“Accidents happen. Don’t get any funny ideas about that baby.” Robbie pointed. “Whether or not I hated my brother has little to do with the fact that she carrying my family. In fact, I’m seriously considering claiming that child when it’s born.”
“Oh yeah,” Dean spoke sarcastically. “Let’s dance one more time on Frank’s grave shall we?”
“Go ahead make fun of me. The next time Moses tries to stomp you, I won’t be so quick to stop him.” Robbie grabbed one of the supply boxes from the desk. “Let’s go. I have other things to do besides feed the brats of Beginnings.”
Dean followed him, carrying the other box. If he wanted to get anymore information out of Robbie, he’d surely have to stop pissing him off. Maybe now was the time to try to befriend him. As much as it pained him. He had to. Beginnings asked in their letter, and they needed to know. Were there anymore inside people? Or at least that what’s Dean thought they wanted. If there were, Dean had to find out. Any plan that Beginnings worked on, would not be sacred if another traitor like Michelle was among them.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
July 5
Dean stood above a bleeding Moses. And not very happily. Moses sat in a chair, seemingly impatient while Dean’s left hand rested on Moses’ forehead and his other hand moved a needle slowly through his skin, closing the huge gash. “Want to tell me how you got this wound?”
“Ouch. . . Yes, Robbie did it to me.”
Dean moved very slowly, repairing the open wound. “Why is it that you insist on letting him get the best of you? You’re a big guy, you can take him.”
“I know that . . . ouch . . . but he still has the dedication of most of the men in camp. If I bring down Robbie, I’ll lose their respect, and who’s going to want to help me then. No, I’ll just wait until he breaks.”
“You think he’s breaking? I don’t see it.” Dean stopped for a moment, taking a breather and letting the needle dangle back and forth from Moses’ scalp.
“Oh sure he’s breaking. He doesn’t show you. But with us, his fuse is short. It takes less and less time to fire him up.” Moses jumped in pain. “Jesus Christ Doc. Take it easy. Are you sure they didn’t give you something to numb the skin in the supply pack?”
“Sorry Moses, all they gave was the sutures. You’ll have to grin and bear it.” Dean lied, he knew there was a topical in with the supplies. But why use it? He fully enjoyed torturing Moses. Letting Moses feel every bit of the needle as Dean pulled it slowly and tauntingly through his injured skin. “There you go. Done.” In his final tie of the sutures, Dean gave a strong tug. Moses screamed. “Sorry.”
Moses stood up holding onto his throbbing head. “I’ll be all right?”
“To be honest with you, I don’t know.” Dean gathered up the used supplies and handed them to Moses to take away. “I noticed your pupils. They’re uneven. It’s not a good sign. You could have a severe concussion. I think you do. And with a head injury you could very well die in your sleep.”
Moses did not know how to react as he held on to the garbage Dean handed to him. “What do I do?”
“For starters, rest, rest for about five days. Don’t move too much. Tell Robbie that too if he asks you. Also, for the next three days, someone is going to have to wake you up every single hour, just to make sure you’re not dead, or headed that way.”
“Is it that bad?”
“I’m afraid so. I’m also surprised you’re not feeling dizzy and nauseated.”
“Come to think of it. I am. In fact, I don’t think I’m feeling all that good at all.”
“You look bad.” Dean couldn’t face Moses as he talked, if he did he knew he’d give it away that he was lying. “Now go, take that stuff out of here and lay down. Besides I have my letter to get ready.”
Moses, frightened not to listen to Dean, hurried from Dean’s room. Leaving Dean not only with an utter moment of enjoyment, he left Dean with information that had to be passed on to Beginnings.
***
Elbows on knees, Andrea let out a soft moaning, ‘hmm’ as she rested her chin in the palms of her hands, sitting on the steps to the clinic.
Ellen, did the same. “Glistening?”
“No.” Andrea spoke dazed. “Glimmering.”
“Too God-like of descriptions.”
“Yeah. How about . . . entertaining?” Andrea asked.
“Mind enticing.”
“Better.”
