The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “What! I did not.”

  “You did. Look.” Hal pointed. “Time. Time. Times. Time. Four. See?”

  “So?”

  “In three sentences. Elliott, please, or a word man such as yourself, that is appalling.”

  Elliott just stared. “Is there something you wanted other than correcting my word usage and reading my letters?”

  “Yes, and one of them isn’t to have you give me that snippy Elliott attitude.”

  “I apologize, Captain.”

  ‘Accepted.”

  “I just want to write this.”

  “Go on.”

  “Alone.”

  “Fine.” Hal said. “Be pissy.” He stood up. “This can . . . probably wait.”

  “Ten minutes?”

  Hal looked at his watch. “Yes, I’ll get breakfast.”

  “Thank you.” Elliott lifted the pen and brought it to the paper. He began to write again.

  “Elliott.”

  Elliott stopped. “Yes.”

  “Are you really going to leave all of those ‘times’ in there?”

  “I was . .

  “I mean, I understand you cannot erase and you’d have to begin again, but wouldn’t you prefer . . .”

  “Captain.” Elliott tired to remain reasonable.

  “To have a poetic piece? If you don’t feel like erasing. you can always do that Thomas Jefferson ‘Deceleration of Independence’ thing where you just scratch out and put the new word on top. I, for one, would not . . .” Hal smiled when he saw Elliott crinkled the paper into a ball. “Ah, since you’ve stopped, I’ll seize this opportunity.”

  “Please tell me.”

  “It’s a bit exciting. It will call for a meeting.” Hal repositioned himself again to sit across from Elliott. “We have a situation.”

  “What is it?”

  “You know those stray Society soldiers, the remainders from the game?

  “Yes.”

  “You know how the units have been random and spread about the country side?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ve received word from our scouts. It appears they have taken an initiative to join up. Several have already done so.”

  “So they’re in communication somehow.”

  Hal nodded. “Unfortunately they are on a frequency we’ve not been able to pick up. We have to get a hold of Danny to work on that.”

  “That will work. We could tap in and maybe get an idea what they are doing.”

  “They aren’t staking camp, I can tell you.”

  Slowly Elliott looked at him. “Our scouts know?”

  “Some. They’re moving.”

  “Moving?” Elliott asked.

  “We have direction.”

  “Why do you do that?” Elliott questioned with irritation.

  “Do what?”

  “Have to make the announcement so dramatic. Why couldn’t you just say, Elliott, those scattered Society soldiers are joining up and moving in a new direction.”

  “Dear God, Elliott. You are in a bad mood. I’ll just join you when you aren’t hurting my feelings.” Hal stood up.

  “Captain.”

  Hal smiled. “Yes, Elliott.”

  “Finish.”

  “Will you let me be my usual, how did you put it, dramatic self?”

  “I’ll even play along.”

  “Excellent.” Hal hurried and sat down. “They’re moving. They have direction.”

  “My God . . .” Elliott gasped. “Where does it look like they’re headed?”

  Hal grinned. “Here.”

  ^^^^

  The hurried drive, ten miles outside of the Society based in Florida, wouldn’t have been a problem for Jess had it not rained so hard the night before. The access road was pretty much slush and it took extra time. Time Jess hoped wasn’t too much.

  He found the sought after location a lot easier than he thought. The sight of forty of so Society soldiers, armed in a ready position, told him he had found the place.

  Hunched to the ground with their weapons raised, the soldiers were ready and aimed at the large storage building that was heavily over grown with weeds.

  He screeched the Jeep to a halt, spinning the wheels in the mud. Jess hopped out and raced to Jimmy.

  “Thank God,” Jimmy said with desperation. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “I got held up. The road was bad.”

  Jimmy only gave a ‘hmm’

  “What’s the situation?”

  “One of those soldiers was doing a routine check of this building and left a message for me that he heard voices from inside, plotting and planning.”

  “You don’t say?” Jess said.

  “When he tried to investigate, they shot at him.”

  “What soldier?”

  Jimmy pointed to the one behind Jess.

