Breathing slowly and quietly outward, Ellen fell back into a lean on the door of the trailer. She was so grateful Dean didn’t her what Rev. Bob had said. But the truth was, though he hid it well, Dean did. He heard every word.
^^^^
The Plains, VA
For hours things were just about to the point of being packed up. The men, who stayed behind waiting for the transportation to be secured, worked to aid in the stockpiling of the home out west they soon would head to. Items that would be of use, and if not needed, could be placed in storage. It was something to do while they waited.
Carrying what had become his bible, The Captain read from the open log book of Steward Lange’s when he approached the school bus that Elliott had worked on. “My God, you do amaze me.” The Captain spoke with sarcasm as he walked up to behind Elliott. “A man of many talents. A school bus none the less. I was thinking before we get it going, perhaps we should paint it a patchwork of psychedelic colors. What do you say?”
Slowly Elliott lifted from under the hood. “I say . . .” He wiped off his hands. “As long as you promise to play guitar and sing, ‘Come on get happy’, I’m game.”
The Captain laughed. “How’s it going?”
“Going. You?”
“I’ve read every page.” The Captain held up the log book. “No mention of where this spoiling camp for women is. I am a little scared that our two men may have been, well, disposed of for non-viability.”
“You’re kidding?”
The Captain shook his head. “Both of those men were over the age of sixty. According to this log book, without specifics, I’m gathering they are pretty much stuck in jars for . . . parts.”
Elliott looked horrified. “Is there anything more inhumane?”
The Captain shrugged. “Performing a lobotomy and getting implanted with a microchip pretty much is up there with that. They have a camp where they keep the men scheduled for lobotomies.”
Elliott’s shoulders dropped. “You’re thinking of helping them aren’t you?’
“I didn’t say that.” The Captain held up a finger, “I mean, we have to find our women, right? If we so happen to figure out the location of this lobotomy camp then . . .”
“No.” Elliott shook his head. “I’ll argue you on that. You said yourself no more raids. No more trails to us. Captain, if you want to build in any way to have a defense against the society, we can’t go blasting in another camp. It’s going to throw the society up our ass.”
“Up our ass?” The Captain chuckled. “Elliott, I’m not thinking of going in there blasting like idiots. First we need to conserve our fire power, secondly, my god, we wouldn’t want the society to be . . . up our ass.”
Elliott rolled his eyes. “Ha, ha. Funny. What do you have in mind?”
“Quietly. A very, very small group of us will just . . . unlock the gate for those men.”
“All right.” Elliott nodded. “That’ll work.”
“You’re too easy,” The Captain said. “But, thanks for agreeing. Anyhow. We’ll unlock the gate after we get our women. And of course, after the Partridge Family bus is rolling. Which will be when?”
“Well, I’m just about done cleaning everything up and repairing what I can. But we still have one problem. We can gas her up but can’t make her go. The battery. I can’t find one not dead.”
The Captain grinned. “Elliott, you worry too much. That’s not a problem. I’ll take care of it.” He gave a swat to Elliott’s back and stepped away. “Keep up the good work.”
“But, Captain. How are you going to get a battery that . . .” Elliott watched the Captain move further away. “No.” Elliott shook his head, talking to himself. “I won’t ask again. Because I know I’m going to look like the fool when he pulls through.” Shaking his head again, Elliott returned under the hood.
^^^^
Cleveland, Ohio
“Listen to this.” Robbie nudged his leg against Greg, who tried to get some sleep despite the extreme cold. “Greg, are you listening.”
“Um, yeah.” Greg lifted his head from the wall he leaned against. He rubbed his eyes and tightened his arms.
