Freedom Fight: Beginnings Series Book 9

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Aren’t you sweet? Isn’t he sweet, Joe?”

  Joe grumbled as he sat down. “A pip.”

  “We’ll enjoy this.” Robbie told her.

  “I’m sure you will.” Andrea moved to the door and opened it for Robbie. “I’ll open my window.”

  “And I’ll play you that song.”

  “Thank you, Robbie. Be good. Play good.”

  “Yep.” Robbie grinned and carried his baking sheet with him when he left.

  Andrea let out a sigh as she closed the door. She walked back toward the dining room and kitchen.

  “Why are you feeding him? He’s a grown man, Andrea. Let him cook for himself.”

  “He’s a very busy young man. He’s Mr. Security now and he has the band coming over to his house. He can’t have company without food. Those boys can’t play on an empty stomach, they won’t be good. Besides, Denny will be there too. He has to eat.”

  “Want me to call Katie to the table?”

  “Joe Slagel, you really should pay more attention. She’s at Dean’s.” Andrea went into the kitchen and emerged with a large bowl of salad. She placed it on the table, dished some to Joe, then herself, and sat down. She folded her hands on the table. “You or me?”

  “I’ll do it. You take too long.” Joe folded his hands and lowered his head. “Heavenly father, bless this meal and thank you for it. Amen.”

  “Amen.” Andrea smiled and tapped Joe’s hand. “Touching.” She lifted her fork and noticed the annoyed look on Joe’s face. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, something is missing.”

  “What?”

  “Dinner, I thought I smelled your pizza.”

  “You did.” Andrea took a bite of her salad.

  “Well where in the hell is it?”

  “I made it for Robbie and the boys.”

  “Robbie!” Joe lifted his fork. “What about me?”

  “You have a nice salad plus, I made custard for desert. You love custard.”

  “Yeah, I do love custard.”

  “What’s the matter, Joe? You seem grumpier than usual.” Andrea became serious. “Is it Frank? Wanna talk?”

  “It’s Frank.” Joe dropped his fork. “Andrea, I don’t know what to do about him. What the hell was he thinking?”

  “He was thinking how much he needed to step away from his pain. Everything here is Brian, Joe; out there it’s not.”

  “It doesn’t make it right.”

  “Nor does it make it wrong, Joe. Instead of being angry with him, try to understand him.”

  “Why are you defending him?”

  Andrea shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I just see where he’s coming from.”

  “But he took Ellen. He didn’t just take her, he kidnapped her.”

  “Again, look at it from his point of view. Frank isn’t one to think things through. He acts. Ellen has been a part of his life forever. They lost a child and in Beginnings he couldn’t grieve alone with her. He needed that. Would she have gone if he asked her? Probably not.” Andrea continued to eat.

  “I’ve got Dean acting like a mad man around this community. What about that?”

  “Try to understand that as well. Dean loves Ellen. He needs her. The worst part is, after all these years, the unthinkable happens. Dean and Frank began an understanding. That takes trust. Dean put his trust in Frank, put aside all the years that Frank betrayed him, and look what happened. It was fifty-fifty. Then Frank decided he wanted Dean’s fifty percent. Had Frank just said to Dean he needed Ellen for a few days, I know Dean would have agreed. But . . . he didn’t. I’ll talk to Dean. We’ll get him calm yet.”

  “Thank you, Andrea.” Joe smiled at her and picked up his fork. “You’re a wise woman.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m glad to have you in my life.”

  “Thank you, Joe Slagel.”

  “Not all that glad about this salad.”

  “But you do get custard.” Andrea pointed her fork at him.

  Joe grumbled as he looked at the lettuce on his fork. “I do get custard.”

  ^^^^

  Jess Boyens extended a napkin down to Andrea’s son Denny as he sat on the couch eating pizza. “Try this.”

  “Thanks.” Denny smiled, his face covered with sauce.

  “Wipe your hands off too,” Jess ordered nicely. “You don’t want sauce on that tambourine.”