  Jess turned. “Soldier, why didn’t you go inside?”

  “They shot at me.”

  “I see.”

  Jess looked at Jimmy. “Did you contact the President?”

  “He said to wait for you. He said it’s your call. I told him it was suspected defectors.”

  Jess looked at his watch. “Well, I think it’s time to go in there.”

  “Now?” Jimmy asked.

  “Now.”

  “But . . .”

  “Now.” Jess was sterner.

  “I refuse to send my men in there . . . yet.”

  “We . . .” Jess spoke more pronounced, “are wasting time.”

  “No we aren’t.”

  “Commander, I uh, took too long to get here.”

  “But not too long., Jimmy stated. “I know.”

  “No, I know.”

  “Jess, trust me. We wait.”

  “We go.”

  The young soldier, who had been diligently listening to the wayward conversation, spoke up. “Would you like me to get a group of men together to go in there and . . .”

  Both Jess and Jimmy answered ‘no.’

  “All right.” The soldier lifted his hands. “You sirs know best.” He backed up. “Argue away.”

  Jess tapped the face of his watch. “I know best.” He nodded. “Trust me. I’ll go.” He turned and walked in the direction of the building.

  Almost monotone, and nearly as if he could care less, Jimmy called out. “No. No. Jess. Don’t go. It may be a trap.”

  With a quirky look, Jess stopped and slowly turned around. “What the fuck kind of warning was . . .”

  BOOM!

  Jess ducked.

  The storage building exploded in an eruption of splinters as a fireball bellowed up far into the sky.

  Still shielding himself, Jess looked back to see the flames tauntingly roll his way.

  “Fuck.” With a fast four step run, Jess took off then dove toward Jimmy, landing in a roll behind the slight safety grade.

  Jimmy projected his voice. “Damn defectors!” He hunched down to where Jess lay.

  With his hands gripping, Jess began to slowly pick himself up. He raised his eyes to Jimmy.

  Arrogant, and almost cocky, Jimmy gave a twitch to his head. “I guess you knew.”

  Whispering, Jess seemed angry. “I set the explosion. I should know.”

  “Well, if you were that sure, why’d you get so close?”

  With a grumble, Jess just plopped back down to the ground.

  ^^^^

  As if they were returning from a pleasant bargain shopping experience, Lars bubbly escorted Ellen into his lab. “I must tell you, Dr. Hayes,” Lars spoke “Performing that biopsy with you was a grand time.”

  “Thank you.” Ellen smiled and saw Robbie sitting there, leafing through a magazine. “You’re back, Robbie.”

  “It’s Lodi, El.” Robbie shrugged. “There’s not much to see.”

  “Did you visit our zoo?” Lars asked.

  “You have a zoo?” Robbie perked with interest.

  “Yes, two dogs, a cat, four hamsters, a monkey, and I think a ferret. I’m no
t sure on that one. We had an elephant, but she died.”

  Robbie blinked. “For real?”

  “Yes.” Lars asked. “It’s by the old diner.”

  “Cool.”

  “But don’t go anywhere. I want to run some tests on that arm,” Lars instructed.

  “It works.” Robbie lifted it.

  Ellen explained, “I think he just wanted to see it for scientific purposes.”

  “All right.” Robbie shrugged. “Hey, El, check this out. Seven years before the plague, two men came to Lodi and stole the license plates from all the cars.”

  Curious, Ellen looked at him. “That’s strange.”

  Lars interjected, “I see you visited the Lodi Hall of Fame. You really should have saved some things for tomorrow.”

  “Hey, I have the zoo.” Robbie smiled.

  “Hey.” Ellen snapped her fingers. “That’s what we need in Beginnings. Tourist attractions.”

  “You’ve got to have tourist, El.” Robbie nodded.

  Lars added, “Or at least let people in.”

  “But that’s what Beginnings was in the future. It was a tourist attraction.”

  Lars just stopped. “What? Could you repeat that?”

  “Sure.” Ellen shrugged. “In the future, Beginnings was a tourist attraction.”

