“You can’t say that,” Joe said. “You have to let it go. He’s no longer with the Society. He’s not with us. Let it go.”
“I can’t.”
“Yeah, you can, Frank,” Joe was insistent.
“No, Dad, I can’t. I can’t explain it to you, but it has to be done. Ended. I created him. I somehow caused what he became and if it’s the last thing I do. . . .” Frank spoke eerily calm. “I will fix that error.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
January 25th
The sun hadn’t even begun its rise, yet Robbie knew morning wasn’t that far off. The chirping birds outside of his prison window foretold of the changing day. He was starting to get hungry again, that and being cold kept him from sleeping. He finished off his piece of bread and glass of water they had given him from the night before. It wasn’t much, but sort of teased his stomach. He made a vow though, chivalry be damned, from that moment on, if Ellen again offered to him some of the ‘real’ food they gave her, Robbie was going to take it.
On the floor Ellen entangled herself in a blanket and snuggled close to him for heat, safety, and protection from the bugs that seemed to crawl about everywhere.
But being the sense of warmth, a pseudo bed, and bug exterminator really wasn’t what Robbie wanted to be. He wanted to be what he was raised, taught and trained to be, someone strong. Robbie well knew he could pull through. Unchained and free from the room in which they were locked, Robbie would plan and implement an escape for them both. However the word ‘free’ was the key word. He had to be free in order to do so. To be successful in their escape hinged on one thing, Ellen changing her mind about being a queen. Never in a million years would Robbie have thought Ellen to be so headstrong about something. Of all the times in her life for Ellen to choose ‘righteous’ over ‘status’, right there in that dirty room was not the right time.
Not being able to talk didn’t help at all. Not a sound emerged from Robbie and that made him frustrated, especially when Ellen failed to not only read his lips correctly, but his facial reactions as well. After fruitless attempts to communicate, Robbie gave up and started writing an entire ‘bitch at Ellen’ speech in his head, one he would deliver as soon as his voice returned.
One thing was for certain, he knew the first words he would say to Ellen as soon as he could talk. If they were still imprisoned in that dirty cesspool, Robbie most definitely would say to Ellen, ‘be the fuckin queen, El’. Robbie needed Ellen to do that so he could get them out.
Resting back against the wall, Robbie hoped to catch a little nap before something else awakened him. As he readied to shut his eyes, he watched a roach crawl upon Ellen’s leg. With a nudge of his foot, he flicked the creature from her. He kept track of how many bugs he removed from her and fully intended on giving Ellen the count when she woke up. Even if it meant her screaming and squirming and getting weirded out, to Robbie, it was worth it. Anything that shot Ellen closer to the royalty edge was an ‘anything’ Robbie had to do.
^^^^^
“A man who turns his back on his family . . .” Michael said to Johnny as they walked. “is a man that cannot be trusted. Period.”
Stopping, Johnny nodded. “I kind of got the idea you felt that way after you just nodded and left.”
“I didn’t think there was much to say, not after you told me what you did.”
“So you want me to leave.”
Michael paused. “Listen to what I am saying. I will repeat it. A man who turns his back on his family is a man who cannot be trusted. I am not convinced, intelligent or not, that I would consider you a man, not yet. You’re a kid. You’re nineteen, still scared, a kid and because in my eyes you are a kid, I will not ask you to leave Lodi. But don’t think for one second, you won’t be watched. I’m not gonna tell people who you are. I’m not. But you’ll be watched.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Now, this is where we part. Lars has work for you to do . . . Stew.” Michael gave a pat to Johnny’s back and walked in another direction.
Johnny took a second before moving on. What he felt was weird, but he took a second to feel it . . . . gratefulness.
^^^^
“Finally . . .” Joe shuffled to the next page as he sat in his office with Elliott and Danny Hoi. “I’m going to move up distribution check off sheets and do a short week. That way they are done and out of the way for you, Danny.”
