State of Time: Beginnings Series Book 6

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Ellen!” Joe yelled. “Who the hell are you going to call? No one else has a phone. We’re giving them out tomorrow. Just give it back. Now!”

  “O.K.” With a slam to his hand, Ellen laid it hard on Joe’s palm.

  “Jesus Christ.” Joe folded up the phone. “Someone get her out of here.” As he walked by Henry, he patted him on the back. “Good job. Very good job Henry. I’m proud.” Joe placed the phone back in the box with the others. “Now Robbie, from here on in you are on call. As soon as we get a signal, you and your crew have a direction and are off.” Joe smiled. “People I have a feeling it is going to be one hell of a spring.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Bowman, North Dakota

  The warming spring breeze carried a silence and solemnest to it. There were two noises for the moment in Bowman. The flap of the flag in the wind and the sound of Taps being played slowly on the bugle. Hands at sides, knees ever so slightly bent, and look of pride upon their faces, the men of Bowman stared at the lowering flag. All activity froze. Evening colors.

  The last note played, the flag was brought down, and the men dispersed for dinner at the mess.

  It was long and brown and it ran down to the plate like a combination of molasses and chocolate syrup. The Captain’s eyes stayed adhered to it. “Something went amiss in the reconstitution of that gravy.”

  “I’m sure it tastes fine,” Elliott said, waiting for his helping.

  The Captain moved his tray down the line. “Ah, the fruit looks . . .” He tilted his head. “…semi better.” With a chuckle he grabbed the mystery fruit and placed it on his tray. At the end of the line he filled his coffee mug and walked over to the table where the officers sat.

  The men at the table rose when the Captain approached the head.

  “Be seated.” The Captain nodded and took his place. “Elliott.” The Captain pulled forth a fork. “You’re walking funny. The buttocks giving you trouble?”

  Elliott rolled his eyes. “My rear is not accustomed to being bounced for fourteen hours upon the back of a horse.”

  “You need to learn,” The Captain said. “I saw you with drills, impressive maneuvering of the sword while riding. And don’t worry about the rear, Elliott. It will stop hurting as soon as the callous form. Like me.”

  Elliott paused in the breaking of his bread. “You have callous on your backside?”

  “Yes.” The Captain reached for his bread.

  “And you admit this?” Elliott asked.

  “Sure, why not. And . . . who cares. It’s not like anyone wants to see them. Unless you do . . .” The Captain stood up.

  “No.” Elliott shook his head when the men at the table laughed. “You’re in a good mood.”

  “I am,” The Captain said. “Two more days, Elliott and we implement the scouting parties for the society and more survivors. You’re just in a sore mood because I changed your orders.”

  “Upset, yes,” Elliott nodded. “I worked them out down to the mathematics with the rations.”

  “You had them out too long.” The Captain took a bite of his brown food and tried not to cringe. “I don’t want them worn down. It’s a big country, we still are training, and we have time. One week out, one week home.”

  Disgruntled Elliott nodded. “Did you stop by the Women’s house to prepare them for possible surviving women?”

  The Captain nodded. “And I sneezed, thank you very much Owens for giving them the perfume.”

  “Guilty.” Owens raised his hand. “Call it a bribe to not have to service Grace this month. I hear, Captain, she has taken an interest in you.”

  The Captain glared up. “That isn’t even funny.”

  Elliott intervened, “Perhaps if we mentioned your calloused buttocks she may back away.”

  The men at the table laughed and the Captain had to joined them, even if it was at his own expense. “Speaking of women.”

  The laughter stopped. In fact the entire mess hall drew silent.

  The Captain looked around. “No, no.” He spoke to assure the men. “They aren’t requesting yet.” The clanking forks continued and so did the conversing. The Captain looked at Elliott. “I heard a rumor. I need you to tell me it isn’t true.”

  “It isn’t true.” Elliott continued to eat.

  “I didn’t say what it was.”

  “Rumors are never true.”

