The Third Ten

by Jacqueline Druga

  The nice man named Buzz offered her a chicken sandwich. Which was pretty funny. The chicken salad was mostly eggs and veggies, but Ellen didn’t mind. He mixed it well and it was tasty on the bread. In regards to Lodi bread, it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t Beginnings, and Ellen made a mental note to introduce Buzz to Josephine, since he did most of the baking in Lodi.

  She found a quiet spot at the old coffee shop. A place converted for some rehearsal hall for the two musicians in Lodi. Ellen couldn’t wait to hook all the players up.

  It was only a little after four PM in Beginnings, most of the day’s work would be accomplished for Dean.

  She sat back and dialed.

  He didn’t answer with a ‘hello’, Dean answered. “I am so glad you called.”

  Ellen giggled. “Thank you for that.”

  “How was the flight out there?”

  “Perfect.”

  “You slept.”

  “Dean fly meds work like a charm.”

  “What are you doing now, Aside from talking to me?”

  “Well, sitting here in an old coffee shop. Some band practices here, but Buzz said they only have two musicians.”

  “Wow, before long we can bring back battle of the bands.”

  “Oh my God, Dean. We should do that.”

  Dean laughed. “So, tell me. Did you meet the Society doctor?”

  “I did. He seems rather nice and … he seems to know what he’s doing.”

  “I should hope so. Many of men’s brains have they ruined.”

  “I just can’t see him doing it. But … he said he did. I guess that’s what he meant by logging over 200 brain surgeries.”

  Dean whistled. “Holy shit. So we’re confident that he’ll do this no problem.”

  “Confident ... and Dean?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They have a nerve medication they’ve been working on.”

  “Really. What kind.”

  “Restores nerve damage.”

  “Impossible. It has to make the brain think the nerve is working.”

  “Don’t know how it works. But he said they have had success with it. People that have nerve damage.”

  “Can you steal me some?”

  “Already done.”

  “Thanks, El.” Dean paused. “Rumor has it Frank beat up Mike.”

  “Frank punched Mike.”

  “So Frank is making friends.”

  “I would agree with that sarcastic comment, but this time it’s not Frank. Mike seems to have rubbed Danny the wrong way too.”

  “I know. Joe told me.”

  “Come to think about it. Fight with Frank. Fight with Danny. You and Mike should get along.”

  “Joe told me that too.”

  “How are the kids?” Ellen asked.

  “Good. On my way to get them. Hector wants to come over and hang out tonight.”

  “To see Nick? I mean he has him a lot.”

  “I know. No, he wants to come over here and see him. Danny has his DBS guys tuning new test patterns and testing the showing of reruns. He said the social hall would be too crowded.”

  “Wait. Stop.” Ellen laughed. “Everyone is huddling around a TV to watch this.”

  “Oh, yeah. The place is crazy about the new show confessions.”

  “I can imagine. It’s gonna be fun. I heard, Danny is not gonna tell the person hearing the confession until the last minute.”

  “Oh, yeah, how’d you hear that?”

  Ellen snickered. “Danny. So have you fed Christopher?”

  Silence.

  “Dean?”

  “I forgot. I’ll feed him tonight.”

  “But Dean …”

  “He’ll be fine. He’s under control. Oh! Forgot. Hey, El, check this out. Three hens are laying double eggs.”

  “You mean like double yolk.”

  “No, I mean like double eggs. Two eggs together.”

  “Ouch.”

  “My thoughts exactly. So, Joe comes to me and asks me about our feed.”

  “We haven’t touched that in years.”

  “That is exactly what I told him. So I asked for a hen to autopsy.”

  “Did you get one?”

  “Hector wasn’t pleased, but he hid his pissed off mood well. Especially since he wanted to come over to your house and you guys are the only private TV.”

  “Nope. Josephine has one now.”

  “El, please.” Dean smirked. “No man wants to go to her house and watch TV. I shudder to think of the price. Anyhow …he gave up a hen.”