“Got it.” Danny nodded.
“I want to meet again tomorrow regarding replacements, delegation of power, and so forth. Frank says we’re leaving day after that,” Joe said. “I want to make sure you, as acting leader, have it down. I might possibly even give you a quiz.” Joe gathered up his things.
Danny chuckled. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No., not at all,” Joe stated. “This is the first time I’ve ever left Beginnings for longer than a few hours. I’m neurotic. And speaking of neurotic . . .’ Joe leaned back in his chair. “The meeting went impressively fast and well. There’s a reason for that. Frank. He’s not here. Elliott, do you know where Frank is?”
“Most likely with a dozen or so Beginnings men in New Bowman,” Elliot answered.
“New Bowman?” Joe asked. “Is there a problem?”
“It depends on whose perspective you view this from,” Elliott stated. “You see they’re all in . . . court.”
“Court?” Joe asked with a bit of shock. “What in God’s name could my son being doing in court?”
^^^^^
It was something dementedly enjoyable and it caused a stirring twinge in Jason. He had an urge to laugh out loud in that semi-silent way that he did, but he kept a straight face, nodding very seriously every few seconds. There was plenty of uprising that made no sense, gasping that was over the edge, and heavy dramatics that the former Academy Award board would ridicule. Though the simple ‘request for trial’ was highly against procedure, Jason allowed it. It was too much fun not to.
The shocked ‘bastard’ that rang out from Ben from Fabrics caused Jason to pound his gavel once, then turn his chair back to the witness stand. “Continue, Frank.”
Frank took a shivering breath. “Thank you. As I was saying, I felt small. Minuscule, unmanly. I felt like Ben from Fabrics.”
“Bastard!” Ben cried out again as he stood.
Jason hit his gavel. “Continue, Frank, but please do so without repeating that sentence again. I’ve heard it six times so far.”
“Oh, sorry. I’m just . . .” Frank shivered. “Emotional.” He squeezed the corners of his eyes. “I go out to do what I believe was a heroic task. I come home to find my reputation is tarnished. Men . . . men they look at me different. Three homosexuals . . .” Frank closed his eyes tight. “Made offers, and one even” He swallowed predominantly. “touched my rear.”
Shocked gasps rang out in unison from the men while the women in the courtroom babbled together loudly.
“Enough.” Jason hit the gavel. “Frank, you believe Misha is the cause for this?”
“Yes,” Frank answered.
“But didn’t Dean say that you two were gay lovers?”
Jenny stood up, “That’s right Jason. Badger him. Corner him.”
“Enough.” Jason grumbled, “Dean?”
Dean stood up. “I made no such reference.”
“Liar!” Jenny raged. “Liar, liar pants on . . .” She stopped when Jason glared at her.
Dean continued, “I said no such thing. I distinctively recall my words as being Frank and I hash it out.” Dean shrugged. “We always talk and hash things out. Sgt. Ryder’s statement as a witness to the conversation secures that.”
Jason shuffled papers. “You’re right. Sgt. Ryder says you used the phrase ‘hash out’.” He turned to Frank. “So you want to bring a case against Misha in search of what?”
“Justice,” Frank answered.
“Other than that, what damages do you seek?” Jason asked.
“Whatever the court finds appropriate. I just kno
w that the mental stress is . . . un . . . un . . .” Frank brought his hand to his face. “Un . . .” He held his hand a little away from his face and closed one eye.
“Frank?” Jason questioned after waiting.
Frank lowered his head. “Give me a minute. This is tough.”
Dan from Security looked at Dean. “Goddamn shame what these women have done to Frank. I hope they pay.”
Dean nodded, then beckoned Frank in his mind.
Frank snapped his finger. “Unequivocal. Thanks, Dean.” He winked and showed his palm. “The word smeared.”
Dean slouched down in his seat.
