The Third Ten

by Jacqueline Druga

  “They aren’t us,” Robbie said.

  Hal stepped forward, speaking close to Frank with seriousness and passion. “I feel what you feel. But these men have neither the skill or will to fight this fight. You’ve instructed them how to stand their ground, you did well, now you must instruct them how they will live.”

  Frank nodded. “I know.” He took a deep breath. “Okay.” He reached to reconnect the call. “Buzz. Listen …”

  Henry held up the other phone. “Frank? It’s George.”

  Frank continued, “I’m gonna put you on with Captain Slagel. He’s gonna tell you what you need to do.” Reaching for the phone, from Henry, Frank, one last time muted the call to Buzz and faced Hal. “Dig them in, tell them to take immediate cover in the closest place they can.”

  Hal nodded.

  “Instructed them to stay low, stay hidden … get below if they can.”

  Again, Hal nodded.

  “Do so until they hear the cease fire.” Frank raised the other phone toward his ear.

  “Cease fire?” Hal asked.

  “The cease fire.” Frank took a step away and spoke into the phone. “George.”

  “Frank, you know goddamn well you are the last…”

  Short. Piercing, and loud, Frank whistled into the phone to silence him.

  “What the hell was that for?”

  “Listen, you can ride my ass and insult me all you want. In fact, we’ll schedule a day where we’ll just toss digs at each other over the phone. But this is not the time.” There was something different about the way Frank spoke, and it grasped everyone’s attention in that room.

  Obviously, it grasped George’s as well.

  Silence. “What’s up?” George asked.

  “I know damage is already done, but before it’s completely too late. Cease fire, and pull out from Lodi.”

  George laughed. “Are you mad?”

  “Actually, yeah I am. I’m pretty fuckin pissed and I’m trying to be reasonable here, and hoping you will be too. There’s two hundred men dying out there. They can’t do jack shit about it.”

  “They knew it was coming, they should have left with the others. Lodi is our town, on our side of the fence and we wanted that town.”

  “There were other ways to take that town and you fuckin’ know it. You proved your point. Now cease fire and pull out.”

  “Why? Because you consider Lodi your people. Cease fire and pull out? Or what, Frank?” George asked.

  “There’s no ‘or what’ here,” Frank said. “This isn’t about Lodi being Beginnings, or yours; it’s about it being ours. Meaning it’s smack dab in the center of the fuckin’ United States. Our soil, George. You’re blowing up your own people. This shit breeds bad blood. And you know what? Come tomorrow, or next week, or next year, should some fuckin’ force decides they want our country, then we may have to all pull together on that one. Bad blood brings a division we won’t need. Cease fire and pull out.”

  There was an immediate silence on the phone. One that told Frank the line of communication was still open. It was reiterated when Hal turned to Frank.

  “Frank, its stopping. Buzz just said the strike stopped.” Hal smiled. “You did it.”

  Frank blinked long and swallowed.

  “Done,” George said. “Get someone to contact Callahan so we can set up a time to talk. I want to discuss something you mentioned.”

  “Roger that.” Frank hung up, handed the phone to Henry, and turned. Just as his hand rested on the console, he saw his father standing there. “When did you get here?”

  “Somewhere around the time you handed Lodi to Hal, so you could handle something else.”

  “Fuck.” Frank gave a single shake of his head. “I’m sorry. That should have been your job.”

  “No, Frank.” Joe reached out, giving a firm squeeze to Frank’s arm. “No, you sure as shit showed it was your job. You stepped to the plate, and you handled it. I knew you were good. But … goddamn. I’m proud of you.”

  Hal gave Frank a proud smile. “I have to agree with our father. You impressed me.”

  “And you …” Frank pointed at Hal. “Never wavered, never questioned me, and never left my side on the whole thing. Thank you.” Frank reached out his hand to Hal.

  Hal extended a hand, stopped, produced a half crooked smile, stepped back and saluted Frank.

  Frank returned the salute.

