State of Time: Beginnings Series Book 6

by Jacqueline Druga

  Ellen stayed at the door, just standing there, for a little bit longer.

  ^^^^

  Former Quantico Marine Headquarters

  “Joe Slagel had a little meeting bright and early this morning,” George said. He closed his office door then walked toward his desk past Steward who sat in a chair. “Fortunately, in a way, we were able to be present.”

  “Our person attended.”

  “Yep.” George moved to behind his desk and sat down. “Confirmed. They are working on a virus, a virus that strikes the future.” He raised an eyebrow and folded his hands. “As of yet, no progress. The antidote, which is actually an antiserum, in the vials, cannot be copied. Basically, Dr. Hayes is at square one.”

  Steward smiled. “We’re ahead of the game.”

  “Absolutely,” George said. “We have the recipe for the antiserum. We just have to make it.”

  “Anything about the Caceres time trip?”

  “All our person knows is Beginnings wants to bring him to Beginnings. What does he know Stew? You were there. You were the one who was accredited with getting the order to kill him.”

  “That was so many years ago,” Steward said, “too many. I was a young, eager aid at the time. But, the president liked me. Dr. Caceres’ death was what land marked me into the society. You were there too.”

  “Yes. But I wasn’t as forefront. That was when Timmins ran things.” George took a second to rub his jaw. “All I recall is that the little man with a big mouth threatened to go public with the ‘behind the scenes’ plans of the society. That year was the first public year of the conference.”

  “That was all I know. Joanna Holmes was a top notch back then as well. She placed the call to me. What exactly he knows . . .” Steward shrugged. “…remains to be seen.”

  George let out a deep sighing breath. “He can’t possibly have the knowledge of everything, can he?”

  “We’re in trouble if he does,” Steward said.

  George tossed a pencil in frustration. “Or at the very least, no matter how big we are, we’ll be at a disadvantage.”

  ^^^^

  Beginnings, Montana

  The steam from Ellen’s coffee made a small circle of condensation against the large window in the lab. She lifted her hand in a wave to Denny and Josh who sat in the grass not ten feet away. “I see we have our daily audience.” Ellen smiled then saw the piece of paper on the window. “And I’m guessing by the covering, we have our daily dose of pornography as well.” She lifted the sheet of paper to expose the picture underneath. “Why is it that I had to stare at a lesbian picture yesterday, but today, get two men and one of you two covers it up?” Ellen looked over her shoulder to Dean who worked at a computer and Henry who sat at the counter with the microchip. She shrugged and returned to peering at the picture. “This looks like it hurts. Would this hurt, Dean?” She pointed.

  “Ask Henry,” Dean answered.

  Henry bitterly slammed his hand. “Why would you even say that?”

  Above his glasses Dean peered. “A joke.”

  “It’s not funny,” Henry snapped and returned to work.

  “Dean?” Ellen walked over. “They don’t look like they’re in pain.”

  “Ellen.” Dean shook his head. “Enough. And no, don’t ask again because I haven’t a clue.”

  “You would assume if it’s painful they’re wouldn’t be so much of it going on in . . .”

  “El,” Dean interrupted her. “Enough. Work.”

  “Demanding.” Ellen moved to him. “What are you engrossed in?”

  “The Jenny Matoose sample and get the smile off your face.”

  Ellen swiped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. What about it?”

  “Remember the other night I noticed it was different from strain two. Well, it is. Yet, the ‘Future me’ has it marked as strain two. Why is that?”

  “It’s strain two,” Ellen answered.

  “No.” Dean shook his head. “It’s different, different from the other samples.”

  Ellen looked over Dean’s shoulder at the computer screen and to Jenny’s sample. “Dean the difference isn’t that much in the comparison slides. If you were stressed, I can see you missing it.”

  “Miss it?” Dean chuckled. “I would have had to been blind not to…” He nearly jumped from his stool when Ellen dropped her mug of coffee. “El?”

  Ellen stared in a daze, hot coffee encircled by her feet.