“These two entries in Chester’s journal were three days apart. They were written a good many years before the plague. Entry one reads, July 17th: Sometimes I wish that I was only a worker in this game. I look around my lab, at my assistant, and envy these people with mere bachelor degrees. Their lack of knowledge, their lack of scientific endeavor will breed a certain air of ignorance that at this moment, I wished I had. The memo is gone now. It has to be. A simple memo that had few words, yet spoke so many. Words that I, as one of the fifty ground breakers, needed to know. Was my one vote not counted, or was I the only one? This shall remain a mystery until all of us meet again.” Robbie turned the page. “Now what the hell was that supposed to mean? He just rambled on and on. Right? I’m sitting here reading this saying to myself, this Chester guy has lost it. I’m thinking this, Greg, until . . .” Robbie turned another page. “I read this. July 20th: It has been done. The main team can now proceed.” Robbie smiled.
“And?” Greg sat up. “There’s more, right?”
“No that’s it.”
“But you just acted like that told you a lot.”
“It did. Something happened. The depressed, not whacked out tone to the entry. The memo having to be gone. His vote not counted. The society decided on something. Bet me, the main team is the Beginnings team. Something was holding them up. It was an obstacle that Chester didn’t want to see eliminated.”
Greg snatched the journal from Robbie’s grip. “Where did you read this?”
“Between the lines.” Robbie took it back. “I’ve read Chester’s tone through all of these entries. It changes on the 17th, drastically. Something happened between the seventeenth and the twentieth, something that held up the Garfield end of the project. If we can find out what that was. We may be closer to finding out when they arrived in Garfield.”
“You read all that between the lines?” Greg leaned his head back. “You’re searching Robbie. You want to find answers so badly that your Slagel mind is searching. I didn’t get that. For all we know they could have just decided on which virus to use. Or which cryo suits to wear.”
“Greg.”
“Searching.” Greg closed his eyes again.
Seeing that Greg wasn’t really on the same lines as him, Robbie just continued reading in Chester’s journal.
^^^^
Beginnings, Montana
In a heated huff through the cold evening streets of Beginnings, Dean made his way to Frank’s. No more. Dean wasn’t going to take it. With a hard pound to Frank’s door, Dean shouted out his dismay. “Frank! You asshole! Give me back my kid!” The door opened just as Dean was about to knock again. Ellen stood there. “El?” He withdrew his hand.
“Come on in.” Ellen opened the door wider.
“Frank took Joey again and I . . .” Dean stopped cold. If the four boxes weren’t enough, the photographs of Taylor and Josh set up again on a table said it all. “El? What’s going on?”
Frank’s voice emerged. “That’s what I’d like to know. Why are you screaming your little man mouth outside?”
Dean turned to Frank. “Give me, Joey, Frank. Now.”
“I don’t have him. Did you . . . loose him again?” Frank raised one eyebrow.
“Frank, you ass. This is the third time this week. Give him back. Now! I’m going into quarantine so you’ll have him then. Get him.”
“Fine.” Frank pouted and went back to the stairs. “But I still say you should just give him to me.”
“No,” Dean said. “And he better not be dressed like baby Rambo again.” Shaking his head as Frank disappeared up the steps, Dean returned to Ellen. “What is going on?”
“What do you mean?” Ellen asked.
“You know what I mean. The boxes. The pictures. Those pictures were at Henry’s.”
“Well if they were at Henry’s and
now they’re here, then you really know.” Ellen cleared her throat and the nervousness. “I had a long talk with Reverend Bob. Actually two long talks. He came to the trailer and I went to see him. I’m . . . I’m moving back with Frank.”
“El, no.”
“Dean. Yes. Officially after the quarantine. Another process. Three days at first and every week I’ll increase it a day. Until eventually, he and I are back together . .. fully.”
“Why are you doing this?” Dean asked. “You said you were confused.”
“About my feelings, yes.” Ellen kept her voice low. “But not about whom I am married to. Rev. Bob made a lot of sense.”
“Rev. Bob talked shit and played on something you rarely have . . . guilt,.” Dean snapped.
“You heard him?”
“I heard everything he said. And it’s bullshit, El. Are you following his advice?” Dean saw Ellen look away. “You are.” He said with shock. “So what does this mean for me? Are you only going to work with me eight hours a day and keep it business? No more coffee talks? Just hellos when we switch kids? What? What does this mean for me?”