Jason turned his chair and faced the court. “I’ve heard enough. The case of Frank Slagel and Dean Hayes versus Misha in a sexual slander case will be heard in two weeks.”
The women were outraged and stood up. Jenny spoke for them, “You can’t do this. This is unfair!”
“Be that as it may, and as ridiculous as this all is, if you women can do it.” Jason smiled. “So can they.” He slammed his gavel. “Court is adjourned.”
Jenny, jaw clenching, waited until Jason stood and walked away. Still in anger mode after witnessing the gloating and high fives given to each other by the men, she faced the group of women. “This is war. Oh boy, is this war.”
^^^^^
Slash marks? Robbie looked at the wall. Ellen was scratching slash marks in the wall. For what reason? To keep track of how many days they were imprisoned? Robbie thought maybe hours would work and it probably would have only been an hour had he held true to the promise he made himself to tell Ellen about the bugs. However, in making that vow to himself, Robbie forgot one important thing. He still hadn’t regained the use of his voice. Drawing pictures or attempting to write words on the dusty floor didn’t work either. Ellen, like in some sort of ‘beat the clock’ game, kept guessing what he was writing or drawing and assumed she was correct when Robbie tried to start over.
Frustrating was an understatement. Communicating was futile. Of course, with a normal minded person, it might have worked. It dawned on Robbie why Dean was so wiry at times. He was jumpy because Ellen was so impatient. Robbie knew his frustration would be short lived, that was, if his voice did return as promised. Then again, things would be a lot easier and he could get his plan of escape across if Ellen were telepathic. No sooner did he have that thought and he had another.
Telepathic.
Frank.
It was a long shot. Actually it was a really long shot, but one worth taking. He would need concentration and how to do it without Ellen interrupting and asking if everything was all right, was the question.
Robbie had to break down. He had to try to convey to Ellen what he had in mind.
Ellen stood by the boarded up window where she made her slash marks and Robbie walked to her.
“Hey.” Ellen smiled. “See.” She pointed to her wall.
Nine? Robbie counted. Nine slash marks. Holding up nine fingers, he tilted his head with question.
“Yes,” Ellen answered. “I have nine. Thanks. I want to show a record of our pain for the next tormented prisoners.” She sighed out. “Hopefully I won’t have to put that many up here before Frank arrives, if he ever finds us.”
Robbie snapped his fingers.
“Frank. Yes.” She said. “That’s what I said.”
Holding up his index finger, he placed it to her lips to silence her then pointed to the floor.
“I’m not tired,” Ellen said.
Robbie shook his head then crouched to the floor.
“Are you tired?”
Again, Robbie shook his head and with a wave, beckoned her to the floor.
“What?” Ellen asked.
Robbie drew some dirt into a pile, then showing his finger again, pointed to the dirt.
“Oh, you’re gonna write something. Cool. Go on.”
Smiling, Robbie started to write.
M-E-D . . .
“Medicine?” Ellen asked. “Do you need medicine? I don’t have any.”
Shaking his head ‘no’ Robbie continued to write, but he took the word only as far as the dirt would allow.
“Meditate?”
Robbie nodded.
“Ok, I’ll think about this one. Go on.”
Growling silently, Robbie smeared the dirt to make a new slate. He wrote the next word.
M-E-S-S-A-G-E
“Massage?” You want a massage?”
Shaking his head violently, Robbie pointed.
“Oh! Message.” Ellen giggled. “Go on. I’m thinking about the message.”
Under the word ‘message’ Robbie wrote the number ‘two.’
“Two? Two what?”
Pointing hard, Robbie hit the ground with his finger.
“Message to. Message to,” Ellen said excitedly. “To who?”
Quickly, Robbie swiped the dirt and only got the first letter written.
“Frank!” Ellen grinned. “You want to get a message to Frank.”
Excitedly, Robbie nodded.
“How?”
Smoothing the dirt Robbie quickly wrote. ‘Meditate’ then pointed to his temple.