  Henry jumped up, ran to the sink and grabbed towels. “El? What is it?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head, gave a nervous snicker, and grabbed the towel “Just something I read in Dean’s notes that struck me as odd and then Dean said . . . nothing.” She shook her head and bent down to the floor. “God, what a klutz.”

  Henry shook his head and returned to his work space.

  Dean bent down to help Ellen. “What did you read?”

  “Nothing.” She forced a smile. “I’m embarrassed. I can’t believe my mind even went there.”

  “What?” Dean asked again this time with concern.

  “I said it was . . .” Ellen looked over her shoulder when she heard a tapping on the window. She saw Joe standing there. “Look. Company. He’s pointing to you Dean.”

  After looking at Ellen once more, Dean stood up. He walked to the window and grabbed the radio. “Hey, Joe, what’s up?”

  “How’s it going?” Joe asked.

  “Going.”

  “Have a minute? I want to tell you what we discussed in the meeting this morning before I head up to see a little demonstration given by my boys.”

  “Sure.” Dean pulled up a chair and sat down.

  Tossing the last of the broken mug into the garbage, Ellen rinsed off her hands and dried them. She listened a little, or rather eavesdropped to Dean and Joe’s conversation then she walked over to Henry. “How’s the chip coming?”

  Henry only shrugged.

  “Henry.” Ellen’s soft word seeped out. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

  “I’m not mad. I’m disappointed in you.” He watched Ellen’s head lower. “Are you not getting back with Frank?”

  “I am.”

  “Then why, El? Huh? How could you do this to him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It was wrong. So wrong,” Henry told her. “You let me down. You let Frank down. It shouldn’t have . . .”

  SLAM!

  The bang of Dean’s hand on the counter not only brought a silence to their conversation but it conveyed his anger. Back to Ellen, Dean leaned forward into Henry. “Don’t make her feel guilty over what happened. You hear me?”

  “I wasn’t talking to you.” Henry tried to ignore him.

  “Well I’m talking to you, Henry. Don’t.” Dean gave a point with his finger and stepped back to his work space. “It’s none of your business. Keep it that way.”

  “It is my business, Dean.” Henry stood up.

  “How do you figure!” Dean yelled.

  “Frank’s my best friend. You slept with his wife. Do you realize what kind of awkward position that puts me in? I talk to him daily. I have to face him and lie? Protect you from getting killed?”

  Dean’s fist hit against the counter again. “Then tell him! I don’t care! I can face my own consequences. You think I wouldn’t tell him? The only reason I don’t is because of Ellen.” Trying to calm himself, Dean sat down. “And I won’t argue with you on this. It’s none of your business. So let’s drop it.”

  Angry, Henry’s jaw shifted as his eyes did from Dean to Ellen. Not wanting to argue further either, Henry swiped up his stuff and stormed across the lab.

  Ellen watched Henry breeze by her. “Hen . . .” She jumped at the slam of the door when he walked into the trailer. “Dean I . . .” A jolt hit her when Dean struck the key loudly on the computer. “I . . . I think I’ll just . . .” she moved to the special lab. “…check our dying bunnies.” With a whistle, Ellen went off to the special lab. She closed the door, took
a breath and prepared to work. Two steps into the lab, she stopped when she saw them. In a box, tossed to the side and deemed ‘useless’, were two disks marked, ‘future notes, one month pre plague.’ After looking through the glass to an occupied Dean, Ellen slipped those disks into her lab coat pocket.

  ^^^^

  “Andrea, can you move a little faster?” Joe kept tugging on her jacket as they moved to the open area near the back gate. “Today some time.”

  “Joe Slagel, kiss my ass.” Andrea kept her own pace. “I will not tire myself out for you.”

  “Tire yourself, Andrea. This turtles pace is getting on my nerves.” Giving up on waiting, Joe walked faster and moved further ahead.

  Waiting in the area with Frank, Robbie smiled as he saw his father. “Where’s Andrea? I thought . . .” He saw her appear over the small grade. “Never mind. Our always missing council member. Glad you could join us.”

  Andrea just rolled her eyes. She wanted to flip him off, but Andrea was too Christian.

  Joe folded his arms and looked at the excited looks on his son’s faces. “Why are you two so happy about this?”