  “In the . . . future.” Lars spoke as if to get it right. “Beginnings was a tourist attraction, not the past with the word was, but in the future, it was?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m confused.”

  Robbie tired to explain. “Two words. Time machine.”

  “Yeah, right, sure,” Lars stated sarcastically then saw that they didn’t joke. “You’ve got to be kidding?”

  Robbie shook his head. “Nope.”

  “Tell me, just tell me,” Lars pleaded, “that Dean did not invent this time machine.”

  Robbie had to snicker. “Man, you have something about Dean. No, Dean didn’t. Dr. Jason Godrichson did.”

  “Jason Godrichson?” Lars asked. “Good heavens, is he still alive? He has to be pushing ninety.”

  “Huh?” Ellen scratched her head. “Oh! No. Wait. Jason Godrichson. You’re thinking about the father. We don’t have the father. We have the son.”

  “And the Holy Ghost.” Robbie winked.

  Lars first looked at Robbie then he smiled. “Clever. Speaking of clever, shall we take a look at that clever antibiotic you brought, Ellen?” Lars moved to the counter where the microscope set up was located.

  “Let’s.” Ellen picked up the vial that had already been set out on the counter. “In fact, if you have some cool bacteria, we can watch it grow.”

  “Actually,” Lars smiled, “I do. I have some brewing in that closet.” He pointed. “Robbie, could you?”

  “Sure.” Robbie walked to a closet. “This side here?”

  Lars turned just as Robbie reached and turned the knob. “No, wait not . . .”

  Robbie let out a short, squealing, high-pitched laugh. It bled into a hyena style. “Oh my God. El! You have to see this.”

  “See what?”

  “Dean.”

  “Dean?”

  “Dean.” Robbie nodded.

  Curious, but out of view, Ellen moved in that direction.

  After cowering in a wince, Lars cleared his throat and lifted his head. “Ellen, I deeply apologize if it offends you. . .” He stopped when Ellen saw the closet door and the photos of Dean. Some had drawn-on mustaches, missing teeth, and dart holes.

  Ellen laughed.

  “Well.” Lars smiled “Perhaps not.”

  ^^^^

  ‘Cover your ass was the thought that went through Frank’s mind as he stared at the closed door to Holding. Everything was about to start. Shit was about to hit the fan. Frank made a promise to Dean that he would get to the bottom of who manipulated his chip and Frank was bound and determined to hold true to that promise. The first step . . . was behind that door.

  However, Frank, before entering told himself to ‘cover his ass’. The last thing he needed was for that to be a worry on his mind. Frank was a target to a lot of men. He was used to that, but in tense situations and closed in areas like Holding, being a target could possibly run interference in Frank’s master plan. Frank vowed, while in Holding, he wouldn’t turn his back, not once.

  Frank took a breath, reached for the door, and repeated ‘cover your ass’. With a stern face on, he stepped inside. Exhaling, he shut the door.

  Ben from Fabrics sat at the table. He looked up.

  “Ben,” Frank said in a stern whisper.

  Nervously, Ben fiddled with his hand. “I want an attorney.”

  “This is Beginnings. I . . . am the law.” Frank took in a deep breath, patted his revolver, and winked. “Yep.” He exhaled. “Ben.” He stepped to the table. “Ben. Ben. Ben. Ben. Ben.”

  “What? What? What? What? What?”

  “Huh?”

  “I said what?”

  “About?”

  “You said my name.”

  “I did.”

  “So I said ‘what’?” Ben responded.

  “For?”

  Ben huffed. “You’re trying to frazzle me. It won’t work.”

  “Now why . . .” Frank pulled out a chair. “Would I try to frazzle you?”

  “Don’t play dumb with . . . never mind. What is it, Frank? It’s mitten day. I have a ton of pink mittens to finish up.”

  “You and I, pal, are gonna talk.”

  “About?” Ben asked.

  “Dean.”

  “I hate him.”

  “I know.” Frank nodded. “We all hate him, but he is important so we have to live with him. Did you know . . . did you know if Dean lost his mind . . .?”

