Soldiers. That’s an awful lot of guys for you and Hal. Hal’s not . . .”
“Hal’s fine,” Frank interrupted. “And it’s not too many, right?”
“You guys are prepared if they reach the trench?” Robbie asked.
“We’re expecting it.” Frank winked. “And we’re ready. Don’t worry. What’s a few soldiers dropping in?”
“I feel like I’m abandoning you guys.”
“Nah.” Frank shook his head. “You have us covered by air, if needed. Me and Hal, we aren’t what’s important. We came out to protect Ellen. We haven’t failed yet and I have no intentions of failing now but you better get ready. It’s just a matter time . . .” He winked. “The final inning of the Game is about to begin.”
^^^^
The sterile atmosphere came close to being in serious jeopardy the third time the Operating Room door opened. Dean momentarily halted the skin test procedure he was about to perform on Christopher. Stepping to the door, he removed his mask, and walked out into the scrub room where he could see Joe waving through the window.
“Joe,” Dean said with a certain amount of seriousness. “I told you I don’t want to hear anything, not today.”
“Today of all days, Dean. What the hell are you doing?” Joe asked.
“I’m staying busy.”
“You had a chance to stay busy this morning when I asked you to review my treatments, but you . . .” Joe saw Dean look away. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“No.” Dean shook his head.
“Dean, I’m not shitting around on this one.”
“Neither am I, Joe.” Dean all but cut him off. “I just want to do something else besides play masochist and listen to the final stages of this Game. This is my wife’s life.”
“I understand that.”
“Besides,” Dean said with a quiver to his voice. “I believe that nothing is gonna happen. There’s less than three hours left. Nothing is going to happen. They are just coming home.”
“Who are you trying to convince? You or me?”
At that instant, Danny Hoi walked into the scrub room with urgency. “Joe, I finished.” He held up a paper.
“Good.” Joe pulled a pen from his pocket and laid the sheet down on the side of the sink to review.
Dean’s head went back and forth. “Hello? This is an operating area.”
“Hello.” Danny mocked. “This is war.”
With a pointing swing, Dean indicated to the Operating Room. “A patient is in there.”
“He’s a mutant, Dean,” Danny said. “This is Beginnings.”
With an exhale, Joe signed the paper. “Here. Get that to him ASAP and let me know of any response.”
“Got it.” Rolling the paper slightly, Danny hurried out.
Confused, Dean looked at Joe. “What was that all about?”
“The Game may be over in three hours, Dean.” Joe exhaled, “But there’s real big possibility I just signed the start of a war.”
^^^^
“Henry, my boy.” George snickered and swing a smacking hand down to Henry’s back in the Control Room. “Relax.”
Sulking in a chair, Henry just stared at the board. “I don’t know why you’re so happy, George.”
“I don’t know why you aren’t. Did I take you seriously last night? No. Even though I told you not to bet Beginnings on that dart game, you did. You’re still arrogant, Henry.”
“The bet was a joke. I’m worried for my friends.”
“It’s about time you lost some of that optimism.”
“It’s three hundred to three.”
George shrugged, “You know, you can feel better by accepting my invitation to join the Society.”
“No, thank you.”
“You mean to tell me you haven’t felt a bond with me this past week with me?”
Henry only looked up.
The smile on George’s face quickly left when Bertha walked to him and he saw her seriousness. “What’s wrong? Do not tell me they couldn’t find them?”
“No.” Bertha handed him a paper. “This was faxed to Quantico, then faxed to us. It’s signed by Beginnings.”
George took the document and read it out loud. “Decreed this day, the twenty-third day of January. To George Hadley, President Eastern Caceres Society. Due to what is believed to be the possibility of permanent Society presence in Colorado Springs, Colorado, well within the boundaries of the secured western half of the United States, it is hereby declared that positions have been established in accordance for preparation of execute. If by fifteen hundred hours, January Twenty-third, no withdrawal movement is witnessed of this presence, then Beginnings, Montana and its provinces will have no other option than to assume these presences are hostile and will take such actions to eliminate them by any means necessary. Any attempts of retaliation by the Society to stop such removal will result in further defense action by Beginnings, already placed in motion. Signed this day, Joseph A. Slagel, Present United Western Alliance.”
George’s hand brought the paper to the desk with a slam.
Henry pulled the comment forward and smiled. “Wow, hey, George, I might be wrong, but after the Game, I think this says you have three hours to go or . . .”
“Or nothing,” George said hard with a stare to Bertha. “Callahan, put our own precautionary order out. STAT.”
^^^^
There was a glimmer in Jess’s eye as he stared into the fireplace of the Strategic Interim Room of Quantico Headquarters. He returned to the conference table where the reason for his slight happiness lay. Staring down, Jess felt a bit of revitalization. He wasn’t there for the Beginnings warning when it was faxed through but he certainly made sure he was the one that manned the phone or fax for when George responded. And George did. Jess stared at the response, the only Society personnel to witness George’ intentions. They were simple. George ordered that if any distress signal or call was received by him or his people, then the Society was to immediately take the steps necessary to implement the Kennedy. The order in Jess’s hand was to be given to Steward Lange, acting Commander in Chief.
