The new Dean.
Courtesy of the healing agent.
“What!” Dean blasted.
John shrugged. “Ellen is telling everyone that it’s the reason for your personality change. The chip caused damage; you took a healing agent, the healing agent work on your frontal lobe … that’s that.”
“Then she has to know it’s the clone.”
“As far as we know she didn’t,” John said. “But, last I heard Frank was telling her.”
“Actually, that’s wise.”
John snorted. “Yeah, especially since you two have the understanding. Ellen could very easily be intimate with the clone. Though I don’t know if he knows what to do.”
“What?” Dean laughed.
“Yeah, he’s pretty naive.”
“That’s what I heard.”
Idle talk.
Finally, John left and Dean was able to get to his work.
It was difficult to look at the pictures of the body. He had to remind himself that he didn’t think it was Joe. Focusing on the gray hair that covered his temples. He had pictures of everything.
And since Joe was buried in only his underwear as he always requested, Dean got his first glimpse of the damage to the body.
The hands were a sure sign.
Joe wasn’t holding the explosive device when it went off.
In fact, he was a distance from it. Close enough to crush his sternum and cause an immediate heart attack, but far enough away so as not to cause burns. Lars had cleaned the body before burial and did not for the exam.
Lars’ autopsy report stated that Joe died of force blunt trauma to the chest which crushed his heart.
Joe died instantly.
Or at least the man whose body was in the tomb did.
Dean was able to examine the body when he was there, and take the pictures. All to aid him in coming to a conclusion. However, there were several things that were confusing.
Elements that lead to it being Joe, and elements that led to not being Joe.
Dean would have to wait for the test results. Test results of DNA, and cultures that would give a metabolic break down.
He would wait for those results and make a judgment based on those, the pictures, and his exam. Hopefully, Dean would come up with the correct conclusion.
The entire thing grew more mysterious by the day. With the biggest mystery to Dean being, if the body in the tomb was not Joe, then where was Joe Slagel?
<><><><>
Imagination, sounds that were weird, spirits, and an old movie by Vincent Price, called ‘Last Man on Earth’, were all detailed in the report as reasons why the patrol guards did not go into the cemetery the night before.
Even religious beliefs were mentioned.
In short, Elliott knew the men were freaked out.
That was confirmed when the line, ‘if we have killer babies, who is to say there are not zombies’.
But they heard and saw suspicious activity at the mausoleum.
They did investigate in the morning and found evidence that the tomb had been tampered with.
They listed the reasons for believing it, and marked down they didn’t touch anything.
Elliott decided that before he went to the Captain with the information he was going to see for himself.
He arrived at the cemetery and walked to the mausoleum. It held an eerie, silent feel to it.
As told by the patrol, the lid to the concrete tomb was slightly off. Elliott noted that, and with a slight shove of his body was able to replace it.
What looked like a smudged and muddy fingerprint was found on the edge of the concrete tomb.
Clearly, his patrol was correct in their assessment.
The biggest lead and indicator was the floor.
The patrol mentioned that the exterior ground was damp the night before and footprints were inside the mausoleum.
Elliott found those. Two different shoe sizes. Two different style shoes and that told Elliott more than any report could. Even more so, the possible identity to one of the people.
One foot print was that of a boot, the other was that of a tennis shoe. And not just any tennis shoe, the sole to a pair of Chuck Taylor, Converse All-Stars, and Elliott knew of only one person who wore those shoes.
Or possible two people, since in an essence they were one in the same for the time being.
As hard as it was, he took the information to Hal. How would he tell the captain that his father’s grave was ‘broken’ into?
“More so than someone going into the Mausoleum,” Hal said as he read the report. “What baffles me is to why we have patrolman afraid of ghosts.”
“That will be changed, Captain.”
“Someone opened my father’s tomb.” Hal stood. “Why?”
“I’m sorry.”
Hal shook his head.
“It’s disturbing, I know.”
“It is.”
“More so, is something I discovered.”
“What is that?” Hal asked.
“The shoe prints. One was that of a boot, the other Chuck Taylor’s.”
Hal looked at him immediately. “Only one person wears those. Dean.”
“When Dean is the only Dean in Beginnings.”
“The clone?”
“More than likely. I mean, why would Dean go into your father’s grave?”
“The clone does have more of a motive.” Hal rolled the report. “Let’s go, Elliott.”
“Where?”
“Beginnings.” Hal lifted the report. “I believe this is valuable information my investigating brother needs.”
“Or doesn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your brother is already boggled and baffled as to why the clone’s prints aren’t on the explosive, and that we have a mystery bomber. Now we have to tell him about this.”
Hal exhaled. “True. But he has to know. This is going to really bother him.”
Even though he dreaded being there when the Captain delivered the shocking and disturbing information to Robbie, Elliott went along with Hal to Beginnings.
<><><><>
Jason wasn’t in his lab, and Robbie really wanted to talk to him. Perhaps that could be something for later.
He made his way into the trailer portion of the lab. Still locked, still untouched and appearing the way it did when Robbie was there two days earlier.
The clone really didn’t clean up much or change much. Then again, he really hadn’t been there and couldn’t get in since they added that new lock.
