State of Time: Beginnings Series Book 6

by Jacqueline Druga

  “He’s drunk.” Elliott said when he tried to shake the hand of the man of the cloth and caused him to nearly fall forward.

  “Minor problem.” The Captain waved his hand. “He’s a priest. Father, we have a church. It’s yours. And Elliott . . . he has kept his vow of celibacy all this time.”

  “Um . . . so have I, Captain.” Elliott nodded his head.

  Fr. O’Brien drunkenly chuckled. “If . . . if he’s the Captain. What are you?” He asked Elliott.

  The Captain intervened. “He was a sergeant.”

  “Sgt. Ryder.” Fr. O’Brien lifted his hand to salute and missed.

  Elliott rolled his eyes.

  The Captain smiled, pleased. “Look Elliott, he’s christened you a name. Sgt. Ryder.” About that point the Captain noticed Elliott’s demeanor wasn’t lightening up. “Someone’s a bit testy. OK, I know what you get like when you get groggy.” The Captain turned to Kyle. “Kyle, could you lead the others and our Catholic Priest to that building over there?” The Captain pointed to the ‘town hall’. “Doors open, I’ll be right there.”

  Kyle agreed, took the reins of the horse, Fr. O’Brien by the arm, and led the men across the way.

  Out of ear shot, Elliott faced the Captain. “Do you know what time it is?”

  “No. Haven’t checked recently, why?”

  “I thought you died!” Elliott’s whispering voice screamed out. “Dead. You have been gone since morning. You said you had a few things to get for the grand plan.”

  “I did and I got them.” With a swat to Elliott’s arm, the Captain nodded. “Anything else?”

  With a heavy breath and a shake of his head, Elliott tossed his hand in the air. “No. When . . . when do we hear the unveiling of this plan?”

  “Tomorrow,” the Captain said with excitement. “And it is so good I’ve thought a lot about it. It has merit. I’ll tell you before everyone though.”

  “Tell me now.”

  “Can’t. Much too in-depth. But . . . I’ll give you a hint.” The Captain chuckled at Elliott’s whine. “You don’t want your hint?”

  “Yes, “Less than enthused Elliott answered. “Give me my hint.”

  “When we were in the service, our branch of the service had a theme. What was it?”

  The corner of Elliott’s mouth lifted in a sarcastic smile. “The few, the proud.”

  The Captain gasped. “How dare you blaspheme by calling us Marines. Try again.”

  “Um . . .” Elliott shook his head so annoyed. “Be all that you can be?”

  “Nope. Not that one.”

  “What one!” Elliott grew impatient.

  “Elliott. Please. This one . . .” Dramatically the Captain held his hand up. “It’s not just a job it’s a . . . It’s a what, Elliott?”

  Elliott closed his eyes. “Oh, God. Adventure.”

  “Good boy.” The Captain gave a slight shake to Elliott’s body. “That should give you a hint. See you in the morning.” The Captain began to walk away. “And get some sleep. You’re cranky,”

  The plan. The grand plan. Elliott knew it had to be ‘out there’ for the Captain to work it out for so long before presenting it. And with the Captain coming up with it, surely it wasn’t without flare and dramatics. Watching the Captain walk away and listening to him sing his own rendition of Nearer my God to thee, Elliott put the guess work of the plan out of his mind. Knowing the Captain as well as he did, Elliott knew he could guess all night long and still not come even close to what the imaginative Captain came up with.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  December 13

  Bethesda Biological Research Center, Maryland

  The wide dull grey eyes, the pasty pale skin with fresh blisters, the bloody regurgitation dripping from the mouth, the thick mucus that oozed from the nostrils...that was the look on all four bodies behind the glass wall.

  George turned away. “When?” He asked Steward.

  “Lab aid discovered them this morning,” Steward replied. “Couldn’t have happened very long ago. Everything appears pretty fresh.”

  “Any idea what they were working on?” George asked. “Is it the virus we hit Beginnings with?”

  “Don’t know. We’re still waiting for Burke,” Steward shrugged. “Obviously we can’t ask our top biologist and virologist.” He pointed to the window.

  George groaned at the site of Dr. Radovich’s dead body. “Well, this proves my theory that Radovich didn’t know what the hell he was doing. As soon as . . .” George looked up. “Burke.”

