But Dean had stopped being angry. There was no more reason to be. It was a wasted emotion. He had to put his energy to better use. He was growing weak. His mind wasn’t as sharp and he hadn’t eaten in two days. The food rationing sent by Beginnings was eaten by Robbie’s men and Dean gave the rest to the children. The medical supplies barely held up the three days. He now was treating more throat wounds and head injuries than he did in the entire five years in Beginnings. And as far as the children went, Dean was lucky that Robbie let him in to check on them at all. He hadn’t seen or felt the sun in six days. That was the last time they let him out of his room.
Moses came in nightly and watched him sleep, if Dean awoke, Moses would stare and tell him how easy it would have been to kill him while he slept. How Beginnings would soon get their warning and Dean should not be so comfortable.
Placing the pencil into the section of the Bible he chose his passage from, Dean stood from his chair and stretched. The yelling and screaming just outside his window was unbearable. Robbie’s exercises were turning into daily tests of strength and anger. Men pitted against each other, seemingly forgetting often why they were there in the first place, and who their target enemy was. It was the one good sign for Beginnings. Robbie’s men were losing focus. Dean prayed that Beginnings wasn’t also.
He had to finish the letter. The fear of never seeing his children again, of never seeing Ellen again, grew stronger by the minute. And through that fear Dean figured out how to kill two birds with one stone. He knew exactly how to write Ellen and get across to Beginnings that they’d better send help.
As he scribbled his thoughts on the blank sheet of paper, he scribbled with the certainty that this would be the last letter that he would write to her. His instincts told him that it would be. His gut spoke to him loud and clear through the nightmare of facing his very own death. The words he wrote had to be his goodbye, and they had to be his thoughts and emotions. His thoughts and emotions, not some poets, not some messenger’s, but his. They had to be . . . Just in case.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
July 14
Robbie stared down at the completed letter. His eyes barely lifting from the page as he looked to Dean. His face was stern and expressionless, and he resembled so much what his father may have looked like at his age. “You want to tell me the meaning behind this letter. It sounds like you’re saying good bye.”
“In a way I am. Just in case. Please let this one go out.” Dean sounded tired and desperate. “Those things in that letter needed to be said. If I never make it home, we just . . . we just need a little resolution.”
Robbie tapped the letter on his hand in momentary debate. “Maybe it’s a good thing.” He folded the note up. “If they think you’re scared perhaps they’ll see how serious we are. Heighten their consideration on whether they let us in there or not.”
“However you see it Robbie, it has to go to Ellen.”
“I’ll let it.” He opened up the door to Dean’s room. Moses stood outside waiting. “Here give this to our men.”
Moses grunted, he hated feeling like Robbie’s slave. He especially hated how the door slammed straight in his face.
Robbie stared at Dean who slumped in the chair at the table. His thin body, looking thinner. The clothes he wore, were much too big. Dean’s hands trembled. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I haven’t eaten in three days, Robbie. What little food is left from Beginnings after your men get done with it, I give to the kids. I’m scared. I miss my kids. You want a list?”
“I see nothing has stopped you from losing the attitude.”
“How would you know?” Dean turned and faced Robbie, his hand held up his head. “You come in here once every couple days now. If you meant to break me, you are doing a great job.”
“I’ll get you some food.” Robbie saw it, not only through Dean’s words in the letter, but on his face. Dean was weak. Keeping Dean alive was what he had to care about especially with his new plan. If Beginnings didn’t make their move in the next week, Robbie was going to. His men were ready. They were waiting. The first warning signal would soon be sent. Without Dean knowing anything about it.
***
Andrea walked alone in her dream. But was it a dream? Though she slept, it was a flashback to a painful reality that brought about the happier changes in her life. She walked the empty streets of New York City. Katie, just a baby, was tight in her arms. Andrea’s voice calling out, ‘Hello? Is anyone there’ echoed through the deadness. Rats that swarmed the streets creating a blanket, darted and antagonized her, but she trudged on. Calling, hoping. And then she heard him. He asked for help. So small, so innocent. Denny waved from across the street to her. He had followed her voice.
