State of Time: Beginnings Series Book 6

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Elliot.” The Captain stopped him. “You don’t have to explain anything. You feel the way you feel. And I was wrong for even getting angry with you over it. I owe you an apology.”

  “No.” Elliott shook his head. “I owe you an apology my friend. I called it an impossible dream. I called it your fight. I was wrong. Our forefathers, mere farmers, dreamers, they fought the exact same fight you want to fight now. And look what they made of this country. I want it back too.” He spoke with passion. “And even if it is the hardest fight I ever embark on, Captain, I would rather die trying to get it back than watch with envy what I didn’t have the guts to try.”

  With a slight snicker the Captain tilted his head. “Oh my god, Elliott. That was nice.”

  Elliott rolled his eyes. “See. I’m trying to be serious. I’m trying to ask if I can be a part.”

  The Captain gave a squeeze to Elliott’s arm. “You don’t have to ask.”

  “No, I do.” Elliott stepped back. “In tradition of what you want to be.” He snapped to attention, arms tight at his side, eyes forward. “Captain I would consider it an honor if you would let me stand beside you again in this fight.”

  The Captain held up a finger getting ready to joke with Elliott, but he didn’t. High with pride he lifted his chin. “I would be honored to have you stand by my side as my right hand man. Sgt. Ryder.” Firm and straight, the Captain raised a salute.

  Elliott smiled and returned the salute.

  “Son of bitch, come here.” With a chuckle, the Captain tightly embraced Elliott. “Good to have you back. Might as well put you to work right now.” He released the embrace. “You ready?”

  “More than you think.” Elliott smiled and started to walk with the Captain. “Um, one thing. If I am your right hand man. Am I second in charge?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then if we’re reestablishing ranking of sorts, what’s mine.”

  “Seeing how I think it would be odd for everyone to start calling me General, Captain will be the highest ranking,. You will be Sgt. Ryder.”

  Elliott stopped walking. “Sergeant? I’m second in command. Sergeant? Not lieutenant?”

  “Elliott, Elliott, Elliott. You abandoned me.”

  Elliott grunted, shook his head and started to walk again. “Figures. Next thing I know you’re going to tell me you had Fr. O’Brien make me sing Hail Holy Queen twenty times.”

  “Actually . . .” The Captain paused before opening the church door. “Twenty-two. But who’s counting.” Smiling, and glad to be joined again with his friend, the Captain walked out with Elliott.

  ^^^^

  Beginnings, Montana

  “I mooch enjoyed de tour,” Forrest told Joe walking to Joe’s office.

  “Good. I tried to avoid the crackpots. So, you’ll get to go to containment later.” Joe shut the door. “We’ll begin as soon as everyone gets here. Well, the ones very vital to the time trip. Have a seat.” Joe pointed to a chair.

  Attached to the briefcase he held, Forrest sat down.

  As Joe walked around his desk, he paused when the door opened and Henry walked in.

  “Badly.” Henry griped to Jason who walked in behind him.

  “I was merely driving with caution,” Jason said with a slight snicker. “Can I help it you get motion sickness. Hey, Joe.”

  Henry paid attention. “Oh, Hey Joe. Dr. Caceres.” Henry extended his hand. “Glad you are well.”

  “An-ray. Please call me Forrest.” He shook Henry’s. “I luck foe-word to us beck coming frunds.”

  A crocked smile graced Henry’s face with a tilt of his head. “Um, yeah sure.” He stood a seat at one of the set up chair.

  “Arrived!” Robbie announced his entrance as he bolted in. “In record time. Ran all the way from . . .hi.” He stopped when he saw Forrest. “Hey, I’m Robbie. Are you him?”

  Joe bobbed his head side to side, “Forrest, my son Robbie.”

  “Robert.” Forrest nodded. “Josef, you did note men-shoon a son.”

  “That was on purpose,” Joe said. “There’s also Frank.”

  “What about me?” Frank asked as he walked in.

  Behind Frank, with a griping tone, Dean walked. “Not every conversation is about you. How do you know they aren’t discussing other words for short?”

  “Now, see.” Frank waved a finger. “If they were doing that they would be using the name Dean. Not Frank. Fuck, Dean, learn some vocabulary. Good thing I’m the literary guy.”