  “Wait. Wait. Why would he care if the hen is obviously shooting out mutated eggs?”

  “Because I tested the eggs and they are fine. He gave up the Hen. I gassed it and started about an hour ago.”

  “Anything?” Ellen asked.

  “Check this out El; I’ll need to look more into it and I will when the kids are asleep. But the DNA is mutated.”

  “What did you do?”

  Dean chuckled out a cough. “Nothing. I can’t figure it out. The mutation looks like my work. But it is nothing I would have caused.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Did you tell Joe?”

  “Not yet. I will.”

  “Tell him, Dean. Cover your butt.”

  “What? What is that supposed to mean. Why would I cover my butt?”

  “Just to be on the safe side. The serial mutilations are on you, and it doesn’t look good especially since they stopped when we figured you out.”

  “I know.”

  “And now this. They’ll be labeling you the mad scientist.”

  “I know.”

  “Lars can’t wait to take your place …” Ellen paused. “Speaking of which, I see him and Frank crossing the street now.”

  “No. No. Frank and the horse doctor are getting along? This tells me a lot.”

  “Me, too,” Ellen said.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you are so gonna be outnumbered.”

  ‘Hey, El?” Dean said. “Got news for you. I’ve always been outnumbered.”

  Ellen laughed. “All right enough idle chat. While I have a few minutes before going and spying on what Frank and Lars are up to. What’s the scoop been on Jimmy and Jenny Matoose?” Ellen pulled another chair forward and kicked back, settling into a chat with Dean.

  ***

  Granted it was his day off, but really, what was George going to do. He didn’t have a computer at home, and left the laptop at his office. How he longed for the days of the internet all over again. How many times as President did someone walk in while he was cruising the net?

  Or his web blog that no one knew about. It took him some thinking to recall his web name, and then he remembered. Hadleyhater152. Daily he would post journal entries about life, the government things he could never say as President and no one knew.

  When he was bored he cruised online auctions for odd items. One time he won something and the person sent the auction company after him because they didn’t believe he won.

  Then two days later it was in the newspapers “President Hadley hits E-bay for Toast Art.”

  How many people sent him toast art after that? The secret Service was irritated.

  He went back to his office to find Callahan. She had his Zombie Space Fighter video game and he wanted to borrow it off of him. At least he had a game system.

  No one was in the headquarters building, and when that happened, any noise traveled loudly.

  Callahan’s laughter carried to him.

  But it wasn’t normal laughter.

  It was a giggling, like a school girl. Odd for her.

  George made his way quietly to his office, the giggling continued. In fact, he stood in the doorway starting before she noticed him.

  Quickly, she stopped smiling, placed on a professional face, and sat up straight, laying a sheet of paper on the desk.

  “My day is not bad,” George said walking in. “Not happy. Wanna share whatev
er it is that’s making you … giggle?”

  “Um, nothing, sir, really. Just a fax.”

  “A fax?”

  “From Lodi.”

  George raised an eyebrow. “Why is Lodi faxing you? Or was that mine."

  “It was mine. And it was about Johnny.”

  “I didn’t think Manis was that funny.”

  “He’s not sir, it’s from Tigger.”

  “May I see?” George held out his hand.

  “I’d really rather not.”

  “Hand it over, Callahan.”

  “Fine.” She did.

  George took it, his eyes began to skim. “Oh … my … God.”

  “Sir.” Callahan stood.

  “Oh … my … God,” he said louder.

  “Oh my God!” he shrieked louder. “Have you read this? Of course you did and you laughed? Oh my God. He isn’t even slightly romantic. He’s blunt.” He read a line. “Your breasts are so large they bury me. Uh!”

  Callahan winced.

  “Why is he sending you dirty messages?”

  “Well, he and …”

  “Don’t tell me. No. Tell me. Please. Did you and him.”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh my God. He’s a child.”