  Dr. Burke, thin and lanky, seemed to move in a side to side manner as he came down the hall. “Mr. President.” He looked into the window and cringed.

  George rolled his eyes. “You were on this project, a flunky, but on this. What the hell happened?”

  “As top dog now.” He held up his finger. “I can tell you they were working on viral strain ISP-327. Variation number twenty-six.”

  “What the hell is that?”

  “An experimental virus strain that combines a mutated bubonic plague along with cholera. Fast acting, blood borne pathogen highly contagious and deadly.” He peeked in the window again. “Obviously.”

  “Is this the Beginnings virus?” Georg asked.

  “No. ISP-327 variation number Twenty-six is not the Beginnings virus. ISP-214 variation number five is.”

  “Why were they working on a virus other than one they knew they had a recipe for an antiserum.”

  “They haven’t perfected the antiserum to ISP-214 variation Number five, A.K.A. Beginnings virus.” Dr. Burke said. “They wanted to surprise and impress you sir.”

  George nearly scoffed. “Oh, they surprised me all right.”

  “They thought this one was more potent, which it is. And…they also believed that they had perfected the antiserum to this one.” Burke pointed into the room.

  “Did they forget to give it to themselves?”

  “Oh they did,” Dr. Burke stated. “They thought it would work.”

  “They thought wrong,” George huffed. “Did they not think to test it first?”

  “On what?” Dr. Burke asked.

  “I don’t know, let’s say . . . animals.”

  So offended Dr. Burke seemed. “Animals. That would be inhumane.”

  “And that isn’t.” George pointed into the room. “Get a clean-up crew in there when it’s safe. And no more working on anything but that ISP whatever the hell it is, A.K.A. beginnings virus. That is top priority. Get the antiserum perfected . . .” George began to walk away. “And get some goddamn animals to perfect it on,” he ordered as he moved down the hall with Steward.

  Dr. Burke took another moment to reflect upon the scene behind the glass wall. Seeing that there was no clean-up crew and himself and the lab aid were it, Dr. Burke was glad he heard for himself that the Beginnings virus was top priority. Using that as an excuse, he shut out the light, darkened the lab and walked away to work on the Beginnings’ virus.

  ^^^^

  Beginnings, Montana

  Ellen spoke so softly, so motherly, as she did her invasive procedure. “Good job.” She rubbed Johnny’s head as she removed the needle from his arm. “And you didn’t even flinch.”

  “El.” Johnny reached for his shirt. “I’m a big boy now.”

  “Now, you’re going to feel pretty bad in a couple hours. So I suggest you do what you need to do now. It kicked your father’s ass last night.” She tossed away the needle. “But Dean wanted you to have your dose so we can start working on the virus in two days.”

  “Where is Dr. Dean now?”

  “Up at Jason’s with Joe. They’re leaving to get Forrest in . . .” She looked at her watch. “…an hour. Tell me.” Ellen leaned back against the counter. “How is Denice feeling? How’s the pregnancy?”

  “Good. Hey El, when will I feel it kick? She’s four months.”

  “Let me think.” Ellen crossed her arms. “Soon, it should be soon. You’re father loved that when I was pregnant wit
h Brian.” Moving from Johnny, Ellen began to gather her supplies.

  “Are you done? Having kids?” Johnny rattled some at the sound of Ellen dropping her tray. “El? What’s wrong?”

  Ellen turned to look at him. “Is just an odd thing to say to me right now. It’s . . . “ She smiled. “Henry.”

  Henry looked shocked when he walked in; his hands immediately went behind his back. “Uh, hey El. How come Johnny is still here?”

  Johnny stood up from his seat. “We were just talking about Ellen being pregnant.”

  “El?” Henry smiled widely. “You’re pregnant. Oh that’s great.” He moved to her embracing her. “This is great. Especially since I’m the understanding, I get to be a part of . . .”

  Ellen tried not to laugh. “Henry I’m not pregnant.”

  “Oh.” Henry nodded. “Anyhow . . .” He reached behind him. “I found it.” He handed her a folded paper. “I hope it works.”

  Ellen unfolded it, smiled then walked over to the counter laying it down. “I hope so too, because she is going to be here any minute. This spot should work.”