  Frank decided to tell him. “We worked real hard, Dad. Robbie worked all night building and designing it.”

  “I’m cool.” Robbie smiled.

  “Yeah.” Frank nodded. “And we got this demonstration down to a science. We just need to try it out. And you need to see it.”

  “I do, do I?” Joe snickered at their enthusiasm. “I knew this was up your alley, but I didn’t expect it to happen so fast.”

  “Well.” Robbie cleared his throat. “We’re hoping you’ll let us go. We want to go and do this.”

  “No,” Joe said. “Absolutely not. You two?” He almost laughed.

  Frank looked offended. “Yeah. Dad. We have to go. It was 1990. 1990? We want to see it. We want to feel like that Dean little man guy in the ‘Back to the Future’ movie.”

  Robbie grinned. “Yeah. Back to the days of left over big hair.”

  “I liked big hair.” Frank nodded. “But on women.”

  “But of course.” Robbie came back. “And let’s not forget . . .” He held his hand out to Frank.

  Frank finished the sentiment. “It was the year that Donny Osmond made his big come back with Soldier of Fortune.”

  “And nobody cared.” Sadly, Robbie lowered his head.

  “Sigh.” Frank added and lowered his.

  “Enough,” Joe shouted. “The demo. Christ.”

  “Cool.” Robbie, excited like a kid, handed Joe what was a controller to a remote car. “Here. This is yours. Man, I am so proud of my mechanical inclinations. This too.” Robbie then handed Joe the base and wheels of a remote control car. “This is your explosive. You control it with that hand held controller.”

  Joe threw his one hand up. “What? Do I look stupid? Go on.”

  Clapping his hands together, Robbie moved ten feet back. “Let’s say for visual purposes this Barbie camper is Dr. Caceres’ car. And the Ken doll is Forest himself.” Robbie picked up the Ken doll, lifted its arm. “Hi Joe.” He set Ken back in the camper. “Now we’ll assume the explosive device is probably connected to the alternator in Caceres’ car. Anyhow . . .” He took an after-rambling breath. “Telling Forrest to get in the driver’s side, and slide out the passenger side is tricky, so the explosion has to be timed right. That’s why you will use the remote. As soon as Forrest gets in, you drive the explosive device directly under his car. When Forrest slides out, you press the red button on that control. Boom. Simple. Now Frank and I worked real hard on the explosives. Using the Barbie camper, we calculated a less explosive to scale to demonstrate what would happen. So go on Dad. Roll that little car near the camper.”

  Hesitantly, Joe made the toy vehicle go. He drove it to the Barbie camper with a smile on his face. Seeing it near the pink car, Joe pressed the red button on the control. Not only did the Barbie camper explode into a thousand pieces, but the sound of the explosion actually shook the ground, rang a deafening sound, and blasted dirt and grass out and about like it was rain. Listening for the final sound of the falling debris, Joe lifted himself from the shielded position he had over Andrea and himself.

  Robbie quickly looked at Frank. “Whoops.”

  Joe marched up to Robbie, peering at the now four foot hole in the ground where the Barbie camper was. “Jesus Christ Robbie. We want to explode a car, not a city block. And this was calculated to be a lesser explosion?”

  “Sorry.” Then Robbie pointed. “Frank did the math. You suck Frank.”

  “Bite me. You could have calculated it yourself. But no, you were too busy stealing the Ken doll from my daughter. And now look.” Frank bent down and picked something up. “All that’s left of him is his fuckin head.”

  Robbie took the Ken head and tossed it aside. “You added instead of subtracted didn’t you?”

  “No, I’m not that dumb,” Frank argued back.

  “Please. You make Denny look brilliant.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck you. You almost blew up Beginnings. That was your fault.”

  “My fault? No, your fault. A little hole in the . . .”

  Joe whistled loudly before his sons went any further. “I don’t give a rat’s ass whose fault it was. Recalculate and fix the damn formula. Christ, bring that explosion to scale or people will think it’s a terrorist threat. And fix the goddamn four foot hole!” Joe scolded as he stormed away.

  Andrea began to follow, but stopped. “My son is not dumb.” She threw her head back and marched away.