  “Frank,” Joe interjected, “we have a newcomer.” He nodded his head to Forrest.

  “Oh.” Frank noticed Forrest. “Hey… Frank Slagel.”

  “Ah, Frunk.” Forrest nodded. “I huff heard mooch about a Frunk who pro-tucks de community. Is dat you?”

  Frank snickered. “Oh, my God. That’s so funny. What did you say?”

  “Frank!” Joe yelled. “Be polite. Forrest, yes this is the Frank you heard about, my other son.”

  Forrest clapped his hands together once. “Ah, Josef, you are mooch blessed to huff two sons.”

  “I got that.” Frank snapped his finger. “And four, he had four. Of course we never counted Hal did we, Robbie.”

  “Not if we didn’t have to.” Robbie said.

  Joe rolled his eyes. “Forrest, you remember Dean.”

  Dean gave his acknowledgment in the form of a smile and a nod.

  Moving to find his chair, Frank nudged into Dean with a whisper, “See Forrest? You in twenty years.”

  Joe shook his head. “Can we just maybe get started on this?”

  “Dean,” Robbie whispered leaning into him. “Hey, did you think about it?”

  “Robbie, I’m not the primary,” Dean replied. “I can’t give you an understanding.”

  “Whoa! Hold up!” Frank yelled out. “Two hours and twenty-seven minutes post annulment and my brother is asking for an understanding. Oh, way to respect my grief.”

  Henry was offended. “Robbie gets an understanding. Oh that isn’t nice Dean. I have the understanding.”

  Robbie smiled arrogantly. “That was with Frank. Frank’s no more. Dean’s the man.”

  “I’m not the man,” Dean defended. “El’s merely living at the house. Nothing is happening . . . yet.”

  “Oh my God!” Frank blasted. Two hours and twenty . . .”

  “Frank,” Dean snapped, “stop with the divorce time announcements.”

  Joe whistled loudly. “Stop with everything. Can we get on with this goddamn meeting or what!”

  The door banged against the file cabinet as it was blasted open. “All right.” Ellen barged in. “Who made my dog into a man again.” When she saw all fingers pointing to Joe, she moved to his desk. “Joe! How could you do that? He was my pet.”

  “He was a man for crying out loud.” Joe gave an apologetic shift of his eyes to Forrest who seemed to be enjoying the pandemonium.

  “He was my . . .” Ellen stopped, smiled, tucked her hair behind her ear, and extended her hand down to Forrest with a complete change of demeanor. “Hello. I’m Ellen, you must be Forrest.”

  Amidst the moans the erupted from Ellen’s fake pleasantries, Joe slammed his hand on the desk. “Ellen. Out.”

  Grasping Ellen’s hand with both of his, Forrest stood and smiled widely. “Ah, El-loon. And Josef sud you were nut chumming.”

  Ellen gasped. “Joe? How could you say that I’m charming?”

  Joe rubbed his temples. “Ellen, leave. This is a meeting.”

  “Can’t I stay Joe, please, I’ll be good. You owe me,” Ellen pleaded. “You made Mike a man again. And Forrest likes me, see.” She held up her hand still clasped by Forrest.

  Forrest grinned. “Such a sput fire. And you muck me laugh.”

  Ellen giggled. “See, Joe. See?”

  “All right,” Joe snapped, “sit down and don’t say anything. Christ.” He tried to control his blood pressure he felt rise. “Now, to begin.” Calmly he sunk into his chair. “Jason, anything new on the t
ime machine.”

  Jason’s eyes lit up. “Nothing’s changed, Henry and I are drawing blanks.”

  “Keep trying.” Joe encouraged then saw Forrest’s hand raise. “Yes, Forrest.”

  “Woot is de purpose of your use of de time machine?” Forrest asked.

  “As a matter of fact Forrest . . .” Joe ran his hand down his own face. “One of the reasons for this meeting, to save Beginnings. We have reason to believe that another plague will be released on us by the society.”

  “De so-sigh-et-tee. Oui.” Forrest shook his head. “Day are de ones dat half done dis to our world. I knew of dear plan. I knew of it well. When were day released?”

  “This summer,” Joe answered.

  “And you let dem go?”

