The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Yes,” Ellen said calmly. “May I have your gun?”

  “Oh, sure.” Frank pulled it from his harness. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” Ellen took it. “I’ll be right back.” Revolver in hand, eerily calm, Ellen walked to the door and opened it.

  Joe was exhausted, but he really didn’t want to waste too much time. Even Andrea’s humming as she prepare a meal in the kitchen wouldn’t stop Joe from falling fast asleep. A short little nap on the sofa was what he planned to take.

  Body in a lying position, Joe leaned back and just as his head touched the pillow. . .

  Bang!

  He sprung up.

  Bang! Bang!

  Gunshots? Joe jumped from the couch. “What the hell is going on?”

  Nonchalantly, Andrea peered out her kitchen window. “Oh, Joe, don’t worry about it. Lie back down. It’s just Ellen shooting Dean.”

  “Ellen shooting Dean!” Joe blasted, flew to the door, flung it open, and skidded to a stunned stop. “Ellen! What in God’s name . . .”

  “Joe,” Andrea called out. “Close the door. You’re letting in a draft.”

  With total aggravation and a grumble, Joe reached back for the handle. “Goddamn it, Frank! You’re just standing there?” He slammed the door. “Son of a bitch!”

  ^^^^^^

  BLESSED IRONY

  Beginnings Book 19

  CHAPTER ONE

  BEGINNINGS, MONTANA

  January 30th

  A heavy sigh.

  Journal entry seventy-four. I had to flip back and see where I was. Not that it matters all that much. But I needed a refresher. Just got back. Wanted to take a nap, but my head is full. My heart too. So is my stomach for that matter all those goddamn brownies Andrea kept forcing on me. Christ, who the hell did she think she was baking for? And I felt bad, so I ate them. I’m sure my digestive system will pay later. But that’s not important. However, I suppose my little gripes injected here and there throughout this are important in a way. It’s me, right? And isn’t that why I’m writing this? Not that I think my family will forget me, but I think, knowing losses, they’ll need this. I want them to have this. Even though California and the rescue mission is still fresh on my mind, I’ll have to get to that later on. Right now I’m gonna go back to where I left off. Chronological order I guess. I hope. Where was I? That’s right, the preteen and teenage years. I can still see that Police officer’s face when he stepped out of the car, after testing and failing Frank for his driver’s test. One would think, years on the force, even though it was a piss ant job like testing drivers, that he would have been used to it. His face was white. Whiter than any face I’ve seen. Christ, I’ve seen dead bodies and they weren’t that white. His shirt was doused with the lunch that came back up on him courtesy of Frank. You know, I couldn’t believe Frank failed. Frank is and always was a responsible driver. Drives too goddamn fast at times, but he’s still a good driver.

  ‘Failed,’ he told me.

  ‘Failed?’ I was shocked. I should have known. ‘How the hell did you fail?’ I asked him.

  ‘Fuckin bubble gum.’

  Okay, I didn’t get it. I got annoyed. Hal laughing behind me. Robbie having to pee. Jimmy just staring in wonder. Then I thought it was the ‘two things at one time’. You know, can’t walk and chew gum. So I asked him if he was trying to chew gum, concentrated on it and couldn’t drive. And he responded with his stock.

  “Dad, please. You think I’m stupid?”

  “Well, Christ Frank! You’re standing here telling me bubble gum was the reason you failed.’

  Then Frank proceeded to tell me. It was on his shoe. Benefit of the doubt still in mind, I was trying to figure out how bubble gum on Frank’s shoe was the reason for failure until he told me. Not only was he trying to get it off while driving, he was using the break and gas pedal as a means of scraping that gum off the bottom of his shoe. In traffic mind you. Break-gas. Break. Gas. I just stared at him and then I lost it. Doing my typical, ‘what are you ... a moron? How can you be so . . .

  Bang. Bang.

  The loud sounds of gunshots from outside not only caused Joe to drop the pen and toss the notebook, but he sprang up and raced from the bedroom into the living room.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  Nonchalantly Andrea peered out her kitchen window. “Oh, Joe, don’t worry about it. Lie back down. It’s just Ellen shooting Dean.”

