It was Roy.
“Hey, what’s up?” Frank asked.
“Frank, I am sorry to bother you.”
“Not a problem.”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t …”
“Roy, what?”
“Your father is with Robbie. He doesn’t want to be disturbed. I need permission to do an immediate autopsy on him as soon as I can get Robbie.”
“Why immediate?” Frank asked. “Why an autopsy. He had an infection, and his heart gave out.”
“It’s more than that, we need to know the why and how this bacteria works and why it did what it did. Robbie would want us to find out. It’s imperative Frank. And we need to have it done within eight hours.”
“I don’t understand why the rush.”
Roy paused. “Frank, we have Patrick isolated. We think he may have contracted something from Robbie. It’s not showing in the blood stream, but the early symptoms are the same.”
“Fuck.”
“Yes.”
“Then do what you need to do.”
“Your father won’t let anyone in the room,” Roy said.
“Give him time. He’ll leave soon. And who is doing the autopsy?” Frank asked.
“Me. I think I am the best one. Dean is not of the right emotional state to do so.”
“Just don’t … don’t mess him up.”
“I’m sorry. What do you mean?”
“Don’t mess him up. We’re having a funeral with an open casket. I need everything where it should be.”
“Absolutely, Frank.”
“Thanks.” Frank hung up and sat his phone on the seat. After a pause, he lifted it again and put it on silent as he moved through the gates of Beginnings. He needed the drive and not to be bothered. He would only be off the radar for fifteen minutes, he didn’t expect anyone to try to reach him in that short span of time.
<><><><>
“Frank?”
Dean knocked once on Joe’s office door, then stepped in. Empty. Dean scratched his head.
“Frank?” he called out.
Where the hell was he?
He tried to call him, but there wasn’t an answer. He heard from two people that Frank was at the training area, but when Dean went there, there was no sign of Frank.
Then again, it had been hours since Frank walked from Robbie’s room.
Dean’s phone beeped.
“Anything?” asked Ellen.
“No. Still looking.” Dean replied.
He turned around to leave when he spotted it on the floor. Brown clothing, like Dean had never seen. It was tossed there, reminding him of the way his children discard their clothing after changing quickly.
Then it hit him.
“What are you wearing Frank?” Robbie asked Frank.
“Prison clothes. I stopped and grabbed clothes from security on my way here. They smelled funny and were itchy.”
Dean walked to the clothes. Never without a pair of gloves in his pocket, Dean pulled them out, put them on and lifted the clothing items. He felt the fabric. It was soft, how it itched him he didn’t know, until Dean took a sniff. It was a sweet scene, one Dean didn’t recognize, maybe it wasn’t the fabric but rather what it had been washed with.
Immediately, Dean looked around Frank’s office, he wanted a bag, something to take the clothes with him. He needed to test them to see if they contained anything from the future that would be harmful. In one of the closets he found a small duffle bag. Just as he loaded them in the bag, he remembered something else.
Hal was examining his brother’s hand. “Dean, could he have gotten this from something he touched, possibly inhaled and not from the arrow?”
“Yeah, why?”
Hal held up Robbie’s hand. His palm was completely red and his hand swollen. “Robbie found an odd flower. He grabbed it for you.”
“What?” Dean asked.
“He said it was so odd, he wanted to bring it back for you,” Hal said. “I asked him not to. He pulled it anyhow and sealed it in a baggy. I remember he had pollen from it on his hand.”
“Could that be it?” Joe asked.
“Yes, it could. That flower could have had something. That flower could also be a clue in beating this. Where is it?”
Hal sighed out. “Frank has it.”
The flower or whatever it was. If Frank had it, where did he put it? Obviously, he stopped at his office to change, then the large bag he carried had to be somewhere.
Back tracking, Dean walked back to the door. Frank would have no reason to put it away. He stepped out and then, thinking like Frank, Dean walked back in.
Frank was in a hurry, he changed quickly. His clothes would have been in the bottom drawer of his desk or file cabinet, Frank always kept a change of clothes there.
As soon as Dean went to the desk, he saw the large pack tossed to the side near the corner of the room.
Frank probably just tossed it.
When they had gone to the future, the bag was loaded, but now it was even more packed to the limits.
What the hell did Frank bring back?
He opened the front zipper portion, because, again, thinking like Frank, he wouldn’t want the flower to get smashed.
Sure enough, sealed in a bag was the oddest looking, and smashed flower.
Smashed or not, Dean needed it.
He took the plastic bag, placed it in the duffle with the clothes, then carefully tucked away that heavy and filled bag from the future. Those were items Frank brought back and he would wait until Frank shared them.
He’d make another attempt to find Frank, but in the interim, he was taking the items to the cryo lab. If indeed it was responsible for Robbie’s ailments, and possibly Patrick’s, for the sake of the community, that flower had to be examined... If for some reason a futuristic microbe was going to wreak havoc on Beginnings, he needed to find a way to stop it before it got out of control.
<><><><>
Four missed calls from Jimmy. Two from Dean and one from Danny.
Frank was worried that something was wrong until he saw the text from Jimmy.
‘With Andrea. Checking on you. Everyone’s worried. Let’s meet for brother time at Social Hall. Are you okay?’