  Joe laughed with pride, gripping both of his sons. “See? See? One helluva team you boys make when you work together. Helluva team.”

  “Hey.” Robbie called out. “What about us?” He pointed to him and Jimmy.

  “Yeah,” Jimmy said. “We were here.”

  “Oh.” Frank grunted out. “What was it that was said? It won’t work? Pull them out?”

  Hal added, “It’s a slaughter? I believe I heard it was a slaughter?”

  “Uh, guys?” Robbie smiled. “It was. Granted. It could have been a lot worse. But still.”

  “And,” Jimmy said. “Hating to add this, but it could have gone better. A lot less loss of life had you pulled them out or hunkered them down.”

  “You think?” Frank asked. “Hal?”

  “Not a chance, Jimmy.” Hal said. “It would have been worse.”

  Joe asked. “Why? Frank, tell me why you made the decision you did.”

  “Is this a quiz?”

  Joe laughed. “No, I just want to know.”

  “Okay. A few things. One, they stayed to fight. Two. Having them high tail out was not an option. By the time the word would have gotten out, and their guys started to move, they would have been running targets. Three, the Society knew they were there. If the Society forces didn’t see them, they would have blasted the entire fuckin’ town, and gone on a search and destroy. At that point, the Lodi men would have been just firing to stay alive with no direction. The best way was to get them together and try to organize a defense. That was why they stayed there in the first place.”

  “And that …” Joe turned to Robbie and Jimmy. “Is why Lodi is goddamn grateful you two weren’t running the show.”

  “Man,” Robbie looked at Jimmy. ‘Did Dad just imply we suck? I think he did.”

  “Yes, Robbie, I believe he did,” Jimmy said.

  “No,” Joe corrected. “If I wanted to say you sucked, I would have. I just meant you two would have made the wrong decision.”

  Wrong decision.

  That simple line caught Hal’s attention. With all that had been happening and all that was said, that simple sentence uttered by Joe hit him harder than it was intended to hit Robbie and Jimmy.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Johnny was pale. In fact, so much so, Lars didn’t want to leave him. It didn’t take much longer to find them. They were pulled over on the side of the road, twenty miles ahead. Debating on whether to turn back to get Lars.

  Then Lars showed up.

  His diagnosis of the situation was pretty simple. Johnny was over doing it. He didn’t see any signs of ‘problems’ other than the fact he was exhausted.

  Mike told Tigger.

  Tigger blinked a few times and said, “Oh wow.”

  “Oh wow?” Mike asked.

  “You rode all the way out here to tell me that? Why didn’t you just call me in Beginnings?”

  “In case you wanted to turn back,” Mike said.

  “And do what? Join the Society?” Tigger laughed. “I’ll get my kid when my kid is born. But I’m not gonna go to the Society and wait.”

  Mike was going to tell Tigger the truth about George calling in plenty of enough time to tell him before he left, but Lars intervened and said George spilled the truth right after they left.

  It was time to turn back and head to Lodi.

  The goodbye to Tigger was better. Much better.

  But the goodbye to Lars was heartbreaking.

  “I can’t with a clear conscience, Mike, allow Johnny to ride there without medical supervision,” Lars said.

  “What ar
e you gonna do? Go?” Mike asked.

  “I have to.”

  “You don’t have anything.”

  “No, I don’t.” Lars said. “So can I ask a favor?”

  “Yes.”

  “Two things. One pack up all my anti Dean things and send it out with the next pilgrimage. And there will be another.”

  Mike nodded. “I can do that. The other?”

  “Complete my mission.”

  Mike gave a quirky look. “Your mission.”

  “When this thing is done. You need to go to the Society and kill George.”

  “Lars …”

  “Mike, you need to. You have to. It’s the only way to end this all. Cut off the head of the snake.”

  Mike nodded.

  “So, you’ll do it.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “That’s all I ask.”

  There was a short embrace, a few sarcastic remarks and the bus reloaded.