Andrea extend her free hand to the boy who refused to cross the street without his mother’s permission. So much like it actually happened, so much like that day, until that blanket of rats erupted up as Denny crossed. They covered him, swallowed him. Denny was gone.
Andrea jumped out of that dream and saw where she was. She had dozed off while resting her head on a clinic counter. Rubbing her eyes she knew she had to pull herself from the bad feelings of that disturbing dream into the real life bad feeling of what surrounded her. She had so much to get ready. A clinic to prep as if she were preparing a MASH unit. Sutures, syringes, bandages. But that was O.K. for Andrea, because the preparations meant one thing. It would be over soon and she would have her children back.
***
“Can I, Joe?” Henry asked like such a kid as he paced around Joe’s office.
“No.” Joe just looked up to him from behind the desk. “Ellen will be here any second and I promised her she could read it.”
“All right.” Henry whined and plopped in the chair. He didn’t hear the sighs of relief that came from George and Rev. Bob, but he did hear everyone’s moans when he sprang back up. “Oh! I didn’t tell you, Joe. We have a problem.”
Joe’s attention was caught. “A problem. A problem slipped your mind? How bad?”
“Very.”
“Christ Henry . . . Sorry Reverend. Where the hell’s your mind. What’s the problem.”
“Well.” Henry exhaled. “I was going through the generator manuals because that door won’t stay closed and I saw something we’ve never done. We’re supposed to Joe, which we haven’t, pull a power transfer to make sure the other three generators are working.”
“Henry.” Joe stated calmly. “We divide the power usage amongst the generators. Of course they work.”
“But . . .” Henry held up a finger. “We don’t know if each can handle all. So, I transferred all power from the generators. Here’s the problem Joe. Generator one would not release two percent of the power. It held on to two percent. I could not shut this generator down completely. It wouldn’t let me.”
Joe’s hand slammed hard on the desk causing Henry to shriek. “That’s the problem! Christ Henry! Sorry Reverend. We have bigger problems.”
“You may say so now Joe, but what happens if we’re maxed and we need that two percent. I don’t even know where that two percent is going.”
Joe rubbed his eyes. “If this bothers you so much then find out where’s it’s going.”
“Oh, my God Joe.” Henry sat down. “Do you realize how many power lines run underneath the community? My God if I . . .”
“Henry!” Joe shut him up. “If it bothers you, find it. If not, drop it.”
The moment Henry let out his gasp of offense was the moment Joe’s office door opened and Frank and Ellen walked in.
“Hey, Joe.” Ellen, looking tired, stepped inside. “Tell me you have one.”
Without saying anything, Joe lifted the folded piece of paper and handed it to Ellen.
She caught her breath and opened the note. Her lips parted as she started to read, buy she didn’t. She looked at the faces in the room.
“What’s wrong?” Joe asked.
“He starts out, this is for my eyes only.�
�� Ellen said with sadness.
“Then . . . then perhaps only your eyes should read it.” Joe said as he sat back.
“Or at least first.” Ellen walked across the room to find a private moment. Her heavy breathing was heard in the silence as she read the note. And then, after gaining her composure, she turned around, reading it out loud as she did. ‘El, this is for your eyes only, Ok? This is from me to you. There are just a few things I need to say. I need to talk about the twins. If something should happen to me, please make sure they know who I am. Let them know I love them and will always be watching. Teach them love and compassion, I know you still have these things in you. And El, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the times we fought. For all the bad things that were said. I’m sorry for not being the one you could turn to when I should have been. But I’m not sorry for our time together. I do and always will, love you very much. Tell the kids I love and miss them. Goodbye . . .” Ellen lowered the note. “Dean.”
No words, not even a sound was spoken in that room. No one wanted to say what they heard or felt from Dean’s message.
Ellen refolded the note. “That’s it.”
Joe ran his finger over his top lip in thought. “Nothing’s in there. No bible reference, no passage . . .”
“No there is.” Ellen said. “At the bottom. It’s one of Dean’s favorites. Which . . .” She tilted her head to the side. “Makes no sense. It says, Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance But he wrote Joshua and he knows this is from Corinthians.”
Joe jumped quickly and reached for the note. His eyes skimmed it and he handed it to Rev. Bob. “Find the Joshua passage.”