  “I see.” The Captain leaned back in his chair with a snide look. “So it’s merely a fallacy that you are offering a reward of sorts for the man who locates that woman in the picture you carry.”

  Elliott snickered. “That is absurd. Who told you that?” Seeing that the Captain was pointing, Elliott turned his head to where the point aimed. “Sgt Owens. . . .”

  “Nope.” Owens held up his hand. “That isn’t what I told him. Begging the Captain’s pardon, but . . . he’s starting trouble. I merely said that you mentioned her to one of my men who were going out for survivors.”

  Elliott cringed, bringing his hand to his face. “A mention does not a reward make.”

  The Captain laughed and stood up. “We’re having fun with you Elliott. We know you’re obsessed.” He gave a pat to Elliott’s back.

  “I am not. I haven’t even looked at the picture in . . .” Elliott fluttered his lips. “I couldn’t tell you.”

  “And defensive as well.” The Captain stepped back. “I need more bread. Anyone else?” He asked then headed to the food line.

  Elliott just shook his head and returned to his food. He wasn’t obsessed by no means with the picture. There was just something comforting about it he enjoyed. If the Captain’s little tease at the table was a taste of the juvenile harassment he would receive, Elliott was grateful he kept that promise to himself not to mention that photo ever again to the Captain.

  ^^^^

  Beginnings, Montana

  The duffle bag was small, but packed enough to be solid. It landed by Robbie’s front door with a thump that went through Ellen.

  She crossed her arms tight to her body, she felt herself shiver, not from cold, but from fright as she watched Robbie geared up to go.

  “Man,” He grinned with excitement looking at Frank, “I can’t believe we got a signal this early.”

  “Well, we knew that would happen. “Frank visually checked out his brother. “Should be at the location by dawn. As soon as you finish, you call us.”

  “Got it,” Robbie nodded.

  “And don’t forget to plug the damn charger into the lighter. We don’t want to lose phone contact.”

  “Yep. I am so excited about this. El . . .” Robbie saw her turn away. “El.” Ready to go Robbie stepped from the door to her. “What is it?”

  “Why do you have to do this?” Ellen turned to face him, as she did she wiped a tear that rolled down her face. “Why you?”

  “El, come on,” Robbie tried to give a scoff.

  “How long will you be gone? Robbie, you’re leaving me alone.”

  “You’re not alone.” Robbie looked at a silent Frank then to Ellen. “You’re not alone. Enjoy having a home to yourself. And El . . .” He softened his voice. “I’m not going to be gone that long. I could be back in two days.”

  “And what if you aren’t?” Ellen asked.

  “Can I be blunt?” Robbie raised his eyebrows. “Then I’m not. We’re stocked up and I’ll be out there with my men as long as needed. I’ll come home, but if signals call, I’ll go back out. It’s a tour of duty, El . . . . one I miss. This is what I want to do. I don’t want to spend my life behind these walls. None of us do. Think of it as my way to freeing the way. O.K.?” He asked then moved into her.

  “I am so worried about you.” Ellen embraced him,

  “Thanks.” Robbie kissed her cheek. “I’ll call you all the time. I promise. We’re buddies. He stepped back. “And don’t have that baby without me. I want to see the outcome myself.” He winked. “I better go.”

  “Be careful,” She grabbed his hand.

&nb
sp; “I . . .” Robbie shifted his eyes to his brother. “In Slagel tradition I will answer that as . . . always.” He smiled. “Frank?”

  Frank only gave his brother an embrace, a tight one he really didn’t want to let go. Take care and check in all the time, little brother.”

  “You got it.” Robbie inhaled deeply. “I’m up for this.”

  Frank gave a subtle nod and proud look as he opened the door. “You’ll be just fine. You’ll do great.”

  Robbie lifted his gear. “I’ll miss you both.”