Robbie hooked his keys to his loop and looked around the living room of the trailer. Two plates, both with partially eaten jam sandwiches perched on the table.
The clone was meeting with someone in Beginnings, but who. Robbie wished there was a way to find out who had eaten off that second plate.
The instant he had that thought, he stopped.
Eaten.
Saliva.
DNA
Bingo.
Robbie smiled. He pulled a plastic bag from his pocket and carefully placed the remains of both sandwiches into the bag. He’d take it to Dean to find out. If Dean could pull the DNA, then the identity of the clone’s Beginnings cohort would be discovered.
Grabbing the phone, he called Dean. If he could get the sandwiches to Dean right away, perhaps when he returned that night, Dean would have an answer.
Importunely the phone rang and rang. Robbie gave up. Placing the plastic bag in his pocket, Robbie walked to the bedroom.
The bed was slept in, ruffled some and Robbie started his search.
Nothing was in the drawers and a comb lay on the dresser. Just as he turned to leave he caught glimpse of it sticking out from under the bed. A black strap.
Bending down, Robbie reached under the bed and pulled out a black backpack. It had to be Roy’s. It had some emblem on it Robbie had never seen.
Unzipping the bag, his phone rang, starting him.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Robbie, di
d you call?” Dean asked.
“Oh, hey, Dean. Yeah. I got an idea.”
“Shoot.”
“You know how I said it looked like someone else up here with the clone?”
“Yeah.”
“If I brought you a half eaten sandwich, can you see if you can find DNA or saliva on it?”
“Absolutely, you have one?” Dean asked with excitement.
“In my pocket.”
“Excellent. Did you find anything else?”
“A backpack. I’m looking in it now,” Robbie balanced the phone between his shoulder and ear.
“What’s in it?”
“Some really awful looking clothing.” Robbie pulled items out. “Just clothes. He must have brought this through with him.” Reaching further into the bag, Robbie pulled out the last item. “Dean would never …” The thump of something hitting the floor, caught his attention. Something had fallen out of the bag.
“Robbie?”
“Wait a second. Something was wrapped in the shirt.” Robbie looked down to the floor to see two pieces. One a box approximately eight by six inches in dimension, and three inches deep. The other, a small flat object that matched the color of the larger box.
“What the hell?”
“What did you find?” Dean asked.
“It must have broken when it hit the floor.” Robbie bent down to pick them up. “Some sort of box and …” he saw. The open space of the back of the larger box was a perfect match for the smaller object. “Yeah, it broke.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. Oh. Hold on. Looks like the one piece is a battery or power supply.” Robbie slid the smaller object into the bigger one. “Fits. Cool. Now what is it?” he turned it over. The flat front surface contained an alphanumeric keypad. Tiny little keys. Above them, a peach button, blue button, and green button, all with a symbols he had never seen. “Hey, Dean, he definitely brought this from the future,” Robbie said, examining the box further. Above the peach, green, and blue buttons, was an LCD display, above that a tiny circle, no bigger than an eraser. It matched the type on the side of the box. Like tiny lenses to a camera.
“Hello, Robbie!” Dean called out. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. I’ll bring it to you. Maybe together we can figure it out. I’ll call you back.” Blindly Robbie hung up the phone. He hooked his phone back to his belt, and stood with the object in his hand. Like a kid with a toy, Robbie pressed buttons.
The top circle lit up and from it emerged a blue funnel light about five inches above the box. The blue light transformed into a holograph. A holograph of a woman, wearing a white robe, her hair in swirled buns on both sides of her head.
“Huh?” Robbie asked. “Princess Leah?”
The woman was bent over. “Help, me Obi-won-Kenobi, you’re my only hope,” she said. She then stood and faced Robbie. “Hello Roy, my you look handsome. Where do you want to go?”
His left eyebrow cocked high, and trying to get rid of the image, Robbie pressed another button.
Zap.
A quick sensation of electricity, a blinding white light, and suddenly ….
War call! Encircled by the sunshine, and the smell of fresh air, the sound of thunderous stampeding carried to Robbie along with screaming, and hooting of Indian war cries. He looked up to see a wall of horses, dust clouds forming under their hooves, American Indians on their backs, riding fast and furiously his way.
“Uh!” Robbie stifled a scream and panicking, pressed buttons on the box.
Closer. Closer. He even saw one Indian draw back a bow, ready to shoot an arrow in his direction.
Trembling hands with thoughts of ‘What the fuck is going on?’ Robbie played with the buttons like a video game until…
Zap.
Quiet.
He was in the trailer.
His chest heaved up and down in the post excitement of what transpired. His mind spun, adrenaline pumped.
“Ok. Ok,” he spoke to himself. “Calm. Calm. Fuck. Where am I? Or rather when?” He grabbed his phone. “Please be there. Please be there.” He dialed.
“Hello.” Dean answered.
“Dean … Dean when did I talk to you last.”
“Thirty seconds, maybe why?”
“OK, just checking to make sure I was still here and not somewhere else.”
“What?”
“I’m on my way. Oh my God, I’m on my way.”
“Robbie …”
“Bye.” Robbie hung up.