  “No way do I want that. Thanks.” Denny half-ass wiped off and continued to devour his pizza.

  Robbie looked up at Jess. “Are you sure we won’t bother you playing in here? We can go outside.”

  “No it’s too hot out there. Play. I’ve no problems with it, looking forward to it actually. I’ll just be upstairs.” He pointed backwards then heard a knock at the door, “after I get that.” He saw Robbie standing. “Stay seated.” Jess walked to the door and saw Danny Hoi was there. “Danny.”

  “Hey Jess.” Danny smiled. “Can I come in? I need to speak to Robbie.”

  “Sure.” Jess motioned his hand inward for Danny. “Robbie.”

  Robbie stood up. “Hey, Danny what’s up?”

  Danny, so like his bubbly self, walked in. “Robbie, I need to talk to you. I’ve had this secret desire to be a backup singer. Can I join the Starters?”

  “Um . . . uh . . .” Robbie looked to his band. “Are you serious?”

  “No,” Danny laughed, “just kidding. Anyhow, I just spoke to Joe and he said speak to you. I found something today when I was out with Cole on the modular home search. I want to get it tomorrow but Cole can’t go. Joe says I can’t leave without a security escort. Can you hook me up with one?”

  Robbie shifted his eyes to Jess. “You up for a short run?”

  “Sure.” Jess nodded. “What are we running for, supplies for the foundation?”

  “Nah.” Danny shook his head. “We got that ready to roll. My guys start on that tomorrow. No, it’s for entertainment purposes. There’s not much to do here in Beginnings, not like the Starters aren’t the greatest thing since the Beatles, but . . . we need more so we’re gonna have the first “walk-in” here.”

  A loud “what” erupted from everyone.

  With a snicker, Danny held out his hands. “O.K. let me explain. I saw this big screen TV unit and I’m getting the projection unit. We have videos and we’ll show them off the back of distribution, like a drive-in without cars. Trish is gonna be the coordinator of feature films we view.” Danny heard the moans. “What?”

  Robbie laughed and shook his head. “Trish. Great, we’ll be watching Mary fuckin Poppins every night.”

  “See, that’s what I thought,” Danny said, “but she fully plans to implement late Friday night as adult movie time. She said, that way the women are done with their meeting and the kids are all asleep.”

  Robbie hooted with the rest of the guys. “All right, now that sounds good. Tell her we expect the first adult movie night tomorrow.”

  “Without a doubt.” Danny moved to the door. “Thanks Robbie.” He opened it. “Oh, hey, I wanna test the external speaker system I set up. Feel like helping?”

  Robbie shrugged. “Sure, how?”

  “Give me fifteen minutes and put a radio on channel twelve. We never use that one. We’ll broadcast you guys like a radio. O.K.?”

  Robbie looked to his guys for approval. “Sounds good.”

  “Great. Jess, come help.” Danny waved him on. “Starters, be original and creative for the community will be listening.”

  After the door shut, Robbie looked to Paul. “We can be creative, can’t we?”

  Paul blinked several times in thought. “Sure, how can we not? We’re musicians . . . aren’t we?”

  ^^^^

  Bowman, North Dakota

  There was a special prayer service offered that night in the town’s old church. As always the captain attended. Never did he miss praying for his men who were about to embark in battle. To him, God was their protection just as much, if not more than the swords that they carri
ed. He walked from the huge crowd that gathered, like the old days, at the entrance of the church after services. He wandered down the street, whistling one of the hymns he had just heard. His walking slowed when the sound of his whistling seem to clash with something else . . . music.

  Raising his eyebrows at the oddity, he listened to hear where the guitar playing came from and followed it to the police station. He hurried inside, opened the door and moved to the dispatch center that now was his monitoring station. “Private.”

  The uniformed private stood up from his seat at attention.

  “Be seated. Did I just hear music?” The Captain moved closer.

  “Um yes sir.” The young soldier said. “Beginnings’ channel twelve. I have all the other stations on, nothing but security checks and talk about some woman named Bev is going on, so I turned it up. Sorry sir.”

