“Fine.” Dean reached for Ellen’s hand, but Frank pulled him from her. He tried again. Within seconds a full-fledged Patty Cake match ensued.
“Enough.” Joe hammered. “Out. Both of you. Out.”
“But …” Frank defended.
“No buts, out.” Joe ordered.
Andrea, in position for delivery, called out. “Wait. Head has emerged.”
Everyone halted.
Reaching for a small blue suction, Andrea cleared the baby’s nose and mouth. She dipped a cloth in the water and wiped the baby’s eyes. “One more push, Ellen.”
Ellen pushed.
“That’s it.” Andrea looked up, the baby wailed. “You have a son.”
“El, we have a son.” Dean kissed her. “You did it.”
Andrea quickly clamped and cut the umbilical cord and wrapped the baby boy in a blanket and handed him up to Ellen.
Ellen reached for the baby.
“Let me see,” Frank said, trying to poke through.
Dean was breathless as he stared at his baby. “He’s beautiful, Ellen.”
“Dean!” Frank blasted. “You’re blocking my view of my son.”
“My son.”
“Her son.” Joe halted their fighting hands for the baby. “Now, neither one of you touch this kid …” Joe instructed, then extended his hands. “Until I do.” He smiled smugly, and Ellen handed him the baby.
Joe’s hand trembled as he touched the tiny face of the newborn. “Hey, you, it’s me, Pap.”
Ellen smiled as she placed her hand over Joe’s. “He looks just like you.”
Joe’s eyes watered. “He does, doesn’t he?”
Dean lifted his hands. “How can that be? Hello?”
Frank grinned. “My kid, that’s how.”
“Shut up, Frank.”
“No, you shut up.”
Suddenly the smile fell from Ellen’s face as she looked over at Dean then at Joe, then Frank. “Something’s wrong.”
Dean’s eyes widened. “What is it?”
“El?” Frank questioned with worry.
Ellen looked down at Andrea. “Something’s wrong. I don’t feel right. Something’s wrong.”
Joe’s heart dropped. “Andrea, what’s wrong?”
“Oh,” Andrea said nonchalantly, almost singing in an upbeat tone. “Nothing much. Just another head.”
Ellen in shock, murmured. “Twins?”
Joe questioned. “Twins?”
Andrea smiled. “Twins.”
“Oh, yeah,” Frank nodded. “Now we can both have one, Dean.”
Dean didn’t verbally answer. He couldn’t. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and his body turned and fell to the floor. He passed out.
“Thank fuckin’ God,” Frank shuffled Dean’s limp boy out of the way and positioned himself by Ellen. “This one’s all mine.”
Andrea opened Dean’s bedroom door with a bright smile to everyone who stood lining the hallway. “It’s a boy.” She heard them clap. “And . . . it’s a girl.”
Soon the bedroom was crowded, filled with the loud chattering of praise as the babies were passed around to each and every one of them. It was a special moment and everyone felt it. They all had to see, to touch and to hold the new life brought to their new community. And just like the name of the place they all now lived, the tiny newborn children were just that . . . A beginning.
THE CONTINUING
With all of us so different, in all of our own ways.
We see the future through our own eyes. Taking it day by day.
We will make it happen, in our own part, each and every one.
The future together will be ours. We’ve only just begun.
FOUR YEARS LATER
THE FUTURE
“Ok, Johnny, glide her on in,” George instructed. “We’ll land her now.”
Little Johnny, now sixteen and a mirror image of his father, shaved head and all, glided the helicopter over the fully growing fields of the complex.
The fields, finally, after four years, had begun to produce the crops they were intended for, a full and flourishing harvest of food that was much needed for the small but growing population.
Johnny had been flying since he was thirteen years old. This was his sixth survivor run, the first one in which he piloted the chopper. Johnny was wise. He had neither the appearance nor the attitude of a sixteen-year-old boy. That was to be expected. He had a lifetime worth of hurt in his young life. Fortunately, he had grown to appreciate life.
