State of Time: Beginnings Series Book 6

by Jacqueline Druga

  “And I’m guessing you’re gonna see if he’s gonna make it a third.”

  “You better believe it,” Frank nodded. “So, I’ll need you to stay with the kids tonight so I can sneak up.”

  “You got it.” The buzzing of the containment door caught Robbie’s attention. The site of his father made him throw an ornery grin at Frank. “Wanna run? There’s Dad. You’re not on his favorite person list today.”

  “Fuck you Robbie,” Frank said disgustedly. “I’m taking off.” Frank slowed his stride as he got to his father. “Dad.”

  “Where are you heading off to so fast?” Joe asked.

  “Home.”

  “Give me a minute.” Joe, laying his hand on Frank’s back, turned him around to speak to him and Robbie. “Robert.” Joe called him with a whistle.

  Thinking, ‘Shit, what did I do, he called me Robert’, Robbie trotted up the hall. “Yeah Dad?”

  Joe pointed backwards with his thumb. “Get some crowd control going outside. We have over half the female population standing out front wanting to see Ellen’s new gift.”

  Drastically, Robbie facially winced. “Aw man. All right. I’ll let them see him.” He turned his head to whistle in a call for the newcomer.

  Joe stopped him. “Before you give the women of Beginnings their little peep show, I just wanted to get both of you boys together. I want to have a meeting with you two, and Jason, concerning this Forrest Caceres trip. I need you two, ASAP to work on something. You’re demented enough. We have to figure out how to stop his death, or at least, let it look like it happened. And we need to decide who is going to go. So tomorrow, early morning, my office. I wanted to take the lot of us up to quarantine and involve Henry in this. He’ll be the logisticalizer again. But, I just spoke to Dean. He says it’s only going to be another four days. We can wait.”

  A moment of silence was a chance at escape. Still feeling tension, Frank just wanted to leave, “Are we done?” He looked at his father then Robbie. “I’m heading home. I have a family to take care of. Dad, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Frank . . .” Joe called out to him. “I was thinking of stopping by tonight. Give you and Robbie a hand with them kids. Is that all right?”

  Frank lifted his hands. “Sure.” He pressed in his security code, the door buzzed, and he left. A few seconds later, even through the steel door, Frank’s loud mouth could be heard. “Shut up. Do I look like Blake?”

  Shaking his head, Joe turned back to Robbie. “I take it he’s still pissed at me for coming down on him?”

  “Um . . .” Robbie looked up to the ceiling in thought. “Yes.”

  “What else is new?” Joe looked at his watch. “Let me take off too. Go get that new guy and flash him for the women so they can disperse, please.”

  “Flash him?” Robbie smiled brightly. “Sure Dad, I’ll flash him.”

  “Good boy.” Joe reached for the security keypad, paused, turned back to see Robbie walking to the skills room. “Nah.” He shook his head. “He wouldn’t.”

  ^^^^

  Logan, Ohio

  The words ‘what now?’ were what raced through the Captain’s mind seconds before he stopped the bus and allowed his head to bang into the steering wheel. He was grateful it was Elliott’s turn. They had alternated at each stop. After waiting what he believed to be an absurdly long time, the Captain stood, apologized to his bus load and then stepped off to the old highway.

  Elliott looked frazzled when he walked off the other bus and to the Captain.

  “Well?” The Captain asked.

  “You’re not going to believe it.”

  “Try me.” The Captain tossed his hands up. “Though I can’t imagine what it is. Did I not stop for, not just clothes, but better clothes. They can’t possibly have to go to the bathroom again. I limited their fluid intake. And we already stopped to allow their stomachs to settle. Oh, wait, let’s not forget, we cleared the row on the bus to separate them from the men because they were getting stared at. Stared at.” His voice raised. “They’re bald for crying out loud! I can’t stop staring at them either.”

  Elliott laughed.

  “I’m glad you find humor in this, Elliott. Now, why are we stopping this time?”

  “Ready?” Elliott cleared his throat. “To find . . . feminine protection of sorts. One of them has begun menstruating.”