  So engrossed in watching Robbie leave, Ellen stepped to the door. A soldier going off to war, duffle bag in hand, a slight slant to his proud walk, she kept her eyes on him until he was no longer seen. Closing the door with so much sadness, Ellen turned around. Frank was gone. “Frank?” She heard the clinking in the kitchen. “Frank? “She walked in. “Hey.” She said softly as he finished off a drink. “Putting on a big front out there.”

  Adding a splash of whiskey to his empty glass, Frank set down the bottle. His heavy breathing was heard as he stared at the alcohol, after one more breath, he downed the drink, and put the glass on the counter.

  Ellen moved closer to him. “Please don’t tell me you’re worried something will happen to him.”

  “Nah. I’m just . . .” Frank’s voice graveled with concern. “I’m just worried about him. He’s my brother, El. The only one I have left.” Reaching out, Frank first grabbed hold of Ellen’s arm then he pulled her into him. “The society hasn’t a clue that we’re coming. So really, what could go wrong?”

  Head against his chest, Ellen listened to the strong thumping of Frank’s heart. She felt his worry, and only hoped that through his words he spoke what he felt, not what he wanted to make himself believe.

  ^^^^

  Former Quantico Marine Headquarters

  It was part of Sgt. Doyle’s job, one he hated, but he stood there, stern and tall, waiting for George to finish his tantrum so he could speak.

  “They were given orders!” George blasted.

  “Yes, sir. I know.”

  “No one! No one was supposed to communicate or use any means of communications! You did make that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”Sgt. Doyle nodded.

  “But they did. Good thing we didn’t pick up! Those idiots deserve exactly what Beginnings is going out to give them.” George with fury walked around his desk. “And that’s where Beginnings is headed, to take out that squad. These are men under your command. You are responsible for their error! Do you know that!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “No you tell me, what do you suppose we do?”

  “Send more men out.”

  “For what! To take out an assassin squad we may never find?” George shaking his head turned to go back to his desk.

  “No, sir . . .” Sgt. Doyle swallowed preparing himself for the backlash. “To die.”

  George froze. The first thing that went through his mind was how in the world did he acquire so many morons working for him. Figuring, what the hell, he’d play along with it before shooting Doyle himself. George appeared calmer and turned back around. “Sure. Why not? How many do you suggest we send out to die. What seems appropriate, another twenty, thirty?”

  “No more than fifteen squads.”

  “A hundred and thirty men.” George nodded then if his eyes could have turned demon red they would have. “What are you? An asshole.”

  “No, sir. I believe I am a highly gifted military strategist and if you would give me one moment, I’ll explain.”

  Knowing Doyle had to be frozen for a reason, and not just to write those stupid ‘how to’ Society military manuals, George leaned against his desk. “Go on.”

  “There is no ultimate gain without sacrifice and loss. What, sir, is your ultimate gain?”

  “Getting Beginnings back.”

  “And you want to use the virus to do that. That is in motion, When will it be done? A couple months?” Sgt. Doyle received the annoyed nod of George. “I say we sacrifice. Beginnings gets signals, they send their assassin squad out, and they hit our troops. I say we let them get arrogant; let them think they have the upper hand. We not only send our squads out, but we send them out with orders to be at specific locations and specific times to send a radio signal.”

  George gave his attention. “A goose chase.”

  “Exactly,” Sgt. Doyle said. “They think they are coming after us, when in actuality, we are leading them on a well-timed path to our virus via a route home.”

  A slight smile hit George face. “The last troop they encounter has the virus. They send the signal. Robbie and his men go to that signal.”

  “Only we’re waiting,” Sgt. Doyle said.

  “My God. I never thought of that . . .” George said in awe. “What better way to deliver the virus to Beginnings than to send it through the front gates . . . with their very own men.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  June 27

  Vale, Oregon

  Vale, Oregon. Robbie wrote the word across his journal as he sat by the smoldering campfire. A campfire he kept going all night. As he wrote, the amber color that glowed against his face with each hit of his cigarette, became less predominant with the early morning light that was beginning to shine. Robbie reflected as this trip neared its end. The sixth squadron run since the communication center was operational. As he wrote and thought of the sixteen SUTs they took out, Robbie couldn’t help but let his mind drift off to how much more was ahead.