  “We didn’t want them here. There was some trouble and we just didn’t want them here.”

  Forrest swallowed. “Day are now out dear, somewhere?”

  “Yes. There could be more, we don’t know. They are building an army.”

  “From woot I know. An army is an understatement.” Forrest closed his eyes and shook his head. “But Josef, you con not stoop the plague. It is mooch too big.”

  “We know this,” Joe explained. “We want to stop them. We were hoping that you may have known something. Anything. What we in Beginnings may have that they want so bad.”

  “I huff information. Oui.” Forrest lifted the briefcase and laid it on Joe’s desk. “I do note know how mooch dis con help you.” Forrest lifted papers from the briefcase. “It wuss not long after de conference started. I wuss asked to join dem in a private meeting. It wuss dear, I found out dear plun.” He searched through the stack of papers he handed a sheet to Dean. “Don, you might know woot dis is. Maybe, you con share?”

  Dean read over the paper. “It seems as if they had three plagues? Was any of this, Forrest, ever presented at the conference?”

  “No.” Forrest shook his head. “For de societies only. At de conference, day spoke of mun kind, and how day con stop extinction from hung-gear, from happening. De nuts you hold are from behind de scenes.”

  Dean questioned more, “So this was the plan? To actually cause an extinction?”

  “No,” Forrest explained, “day needed so mooch off de population left to much dear plun work. But, someting went wrong. Maybe, de plague day chose wuss de wrong one.”

  Joe rummaged through the papers. “There is so much here Forrest. How did you learn of all this?”

  “I listen to dem speck. I take it all in. I let dem trust me. And den, I needed my proof. So, I snick onto a Dock-tear Thomas Hanson’s room. And I tuck his nuts. Dat Josef, is his nuts you hold in your hand.”

  Joe expected as much from Frank and Robbie, but not from Henry too. Their snickering irked him. “Children please.”

  Frank snorted to end his laughing. “Sorry.” He took a breath. “Forrest, we didn’t know this Hanson guy. Did you know Joanna Holmes? She was the head honcho here.”

  Forrest shook his head. “Oui, Frunk. She is cold. It shoo-dears ta muck me dink, dat she is ut dear somewhere.”

  Frank scratched his head with a slight snicker. “What?”

  Forrest tried again. “It shoo-dears ta muck de dink dat she is ut dear somewhere.”

  A raise in the corner of Frank’s mouth appeared. “Again.”

  Joe, annoyed, smacked Frank with the papers. “It shudders to make him think that she’s still out there somewhere!”

  “Oh.” Frank nodded as he rocked in his chair. “Don’t worry about it. She’s dead. Dean killed her.”

  “I did not!” Dean yelled.

  “Yes you did. You dissolved her.” Frank saw Dean’s mouth open. “Shut up. You did too.” Frank pointed. “Quiet.”

  With a face of frustration, Dean breathed slowly through his nostrils and faced Joe. “I can’t take him.”

  “Join the club.” Joe sifted through the paper. “This was all the evidence you were taking to meet that man?”

  “Oui,” Forrest answered. “But I dink he set me up.”

  “I think so.” Joe read through the documentation, documents that contained the cryogenics process, the virus, the release date and cities of the virus, but no mention of other labs in the United States. Just as Joe was about to give up, his hand slowed in the turning of the next page. There written on the top of a page with information regarding infection of livestock, was a date in bright red lettering, August 29th. “Forrest, what is this date you have circled.”

  “Ah!” Forrest looked. “Dat Josef, is de date, day were to start working in the Garfield project. Moving dear stuff in. Supplies and sooch.”

  “All of their supplies for the lab? And so forth?” Joe asked.

  “Oui. And I um sure. I wuss hopping de authorities would be able to stoop dem on dat day. But . . .” Forrest lifted his hands. “I wuss de one who wuss stooped.”

  Joe crinkled the paper with excitement. “Yeah, but in this history Forrest, we got you. And it may be post-plague, but you are the one who helps to stop them. As soon as Henry gets our Regressionator running, we are going back and hopefully find out what the hell is so important about this piece of farmland. Because, Gentlemen . . .” Grinning, Joe showed the paper, the red lettering to them all. “We have our date.”