  “Ellen shooting Dean!” Joe blasted, flew to the door, flung it open and skidded to a stunned stop. “Ellen! What in God’s name . . .”

  “Joe.” Andrea called out. “Close the door, you’re letting in a draft.”

  With total aggravation and a grumble, Joe reached back for the handle. “Goddamn it, Frank! You’re just standing there?” he slammed the door. “Son of a bitch!”

  ^^^^

  Lodi, Ohio

  Even though the light board hung at a good level on the wall of the clinic, Mike Manis still had to hunch down to it. Arm above the board, Mike, ill informed on any medical visual knowledge, looked upon the x-rays as if he knew exactly what he viewed. He breathed out a sigh of relief when the light went out and hoped that Lars Rayburn wasn’t going to give a pop quiz. Lars had a tendency to do that. Smart, one of the old world’s smartest, and Lodi was fortunate enough to have him.

  So was Johnny Slagel for that matter.

  Lars, thin, older, ran his fingers through his thinning blonde gray hair and peered up to Mike who still resembled an oversized biker. “So that’s it. That’s our tumor. Or rather Johnny’s ticket home.”

  “What do we do?” Mike asked, backing up and sitting down on a desk.

  “Well number one thing is, that bad boy has to come out. If it doesn’t, six months from now, Johnny’s behavior will change and we here in Lodi will be experiencing the wrath of Johnny like Beginnings did. And that isn’t good for you.”

  “Why? Do you think our men will cause a stir with me?”

  Lars chuckled. “I’m not thinking about our men. I’m thinking about your well being.”

  “Excuse me.”

  “Johnny shot his own father . . . twice, mind you. Imagine what he’d do to you since he’s taken that adopted dad stance with you.”

  “Ha. Ha. Ha. Real fuckin funny.” Mike shook his head. “This is serious, Lars.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “So why do you still have that smile on your face.”

  “I’m still gloating over the fact that I discovered something that the ultimate, ego manic little shit, Dr. Dean Hayes did not.”

  “Good for you. But we need that ultimate, ego, maniac little shit, don’t we?”

  “We don’t.” Lars looked to the unlit board and tapped the left x-ray. “Johnny does.”

  “And how do we go about getting Johnny back to Beginnings to get that tumor removed? They hate him, Lars. He’s been disowned. There’s no way.”

  “That’s a viable possibility.” Lars responded. “And if push comes to shove, if Dr. Hayes refuses to do the surgery and Beginnings denies Johnny, we’ll give him the choice. I do the surgery or he . . . or he just lets the tumor go. But we don’t want to do that, because as I said before, I am not skillful enough to perform this surgery. It would be risky either way. No, I have an idea. As I had said before, any doctor with an ounce of knowledge will look at this x-ray, see the tumor and realize that Johnny’s behavior was medically based and unavoidable. So what we do is, get the information to that qualified doctor and leave him no choice but to want to take out that tumor. Right is right.”

  “Do we radio, call? Is that what you want to do?”

  “No.” Lars shook his head. “Think about it Mike. Call Beginnings? Radio? They won’t buy what we’re saying, not at all. We have to give them proof.”

  “On that line, will they even accept any information whatsoever about Johnny?”

  “Probably not.” Lars stated.

  Mike tossed up his hands.

  “But that’s Beg
innings.”

  Lost, Mike looked at Lars. “What do you mean?”

  “Beginnings as a community will not accept any information or contact about Johnny. But, perhaps, Dr. Hayes himself will.” Lars paced in a thinking mode. “It’s worth a shot.”

  “I can’t read your mind, Lars. What’s worth a shot?”

  “Let me make a copy of all my test results, give a diagnostic report and my professional opinion, pack it all up in a briefcase and send a messenger first thing tomorrow out to Beginnings. We’ll send him with strict orders to give the case only to Dr. Hayes.”

  Mike nodded slowly. “That might work. So, when do we tell Johnny about the tumor and the attempt to get a hold of Dr. Hayes?”

  “We don’t. Not yet.”

  “I don’t understand,” Mike said. “You don’t want to tell him about this?”