“You know, Andrea” Ellen stared out. “There’s a lot wrong with living in this world now, but there are perks. It’s sort of like being at a buffet, and we’re the select clientele.”
“Good metaphor.” Andrea reached over and patted Ellen on the knee. “Some items are delicacies.”
“Dan.”
“True. Some are liver.”
“Cole.”
Andrea snickered. “Witty come back.”
“What would Frank be?”
“Frank would be that pork dish that requires a special taste.”
Ellen’s head flung back with her laugh. “He’s doing better though.”
“Much.” Andrea said. “I saw him running this morning. His speed is picking up. Won’t be long.” Placing her hands on her legs, Andrea stood up with a groan. “Well, I must get back to work. However I did enjoy this little break. Coming?”
“Nah. I’m gonna stay out here and watch the men train a little more.” After giving a smile to Andrea, Ellen resumed her spectators position on the steps, watching the security men of Beginning, all sweaty, most shirtless, working out in different aspects of training, right in the middle of the street.
***
George shook his head as he stood in the church, reading Dean’s letter. “There is so much I wished I could assure you of, but I can’t. I can’t even count the number of times I thought about where we went wrong. Love can be such a gamble, like a game of black jack. Every turn of the card is a turn of fate. I just hope fate sees me though until the twins’ next birthday.” He walked down to the third pew where Henry stretched out. “Too simple. It’s all plain and clear.”
“How do you figure?” Joe asked. “Unless they actually bust the quote, they won’t know. He’s fine.”
Reverend Bob agreed. “If you don’t know you’re to look for one, it’s not obvious. But I’m not picking up any numbers to reference to.”
Henry released a loud yawn. “Easy. Book of Numbers, chapter twenty-one, verse five.”
“How did you get that?” Rev. Bob asked.
“Black Jack is also called, twenty-One, and the twins will be five. Not to mention I’m very smart.”
George opened the Bible and swiped Henry’s legs from the way so he could sit. “Move over Einstein. Here’s the passage. ‘And they began to murmur against God and Moses. ‘Why have you brought us out of Egypt to die here in the wilderness?’ they complained’ . . .there, the key word,’ complained’. So simple. Dean is telling us that the dissension is building there in Robbie’s camp. The men there are complaining. It must be tense. And as far as the question we asked. He answered that. He can’t assure us of that. Meaning he can’t find out shit . . . sorry Reverend.” George closed the bible. No one looked impressed. “Guys this is good news. Robbie is losing control. His men may desert him.”
Joe shook his head in disagreement. “It could go the other way. They could start to act before they think. Or, before we are ready. We have to just give Frank a bit more time. Speaking of which. Reverend, did he pester you about marrying him.” Joe shifted his eyes to Henry who giggled. “What?”
Like a school girl, Henry face was red. “The reverend and Frank. What a nice couple.”
“Asshole. Sorry reverend.” Joe looked back to Rev. Bob. “Did he?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I keep trying to tell him how morally wrong it would be to perform the nuptials prior to Dean’s return. He doesn’t see it. I can’t not marry them. However, they do argue, so I suggested counseling to make sure they really were compatible. Just becaus
e you roll in the hay for twenty years doesn’t mean you can roll through life together.”
Joe held up a finger with a crooked smile. “That is very profound, now let’s see . . .” Joe’s words were interrupted when the church doors slammed. He turned around to see Ellen racing down the aisle. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She smiled. “I did it.” She stood straight and proud. “I really did it. I’m so excited. Not to mention impressed with myself.” She held up a piece of paper.
Not wanting to, Joe questioned. “What did you do?”
“Well, you wanted to get across to Dean that we’re near ready. And . . . you were searching a passage. I found one, and I found a clever way to hide it in the letter. Can I?” Ellen held up her note and received the apprehensive nods. “Good. Now the quote I used to convey the message was, ‘For the great day of wrath has come, who will be able to survive.’.”
Joe winced. “That’s a little strong. Let’s hear how you hid its location in the letter.”