  Ben quickly looked up.

  “If he lost his mind, it would be a crime. It especially would be a big, big crime if someone else caused him to lose his mind, because if Dean lost his mind, he couldn’t cure. People would die. So that is murder.”

  “What?” Ben scoffed. “That’s absurd. Dean loses his mind and it’s murder on whom?”

  “Whom ever was murdered.”

  “That’s not what I meant. How is it murder?” Ben asked.

  “Because somebody died.

  “To be murdered, they would have to be killed.”

  “If Dean could have cured them and didn’t because he couldn’t, then that’s murder.”

  With a slight roll of his eyes, almost femininely, Ben looked down to his fingers. “I wish you would explain that better, because I don’t see how it’s someone else’s fault.”

  “Fine, how’s this?” Frank asked. “Dean is curing my father. Now, let’s say . . . you cause Dean’s microchip to go nuts and Dean no longer functions normally. Dean can’t cure. My father dies. You killed him.”

  “That’s even more ridiculous than your prior statement.”

  “It’s the law.”

  “Says who?”

  “Me.”

  “You’re a beast.”

  “I know.”

  “Get to the point.” Ben still looked at his hands.

  “Fine.” Frank reached up, grabbed Ben’s hand, and slammed it on the table. “Someone got a hold of the program that de-scrambles a micro-chip. Someone replicated that audio program. Someone played it over a telephone line to Dean. Someone fucked up his chip. Someone placed a call, played that program . . . “

  ”Frank!” Ben snapped.

  “And some one!” Frank blasted, “placed that call from your shop.”

  Slowly, Ben looked at Frank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I think you do.”

  “I don’t.”

  “I think you do.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Try to remember.”

  “There’s nothing to remember.”

  “Then how about this.” Frank folded his hands and leaned into the table. “Either you remember on your own or . . . I put on the worst fashion-sense clothes
I can find, run around this community all day, get Josephine, strip her down, and lock the three us in a room until you remember. Just think, her wrinkly naked body and my smelly one. Let me tell you something Ben. When I sweat . . . I don’t smell pretty.” Frank raised his eyebrow. “Now, what’s your choice? How’s that memory.”

  With a facial cringe of disgust, Ben looked at Frank and swallowed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  It wasn’t the look of a happy camper that graced George’s face as he hung up the brief, but disturbing, phone call from Jess Boyens. A part of him hoped that rumors of defectors were just that . . . rumors and that perhaps Johnny hadn’t been taken, but rather just had a relapse of his amnesia and was wandering around. But that wasn’t the case. Not only were there defectors, but all indications were that the organizations ran deeper and stronger than he had anticipated. George only hoped they weren’t dealing with another UWA on their hands. There was one difference. The UWA never had a prized possession of George’s. This new band of defectors who had just blown up a building down south, supposedly had Johnny.

  “You wanted to see me, sir?” Bertha spoke as she stepped through the open office door.

  “Yes. Is Stew with you?”

  “He’s in the field,” she answered “What’s up?”

  “We have activity,” George stated. “Boyens called. It seems the defectors have made a statement. They blew up a building, trying to take out our men.”

  “Anyone hurt.”

  “No, thank God. Jess was almost hurt when he tried to storm in there.”

  “Alone?”

  “He said James tried to convince him not to, but Boyens felt Johnny may have been in there.”

  “Boyens is brave.”

  “Yes.” George nodded. “Yes, he is. Fortunately, Johnny wasn’t there and it was just a trap these new defectors set.”

  “They’re toying with us.”

  “Big time,” George stated. “Their plan involves Johnny. They’re using him some way and we’ll find that out eventually. They want something. What, I don’t know. Like you said, they are toying with us and playing that watch and wait game. They want us to wait for them to contact us.”

  “So what do we do?” Bertha asked.

  George let out a heavy sigh as he lowered down to this chair. “We have no choice. We haven’t a clue who and where they are. Unless Boyens discovers an end to this soon, we have no choice but to play the game.”