  “Not yet, Mike. We especially don’t tell him about the attempt to contact Beginnings. Think about it. If we tell young Mr. Slagel he has a deadly tumor, the news of his possible demise is bad enough. But it will pale in comparison to the heartache he will feel if he finds out that not only is he dying but . . .” Lars paused. “His family, his home, will do nothing to help him. And that my friend . . .” He took on a serious tone. “Is a very serious possibility.”

  ^^^^

  Beginnings, Montana

  For lack of better words, or anything calm to say, Joe screamed. Lots of obscenities and blasphemous phrases accompanied his attempt to halt the situation. It was chaos in that little patch of yard that separated his home from Ellen’s.

  Gunshots fired. Dean ducking. Joe himself yelling. If it wasn’t bad enough that Misha passed out and hit her head, matters grew worse when Ellen, realizing the bullets weren’t hitting Dean, not only flung herself at Dean, but also used Misha’s downed body as a springboard to land on her husband just prior to pistol-whipping him.

  All while Frank just stood there with a shitty grin on his face and watched.

  Joe sustained what he believed would end up being several nasty bruises. Nothing on purpose, just his intrusion into the battle that ensued right before him. He gave up on asking Frank if he was just gonna stand there and do nothing, because obviously Frank was.

  Joe intervened.

  The living section was no place to hold the heated discussion, so without further ado he launched the three small people in his jeep, dropped Misha off at the clinic and headed to his office. Of course the entire way there Ellen’s mouth ran as fast as the jeep and as loud as the engine that needed to be tuned up.

  “Enough! Sit!” Joe blasted his mouth to Dean and Ellen then pointed to the chairs in his office. “Now!” Frustrated, he reached back and slammed the door.

  “Ow.” Frank’s voice seeped through.

  Joe spun around and opened the door. “Christ almighty Frank couldn’t you see the door?”

  “It was open when I walked through.”

  “You should have been with us.” Joe snapped.

  “Yeah, well, you fuckin left me. Which was a good thing.” Frank closed the door, paused to snicker when he saw Dean and Ellen, then continued. “I had to get something from . . . my house.”

  Joe nodded and backed up to his desk. “You think this is funny, don’t you?”

  “Well . . . yes.” Frank said.

  “Well . . no!” Joe sat down. “No! What is your position here in Beginnings, Frank?”

  “Is this a trick question?”

  “No, it’s not a trick . . .”

  “Because there are lots of answers that could go along with that.”

  “Frank.”

  “I’m standing . . .”

  “Frank!” Joe yelled louder.

  “I could be . . .”

  “Frank! You’re head of security!”

  “That too.”

  Joe grumbled. “Goddamn head of security. Man of the hour. Yet . . . yet . . you stand there, calmly, watching while she . . .” Joe swung a point to Ellen. “Shoots at him!”

  Ellen lifted her hand, she seemed to not notice the reddish glare on Joe’s face. Had she, she wouldn’t have said anything. “Joe . . in Frank’s defense.”

  “Frank’s defense!” Joe screamed. “What about your defense!”

  “I had good reason.” Ellen folded her arms.

  Joe shrieked.

  “Dad.” Frank spoke with a ‘scoffing’ tone. “Please. She wouldn’t have hit him.”

  Ellen stood up. “I resent that! I can shoot a gun!”

  Pacifying, Frank spoke. “Yes, El, yes, you can. You can’t hit your target, but you can shoot a gun. You shot my Dad once.”

  Joe loud frustration scream interrupted. “Still! One shot, one shot was all it would have taken you moron! She could have killed him.”

  Frank laughed. “Dad, please, they were blanks.”

  Joe’s mouth swished from side to side in an attempt to calm down or at least appeared reasonable. “Blanks. Why . . . why, Frank, did you have blanks in your gun?”

  “Because I knew she was gonna shoot Dean. She kept thinking if I was right, she would ask for my gun and shoot him, so I was prepared for it.” Frank pointed to his own temple. “I read her mind.”

  Ellen screamed. “What! Don’t fuckin read my mind you asshole!”

  “Hey!” Frank yelled back. “Don’t yell at me! I’m not the one that left you for a woman half your age, is divorcing your ass, and did this all while you were out running for your life!” dropping his voice to a calm one, Frank turned to Dean. “No offense to you and your new situation.”