Frank, coming down the steps, answered. “It means . . . It means you’re out.” He set down Joey. “Dean, we’re gonna work out our problems. You can’t be a part of that process.”
Dean nearly gasped. “Why are you being so cold to me again, Frank. Last week, things happened. We went through a lot. I thought we were getting past this dick attitude we gave each other.”
“Yeah,” Frank nodded. “I did too. But you’re moving in on my wife, every chance you get. I can’t have that.”
“We’re friends,” Dean defended.
“I can’t have that either.” Frank stayed firm.
“El?” Dean looked to her. “You can’t tell me you’re just letting him do this, are you?”
Ellen took a deep breath. “Dean, maybe you should just take Joey home.”
Dean nodded. “I see.” He took Joey’s hand and moved to the door. He stopped before leaving. “You’re wrong, Frank. Wrong. When El, and I were together I never stopped you two from being friends. And you’re wrong too, El. If a professional and medical relationship is what you want, then you got it.” With Joey, Dean stormed out.
Ellen jolted at the slamming door, and crossed her arms tight to her.
“El,” Frank whispered, “believe it or not, it bothers me to do this. But we have to work on this free and clear.”
After a single nod, Ellen turned and walked out of the room.
^^^^
Former Quantico Marine Headquarters
Gerard Davidson was a thin man, a thinker and a theorist. He always took a moment to write down every thought before he spoke them. Looking a fool or sounding it was never what he wanted to do.
George tapped his fingers impatiently on this desk. “Well?”
Davidson looked up from his paper. “Yes.”
“All that goddamn time to tell me, my guess for the future trip was theoretically plausible?” George grumbled.
“I had to think about it,” Davidson said. “It does make sense. Theoretically I’d say you’re correct.”
Steward interjected, “What about if we hit them with another virus? One they aren’t getting prepared for.”
Davidson shook his head, jotted down something, then looked up. “Seeing how they hadn’t gone to the future yet, any thoughts you have of doing anything to change that future, will change it. Sort of like with the marshmallow man in the movie Ghostbusters. If you think it, you’ll create it.”
With a side swipe of his hand, George hit Steward. “Idiot. Keep your thoughts to yourself.”
After another shake of his head and another writing down of information, Davidson spoke, “Doesn’t matter. The fact that you’re thinking of ways to change it, whether you determine what it is, will change it. In theory. Of course time travel is not my forte. I could be wrong.”
George rubbed his eyes. “This is too confusing.”
Davidson smiled. “Try this one.” He lifted his notepad. “I was reviewing the notes and such your person sent. I have a theory. Beginnings created the plague.”
“What?” George laughed. “You’re nuts.”
“No. By the notes. Not only Dr. Hayes, but you, Mr. President, died. They changed that time, hence bringing you both back. The future that sent the note was a future without Dr. Hayes, and a society, I’m guessing, run by Mr. Lange. You are a strong leader, Mr. President. You would have taken Beginnings another way. Mr. Lange, a power hungry wanna be . . .”
Steward rolled his eyes in a ‘gee thanks’ manner.
Davidson continued. “Mr. Lange, seeing a struggle with Beginnings that he feared he’d lose, sent the virus. Had Dr. Godrichson just said ‘Bring back Dr. Hayes, it’s vital’ and made no mention of the virus, it wouldn’t have happened. The people of Beginnings may have gone into a future with no virus, but since Godrichson mentioned all the virus details and you got a hold of it, he in fact gave you the idea.”
George leaned back in his chair. “So in essence, this time machine is Beginnings’ ace in the hole. This wonder machine that warned of the virus . . . actually started it all.”
Davidson smiled. “Exactly. By trying to save themselves, they began their own doom.”