  It was a gasp, but more so a sound of shocking disgust that came in the form of a grunt from the wincing Captain. “Were our women this bad?”

  “Well . . . kind of sort of.”

  “Kind of sort of?” The Captain asked. “I don’t think they were. In fact, I don’t ever recall a single one of our women . . . menstruating.”

  “Captain,” Elliott said with a snicker.

  “Maybe they’re just a bad batch.” After making that observation, the Captain shook his head at his own thoughts and calmed down, “No. They’re women. And they’re women in a world where there are few. Just like we did, whoever they lived among, spoiled them, did everything for them.” He took a thinking breath, “The way I see it is, we either break them of that being spoiled habit or we continue in it.”

  “Which do you suppose we do?” Elliott asked.

  “Whatever brings us the most peace,” the Captain said as he headed back to his bus.

  “Which one would that be?”

  “Which one do you think?” Before stepping aboard, the Captain turned back to Elliott. “Put it this way. It’s going to be a long, long, ride home.” With a nod of his head, a flash of smile, the Captain stepped on the bus leaving Elliott standing there. A moment later he popped his head back out. “And you’d better hurry Elliott; you have feminine protection to locate.”

  With a disgruntled, ‘swell’, Elliott walked back to the women’s bus.

  ^^^^

  Beginnings. Montana

  Tomorrow. That was the answer Dean gave himself. The day started out positively, facing rabbit vomit and possibly the answer to incubation periods. But with each passing hour the day grew worse. The news of Sarge’s death took over anything and everything. Dean couldn’t even remember what he had worked on the night before, his mind was so cluttered. The three of them tried to work, but it was useless. No one said much, and conversation was needed. Dean supposed the next day things would be clearer. Sarge was too much on their minds, a man that came into their lives with a blast, and left too quickly…an asset Beginnings would never know.

  The quiet moment of the evening reminded Dean of his college days. He peered up from his notes that he tried to review. Notes that seemed to fade to the back of his mind when other thoughts took over. He looked over to Henry who sat up on the bed across form his. Sitting up, sleeping, head fallen forward, papers sprawled all over Henry’s bed and lap. Dean debated on waking Henry, but opted not do. Henry would argue that he wasn’t asleep and Dean didn’t feel like getting into that with him. So Dean let Henry go, figuring Henry would either wake up and go back to work, fall over and continue sleeping, or stay like he was and get up with a hell of a stiff neck.

  So quiet it was in the mobile with the exception of Ellen’s muffled voice seeping through the wall from the next bedroom and Frank’s loud mouth as he spoke to her over the radio outside. They argued about something. Dean didn’t really try to hone in on the whole conversation. He heard the mentioning of John Matoose’s name and that’s all he needed to hear. Frank’s occasional ‘shut up’ made Dean shake his head with a snicker. Wasn’t Ellen realizing that if she were trying to tell Frank some sort of secret, she wasn’t exactly being confidential by saying it over the airwaves?

  Not tired, but not feeling like notes he’d rather save for the next day, Dean set his folders and such aside. When he did, he spotted it on the night stand. A gift of sorts. A box of memories Ellen brought for Dean to look at if he got bored. It was perfect to take his mind off of things and Dean reached for it.

  Hand gliding through the box that used to contain size thirteen shoes, Dean looked
at the objects inside, pictures, notes and such. All stuff to help jar a memory he didn’t have. And every picture, every word written might as well have been in a different language, because to Dean they were foreign and he didn’t understand any of them.

  ‘Keep it that way. Lab lights on. Blinds down. Stay out of sight.’ Frank’s handwriting was on the note he slapped against Ellen’s bedroom window.

  Ellen read it. “Why?”

  “Don’t ask. Just do it. O.K.?” Frank said.

  “But Frank . . .”

  “El, I have to go. I have another reason to be here. In.” He pointed. “Blind down. Now. Good night.”

  Ellen took a deep breath. “Night.” Almost in a huff she tugged on the pull string letting the blind smack hard against the window sill. Folding her arms, still clenching the radio, she turned around and almost jumped when Dean was standing in her open doorway. “Dean?”

  “Busy?” He asked.

  “No. Come on in.”