Frank replied, ‘I’m fine. Doing something. Meet you there.’
Send.
Pause.
Then he wrote, ‘I love you.’
Beep.
‘Love you, too big brother.’
Frank clutched the phone, waded through a deep emotional pause then got out of the jeep.
Frank had to ask around to find the man named Harv Stevens, and when he did, he was surprised that Harv was working as a cook.
Harv was making Oodles of Dan noodle in the mess hall of Bowman,
“Lifelong dream,” Harv said. “Not exactly the place I wanted to cook, but no one has the need for my pre plague skills.”
“I want to change that,” Frank told him. “Is it true that you used to be a funeral director?”
Harv smiled. “Mortician and director.” He took off his apron, nodded his head to Frank as direction to go to the end of the line, then Harv joined him. He reached into his back pocket and handed Frank the picture.
The picture was of three men dressed in suits, standing before a large Victorian home with a business sign out front. The photo was worn, probably carried around a long time, but recently it had been covered in protective plastic. Frank ran his thumb over the image and the sign that read: Stevens, Loewen and Fern.
He didn’t expect to see that picture or have it be given to him, a part of him felt that seeing the funeral home made it real to Frank. Then again, that was why Frank was embarking on his mission.
It was real to him.
“I carry that with me always,” Harv told him. “My best friends since first grade. Twisted dream of ours, that we made happen. Was doing that for twenty years when the world went to hell. Sad, because everyone died and not a single person that I know of, got the sendof
f they deserved.”
“We kind of stopped that.”
“No need now, right?”
“Wrong,” Frank said. “I want to bring it back. Death isn’t every day around here. It’s not every week. So when someone leaves us, it needs to be an ordeal, they need their moment. I am very sorry that I took until now to do so. Now, I want the whole thing, the way I remember on the East Coast. One day viewing, mass, burial.”
“I understand.”
“Can you do it?” Frank asked. “Do you remember?”
“Yes, without a doubt. I need the tools. There’s an old funeral home just outside of town. They maybe have things we need.”
“Check it out,” Frank said. “I’ll get you what you need.”
“Burial. Do we know where?”
“I have an idea.”
“Did someone die or is it just preparatory?”
“No, it’s … for real,” Frank said. “My brother Robbie died.”
“Robbie?” Harv asked, then his eyes widened, “The Captain’s brother?”
“My brother as well.”
“Wow.” He stepped back. “I didn’t know you were the Captain’s brother. I know it’s kind of hard to believe, but I don’t know many Beginnings people. I usually work late evenings. I saw you once or twice, just didn’t make the connection.”
“That’s fine.”
“Oh my God,” Harv closed his eyes. “Robbie died? Oh, no.”
“You knew him?”
“Very well. He came here a lot for food. I loved listening to him play and sing. Funny guy.”
Frank smiled. “Yeah, yeah, he is.”
“That’s so strange.”
“What is?”
“Well, he was always talking to me about what I used to do. Asked the strangest cases, the hardest, and just last week when he was filling in for Ryder he… he talked about what he wanted when he passed.”
“He brought that up?”
Harv nodded. “It’s eerie now. I didn’t think much about it, Robbie was healthy, vibrant, what happened.”
“He caught an infection.”
“I am … so sorry. I really am. What a loss.”
“You said my brother told you his funeral wishes.”
“Yeah, well ….” Harv bobbed his head. “Yeah.”
“What’s wrong?”
“He was laughing when he said them. Not sure if they were a joke or not. They had to do with Charlton Heston.”
“Oh, then they weren’t a joke. Couldn’t be. You do what you can to make it the way my brother wanted. I can’t believe he asked.”
“As I said, strange. Will I have a few days? I need to get things together.”
“Absolutely.” Frank shook his hand. “Thanks again.”
Leaving the mess hall, Frank thought about his interaction with Harv. A man, he didn’t even know, yet, Harv not only knew Robbie, he knew things about him.
Frank supposed Harv was one of the many lives that Robbie touched.
That was the way Robbie was.
<><><><>
It was reminiscent of his early days of as a priest. Going from one parish to another, just as he got comfortable the diocese would move Michael again. Always doing the masses no one came do and the menial work at the church. Plus, there was always a Father O’Brien type in nearly every church. A crass, older priest with old fashioned views, a chip on his shoulder and a love for wine.
Only Bowman’s Fr. O’Brien was a little excessive all the way around.
He was dusting the pews, placing out the modern hymnals and arguing with Father O’Brien when the call came.
“Maybe go see Bentley,” Fr. O’Brien said. “Cut that hair. No man of the cloth of man of God should have long hair.”
“Jesus did,” Michael said.
“Oh, don’t you go there. Comparing yourself to our savior.”
Michael shook his head. His phone rang and before he answered it, he basked in the moment and amazement of the return of the phone, courtesy of Danny Hoi. Oddly, it was Danny who called.
“Hello,” Michael answered.
“Hey, Father Mike.”
“Danny, what’s wrong?”
“Just giving you the heads up. In case you didn’t see on Hoibook, Robbie Slagel passed away.”