  In Mike’s mind, Beginnings was getting a surprise bonus in the form of Lars Rayburn. Dean Hayes was getting a surprise, as well. And Mike was willing to wager that despite that they were unprepared for Lars, Beginnings was going to handle his arrival a hell of a lot better than Dean would ever do.

  After watching them leave, Mike headed back to Lodi.

  ***

  The introduction of computers, laser printers, and so forth, really outdated the typewriter, especially the manual ones. Until, that was, the plague hit, and Beginnings refused to bring back technology. Like Bowman and Jordan, why do it?

  A small table cattycorner to Joe’s desk, placed against the wall, contained an old black typewriter. It might as well have been the highest technology that was how much trouble Frank had with it.

  “Fuck,” he blurted out, pulled out the paper, crinkled it and tossed it. He placed another piece of paper in the carriage.

  His towering body hovered over the table, he didn’t sit and the two fingers he used to type, were hitting the other keys. He didn’t type fast, never claimed he did, nor did he claim to be the best and most accurate typist either. Give Frank a pencil and he had the squared off and neat lettering.

  “Fuck” Out again he ripped the paper, rolled it up tossed it and placed in another.

  Tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.

  He was on a roll.

  Tap.

  “Fuck,”

  Out. Crinkle. Toss.

  Joe wasn’t in the best of moods when he returned to his office. He felt he was failing. He was an experienced interrogator, yet he was getting nowhere with Fort. He actually started to think that maybe Ellen was right. That maybe Fort wasn’t from the future. If it wasn’t for Bob Smith and the invisible predators, Joe could have easily conceded.

  The swing open of his door, welcomed his stride, which slowed down the second he stepped inside and his shoe kicked a ball of paper.

  “Frank?”

  “Hey, Dad.” Frank stayed focused. Tap- Tap-tap. “Fuck.” Rip. Crinkle. Toss.

  Joe looked down. The blindly thrown ball of paper landed impressively near the other fifty or so rolled up wads that were making a big old pile on his office floor.

  “Frank? What are you doing?”

  “Typing.”

  “What?’

  “A letter.”

  “Why don’t you use one of the computers?”

  “Fuckin hate them. Can’t get them to work for me.”

  “Ah ha, I see.” Joe looked down. “And the typewriter is any better?”

  “No. My fingers are too big. Ever try typing while standing.”

  “No.”

  “Doesn’t work.”

  “I see that. Do you plan on cleaning up your mess?”

  “What mess?” Frank asked.

  “I’d say the mess made from you tossing your errors.”

  After a ‘huh’, Frank turned his head. “Fuck, I didn’t realize I messed up that badly. Hell with it. I’ll get Robbie to draft it.”

  “Draft it?” Joe questioned and walked to his desk. “What are you drafting?”

  “A letter I want to fax to Callahan.”

  Rear just about in his seat, Joe paused. “Callahan, as in George’s right hand.”

  “The one and only.”

  “Can I ask why?”

  “Yeah.” Frank walked around the desk, squeaked out a chair he pulled forward and sat. “She pretty much handles the forces; at least that’s what Jimmy says.”

  “And you’re getting in touch with her … why?”

  “Uh … I’ve been thinking” Frank leaned forward snatching up a green folder from Joe’s desk. “This is mine. May I?”

  “Please?”

  Frank took the folder and opened it. He then turned it, open to face Joe. “All my notes.”

  Pages and pages of notes, handwritten, were in there. Joe flipped through. “All this since the message?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You really have been giving this a lot of thought.”

  “I have.”

  “Tell you Frank.” Joe leaned back, hand still on the folder. “This war. I have been beating my head against the wall trying to get information from Fort regarding it.”

  “Fuck him.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Fuck him. He isn’t giving it up.” Frank shrugged. “We don’t need him to. Let his ass stay in Containment as his punishment for not saying anything. I don’t care. But we don’t need his information if you think about it. Nor do we need to crack the message from Future Jason … if you think about it.”

  “Go on.”

  “I’ve thought about this.”

  “I know.”