  After a subtle, whining, mocking, ‘my son is not dumb’, snickering, Robbie walked over to the hole in the ground. “The explosives did work though.” Robbie whistled, pointing to the ground so impressed. “That is a cool hole.”

  “Yeah.” Frank peered down as well. “Too bad Dean’s in quarantine or we could bury him in there. Make it a search game for the community. Instead of Where’s Waldo we’ll have Where’s Dean?”

  Aft first Robbie gave a look of seriousness to Frank. Then both brothers proceeded to laugh in demented ‘hide and go seek Dean’ thoughts.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Bowman, North Dakota

  A nearby fresh water lake played one part in the decision to settle there. The dam played another. The startup crew did their groundwork. They harnessed enough hydro power to run the water filtering system, and enough was left over for minimal lights in the small town. On conservation they were and would be until they knew what they were doing, or someone happened upon them with the skills.

  There was nothing about the progress done that didn’t please the Captain. Even things that hadn’t been done didn’t bother him. Why would it? They had the time to accomplish things. The most important steps were taken, and anything else that needed finished would be done with ease. They had a hundred and thirty-three more people than when they had left.

  “Greenhouses?” the Captain asked Elliott as they walked down the one stop light street in the town.

  “I’m gonna say it was a good thing we moved them early,” Elliott replied. “Minimal, minimal loss to crops. Our biggest problem is that seven of them are in full blown harvest. Scottsdale says we have to pick and can ASAP.”

  “I’ll get a crew together,” the Captain said. “And the . . . coffee beans?”

  “Excellent. We lucked out with mature plants in Mexico.”

  “Now.” The Captain slowed his pace. “Most importantly. The . . . the . . .”

  “Women?” Elliott snickered. “Housed down. Safe and secure. And away.”

  “Yes,” the Captain said with excitement. “I want their home finished as first priority, before anyone else.” He got an agreeing nod from Elliott. “They get full power. No conservation for them. Also food. And get two men who can play guard at their door. We have to do that or else we won’t be able to pull off the story we told them.”

  “Is that wise?” Elliott asked. “I mean making them think they aren’t safe
running around.”

  “Yes. Yes it’s wise. At least until we’re settled. Or would you rather have them running around. It won’t be twenty-four hours on a bus, Elliott. It will be always complaining about this, yelling about that. Needing . . . feminine protection.”

  Elliott swallowed. “I’ll find two guards.”

  “Good.” The Captain smiled and saw where they stopped. Center of the little community, like something out of a story book was a red brick corner building. The marble sign had the words ‘town hall’ etched in it. “See.” The Captain pointed to the sign. “I love this. Is this where you’re bringing me?”

  “Yes.” Elliott opened the recently cleaned doors. “Everyone’s inside.”

  Wondering who everyone could be, because the Captain knew most of the men were settling down from the trip, he followed Elliott past the large oak staircase and down a hall to another set of double doors.

  They walked inside. It looked like a small gymnasium with a stage, tattered curtain, and piano in the corner next to a flag. One long table sat center, around it eight men.

  Elliott motioned his hand to the empty seat at the head of the table. “For you, Captain.”

  An ornery grin graced the Captain’s face as he sat down. “Elliott, a meeting? I have to say I’m impressed at your authority measures.” He snickered. “Wait. This isn’t one of those damn drinking games you used to get us in before, is it? I’m too tired to kick your ass.”

  “No.” Elliott chuckled. “No drinking game. And trust me, I learned my lesson drinking with you. Not all of us were bottle fed whiskey as an infant. This is a meeting of sorts.” Elliott didn’t sit. He paced some as he spoke. “I picked . . . I picked this particular group as a start. You Captain, because though never officially named, it’s always understood that you lead us. I don’t think there’s a person who would argue or want you out of that position. The forty-eight of us would not be organized or together if it wasn’t for you. Now . . .” Elliott breathed. “Us nine, well . . . from years of watching and also the past twenty-four hours, people tend to come to us for answers. We are the ones that are always sent to ask you things and give the answers. So I thought it would be us that has this meeting before we bring in the rest of our men.”