  “I think so too,” Henry commented. “I wish I could stay and see, but . . .”

  “I’ll fill you in. And you go.” Ellen waved him away. “Good luck with Forrest.”

  Henry smiled with a nod and moved toward the door. “See ya guys.”

  Shifting his eyes to Ellen with a sneaky smile, and to the paper Ellen lay on the counter, Johnny was about to ask what was up, but opted not to when Jenny Matoose walked in. The big smile on Ellen’s face answered his question.

  Jenny swallowed harshly as she stepped into the clinic lab. “I’m here. Where do I sit?”

  Ellen broadly smiled. “Hi Jenny.” She patted a stool. “Over here. And we really appreciate you lending us your blood. We really need it.”

  “I hate needles.”

  “I’ll be gentle.” Ellen unfolded Jenny’s arm laying it on the counter. “I’m the best at this you know.” Keeping up the fake pleasantries, Ellen uncapped a needle, placed it in Jenny’s arm and inserted it. “There.” She watched the tube fill up. ‘Come on Jenny see it. See it.’ Ellen beckoned in her mind, but nothing. Removing the tube of blood, and tourniquet, Ellen placed a small piece of cloth on Jenny and turned to the counter to write on the tube. Leaning and knowing Jenny hadn’t seen it, Ellen brushed the paper from the counter and it landed on Jenny’s lap.

  “What is this?” Jenny asked with such disgust as she held it up with two fingers.

  “Dean,” Ellen tsked. “That’s his new fetish. Go figure. Lesbians.”

  “Oh my God, this is awful.” Jenny laid the picture down.

  Controlling her laughter, Ellen moved closer to Jenny, picking up the picture. “Not really.” Ellen flashed the picture to Jenny and softened her voice as she leaned closer to her. “Actually Jenny, I was hoping you would find it as interesting as I do.”

  “What . . . what are you doing Ellen?” Horrified, Jenny jumped off the stool and walked backwards.

  “Gosh you have great eyes,” Ellen complimented. “Jenny, would you, would you be interested in trying this with me? I find you . . . dangerously attractive.”

  “Oh my God. There’s something wrong with you.”

  Ellen had to turn away from her. She didn’t want Jenny to see her smile.

  “Frank?” She spun around and Frank leaned in the doorway, his arms folded. “Frank I . . .”

  “Man El.” He walked in. “Talk about finding out something about someone after all these years. Hey John.”

  “Hey Dad.” Johnny stood up. “I’m taking off. Got lots of blood to get from kids.”

  “Have fun.” Frank stepped closer to Ellen as Johnny left.

  Ellen watched as Frank moved snidely to her. “It was a joke Frank. And what are you doing here?” She noticed the way he dressed, a black sweatshirt and faded pair of jeans. “And look at you. I can’t remember the last time I say you dressed out of uniform.”

  “I’m very handsome, aren’t I?” Frank laid his hand on his chest. “But . . .” He cleared his throat. “To show off my physique is not why I’m here. Since I’m off sick today, I thought we could head up to the quantum lab and spy on the Forrest trip. You know since it’s off limits to spectators.”

  “Oh, that sounds fun. Let me clean up.” She moved to the sink. “How are you feeling?”

  “Good. A little off. I did take time to work on my novel.”

  Ellen froze. Suddenly she looked up. “Your novel? You’re reading?”

  “El, please. Do I read? No.” Frank shook his head. “I’m writing one. I am the literary guy now. I wrote three pages.”

  Ellen dried off her hands with a smile. “Oh, my God! I am so impressed. Can I read it?”

  “When it’s done.” Frank held up his hand. “Not that I worry about you stealing my idea. But you know, writing . . .” Frank sniffed. “It’s a personal thing.”

  “I understand. This is great.” Ellen walked with him from the lab. “Will you work on it tonight?”

  “Oh, yeah. Absolutely.” Frank kissed Ellen on the cheek. “Only after we have that long awaited reunion.”

  There was a slight hesitation in Ellen’s stride that she didn’t understand and hoped Frank didn’t see. She just smiled. “Our reunion. So . . . I’m married to an author.”