  THE ANSWERS

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  January 17

  The east division tunnel, the finger of the Beginnings tunnel system that extends eastward from the main tunnels that runs underneath center town, the only finger of the tunnel system that could be used as an escape hatch for the people of Beginnings if needed.

  There were three ways to get into the east division tunnel. One, from the main tunnel under center town, two, from outside, and three, from the small southeast tunnel which ran under the quantum lab and mobile, its entrance, a mere quarter mile from the quantum lab. And that was the entrance that Frank and Henry used to get to the eastern division tunnel.

  Actually . . . Frank used. Henry just happened to be there.

  Examining the power supply that ran under the quantum lab was what Henry was doing when Frank told him ‘let’s take a walk.’ How far he had to walk surprised Henry. Where he was going surprised him more. Leaving Beginnings. Robbie was there checking the motion detectors and he called for Frank. So Frank made his way there, Henry at his side.

  “Frank.” Henry shivered. “It is really cold and damp under here.”

  “Quit whining Henry. You act like such a woman.”

  “Why did you ask me to come, Frank?”

  “To spend time with you,” Frank said. “I trust you Henry. Have I told you how much I like that you’re my friend? You’re my friend.”

  “Yes Frank, I know. You tell me every day. It’s some sort of sick guilt trip you keep putting on me.”

  “Guilt trip over what?” Frank asked with fake naivety. “Henry? Did you realize that it has been four weeks . . .”

  “Frank! I know this. And will you knock off keeping track of time.”

  “I just want you to know the mourning process is still fresh in Ellen’s . . .”

  “Frank!” Henry shuddered in annoyance. “Stop. Please. It’s not a real understanding I’m having with Ellen.”

  “Dean never ended it.”

  Henry stopped walking. “Dean doesn’t have an official relationship with El. Ask her. So he can’t un-understand me or re-understand me, understand?”

  “Yeah.” Frank smiled. “I do. Thanks.”

  Henry grunted and moved a little faster.

  “Wait!” Only the sound of Robbie’s voice was heard as Frank and Henry approached the end of the tunnel. “Just stop! You’ll screw it all up.”

  Frank peered to the opening and the heavy brush that covered it. He knew Robbie was beyond it because that’s where his voice came from. “Robbie?”

  The left of the brush parted and Robbie slid in, back against the tunnel. “We may have trouble.”

  Frank looked at Henry, then his brother. “What�
�s wrong?”

  “Follow me, but take the route I walk. I don’t want it to get messed up.”

  Frank and Henry, backs against the tunnel wall, slid through the edge of the brush with Robbie to outside of Beginnings.

  “Over here.” Robbie held a long stick and took them further to the right. “Here.” He indicated past a large bush to a semi-muddy clearing. “Look.”

  “Shit.” Frank peered out then moved in closer. “Foot prints.”

  “Yep.” Robbie pointed with the stick. “From what I could tell, five sets. They go off to the north. They had gathered here.” He showed how the footsteps muddled together. “Now, here’s the odd part. Four of them.” Robbie indicated the four. “Check out the prints. Smooth, not too deep. Men of average size built.”

  Frank nodded. “Survivors. The shoes are worn. Really worn.”

  “Exactly. But . . .” Robbie drew a circle in the mud around two other footprints. “These two. These two monstrous prints belong to the same person. He’s big too. Look how deep. And . . . what else do you notice?”

  “The treading is not worn. Newer shoes.” Frank squatted. “Beginnings shoes?”

  Robbie looked up. “Appears that way. Seems someone in Beginnings has a group of pals outside.”

  Frank immediately looked to Henry. “Moses.”

  ^^^^

  The big whiff that Johnny took brought a grin to his face. “Smell that Dr. Dean? Smells like a neighbor’s barbeque. I remember that smell well.”

  Dean shook his head with a chuckle as he glance at his notes in his pace around the mobile lab. “Don’t let Jason hear you say that. All right, before I go. What do we have? Anything?”

  “Nope.” Johnny clicked away. “Nothing.”

  “Which batch was that?”

  “Number seventeen.” John spun his stool to watch Dean pace. “You wanna try the next batch of antiserum?”

  Dean lifted his wrist to check the time. “How long did we work on that batch?”