Ellen cleared her throat. “You’ll love this.” She grinned. “Dear Dean. I had a revelation six days ago about us. I’ve thought of it at least seventeen times . . . hey.” Ellen lowered her note as everyone stood up and slowly left. “Hey.” She held it up. Shrugging after the door closed behind Henry, the last to leave, Ellen looked back down to her note. “I thought it was good.”
***
The quiet of the late night in Egypt was not enough to ease Robbie. With a trembling hand he opened his desk drawer, fumbled through, and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. With one hand he unscrewed the cap, letting it fall off to the side and lifted the bottle to his lips while holding onto his neck, just under the chin, with his other hand, Robbie took one long swing of the alcohol, placed down the bottle and wiped his mouth. The old whiskey burned all the way to his stomach, it made his glands salivate from the bitterness of it, it did not slow his pounding heart.
Robbie removed the other hand that held with pressure on to his neck. Blood covered his finger tips. The wound would not stop bleeding. He would have to awaken Dean. He picked up the bottle and took another drink. He had to ease himself, calm down.
It was just a drill. Just an attack exercise. They had been practicing them for weeks. Getting ready for any sneak attack that could occur, either on them or on Beginnings. The exercise concentrated on taking someone by surprise. Quietly trying to cut their throat when they did not expect it.
It was Boyle’s turn for the drill. He was having the most trouble with it. Robbie wanted to work with him, he liked Boyle. So he kept him later, after everyone had finished. But, was what happened intentional? Did Boyle actually mean to cut him?
Robbie knew the answer to that one, he knew Boyle was not like the others. He was young, innocent, barely nineteen, and the type of man that Beginnings would love to have on their side. Unfortunately, Moses found him first. Boyle was one of the few men not to have been ousted by Beginnings. Skinny, tall, naive, and quiet. Boyle was not a killer. But for fear of his life, and fear of looking less than a man, he worked the drills Robbie taught him.
Perhaps Boyle got over zealous. Perhaps Robbie should have known that. But how did Boyle get the best of him? The instant Robbie felt that knife dig into his flesh just above the jugular something snapped. Boyle was dead. His limp body lay twisted at Robbie’s feet on the deserted far corner of Egypt. No screams, no noise, just one snap. It was a reaction, an instinct that took over Robbie. Years of struggling to survive, that proved to be Boyle’s brutal and unexpected end. An end that came at Robbie’s hands, while no one watched, no one was there to help, while all the others slept, in the dead calm silence of Egypt.
Robbie’s neck throbbed and burned at the same time. He had felt worse pain. He checked out the color of the blood, it was dark red. That was a good sign. Bright red was arterial blood. This was venous blood, a few stitches would stop it immediately.
With one more swig of whiskey, Robbie compiled the courage to seek out Dean. He grabbed his lantern, already lit, carrying it as his torch to light the way. He opened Dean’s door, the creaking sound awakened Dean.
Dean sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me.” Robbie walked in and set down the lantern.
“Oh, I thought you were Moses again. Thank God you aren’t. He was in here last night again. Just staring at me.” Dean swung his legs over.
“He’s debating on killing you. I’ve asked him not to.”
“Thanks. Can’t I at least lock my door?”
“If he wants to kill you, that door won’t stop him. I may not be able to stop him.” Robbie sat down in a chair, far from Dean.
“I feel much more secure.” Dean picked up his glasses from the night stand, placed them on, and ran his hands through his hair. “Why are you here? Are you debating on killing me too?”
“I need your help, as a doctor. I’ve been cut. It’s deep.”
“Moses get to you this time?” Dean stumbled over to him. “Where’s your cut?” Expecting to see another head wound, or limb injury.
Robbie, removed his hand, the blood still flowed.
“Jesus Robbie. Someone tried to slit your throat?” Dean quickly grabbed for the medical supply bag, and retrieved one of the sterilized cloths from it. He doused the cloth with a numbing solution and pressed it to Robbie’s neck. “Hold it there.” He grabbed a suture kit, opened it. “Want to tell me what happened?” Dean pulled out the already threaded needle, adjusted the light on the lantern and leaned Robbie’s head to the side. “You’re playing with fire. Someone’s actually gonna do it next time.”