George had taught Johnny well. He didn’t even grab the wheel from him, as Joe had done when Joe taught him to drive. This is what Johnny wanted. Helping others. Searching them out. Weeding through them. Bringing them in.
Soon Denny would be joining them. George had it slated that he would begin to fly soon also. He was now thirteen and old enough to start learning. Flying and searching out survivors was not what Denny had planned to do. Denny would rather work for Joe or Frank in security. But it was either flying or the fields. He’d rather fly.
The search for survivors seemed, at times, hopeless. They had only begun to bring them in within the past few months. Those they did choose to bring back were weak, young, or women. Few men were found to be acceptable enough for the complex. Strong bodies were needed, yet scarce.
Johnny and Denny were taught young what their tasks would be. They were the next generation to become adults. They were the ones who would guide Beginnings, Montana ahead. They were the future.
THE DREAMER
In the clinic, Dean walked into an examining room where Andrea was cleaning and examining a boy no older than ten. Dean looked frazzled and tired.
“Andrea, how is he?”
“Infested with lice, dirty, his teeth are bad. Other than that, he seems healthy.”
Dean walked in the room and smiled at him. “I’m Dean.”
“I don’t think he understands, Dean. He doesn’t even speak. I don’t think he remembers how.” She wrote in his chart.
“How did he survive?”
Andrea shook her head. “Maybe he was with someone early on, I don’t know. Poor baby. He was only about five when the plague hit.” She bent down and looked at the boy who didn’t say a word.
“Jenny has her work cut out for her, teaching this one.” He handed Andrea a sheet of paper. “I finished the work-up on the two Joe and Johnny brought in last week.”
Andrea read the results. “Tuberculosis.”
“I went over to the school and told Jenny to keep away, with her being pregnant. I really don’t want her to come to the clinic with what the survivor runs have been picking up. Also, let’s keep John Matoose out of the clinic, too. We don’t want him passing it onto Jenny and their baby.”
“I agree.” Andrea shook her head in disbelief. “Meningitis, tuberculosis, cholera. What are they doing, looking only for the sick ones?”
“And they found three more. Johnny radioed in, they’re on their way.”
“I wish we could have had the capabilities to go and search for survivors earlier. We might not be in this situation now. Some of these people may have been better off if they were found a little bit sooner.” She pressed a button on the wall.
“We couldn’t care for them if we couldn’t care for ourselves, you know that, Andrea. This is the first year the crops and livestock are flourishing and things are looking promising.”
“You buzzed, Doctor?” A thin woman in her forties walked into the examining room.
“Yes, Melissa.” Andrea handed her the chart. “This little one needs his head scrubbed and taken to containment.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
Andrea grabbed Dean’s arm. “Let’s go, I have other patients.”
“Melissa was healthy when they found her.”
Andrea walked side by side with Dean down the hall. “That’s one out of how many, fifty? Besides, she, like many of the others, was so mentally unbalanced and withdrawn, it was frightening.”
“That
was from the distress, anger, and malnutrition. They’re getting better. Four of them are working the fields already, which makes Miguel happy because now he’s in charge. And two of them are working in the clothes division.”
“I guess you’re right. It just gets a little discouraging. Every time Johnny, Joe and George make a survivor run, they only bring back the sick. Of course, that’s only after they weed through the adult survivors like bad job applicants. Last week alone they left behind ten. I’ll bet they were all healthy.”
“Yes. But you have to see Joe’s point. As much as we’d like to help everyone, we just can’t. How’s that old saying go? One bad apple . . .”
“I think you’re thinking of a bad seventies song.” Andrea released his arm and looked at him. “Are you ok? You seem down. You don’t look like yourself today. Is it Ellen again?”
Dean waved his hand at her and leaned against the wall. “It’s everything, Andrea. Ellen, the world . . .”