  Holding the shoe box, Dean closed the bedroom door. “I couldn’t work. I heard you arguing.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ellen walked forward. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just . . . I was trying to get through to Frank. He doesn’t want to hear it.”

  “About John Matoose?” Dean asked.

  “You heard.”

  “El?” He smiled in a quirky way. “Anyone with a radio heard you suspect John Matoose. If Frank does, do you think he’d tell you over the radio.”

  Ellen slightly chuckled. “I guess you’re right.” She turned back to the window, separated the blinds, and peered out. “But now he’s out there. Lurking in the dark. Waiting.”

  “Who? John?”

  “No. Frank.” The simple pat against the window made Ellen shriek and release the blind.

  The radio hissed. “El.” Frank spoke. “Stay away from the window.”

  “God.” She winced and shut off the radio. “So. What’s up.” she walked over and sat on the bed.

  Dean held up the shoe box. “I just figured since we’re on borrowed time here, I was hoping to borrow some of your time.” He sat down on the bed next to her. “I want to know about this stuff, some of these pictures. I know after quarantine, I won’t get the chance to ask.”

  “Dean,” Ellen whispered. “It’s not forever. It’s just until Frank and I work it out.”

  “But how long will that take?” Dean questioned. “I mean. You two don’t have an easy time working things out. And now, you’re just gonna move right back in with him.” He heard her snicker. “What’s so funny?”

  “You sound like Henry. He . . . he doesn’t think we should follow Rev. Bob’s advice. He thinks I should continue to build the friendship back with Frank. He says living apart keeps our relationship platonic enough to do that clearly.”

  “Henry doesn’t think you should sleep with your husband?” Dean asked.

  “Nope. He says sex has a way of burying things. And if I move back with Frank we’ll . . . you know.” Ellen swallowed a little feeling uncomfortable. “But I think he made a wise point.”

  “And odd. Henry’s Frank’s best . . . never mind.” Dean raised an eyebrow. “Weird.” He let out a breath. “Anyhow. Yes? No?” he lifted the box again.

  “Yes.” Ellen snatched up the box, plopped down sideways onto her side on the bed. “I really think this is what I need.” She patted the spot across from her.

  “Are you sure you’re up for this?” Dean asked as he lay on his side facing her.

  “Absolutely. Especially after today. I need to not think of Sarge.”

  Dean’s fingers fiddled with the items in the box. “I just, I just want to know this stuff. You know. And when I look at it, sometimes I feel like I stepped into someone else’s life. I’m living it. I want to know it.” His eyes gazed up to her. “Does that make sense?”

  “Yes it does. And I’ll do my best, Dean.”

  “As long as it doesn’t bother you to talk about it.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Ellen smiled. “Dean. I loved my life with you.”

  Quietly and without warning, Dean leaned over the box of memories and softly kissed Ellen. “I would give it back to you . . . in a heartbeat.” his fingers reached out and gently brushed over her lips. After a second of a stare, Dean took in a breath and changed his demeanor. “But . . .” He pulled back. “Choices are made and after quarantine. I’m . . .” He winked. “Little man history.”

  “Are you laying on the guilt?”

  “Yes.” Dean just smiled then reached into the box. “Memories?” He lifted a picture.

  “Memories.” Ellen looked at the photo. The smile fell from her face. “Ouch, bad choice.”

  “Really?” Dean peered at the picture of him, Ellen, and Robbie.

  “Nah. Kidding.” Ellen giggled. And really appreciating the ‘feel good’ she was getting from getting ready to share the memories, Ellen scooted closer to Dean in a more of an intimate hovering share of that box.

  ^^^^

  For as cold as Frank felt standing outside, hiding out near the mobiles waiting in the early morning hours, that was how hot he became when he saw him. It was hard at first. The dim porch-type light barely lit him up. But Frank saw that red hair. That long red hair, and like its color, red’s what Frank saw.