  “Really, he’s not. He’ll be 18 and in some states it is legal.”

  “He’s a midget.”

  “Little person.”

  George’s hand went to his face. “Callahan. This is disturbing. It’s so … so …”

  ‘Watch it, Sir. I think I am falling in love with him.”

  “Uh!” George screamed. “You cannot fall in love with him. He is the enemy.”

  “No he isn’t. He just lives on the enemy side. Besides, you yourself said you wanted him with us.”

  “You think this will get him here?”

  “I do.”

  “I’m sorry, Callahan. I can’t give my blessing to this. It’s disturbing.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  “The thought of you and him.” George shuddered. “What would you see in him anyhow?”

  “He’s charming. Witty. Sweet …”

  George made a look of disgust. He looked down to the letter and the look on his face changed. “And he’s giving us information.”

  Callahan nodded. “Innocently enough.”

  “Have you spoken to him on the phone?”

  “Not since this morning. Why?”

  George shook his head. “Just that, he states here, Beginnings is allowing Johnny within the province, just not inside Beginnings or Bowman. Which gives him two towns to roam about.”

  “Four.”

  “Four?”

  “You didn’t know. Four. Camp Doyle. Jordan. New Lodi. And some new town they are moving from California called …” Callahan winced in thought. “Yes, Creedville, whatever that is.”

  “As if I didn’t worry about Beginning when they were one town.” He set down the paper. “Okay, so Beginnings gave permission. Did you’re little man say what Johnny was going to do?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s time we found out.” George walked around his desk, inching Callahan from the way, sat down and lifted the phone.

  ***

  He didn’t look as if he minded sitting there. In fact, Colt Stevens was the fifth person, while about another fifteen held numbers waiting for their turn.

  Colt, like many others was excited.

  Danny Hoi had a table set up in the bar, with his ticket machine. Word was, if you wanted to register for the new town and work, they could do so in advance with Danny Hoi.

  Danny explained in the flyer he passed out that it was law under the province of Beginnings that everyone filled out a survey so they could be best placed for work. No free loaders, everyone worked.

  Registering with Danny early assured them quick processing.

  A big burly man, like many of the Lodi men, Colt had a full beard, and looked like a biker.

  Danny deducted by looking at the men in Lodi that they didn’t lack food resources, but they lacked exercise. Everyone was overweight from lack of doing anything. The way the town ran was when it needed doing, Mike posted for volunteers. Otherwise the men did very little.

  Lodi did have its share of writers.

  Colt had thanked Danny warmly with a firm handshake as he sat down and gave his name.

  Danny typed in the responses.

  “And your age?” Danny asked.

  “Thirty-two.”

  Danny only raised his eyes at him.

  “What?” Colt asked. “You don’t believe I’m thirty two?”

  “No. Not really. Let me see your left palm.”

  “What for?”

  “Ancient Chinese secret allows me to find the age of a man within one year.” Danny fibbed, hiding it well.

  “Fine. I’m forty.”

  ‘Thank you.”

  “I’m just afraid my age will hinder me.”

  Danny smiled. “It won’t. You seem like a strong guy.”

  “I am. I probably need to work on it. Been a while since I did anything around here. Not much to do. I’m one of the farm hands. But it’s winter. They have guys that do the green houses.”

  “Well, we need farmers. I can tell you.”

  “Occupation in the old world.”

  “I drove a Greyhound bus.”

  “No kidding” Danny typed. “You know we have a bus line that goes between towns. Interested in that?”

  “Sure. Yes. Without a doubt.”

  “Any problem sharing housing with anyone in particular.”

  Colt shook his head.

  Danny noticed it. Colt’s eyes shifted. Was he indicating someone or did someone catch his attention.

  That someone was Mike who walked in the bar.

  “Problem?” Danny asked.

  “No. no.” Colt answered. “Go on, continue.”

  Danny may not have seen it, but Frank sure did. The look on Mike’s face as he passed the table. Mike looked at Danny, shook his head in what seemed to be disgust.