“Oh my God! Oh my God,” Ellen said, enthused. “Excellent idea!”
Robbie had to admit that he waited. It wasn’t a safe assumption to believe Ellen understood what he meant.
“Frank reads minds. If we concentrate really hard on him and call his name, maybe we can at least let him know we’re fine.”
A genuine grin hit Robbie.
“Let’s do this.” Ellen made herself comfortable on the floor.
Using his only way of showing 'good job', Robbie gave a squeeze to Ellen's shoulder and sat across from her. He felt the calm and closed his eyes.
“Wait.”
Robbie wanted to whine a cry. He mouthed the word ‘what?’
“Let’s think our thoughts in synch,” Ellen said then saw Robbie’s curious look. “If we don’t, Frank might get confused.”
With a tilted head look, Robbie agreed. He had to. Ellen had a valid point.
^^^^
War games. There was nothing Frank enjoyed more. If it couldn’t be real combat, the game portion worked well too. He was designing a new game and even though he would have to leave again, he wanted to take a few minutes out of the routine meteor strategy meeting to discuss his idea. Actually, Frank stole it from the recent outing he had with his brothers and Ellen.
In his office, Frank stood before a team of his Security guys in front of a map of Beginnings.
“Definitely,” Frank said. “There has to be time limits.” he explained.
Dan from Security raised his hand. “This token, will it be a person that we have to get or an inanimate object?”
“As much as I would like the thrill of having a real life on the line, can we take that chance?”
The lot of men looked at each other in debate.
“Let me think on that one.” Frank pointed to his own temple. “All right, back to the map.” He turned his back to the group. “Sector Thirty will belong . . .”
“Frank.”
“Yeah.” He turned around.
Silence.
Frank looked at the men, shook his head and went back to the map. “As I was saying, Sector Thirty will belong to group . . .”
“Frank.”
“Yeah?” He looked over his shoulder.
Again, nothing.
Shrugging, he returned to his task. “Sector Thirty goes to Group Seven, Dan’s men. The reason I . . . Yeah?” Again, he looked over his shoulder.
Dan was curious. “What’s up?”
“Who’s calling my name?”
Dan looked around the men. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Oh.” Frank scratched his head then went back to the map. “Dan’s men have to take this . . .” Frank growled, then blasted as he spun around. “Fuckin what!”
Everyone looked shocked and wondered what the outburst was all about.
“Who’s cal
ling my name?” Frank asked. “No one wants to own up to . . . “ His eyes widened. “Yeah?” With his finger to his ear, Frank rubbed, then snapped. “Got it.” He reached around his neck for his headset radio. It wasn’t there. He saw Dan pointing to his desk. “Oh thanks.” Frank picked up his radio and smiled at the men. “My hearing must be getting better. It’s the jackrabbit in me.” Bringing the radio to his mouth, he pressed in the button. “Yeah, Mark. What’s up?”
“Not much.” Mark answered. “What’s up with you?”
“You calling me?” Frank questioned.
“No.” Mark replied.
“Is anyone calling me over the radio?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Thanks.” Frank set down the radio. “What the fuck is . . .” His head sprung up. “He looked left to right. “What?”
Dan started to slowly stand. “Frank, are you all right?”
“I’m fine but . . . oh!” His face lit up. “Oh shit!” He grinned. “Oh shit, it’s Robbie.”
Everyone immediately turned from the chair and looked at the door.
“Not there,” Frank said. “Here.” He pointed to his head. “He’s calling me. He’s saying . . .”
“Frank.”
“There it is again.”
“Frank, we’re in L.A.”
“Yes!” Frank clenched his fist and hurried to the door. “Dan, take over. I’ll be back.” Grabbing his radio, Frank placed it on, and called for his father in his charge out the door.
Dan stood up completely when the door shut. He scratched his head. “Haven’t a clue so . . .” He moved to the door. “Let’s just make it up.”
The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20 Page 304