  Would he and his men always have such an easy time? Told where to go, heading to that city, taking out the small camp, and then heading home. No injuries, no resistance, no problems. Were the men of Beginnings trained that well? Were the SUTs just that uninformed? Or were they, what Robbie feared, off to a lucky start?

  It was hard to tell as he scribbled a body count down, along with a detailed account of what happened. Another sneak attack in the night. Another raid where the SUTs stood not one single chance. Too easily it was all done and that made Robbie’s gut scream. Would the simplicity of the runs vanish once the men started to wear after hitting three or four cities in a row? Or worse yet, what would happen once word got around through their communication that the SUT camps were being targeted. Robbie had a certain fear with the answer to that.

  The camps would soon be waiting and ready for them, anticipating Beginnings arrival. And when that happened, there would be no more sneak attacks. No more hit and run raids. All hell could break lose with every hit on each camp. The chances of injuries or death to the Beginnings men would increase. There would be resistance, there would be fighting. And Robbie knew well, that before long, it would be nothing more than a hand to hand combat war in a post-apocalyptic world.

  ^^^^

  Former Quantico Marine Headquarters

  It was a communications center of their own, but the one not far from where George based his office in Quantico looked more like something from a pre-World War II era. The beeping of Morse code filled the room and George stood behind Sgt. Doyle patiently waiting and watching him write.

  The dot of the lead pencil to to the paper was loud and Sgt. Doyle stood straight. “Sir . . .” He paused to smile and hand George the paper. “Signal received . . . Mr. Slagel and his men were just given the orders.”

  George took the paper and read the barbaric means of communication. But no matter how raw the form of the message came, they were words that George needed to see.

  ^^^^

  Bowman, North Dakota

  Chaos. Elliott wondered why chaos had to be so loud. It was too early in the morning to be dealing with it, but it was becoming a daily occurrence in the growing town of Bowman. In his office, next to the Captain’s, Elliott could hear the pandemonium on the street. The Captain’s voice was loud as he administered orders. Elliott swore as he worked on ration and work order sheets, that it was the worst it had ever been and he dreaded going outside to help. Scouting troops and ‘Hope’ runners, the ones who lo
oked for survivors, were due in. But Elliott didn’t recall in all his scheduling having them all due in at the same day and same time such as they were doing that morning.

  Elliott expected the scouts that were looking for society camps and the Hope runners to bring willing joiners back. But never did Elliott expect the numbers they received so fast. In the few short months since they had begun sending men out, the little town of Bowman, the UWA, had grown to nearly five hundred strong. Almost all were men, wanting badly to join a cause that would help put an end to the days of their running from death squads that randomly hit their homes.

  The UWA accepted them and Elliott grew concerned. Feeding them, clothing them, finding uniforms weapons and training would be overwhelming. Especially with the strategically planned attacks on the stationary Society camps not that far in the future. But with every ounce of worry Elliott had, the Captain countered that with calm. He wasn’t the least bit concerned at all. The Captain fully believed that things would work themselves out. Their cause was too good.

  “Sgt. Ryder, sir.” A young corporal entered his office.

  “Yes.” Elliott looked up.

  “Sir.” The corporal seemed a bit nervous. “You may want to know this. Sgt. Owens said to tell you that a woman was picked up. She has long blonde hair and looks like the one in the photo . . .” Before the young corporal could finish, Elliott had stood up and walked from his office.

  Where was she? Where was she? Elliott wondered as he started, focused, walking out into the filled streets. He knew he would confirm if it was her the moment he saw her. How could he not? He had stared at that picture so much. He knew ever scar and line on her face.

  Elliott’ heart dropped. He spotted the back of her long blonde hair as it wisped some in the wind. She stood with Dr. Blue and two soldiers. Every voice around him, every call of his name, became like a tunnel hearing. They faded as Elliott stayed transfixed on the woman walking tall and with determination to her.