  Frank was having a drink. A small one and he sipped it slowly. He brought the glass to his lips watching Mike. As he took in a small amount, he gasped, whispered out, “What an ass.” As he set down his glass.

  “I can see living on the other side of the country is going to be very interesting.”

  Frank turned around and looked at Lars. Lars shook his head and pointed down.

  Lowering his views, Frank saw Tigger sitting on the bar stool between him and Lars. Actually, Tigger was kneeling on the stool.

  “Nah, half a country’s big enough for both of us.” Frank said. “It’s certainly big enough for you.”

  “Oh, ha, ha. Aren’t you funny?”

  Frank smiled.

  “So what’s up with the Danny guy? Is he doing job interviews?”

  “You could say that,” Frank said. “They’re interviewing for the job of cabaña boy at the House of Lesbians.”

  Tigger snickered. “Yeah, right. House of Lesbians.”

  “Asked my …” Frank swallowed. “Ask Johnny. We have one.”

  Lars interjected. “I did hear that to be true.”

  “No shit.” Tigger grinned. “Think I can apply for that.”

  “I not only think you can apply. Bet Marma the lead lesbian hires your little ass. You’re so cute.” Frank reached down and pinched his cheek.

  “Uh. Stop that. You’re gonna drive me nuts.”

  “And you still haven’t let me hold you.”

  “Guy, if you think I’m clinging to that body, you’re nuts.” Tigger tossed his head upward.

  “You’ll get used to me.”

  “Not enough to hang on to you.”

  Frank laughed then saw Mike, phone to ear, rush out. “Who’d be calling him?”

  “Man, are you nosey. But …” Tigger looked. “Only two people. Ellen or …”

  “The Society.” Frank finished the sentence. “Wonder why they’re calling.”

  �
��We can ask.”

  “You can ask. Your father hates me.”

  “You punched him.”

  “True.”

  How long would they have to wait for an answer? Not very. A few seconds later, Mike’s roar of anger in the form of words carried into the bar from outside.

  “He fuckin’ did what!?”

  Making an ‘o’ with his lips, and widening his eyes with raised eyebrows, Frank peered down.

  Tigger was gone.

  “What the piss?” Frank peered back and forth.

  “Don’t move.” The tiny voice whispered behind him. “Please.”

  “How do you know he’s …?”

  “I know. Don’t move.”

  Frank felt the nudge against his back and a grip to his Tee shirt; he leaned back against the bar, arms to his side.

  The door to the bar burst open with a bang.

  “Tigger!” Mike blasted.

  Frank felt the shuffling. He just watched Mike.

  “Tiger. Where are you?” he blasted.

  No one answered. In fact, everyone went about their business.

  “I was just in here. Come out.” Mike ordered.

  Somehow the fact that there was a mirror behind the bar eluded, Tigger. It actually eluded Mike for a second until he turned around and saw.

  Mike looked from the mirror’s reflection to Frank, mirror and then he stepped to Frank.

  Mike stared at Frank. “Why … would you hide my son?”

  Frank shrugged. “I’m not hiding your son at all.”

  “Step aside.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because my fuckin’ son is behind your back and I want to kill him.”

  “Mike. If your son is behind my back, maybe he doesn’t want you to …” Frank tilted his head. “Kill him.”

  Mike glared than yelled. “Tigger!”

  Frank winced closing one eye. “I’m right here.”

  “So is he.” Mike said. “Do not make me reach around you for him.”

  “Why don’t you walk around the other side of the bar if you want him that bad?”

  “Because he’ll run.”

  “Then you chase him.”

  A nostril breath, a step, and Mike reached for Frank.

  “Don’t.” Frank said. “Don’t lay a hand on me.” He looked sideways. “Tigger, come out and talk to you dad.”

  “I’d really rather not. I know that tone.”

  Frank said to Mike, “He’d really rather not.”