“Wow.” Andrea’s eyes opened wider. “That covers a lot.”
“I’m just discouraged.” Dean looked down. “I just can’t seem to master the antibiotic thing properly. I’m trying. And these people are coming in with previously treatable illnesses. Now it’s frustrating. And Ellen, for example, I love her, I really do. Yet, she argues with me every day. She gets so adamant about the survivors. She hates them being here. She’s fine with the young survivors. The older ones, the sick ones, forget it. She wants to toss them back out.”
“You knew what she was like when you two decided to become partners in raising the twins. She does love you, Dean, in her own way.”
“It’s a funny way. We’ve been trying for how long now to be a true couple. But, there are complications … well.” Dean’s frustration burned through. He stood up straight, tucked his folders under his arm, and started to walk.
Andrea followed. “You didn’t bust her again with . . . ?”
“No.” Dean answered abruptly. “She says it’s platonic now. I don’t know. At least I can talk to you, Andrea. You’re the only one here that seems to look at these new members of our community the same way I do. With hope.”
“No. There are others. John, Jenny, George.” Andrea pointed up the hallway. “Look, there’s your partner now.”
Dean stopped walking. He watched Ellen, arms full of supplies, running down the other end of the clinic. “She’s probably on her way to processing. And she’ll come home tonight pissed off at me, if they’re sick.”
Andrea laughed. “Maybe, Dean, just maybe, if you and I work a little harder, if we strive to make things better, then maybe we can show people like Ellen that this world can be great again. That we do have hope.”
THE LONER
In the small green building found on the edge of the fields, Frank sat in a small office. He looked up with pride to the sound of the helicopter overhead. He knew Johnny had returned safely.
Frank’s attention was turned from Henry who sat with him in the office. When the sound of the helicopter grew faint, Frank turned back to Henry, looking at him with his stone face. Frank had matured, his face now looking more like its nearly forty years. The lines that had formed upon it were scars of the heartache and anger he held in. The pain had finally let go, but not without a lot of struggle and a lot of support.
“Frank?” Henry snapped. “Are we clear on this? Joe said now it’s against community rules if anyone is found in the storage facilities without permission. But you’re not allowed to shoot at them again.”
“Got it.” Frank rocked back in his chair
“Good. This has to be done because of that last incident in my generator building. At least Joe got rid of that woman.”
“Yeah, they’re all whacked aren’t they? These new ones?”
“Pretty much. That’s why you don’t see me getting too close to them.” Henry stood.
“Why not, Henry? You might find yourself a good woman.” Frank spoke snidely.
“Not me, my friend. Like you, I don’t see myself with anyone. I’m happy being alone.” Henry gathered up his coffee mug, and walkie-talkie. “Cards tonight, Frank?”
“No, not tonight.” Frank rose from his chair and walked to the door with Henry. “I have plans.”
“Plans?” Henry opened the door.
“Yeah. Ellen and I are getting together tonight. You know our talking thing.”
“I see. You two have a regular therapy session going, don’t you? I’ll see you later.” Henry walked through the door.
Frank grabbed hold of the handle, hesitating to close it, his mind elsewhere. “Therapy.” Frank laughed once to himself. In a sense it was therapy. Or at least it started that way. Unable to be a successful couple, they tried going back to being friends. And they did go back to the way they were …. Pre-plague. It was how they wanted it, the way he wanted it and needed it. They were there for each other when they needed to, and sometimes when they didn’t. Once a week or so, going off, being alone, sharing memories, then as always, ending their night sharing intimacy. That was their secret, or so he thought. No commitment. No regards to whether or not he was hurting anyone in the process. Because Frank didn’t care. Life was fine with him. It was just how he wanted to live it. His time with Ellen gave him the companionship he needed. And Johnny gave him the meaning in his life. That was all Frank needed. No more.