HENRY’S JOURNAL
December 3
I just got home from Frank’s house, bringing some more of Ellen’s things over. It’s pretty tense there. Forced conversation and smiles. I suppose that’s to be expected, especially with tomorrow. In only a few hours, we will be leaving for a time trip that I don’t think any of us are ready for, a trip to an uncertain future. All of us are almost more frightened of what we will see than the virus itself. It’s a place we can’t change by going to, but a place we have to change when we get back.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
December 4
Beginnings, Montana
The long covered computer lines ran from the back of the CDC mobile across the small distance into Jason’s lab. On the step of the mobile, Jason visually checked the contacts he had attached to make that back door the Quantum Regressionator archway.
“Good?” Joe asked as he approached.
“Yep.” Jason stepped back. “When they re-enter our realm from the future, this is the least infectious way. It will take them pretty much into that decontamination room.”
“But basically we’re gonna have to wait until they emerge into the other lab to see if they’re all right?”
“We’ll know they made it back when we see the door illuminate.” Jason nodded in approval after glancing once more at the moved time machine. “O.K., you wait here. I’ll go power everything up, and when the three of them are suited and ready, you give me the signal.” Jason took a step back to his lab, but stopped. He saw Dean at the jeep, Frank standing with Ellen by the mobile lab door, and Henry near the couple as if waiting impatiently. “And speaking of giving signals. Do you want to…”
“No problem,” Joe said, and when Jason started walking again, he gave one of his high ear piercing whistles that caught the attention of the crew. “Move it. Let’s do this!”
Ellen could feel the tremble slipping out of Frank’s fingertips as they lay on her cheek. “Frank.”
“I know. Just be careful. Please. Promise me,” Frank whispered softly.
“I promise you. We have to do this,” Ellen told him. “And I’m ready. Trust me, I’m . . .” Her eyes shifted to Henry. “We’re all ready.”
As Frank nodded, and prepared to give Ellen one more embrace before she slipped into the mobile and far from his reach for an unknown amount of time, he felt the brush of Dean as he walked briskly by them.
“Excuse me,” Dean said and walked to the mobile door. “Henry. Ellen. It’s time.” Box under his arm, he opened the lab door.
Frank looked down to Ellen. “Has he said anything to you at all?”
“Just that,” Ellen answered. “Maybe it’s for the best.” She took a breath. “Give
me a hug goodbye.”
Frank stepped into Ellen, wrapping his huge arms all the way around her and holding her tight, bringing her feet nearly from the ground.
Henry hated to break up the embrace, but it really was time. “El, we have to do this. Frank, you are going to have to let her go.”
Frank stepped back, placing his hands firmly on Ellen’s cheeks. “Be good in quarantine.”
“Henry is with me.”
“That’s what I mean, be good in quarantine.” He kissed her. “I love you and I’ll come and see you every day.”
“Talk to me through the glass with the radio, like I’m in jail.” She took a step back with Henry. “Oh, Frank. Just like that movie . . .” Ellen winked. “I’ll show you my breast.”
Frank smiled, he needed to do that. “Be careful.”
“I . . .” Ellen raised the corner of her mouth. “Always.” Feeling Henry take hold of her arm, Ellen after one more wave to Frank, moved into the CDC mobile.
The lab door closed. The latch of the lock seemed to ring out and Frank’s head dropped. He raised only his eyes catching glimpse of the huge window that would be his only communication with Ellen. Then only after a hesitation, he walked over to stand before that window and wait. To him, after they stepped through the time machine, they wouldn’t be gone all that long.
The loud ‘rip’ of the duct tape nearly drowned out Henry’s calm. Frustrated, Dean tried to tear the tape.
“Dean,” Henry said again as they stood in the decontamination room, the three of them wearing their bio suits with the exception of the hoods. “Want me to . . .”
“No,” Dean snapped. “Shit.” He ripped the tape off and placed the one end on Ellen’s waist then brought the long piece all the way around.
“Why are you doing this?” Ellen asked.
State of Time: Beginnings Series Book 6 Page 11