Jess had to chuckle. How simple. Once Beginnings attacked Colorado Springs, it was over. No further means would be needed on Beginnings part, because Jess, himself would assure that no retaliation would be made by the Society. The simple two line message Jess sent to Beginnings said it all. No need to worry. Do what was necessary. All was handled on his end. As far as the order went, in the event Beginnings attacked poor George Hadley, the only thing Stewart Lange would receive from Jess was a bullet, sight unseen with no hesitation. In Jess’s mind, he hoped Beginnings didn’t wait until three PM. After all, if there was president and no Society leaders, how long would it be before there was no Society?
His fantasy stare of the document came to a quick halt and Jess laid his hand over it when Steward Lange walked in to the office.
“Anything from President Hadley?” Steward asked.
Jess shook his head. “Nothing yet. How did that problem go?”
“Not well. In fact . . .” Steward exhaled. “I wanted to keep this one buried. I’d still like to do so. Do you feel like helping solve it and as difficult as it may be, try to keep it under wraps?”
With a shrug, Jess stood up. “Sure, I’ll try. What’s up?”
“How about asking, ‘what’s gone’?”
“Excuse me?” Jess questioned.
“I’m sorry. Rather . . . who is gone?” Steward saw the puzzled look. “Johnny Slagel left Quantico.”
Jess’s eyes widened. “Any indication where he is?”
“We have a trail. It’s a pretty gruesome trail, but one none the less. Care to come with me and try to follow it?”
“Absolutely,”
“Thanks. Let’s go.” Steward turned and walked from the office.
In his stride, with a smile on his face, Jess picked up George’s o
rder. Pretty much without missing a beat, he crumbled it up and tossed it into the fire as he followed Steward out.
^^^^
The buzz of the Communications Room door was barely in its final stages of ringing out, when Joe rushed in, alone.
“Time?” Joe asked.
Elliott pushed a rolling chair his way. “Confirmation on both sides. We believe Frank just spotted them.”
Joe nodded, then exhaled as he sat in the chair. He smiled when he looked around the room. Danny Hoi manned the computers, along with Dan and Mark from Security. “I see we have a full team.”
Elliott smiled. “All bases are covered. Maps. Signals. You name it.”
“Let’s get this over with.” Without thought, Joe pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. He projected confidence and Joe was confident that his sons would pull it off, but as extra security, in the quiet of his mind, Joe said a prayer.
^^^^
They appeared on the horizon of the hill like a thick black line. The faces and figures of the Society soldiers were hard to discern even through the binoculars through which Hal looked. “What’s going on? They’re moving in. We have to do this!” Hal called out.
Frank was just as confused. “Robbie. Robbie, come in.” He called in the radio. “What’s going on?”
“She won’t start.” Robbie charged the engines on the helicopter.
“You have to move it out now, Robbie.” Frank watched through his own binoculars. His stance was ready and he knew what he had to do. “Robbie!”
“I’m trying!” Robbie fought to get the bird started.
They emerged more over the hill and Hal actually felt his heart race. They were too close, way too close. The plan was simple. Once in scope, Robbie would lift Ellen up and to safety. But the time frame shortened as much as the distance between them and the Society shrank.
“Frank,” Hal urged.
“I know.” Getting his bearings, Frank had to make a decision. “Robbie, you have three seconds or you’ll have to leave that bird. Once they get down that hill, there’s not that much distance between them and this trench. We have to . . .”
“I can get this, Frank.” Robbie was determined.
“Robbie.”
“I’m trying!”
“Fuck it.” Leaving his position, Frank moved with speed down the trench to make his way out. He lifted himself from the freshly dug hole, rolled out, and charged to where the helicopter was situated in a ravine. No sooner did he make it to the hillside, the sound of the engine noise and blast of air from the blade careened at him.
“Got it!” Robbie lifted the bird. “I told you.”
The chopper began to lift up from the ravine and Frank stepped back. He watched the bird rise and the earth seemingly uncover a view of Ellen who sat on the passenger’s side of the craft.
Her hand pressed against the glass and her eyes stayed with Frank as she lifted higher and higher.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Robbie smiled.
“Robbie!” Ellen said with panic.
“What?” He looked. “Shit.”
Over the top of the hill, right behind the ensuing barrage of troops, flew two fighter helicopters.
“No, sweat.” Robbie gave his typical grin. “You’re about to see why I’m the best.”
The word ‘fuck’ was pretty much a given to come from Frank’s mouth when he saw the two choppers. He raced back to the trench as he heard the high speed of the choppers he knew would follow Robbie and Ellen. Just as the trench returned to his sight, a hard spray of bullets ripped across the ground and Frank leaped to the safety of the hole.
“Down!” he yelled at Hal as the second set of rapid fire ricocheted into the dirt wall of the trench, barreling dirt down upon them. Both Slagel men rolled out of harm’s way in just enough time.
Hal hurried to his feet and peered with haste over the top of the trench. “It’s now or never, Frank.”
“Now,” Frank ran down the line of the mortar launchers that had been set up. He put on a gas mask and took a position in front of the first launcher. “Set.”