  “Okay,” Frank explained. “Here’s what we know. There is a Great War... it starts soon. It’s not with the Society. Whatever it was, had we had this so called treasure in Beginnings, we would have built a better defense and not gotten our asses kicked. So why do we need Fort. The attack will come two ways. Air or Sea. From where? Doesn’t matter where. It’s not like we can call them and do anything about it. We can’t. We can only prepare and possibly get ahead of the game to create an offensive move that gives us an advantage. So, right now, in my opinion we’re wasting time.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Keep Henry on looking for the treasure, while we send Danny and a couple men down to Cheyenne Mountain, try to fire up the NORAD system and watch for things coming.”

  Joe whistled. “I’m not sure it can be done.”

  “We’ll never know unless we try. If I can scan the sky and water for incoming, I can plan.”

  “Danny may give you a hard time about leaving.”

  “Danny will have to get over it. He’s our main brain right now.”

  Joe leaned back in his chair. “You really think this is the way to go,”

  “Absolutely. It’s worth a shot. We have to remember, we have no idea how much technology this incoming force has... We have to assume they are better than us,”

  “Tell me why you want to call Callahan.”

  “To remind her the need for unity should someone invade our soil. And Dad, we need unity. I need her to detail out what they have. She may or may not divulge that information, I don’t know. If the future tells us we joined forces with the Society, it tells me it was bad. Or rather, is bad. Society has twenty-plus thousand soldiers. We have about three ready to go. That’s not bad. But if we get our asses kicked in the future. If we have close to thirty thousand and we start going down. How big is this force that hits our soil? And that’s what we have to plan on. Anything less, then we confirm the future.”

  Exhaling heavily, Joe ran his hand over his mouth in chin. “Okay.” He snapped forward. “Listen to what I’m gonna say.”

  “Go on.”

  “I’m impressed. I’m impressed at the amount of time and work you put into this. This, Frank, is definitely where your genius lays.”

  Frank smiled. “Thanks.”

  “But, I want you to go to NORAD. Robbie could go, Hal could
go, they could be your eyes, but they aren’t you. Get everything you need together. Plan on going. But … do it in a couple weeks.”

  “Dad …”

  “Hear me out.” Joe held up his hand. “You can do a lot more preliminary thinking, and your mind can be clear. I see no reason why this can’t wait until after you get married. We have the Lodi town to deal with, plus, there’s gonna be aftermath following this attack. You can organize the Norad mission better with the extra two weeks.”

  Frank stared in thought.

  “Frank?”

  Frank nodded. “I’ll agree to that.”

  “Good. Mind if I keep these?” Joe asked of the notes.

  “As a matter of fact … yeah. How about I make you copies.”

  Joe chuckled. “How about I make the copies and get them back to you.”

  “Don’t let anyone see them.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I have to get going. I want to check on the Lodi shit. See if we can get through to the town and where we are now.”

  “I’ll get back to you with these shortly.”

  “Thanks.” Frank opened the door. “And remember. Don’t show these to anyone.”

  “I promise.”

  Frank left and Joe stared at the folder. He wanted to take a moment, before getting lost in the day to really look at what Frank had done. There was so much there. So much detail and that told Joe, there was so much to his son that went unnoticed.

  ***

  The only difficulty Mike had in returning home was stopping and placing more gas in his tank. He had learned to always carry the extra gallon.

  The flat land of Ohio afforded visibility. About ten miles from Lodi, Mike saw smoke. At first he worried that one of the buildings caught fire, and then as he drew closer he realized the abundance of black smoke billowing to the sky was far too much for a single fire. Mike picked up speed.

  He entered town from the west, and had a clear and straight shot to the center of town. But the sight of Kyle Wilson lying dead on the side of the road, bloodied and weapon in hand, made Mike swerve and nearly crash. He hopped off his bike, racing to Kyle’s body.

  His mind sputtered out sequential ‘Oh my Gods’ as he turned him over. Four shots to the chest. His jaw clenched, neck tensed, and before he could even react, move the body, or surmise a guess at what had occurred, he spotted another body twenty feet away.