  “None taken.” Dean lifted his hand. “Joe, can I go check on Misha . . .” he hunched when Ellen shrieked.

  “No!” Joe yelled. “And wait a goddamn minute. When I left here a few days ago, everything was fine. Dean you wanted Ellen back. What happened?”

  “I fell in love, Joe.”

  Joe shifted his eyes with a whispering warning call to Frank. But Frank was already on it, moving Ellen back the second she sprang up.

  Frank gave an assurance wink and nod to his father.

  Disgusted, Joe glared at Frank. “Will you knock it off?”

  “What?” Frank lifted his hands. “I can’t help it. It’s great. I mean . . . I mean it’s sad and true.” He pulled from his back pocket a rolled up grouping of papers. “See for yourself.” he handed them to Joe.

  Joe unrolled them and looked. “These are divorce papers.”

  “Mine.” Ellen reached across and grabbed them. “Dean wants me to sign them. Don’t you Dean?”

  “Yes, it would be nice. Aren’t you happy? ” Dean stated.

  “Very.” Ellen peeped the word out and grabbed a pen.

  “Hold it.” Joe reached out. “Something is not right. Dean have you had that chipped checked and Ellen . . . give me back that pen.”

  “Nope.” Ellen turned her body in the chair.

  “Don’t you sign them!” Joe yelled. “You hear me!”

  “Dad.” Frank interrupted. “If she wants to sign she can . . .”

  “Stay out of this!” Joe blasted. “You probably started the whole thing.”

  Frank gasped dramatically. “That is so unfair.”

  “Signed.” Ellen exhaled.

  “Give them to me.” Joe held out his hand. “Right now before Jason gets a hold of them.”

  “What about me?” Jason Godrichson asked as he stepped into the office. “Oh, Dean.” He blinked. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Should be.” Ellen grumbled and stood. “Here Jason.”

  “Don’t take those.” Joe ordered.

  Jason took them. “What is this?” He looked despite Joe’s grumbling. “Oh, you signed.”

  “And I would appreciate you making that official.” Ellen said.

  “Not a problem.” Jason pulled a pen from his chest pocket.

  “Jason.” Joe warned. “Don’t.”

  Dean interjected. “Joe, if he wants to . . .”

  “Christ.” Joe cringed as he watched
Jason.

  “Done.” Jason clicked his pen.

  ‘Yes.” Frank gloated.

  “Thanks.” Ellen told Jason.

  “Not a problem.” Jason folded the papers. “I’ll just keep these.”

  Joe tossed up his hands. “I give up.”

  “Joe.” Ellen said with a high pitched tone. “May I go? I want to see my children. Dean’s not shot. I just got divorced and I’d like to go home.”

  Slipping into his chair, Joe just waved his hand while his other hand covered his eyes.

  “Thank you.” Folding her arms, Ellen walked out.

  “El, wait. I’ll go with you.” Frank followed her.

  With a thinking, ‘hmm’, Dean watched the door close then turned to Joe. “You would think she’d be happy.”

  In disbelief Joe just answered. “You would think.” After looking at Jason who smirked, Joe did his atypical move of defeat and dropped his head to his desk.

  CHAPTER TWO

  It was the oddest of places for Robbie and Hal to be, but there they were, doing a brother bonding ritual of sorts. Where others might have thought it strange, for them, it was perfectly within the realms of something normal to do.

  They sat side by side in the cryo-lab, staring forward, having a relaxing cup of coffee as they discussed a matter vitally important to them both, but more so to Robbie.

  “Hal, I appreciate this,” Robbie said.

  “Not a problem, little brother. This is something relaxing before we embark on bothering Frank.”

  “I could have done this alone, but it just feels like something I wanted to share.”

  “Understandable,” Hal responded.

  “It’s something I need to do. No, it’s something I want to do., like a kid at Christmas.”

  “I hear that. Actually, I’m finding enjoyment in this.”

  “Cool.” Robbie nodded. “So you don’t think it’s a gay thing to do.”

  Slowly, Hal turned his head. “Gay? Do I think it’s a . . . gay thing to do? Hmm,” he said with sarcasm. “Let me think. Why in God’s name would you call it a gay thing to do?”