  “No, it’s O.K., They designated a station to music?”

  “I kind of think they’re amusing themselves with the radio.”

  The captain chuckled and the instrumental song stopped. “That was good.”

  “Acoustic act sir. Wait . . . listen.” The young man tuned in the radio.

  It was a whispering voice, dark and deep. Soothingly he spoke close to the radio.

  “Yes. This is D.J. Paul with it all. Coming to you live from Beginnings, Montana. Broadcasting for your listening pleasure, we have live and unplugged, the Starters . . .”

  The young soldier chuckled. “Starters, Beginnings, get it?”

  The Captain closed one eye in a bit of annoyance. “Yeah, I get it. Shh.”

  “Believe it or not, joining the Starters for tonight only, is Bob Dylan.”

  “Come on guys. Who’s Bob Dylan. Tell me now, please.”

  Paul’s voice muffled. “Knock it off, Denny. You’re ruining the professionalism of this.” The voice returned fully. “Bob, tell us what you’ll play next.”

  It sounded like Bob Dylan. “Wheel, ya’ knew paw. I lie ta play fir yew a little tune of ma own. He-he.”

  The captain laughed and listened to the song as it started. The man who sang it sounded so much like the Dylan he remembered. “This is good.”

  “That guy sang Dylan doing Elvis. It was hysterical.”

  “I missed that?” The Captain pulled up a chair joining the private. “These guys must not have anything better to do with their time.”

  “Begging your pardon sir, but we’re no better off. We’re listening to them.”

  The Captain smiled, leaned back and took in the sound of Beginnings.

  CHAPTER SIX

  August 29

  Chadron, Nebraska

  Predawn. A hiss of silence upon The Society camp soon became invaded with joined voices, deep and proud, chanting out softly, and carrying through the deadness of the air.

  “I pledge allegiance to my country and for the alliance in which I stand. I will fight for my God, for my home, for my land, and for my brothers who have lost their lives. I will defend with my honor and soul, all that I believe in. I will fight for the freedom under which we all should live.”

  There was a pause of silence and the chanting continued. Stirred from their slumber, The Society soldiers rose up. Upon the opening of the first camp door, came the single blow of the trumpet. The UWA soldiers were hidden within the camp rather than attacking on horseback. They had taken out the guards on post and awaited the enemy. A fierce struggle, hand to hand, began and in the midst of that, another bugle sounded and from the hillside charged an additional brigade. They joined their brothers of the UWA, hitting The Society with skill, speed, and losses The Society did not expect to suffer.

  ^^^^

  Ft. Peck Lake

  It was a long pier, extending a good twenty-five feet into the lake. Frank sat on the edge of it with Ellen next to him. He fished while Ellen watched. He kept shifting his eyes to her in that early morning.

  “El, you can say it any time.”

  “Nope.” She rested her elbows on her knees. “I think I’ll wait.”

  “Why?”

  “Because. It bothers you.”

  “No, it does not.”

  Ellen half smiled. “Yes, it does Frank. I know it bothers you.”

  “No it doesn’t so you can say it.”

  “O.K.” Ellen shrugged. “Happy Birthday.”

  “Thanks.” Frank kissed her on the cheek.

  “God, you’re old Frank. What are you today, forty?”

  “Oh my God! No! Thirty uh . . . thirty-five.”

  “See, I knew it bothered you.”

  “Why would turning thirty-five bother me?” Frank asked.

  “It didn’t bother you. I was there five years ago when you turned thirty five. You’re forty and may I say you’re looking every bit of it, if not more.”

  Frank’s head rose. “I what? Please. I look better than most of the men in the community who are younger than me.”

  “You would think that. Old, Frank, you look old. Dean says you aged without grace.”

  “Dean says? Take a swim, El.” Frank gave her a gentle push and into the lake Ellen went with a shriek.

  Ellen’s head emerged from the water. She shouted quickly, “Frank! Asshole . . .” She went down and came back up. “I can’t . . .” under the water and then back up, “swim.” Ellen went under.