He extended and looked at his trembling fingers. Clenching a fist, he took a deep breath, shoved the box in the backpack, zipped it up, and hung it over his shoulder.
He flew to the living room, and flung open the door.
“Uh!” he screamed when Hal stood there.
“Robbie? Are you OK?” Hal asked.
“Yeah. Yeah. You scared me. I have to go.” Robbie rushed by him.
“Robbie, I have to talk to you,” Hal said. “Do you have a minute?”
“Actually, Hal, I don’t. Can we talk over supper?” Robbie head to the jeep, waving to Elliott.
“It’s about the case.”
“What case?” Robbie reached for the jeep door.
“Dad’s?” Hal walked to the jeep.
“What’s up?” Robbie asked as he slid inside and over turned the ignition. “I’m in hurry, Hal.”
“This is important, Robbie. It seems someone, perhaps the clone, may have tried to break into Dad’s tomb.”
“Oh. Wow. Ok. Thanks.” Robbie tossed the jeep in gear and sped off.
Hal turned slowly to Elliott. “Oh. Ok? Wow? Thanks?”
Elliott shook his head.
“He either wasn’t paying attention or he knows something. I’m willing to bet ...” Hal said. “He knows something.”
<><><><>
“I was overseas…”
Bertha reflected on something her father told her.
“It was you know. I was infantry. I was doing my job. There were these four men, with guns, and they were firing at us. I remember this well, because it was the first time I recalled seeing the whites of the one man’s eyes ... before I shot him. Years later, in the US, I met a man from that country. He became my friend, and into our friendship, he told me how his father was killed in the same war. By Americans. He gave me details that gave me chills. Time, date, Bert … that was my unit. I kept thinking, was it me? Did I kill this man’s father?”
Her father’s words stayed strong with her. He was sharing a war experience. War brings out the best and worst. But acts of war, hazards of war are not personal, they are just that. Acts of war. Men doing what they had to do. Their job.
Mike’s mission was an act of retaliatory action. An act of war. He didn’t shoot Bertha for personal reasons; he did so because she was in the way of his mission.
She called Robbie hours earlier to discuss what his feelings were regarding Mike.
“I’m pissed; I mean it’s obvious he was just trying to get me out of the way. Can’t say the same for you,” Robbie said.
Mike had to know it was Bertha. He had to know she was carrying his grandchild.
So Bertha had to know before she made her final call on the forgive or forget issue, whether or not he intended to harm her personally.
She knew the answer to that the second she stepped into Mike’s cell.
He was sitting on the bunk, hands to his face. And with a shocked expression, he pulled the skin to his face as he stood. “You’re all right,” he said with relief.
“Yes. It’s been one hell of a recovery though.”
“I’m sorry. If I had known it was you … You looked like any male soldier …”
Bertha held up her hand. “I know. I lost the baby.”
Mike nodded. “I figured as much.”
“Tigger is doing well,” she said, pulling up a chair.
“That’s good to know.”
“Mike, you don’t belong in here,” she said. “You h
ave skills that are needed. Beginnings and the Society have called a truce. In fact, they have formed a pact.”
“I find that so hard to believe.”
She shook her head. “Don’t. We have. We really have Mike. Beginnings doesn’t want you dead or prosecuted. The Society doesn’t want you dead or prosecuted. Both sides want you to help out. Every man is needed. Every skill is needed. If Beginnings and the Society can put things aside, hell George is vacationing there. If that can happen. You need to make it happen with you, too. For the sake of everyone.”
Mike chuckled. “You sound so gloomy. As if some sort of bug war is gonna happen.”
Mike didn’t need a verbal response from Bertha. The look on her face said it all, and he stopped chuckling.
<><><><>
“Hal knows,” Robbie greeted Dean when dean opened the door.
“Hello, to you, too Robbie. Man, what did you do, fly here.”
“Pretty much,” Robbie said. “Hal knows.”
“Hal knows what?”
Robbie laid the backpack on the table. “He knows we dug up the grave. OK maybe he doesn’t know it was us. He might. But he knows the grave was tampered with.”
Dean’s head spun, Robbie was speaking fast. “How … how does he know?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t have time to ask him.”
“Robbie, slow down.”
“I can’t. I have to get going.” Robbie laid the plastic bag on the table. “Here are the sandwiches for the DNA. And here ... here’s this box.”
“Why are you in such a rush?”
“Running from Hal. I lost him on the way here. Had to go to Jordan, spin back down the back way…”
Dean laughed. “Why are you running from Hal? Wait. Why is he chasing you?”
“Who knows?” Robbie shrugged. “I’ll be back tonight. Run those DNA tests.” He walked to the door.
“What is this box?” Dean lifted it.
“It’s cool. It’s weird. I haven’t a fucking clue how or what it does and why. Don’t touch it. We’ll play with it together tonight. Two people should do it. Wait until you hear what happened.”
“What …”
“Put that down, Dean. I gotta go.” Robbie opened the front door.
“Robbie what …” The door closed. “Happened.” Dean exhaled. “Typical Slagel.” Shaking his head, he set down the box and focused on the sandwiches. Until he heard Robbie’s voice in his head.
The Third Ten Page 101