“Oh, man,” Micheal lowered his head. “Thanks for telling me. Let me know if you think I should reach out to the family.”
“That would be a great idea. I’ll gauge for you when will be a good time. Right now, they’re scattered about physically and all scattered emotionally.”
“Understandable, this is a shock. Thank you for telling me.” Michael hung up the phone and looked at Father O’Brien. “Robbie Slagel has suddenly passed away.”
Suddenly his demeanor changed. “Oh Dear Lord,” Father O’Brien shook his head. “The nicest one of the bunch. Good kid. This is a sad day. We’re gonna have to have a mass. We will do one tomorrow and plan one for the service. The Captain is a good Catholic, I suppose the entire family is.” He began to walk behind the altar. “Find Sergeant Ryder, he and you need to work on the music. A perfect Hail Holy Queen and for the love our Savior, none of that rock and roll stuff.” He disappeared behind the sanctuary.
He couldn’t get the loss off his mind. It was going to be a loss the whole community would feel. It wasn’t long after the call that Frank walked in.
Michael paused.
Frank dipped his hand in the holy water, blessed himself, genuflected and walked to Michael.
“Father Mike.”
“Frank.” Michael shook his hand. “I am so sorry about the loss of your brother. I just heard.”
“Thank you.”
“If you need to talk.”
“Thank you. We’re going to go traditional here. Old style before the virus. There’s a man, former funeral director …”
“Harv.”
“Yeah, him. He’s gonna get Robbie ready for a viewing. We’re gonna have the viewing. I’d like the prayer service there, some confessions and a full funeral mass.”
“Absolutely. I’ll get Father O’Brien on …”
“No. No. I want you to do it.”
“You don’t know me.”
“But Danny Hoi speaks real highly of you. If Danny says you’re the one, you’re the one. I want the service unique, I want it Robbie like. The way he would do it. Elliott Ryder would know and he can help you out there. He does that organ shit here. But I want none of that old fashioned stuff.”
“I’ll speak to him.”
“It’ll be a few days. We have things to get together for the funeral home and Roy wants to do an autopsy I just hope he puts his nose back on.”
“I’m sure …” Michael paused. “Why would you say that?”
“Just happened to a friend’s dad. They forgot to put his face back on.”
Michael cringed. “I’m sure Roy won’t.”
“Thank you again.”
“Are you alright, Frank?”
“No. Not at all. It will be a long time before I am ever alright again. But I’ll get through this. I have to get back to Beginnings. Everyone is looking for me. If you have any questions, just reach out.”
“I’ll try to handle it without bothering you too much,” Michael said. “And Frank, I am honored that you have asked me.”
Frank gave a nod, turned and walked out.
Robbie Slagel.
Michael didn’t have the pleasure or privilege to get to know him. He had some time before the service, and Michael would use that time to get to know Robbie as best as he could, from everyone and anyone he could.
CHAPTER FOUR
Keep it together. Keep it together.
Words Jimmy repeated over in his mind all the way to the Social Hall.
Keep it together.
Someone had to.
His insides shook out of control and hadn’t stopped since he left Andrea with Ellen. She was inconsolable. Ellen was strong, but Jimmy could see it in her eyes, she just w
anted to break.
Keep it together. Keep it together.
Who was he kidding?
He came from a strong family, they would present themselves no less than strong, hiding their emotions behind the Slagel wall of steel.
Jimmy reached for the Social Hall door and paused, lowering his head, and thinking of Robbie. More than anything he needed Frank and Hal.
They were the epitome of brothers, for as long as he could recall, they were no less.
Even as kids.
His mind went back in time.
The mishap … they had gone to the store for one of their many stepmothers. A mishap because of Hal and his oddly holier than thou attitude.
Robbie … Robbie stealing that toy, and they all got in trouble. Frank got them out of it though, by volunteering to work for free.
They returned home, each with their bags, the shopping list complete. Frank held Robbie’s hand. He always held Robbie’s hand.
They were scared to death to walk in the house and face Ruth.
Did she know? Were they as brothers in trouble again?
Frank stopped and faced his brothers before going in. “O.K., just don’t say anything, maybe she’ll forget.”
Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Frank, sure. She’s not going to be here. Bet me.”
“I’ll bet you. And no one say anything about me having to work at the store.” Frank reached for the handle and stopped again. “Hal, wipe that chocolate off your face so she doesn’t have something else to yell about.”
Hal shoved the rest of his chocolate bar in his mouth and wiped the back of his hands across his lips. He spoke with a full mouth. “I’m ready.”
Slowly and very quietly, Frank opened the door to the house, peeking in first. “Hello?” He called in a whisper, then stepped in. The house was quiet. “Maybe she’s sleeping. Let’s put these away. Hurry.” Frank ran to the steps looking up, making sure they had an ‘all clear’ and he waved for his brothers to hurry.
“Frank,” Jimmy called him.
“What?” Frank, carrying his bag walked toward the kitchen, stopping in the dining room. Jimmy, Hal and Robbie stood around the dining room table. “Put your bags away.”
“Frank.” Jimmy set down his bag and handed Frank a piece of paper. “She’s gone. She left Dad. What are we gonna do?”
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