  “Oh shit, I forgot.” Frank set down the fishing rod, laughed, and jumped into the lake.

  ^^^^

  Quantico Marine Headquarters

  George’s loud voice blasted out in the board room. Six men sat at the table. “Will one of you please tell me what the hell does UWA stand for? Someone!”

  There was silence.

  “No one knows?” George’s hand slammed hard on the table. “Two hundred and three men yesterday, three hundred and forty-five men today, all dead! This is the fifth time these assholes have hit us. What is our total? Seven hundred and fifty-seven men. With the loss at Beginnings that is over a thousand lost. What the hell is going on?” George still received nothing but puzzled looks. “These men show up out of nowhere. Where did they come from? These pansies in blue and grey uniforms sporting a UWA patch aren’t taking out our men armed with M-16 and high tech weapons, but with fuckin swords and handguns. Someone give me an answer or at least a logical goddamn explanation of what’s happening and where they came from. You men were part of a team of fifty that went out as ambassadors. Talk to me.”

  Jeremy Lyons nervously spoke up. “They have to be a new organization.”

  “Well no shit. Did we see them before?”

  “No.” Jeremy shook his head. “I was predominant in the west. They could have been people that have survived our raids out there. We know some of them are defectors.”

  “How many are defectors?” George asked.

  Jeremy opened his notes. “Knowing what we’ve lost on our raids and the ones the UWA takes as prisoners, CME’s included, they may have close to two hundred of our men.”

  “That can’t be right. That has to be one hell of a large group, and we can’t find them.”

  “It’s a big country. How many times did we pass that one place in Canada and they had, living in that community, close to three hundred,” Jeremy said. “If it’s any consolation, Beginnings doesn’t know they exist either.”

  “Beginnings is starting to look like peanuts compared to these guys.” George shook his head with a huffing breath and sat at the table. “They now take top priority. I’ll notify our person in Beginnings that we have problems. I haven’t spoken to them in almost a week . . . O.K.” George calmed down. “Now if we can scour this continent for the four million our scientists estimate are alive, we can scour the west for them. We have to nail this resistance and we have to build a force that can take them out with the precision they are taking us out.”

  Another man at the table raised his hand. “We’ve been shipping our elite to Alabama. We still need a better guidance in training there.”

  “I’m working on that.
Right now, this resistance takes precedence. Gentlemen, we have to find them before Beginnings does. I received word this morning our ships will be done in approximately a month, two tops. I’d like to launch them with our men, but I’d like to do that with nothing else on my mind. The last thing we need is this country going into civil war. I’m afraid . . .” George paused as he stared at the faces at the table, “if we don’t end this soon that is exactly where we’re headed.”

  ^^^^

  Beginnings, Montana

  Joe grinned as he swiveled in his desk chair, reading the papers Henry hand delivered from the communications room.

  “Joe?”

  “Never, ever.” Joe snapped forward laying the papers down, “since we located George, have we seen this much activity from him.”

  “Twenty-two calls,” Henry indicated, “were made to Quantico in the past five hours alone.”

  “He definitely knows we know his location and he know he’s too big for us to take out. That’s why he’s letting all these calls in. So . . .” Joe leaned back. “Did you tell George, Henry? Huh?”

  “Oh my God, Joe. How can you say that to me?”

  “Just kidding,” Joe laughed and read the papers. “But still, all these calls indicate something is up. It looks more like panic instead of check ins. My gut tells me Georgie boy may be having some problems.”

  ^^^^

  Bowman, North Dakota

  “No!” The Captain called out, racing into the field where his men trained on horses. “No.” He tossed his cigarette and grabbed the reigns of a horse, stopping it. A frightened young man of eighteen sat upon the animal. “Son, speed is important. Speed. Precision in the sweep is secondary. Trust me, you swing down at a man with your sword going full speed it’s not going to matter where you slice him. He’s doing down. But if you are not doing it with speed, he will see you coming, and he will take you from that horse. The most vital thing is that you returned home to us in the same shape you left. That is why you must do this correctly. Understand?”