“It was a drill. A simple drill. I was training a man, he was supposed to jump me from behind and kill me.”
“For a drill he almost succeeded.” Dean grabbed the cloth and dabbed away the blood. “Another eighth of an inch, you’d be dead. Did you explain to this man it was only a drill, or do you think he really tried to off you?”
Robbie didn’t answer.
“I’d be worried.”
“I’m not worried.” Robbie grew angry and tried to get up, Dean shoved him back down.
“I think . . . I think it’s Moses. I think that Moses is telling his men now to do this.”
Robbie wanted to rip Dean’s hands away. He tried to remain calm, but Dean’s words were getting to him. “Moses had nothing to do with this. This was an accident. I do not appreciate you trying to play mind games with me Doctor. Playing me against Moses. Not a smart move.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.” Dean’s voice was calm as he finished his procedure. “I’m just about done. There. Just let me snip these.” He reached for the scissors. “Does the man who did this to you, realize now how to do a drill correctly? I fear if he would have done this to Moses, Moses would have killed him.” Dean snipped the sutures. “Done. I’ll bandage that for you.”
“No need to.” Robbie stood. “Thanks.”
“I’d give you something for the pain. But you’ve been drinking.” Dean placed his instruments back in the box. “Why were you drinking before you came to me?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Sorry just asking. What’s the matter Robbie, want to tell me?”
“Why are you acting so concerned all of the sudden?”
“You seem on edge. You’re never on edge. It’s almost like you just killed some . . .” Dean paused. A look of fear took over him, his voice went shallow. “Never mind.” Dean quickly moved his box to the side, and went back to his bed. He lay down. “If that’s what you did, I don’t want to know. But if it is what you did. Watch your back, Robbie. I won’t be the only one Moses will be debating on killing.”
Robbie grabbed the lantern and walked slowly to the door of Dean’s room. He opened it. “As far as you are concerned. As far as Moses and myself are concerned. Boyle ran. He ran when I yelled at him, deep into the woods. I couldn’t find him. He wasn’t fighter material anyhow.”
Dean took off his
glasses and laid them down, he could feel the tension begin to grown at the base of his neck. This wasn’t a good situation. Things were getting bad as they were without this happening. “Suppose they want to look for him?”
“He was useless. He couldn’t pull his weight.” Robbie stopped talking, he walked from the room. “They’ll never find him anyway.” Shutting the door behind him, he moved down the empty corridor with his lantern. Robbie wanted that moment to be the last time he thought about what happened. He promised himself it would be. It had to be.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
July 11
Perhaps it was a combination of everything that gave Ellen her reality awakening when she opened her eyes. Ellen sat up in bed. How long was she sleeping? It couldn’t have been too long, it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. She had tossed and turned all night. Ellen sat dazed. She tried to determine whether her stomach was knotted from the dream, grogginess, or all the things that she paid no attention to the past almost three weeks.
The dream cinched it. The horrible dream she had just awoke from was a painful reminder that everything was not all right. Dean cried out to her in that dream. His hand bloody, reaching for her. He crawled to her telling her. ‘I thought they wouldn’t hurt me. Don’t let them hurt me.’
Were all the little things that were happening suddenly, signs from fate telling her to not take for granted anything? The twins. Alex’s crying through her sleep two nights ago. Waking up and telling Ellen, ‘Daddy’s dead. Daddy’s dead.’ Andrea’s incestuous hounding. Johnny. Why was Joe having Johnny work on Dean’s computer five or six hours every day? Breaking Dean’s codes. Learning Dean’s medications. Joe knew everything. His getting prepared ‘just in case’, tested Ellen’s faith in what was going to happen to Dean. She did care. Contrary to what everyone thought, how could she not. It was Dean.
She had to know, she had to find out answers. If anything else, she had to speak to Joe. He would at least ease her mind. A father to her, and the only other person besides Frank that she trusted with her whole heart and soul.
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 73