  Moses--Reverend Thomas walked slowly up, standing ten or so feet from the trailer. He peered in the mobile window first, backed up, and then faced the trailer again. Standing there not doing anything, just standing. He didn’t hear anyone out there with him, nor did he expect it. When he felt it, when he heard him, it made his insides fall, and Moses tried not to show his emotions. He felt the shifting slightly of his hair then he felt the cold hard metal surface of it pressing to the base of his skull. He knew it was a gun, and he knew it was Frank.

  Speaking in the deepest softest voice he had, Frank pressed his revolver harder into Moses. “I hope you have a really good reason for fuckin standing out here at three in the morning.” Frank saw Moses move some. “Don’t! Don’t move. Answer me. Why are you here?”

  “My brother, I am praying for their work. That is all. Just praying. The Lord will watch over them if they are guided by prayer.”

  “Listen to me.” Frank moved his mouth closer to Moses’ ear. “You stay away from my wife, from Henry, and from Dean. You don’t speak to them, look at them, or pray for them. If you do, you answer to me. And from this moment on, from sun up to sun down, this area is off limits to anyone without authorization from me. If I catch you up here again, you will be breaking the rules. Break the rules, you either go or get shot.” Frank clicked the hammer on the revolver. “And trust me when I tell you I’d rather put a bullet in your head now then wait until after you’ve done something. I’m on to you. Remember that. Now go.”

  “Frank, I’m sure Joe . . .”

  “Go!”

  Moses raised his hand slowly in surrender. He backed up and made eye contact with Frank. Without showing any emotions, any fear, he slowly--in a taunt walk--left the area.

  Waiting for him to be gone, Frank replaced his revolver. He looked once more at the mobile before moving on. His gut told him it wouldn’t be the last time Rev. Thomas made a late night appearance at the mobile, and Frank only prayed, that the next time, he wouldn’t be too late.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  December 8

  Beginnings, Montana

  After a night of barely dreaming, waking up and tossing about, Ellen would have rather of not slept at all. When she did sleep, little dreams, memories or occurrences magnified were what barricaded her dreams. And every time, mid mini dream, Ellen would end up getting the urgency to awaken, as if she over slept. And she would. She gathered that the news and emotions over Sarge’s death, coupled with the stroll down memory lane with Dean the night before, just seeped deep into her subconscious.

  She drew the final straw when somewhere in the middle of dreaming about William chastising Dean over his choice in baggy clothes, Ellen swore she
heard Brian screaming. Fearful that Joey had taken Brian from the crib and dropped him again, Ellen in a rush, sat up, swung her legs--twisted in the sheet--over the bed and in her dash, fell face forward to the floor with a loud thump.

  It took that ‘bang’ onto the old carpet to realize she wasn’t home, but still in quarantine. Staring at the night stand that was inches from her face, Ellen chuckled and shook her head. She gave a good kick of her legs to free them from the sheet she brought with her and straighten the long tee shirt she wore over her mostly nude body. Wanting to eliminate any extra steps in her grogginess to get to the bathroom, Ellen reached for the door so close as she brought herself to stand. The gripping of the knob was her leverage to pull herself into an upright position. The moment she opened the door was the moment she saw Henry.

  Henry stopped mid walk down the hall. “Hey, El, morning,” he smiled. “What did you do, fall out of bed?”

  “Yeah.” Ellen ran her fingers through her hair. “Going to the mobile?” she asked half asleep.

  “Yep. Dean must have gone over early because he’s not in . . .” Henry stopped talking. He looked at Ellen, then beyond her.

  “Henry?” Ellen asked then noticed Henry’s stare was no longer on her. After her eyes took a second to widen, Ellen took a second to blink long. Slowly she peered over her shoulder to Dean in bed, pulling the covers Ellen snatched from him, over his naked body.

  He looked at Dean for a long few seconds then Henry, after giving a single piercing glance to Ellen, walked off.

  Ellen pulled the door open. “Henry.” But no sooner did she open it wider, Dean scurried from the bed, reached out and shut the bedroom door.

  “This isn’t any of his business,” Dean whispered to her as he stood behind Ellen. “It isn’t. O.K.?”

  Ellen only nodded as she still stared at the door.

  “O.K.” To the back of her head, Dean placed a kiss, stepped back, and reached to the floor for his clothes.