  “Yeah.” Frank grinned and stopped walking. “Book cover pose.” seriously Frank crossed one arm over his waist and brought his fist to his chin. “How’s this?”

  Ellen gave a chuckle and a thumbs up, then they continued their walk from the lab.

  ^^^^

  Slamming the door to Jason’s quantum lab, Joe walked in, shaking the chill along with the coat he wore. “Done.” He spoke as he walked up to Henry, taking the motorcycle he was holding before the archway.

  Jason fiddled with his computer. “Did you handle them?”

  “Yes.” Joe answered, “like two damn kids hiding in the bushes laughing.”

  Dean gripped his motorcycle, readying to go through. “Did they make fun of you Joe about riding a motorcycle? They were talking about doing that.” He watched Joe nod. “Did you tell Ellen to get back to work? She’s on her . . .”

  “Dean!” Joe yelled with annoyance. “Yes. They are dealt with.” Joe motioned his head to Jason. “We’re ready when you are.” He turned back to Henry. “Henry are you . . . what’s wrong?”

  Henry wasn’t smiling, he looked so serious. “I hate this Joe. I really hate this. Don’t screw around with anything, either of you. I’ll get really mad. Really mad. Especially if I come back and things are different. I’ll go over the edge Joe, I know I will. Who knows what I’ll be capable of . . .”

  Joe’s hand quickly covered Henry’s mouth, silencing him. “A simple question. A simple goddamn question is all I asked.” He looked to Jason. “Start this thing will ya, before I strangle him.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The Forrest Caceres Time Trip

  July 18, 1990 - Billings Montana

  Leaning into the steering wheel, Joe peered out the windshield, through the raindrops and the wipers that moved at a steady delayed pace. “Read those directions again.”

  “I can’t read the directions, Joe.” Dean slumped in the passenger seat, his foot pressing against the glove box. “I’m very car sick. If I read anything I’ll throw up.”

  “All right. Hand them over.” Joe held out his hand to Dean, waiting to feel the small slip of paper where directions by a gas station attendant were written on.

  “And must you smoke?” Dean scooted over to the window. “This is a very closed in space, the air conditioner is running.”

  “Yes I must smoke, and . . .” Joe reached for the large cup in the holder between the seat. “And sip my convenience store coffee, too.” He placed the cup back down and glanced at the directions. “Two more streets on the right is the turn.”

  Dean coughed dramatically. “And you aren’t wearing a seatbelt.”


  “Dean.” Joe jerked the car to a stop at the light. “This is why you and I never spend any time together. You get on my nerves.” Finishing his cigarette, Joe made the right turn. “There, I can see the sign for the hotel. Shit, look at all these cars.”

  Dean sat up from his slump. “Which one is his?”

  Only shifting his eyes, Joe looked at Dean. “How should I know? We are going to have to find Forrest then watch him go to his car.”

  The lobby of the hotel was not as large as it would have seemed to be from the outside of the building. Joe sat on the lobby couch, staring across the grey and green interior, watching for the elevator doors. He thought of Dean in the car, baking in the hot July sun. He thought of Henry doing the same. Joe chuckled, wiped the pleasant and funny thoughts from his mind, and kept his focus ahead at the elevator.

  Then Joe spotted him. Forrest Caceres. He looked very little like the picture of himself in the dust cover of his book. Forrest was shorter than Joe thought--he made Dean look tall. Rounder too. But the unmistakable mad scientist grey hair, sticking out at the temples, and the nervous way he waddled holding tightly to his briefcase, made Joe know he was the one.

  Standing from his seat, fixing his tie, Joe approached the jittery old man. “Excuse me, Dr. Caceres?” Joe pulled out his identification as he stepped in front of Forrest, halting him. “I’m Joe Slagel, CIA.” He showed his identification. “I need a moment of your time.”

  In his French, thick broken English accent, Forrest spoke. “I coon newt stoop.” He waddled by Joe.

  “Dr. Caceres.” Joe became anxious. He grabbed the short man’s arm. “Listen very carefully to what I am saying. We have reason to believe . . . no, we know . . . someone is going to try to take your life.” He watched the expression drop from the little man’s face. “I need to know which one is your car out there and I need you to follow my instructions to the tee. Understand?”

  “How do I know, dat you are note un of dem?” He tried to get by Joe.