THE STRENGTH
Joe stood in the doorway to the small receiving center they had built ten feet from the helicopter landing pad. He watched with pride as Johnny emerged from the pilot’s seat and waved. Joe returned the wave and took his seat behind his long metal desk and waited for Johnny and George to enter.
Johnny jingled the keys as he walked in. “We have three, Pap. Sort of.” He hung them on the rack just above the filing cabinet next to the door.
Immediately behind him walked in a young woman and a teenaged boy, both somewhat thin, and half unkempt.
Joe looked up at him. “What do you mean, sort of?”
“Well, Pap, you know; these things happen.”
“Jesus, Johnny, not again.” Joe looked over at the woman and boy. “Johnny, take them in the other room. And come right back!”
Joe opened his desk drawer and pulled out a syringe. He walked over to the door and laid it on top of the file cabinet. He could see George struggling with a large man, almost dragging him into the receiving center. Joe stepped back and leaned against his desk.
The man pulled away from George and angrily stepped into the small office. “Who’s in charge?”
“I am.” Joe folded his arms.
“I have to speak to you!” The man’s voice was gruff and loud. His breath smelled bad.
“Why?” Joe asked.
“Your guys left three people behind. They just left them.”
“There are reasons for that.”
The man charged toward Joe. “That’s bullshit. Who do you people think you are?”
Joe jumped in his face. “Listen, pal, this is the way it is. You have a problem with that?”
“Yeah, I have a problem with that.”
Joe nodded to George then turned to Johnny, who had walked in the office from the adjoining room. “Get him out of here.”
George grabbed the prepared syringe from the file cabinet, and swiftly injected the man. Before he knew what hit him, he was on the floor.
Joe, face red and angry, pointed his finger at his grandson. “Johnny, the next time this happens, your flights are grounded for two weeks!” He returned to his desk.
George helped Johnny pick up the man. “Joe, honestly, everything was fine until we told him we weren’t returning for his friends.”
Joe leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry, guys. I’m just sick of these people who fight us.”
“Pap?”
“Yes?”
“Want us to drop him off where we found him?”
Joe shook his head. “No. I didn’t like him too much. Drop him somewhere else. Let him wonder when he wakes u
p where he’s at.”
George laughed. “I love when we do that. Come on, John.”
Johnny and George pulled the man from the office. Joe watched them leave. He could hear Ellen entering the back door of the receiving center. He would join her in a few minutes. Hearing her bitch was the last thing he needed right now.
Joe sometimes hated when he had to throw people out. It was the way it had to be. They had ejected half of the survivors they brought in for bad behavior. Rules were rules. Joe made the rules. No one ever officially elected Joe as the leader of the complex. It just happened that way; it was assumed. Everyone felt secure in the fact that Joe was there. He’d brought them safely to this point. If it wasn’t for Joe, the determination and courage that everyone had would be less than they needed to achieve this outcome. Joe was the best one to run things, and he ran them with an iron fist. He insured everyone was safe, fed, and happy. That was the way everyone wanted it. That was the way Joe wanted it. Joe was the unsung hero in all of it. Joe was everyone’s strength.
THE SURVIVOR
“Let me ask you a question.” Ellen, with a gloved hand, held the new surviving woman’s arm, extending the arm out to herself, resting it on her hip, and wiping it off. “You seem like a nice woman, with all your faculties.”
The younger woman, maybe thirty, looked puzzled at Ellen, as the needle came closer to her arm. Her face was dull and dark, her hair, long and plain. The woman jolted a little when Ellen pricked her.
“What happened to you? What made you get like this?” Ellen was referring to the woman’s filthy condition. “You had the whole world out there.”
“I don’t know. We weren’t as fortunate as your group. We don’t have this. We merely go from city to city, living off of them. There’s no running water anymore. It’s not the same world. When’s the last time you were out there?”
“It’s been awhile I guess. Yeah, it’s been a long while. But still, I would never let myself go. I always look presentable.”
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 39