Hal put on his gas mask and checked out the coordinates. “Fire!” he yelled as he moved to the next launcher and slid to a stop at the base.
Whoosh!
Head turned, Frank fired the first Dean-ami tipped mortar, stood up and raced to the launcher where Hal was positioned.
“Set,” Hal said.
With a lean, Frank looked, then moved on. “Fire.”
With a turn of his head and a launch of the mortar, Hal raced to the next launcher.
“Set!” Frank yelled.
“Fire!”
WHOOSH!
There were six more launchers to go with a total deliverance of Dean-ami carbon tipped missiles that would wipe out a major metropolis. By the time Frank had reached the fourth launcher, the first mortar landed.
It was a well composed set of musical war sounds. The shout of voices, the explosions of death, the pop off of mortars, and the whistle of their sail. The timing had to be perfect and for the results of their efforts, Frank and Hal had to wait.
The last whoosh of the closely launched mortar rang out and Frank, at the end of the trench line, dove into the deeper ditch already prepared.
Hal followed. Not removing the safety of his mask, he maneuvered the handmade pseudo periscope to see what was happening out past their trench. Through the small lens, all he could see was smoke. He knew the odds of no one emerging and an immediate victory were slim, but he could still hope. Hal watched the lingering death clouds block his view of what was impending. Feeling the tap on his shoulder, Hal turned to Frank, who obviously wanted an answer.
Even though the age old adage, of ‘wait until the smoke clears’ seemed to hold true, Hal remained optimistic and responded with a thumbs up.
The chopper took another dip and Ellen hung on for dear life with every turn and spin Robbie made.
“Robbie, are you sure we’ll be fine?”
“El, please.” Robbie pulled the helicopter back up.
“What happens if they shoot at us?”
“El, they won’t shoot at us.” Robbie said then with a drastic tilt of the bird to the right, he dropped the helicopter in a split second’s time to see a missile sail by them into the trees.
“Oh God.” Ellen closed her eyes.
“Missiles maybe, not shots.” The moment Robbie said that a series of bullets hit against the side of the helicopter, causing Ellen to scream. “OK, I’m wrong,” Robbie commented. “No more fuckin around. I don’t expect a response, but . . .” Using his chin, he maneuvered the mouthpiece to the radio closer to his lips. “This is Eagle One. We’ve been in a race. Now I’m leading the assholes and dropping them.”
Ellen could only guess what that meant, however her guess was correct when Robbie increased the speed and flight of the chopper.
^^^^
“Damn it!” Bertha’s voice blasted out. With radio in hand, she turned to George. “We lost our monitor.”
“What do you mean we lost our monitor?” George asked. “The signal.”
“No, our monitor,” Bertha explained. “He was too close, I guess. He said some sort of gas was used. They were dropping like flies and then . . . gone.”
“Son of a bitch,” George graveled and spun a view to Henry. “What the hell do they have out there?”
Smugly, Henry shrugged. “Our secret weapon.”
“Secret weapon, my ass. Callahan. Where are our choppers?”
Bertha took a second to find out. “They’re too far from the initial site. Seventy miles maybe.”
“Why are they out there?”
“They are in pursuit. Shall I bring them back?”
Jaw twitching, George bounced from heel to toe.
“It may be pointless,” Bertha stated. “I say we keep them in pursuit because obviously the blue doll is in their helicopter. We want to win this Game.”
“Yes. Yes we do.”
“Sir?”
Bertha questioned. “Your order?”
“Fuck it!” George stated hard. “Get Lange on the line and order the Kennedy. This Game is over.” No sooner did George speak his last word and he caught, through the corner of his eye, Henry dialing a phone. In a smooth motion, George pulled out a revolver from the holster around his waist, extended it, clicked back the hammer, placed it to Henry’s temple, and took the phone. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You’re breaking the rules. I’m doing my job.”
“You can’t do your job with a bullet in your head, Henry.”
“Then fine, shoot me but in less than three minutes, this Game is over.” Henry stared intently at George, trying his hardest to ignore the hard metal pressing to his temple. “I am to call Joe. My death means nothing. If Joe doesn’t hear from me, those troops he has positioned will storm in. If you kill me, George, you sign your own death warrant.”
“Sir?” Bertha called out. “Your directive?”
Slowly George pulled the weapon away from Henry. “Try to reach the choppers. Keep them in the air, keep them in pursuit, and keep them in this Game.”
^^^^
The lunging Society soldier met with the tip of Hal’s sword as he made an attempt to get into the trench. Like a pierced apple, the soldier’s head hinged on the metal of the blade.
With a bit of resistance, Hal retracted the blade at the same time he fired his revolver. It was the tenth Society soldier that made it into the trench he had taken out. His body ached with each fighting pivot he made, but he couldn’t let that stop him. How he, the injured brother, ended up being the hands on man, he didn’t know. While Frank fired out with diligence, Hal ensued in his battle and engaged in a readiness for any soldier that tipped over the edge of their safety zone.
“We’re hit.” Ellen informed Robbie when she saw the stream of smoke.
“We’re fine,” Robbie repeated the phrase he had spoken a million times.
The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20 Page 294