The Reverend lifted his glasses, read the note and opened the bible. “Joshua, 18:3. ‘Then Joshua asked them, ‘how long are you going to wait before you take possession of the remaining land God has given to you?.”
Joe hung his head down. “It all makes sense. He’s asking us to hurry. And things must be getting bad, judging by the sound of his letter, that man is scared. I’m scared now too.” He looked up the those in the room who looked upon him curiously. “I’m scared because he may have slipped up big time with that one. Putting the reference on the bottom was not good. Let’s just hope because we got the letter, it slipped by Robbie. If it didn’t . . . God help Dean.”
***
Robbie sat outside on the street. It was cooler outside since the sun had set. A lantern lit the space next to him where Moses sat reading his bible. It was calm in Egypt. The fights of the night slowed down. Even Robbie and Moses were being civil.
“Moses. I want to ask you something.”
Moses flipped a page. “What? I’m reading.”
“I’m thinking of stopping those letters. Drop off a little communication with Beginnings now. What do you think? I hate to ask your opinion, but I’m torn. On one hand they know everyone is fine. But on the other hand, like today for example, that letter may have scared them into making a decision.”
“I doubt that. That letter made me laugh.”
“The letter made you laugh? How is that? It was very serious.” Robbie bent his knees up and rested his arms across them. “That letter showed how scared Dean was.”
Moses licked his forefinger and turned another page of his thick, huge, hard backed, red Bible. “It showed how stupid he is too. Of course, I may be the only who knew it.”
“What are you talking about Moses? Dean is not stupid. Where in the world did you get that from?”
“The man may know medicine. Though he can’t stitch a wound without killing you. But he doesn’t know his Bible. There he was getting in my shit about bad bible quotes and he did the same thing.” Moses spoke very nonchalantly as he turned another page.
“What bad Bible quote?”
“The one at the end of the letter. I recognized that one. In fact I’m getting pretty good with the Bible now. It’s my companion.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get on with it.” Robbie stood up, Moses peaked his curiosity. Something told Robbie the letter was not quite right.
“Well here.” Moses stood up and showed Robbie the open book. “Here’s the passage he used. But it’s under Corinthians. Anyone would know that’s New Testament stuff. But underneath, it he had it listed as Joshua, I think eighteen. Yeah, eighteen, verse three. And you would think he’d be better at it. I did give him a Bible.”
“You gave him a Bible?” Now things were coming clearer to him. “Find that section for me.” Robbie waited impatiently for Moses to find it. He did. He handed the Bible to Robbie and held up the lantern for him to read. Robbie read the passage and his eyes widened when he finished. It hit him. Dean had sent a clear cut message to Beginnings, and it probably wasn’t the first time. “Son of a bitch!” Robbie slammed the Bible and tucked it under his arm. His blood began to boil, his head throbbed. “No one makes a fool out of me.” He stormed off toward the direction of the library. The place where they kept Dean.
Moses ran behind him, still not sure of what was going on. He carried the lantern for light.
Robbie didn’t make a gentle entrance into Dean’s room. He kicked the door opened, it flung and slammed the wall. “Dean!”
Dean jumped from his chair, knocking it backwards, his heart began to race. He knew something was wrong.
Robbie held up the red Bible. “Recognize this. You do know what this is don’t you?”
The words ‘Holy Bible’ faced Dean. “Yes.” He swallowed.
“It’s the last one you’ll see.” Robbie with every bit of strength he had, he struck down at Dean with the Bible. It slammed him in the side of the head, and Dean went flying back. “Get up!”
Dean laid face first on the floor. His head foggy, he couldn’t even see. He began to lift himself and before he could bring his hands to raise his body, Robbie’s foot landed in his gut and rolled him on his back.
“You made a fool out of me! You will not have that chance ever again.” Robbie pointed down to him angrily. “I put my trust in you. I befriended you!”
Dean could not let Robbie see how much he hurt. He squirmed his way reaching for the bed, and weakly stood. “How could you think I’d be your friend? After what you did to Beginnings? After what you did to your brother? Or how about Ellen? I hope to God you burn in hell. And I hope my people send you there.”
Those were the last words Dean would speak that night. Robbie lunged at him, picking up his frail body, and hurling it across the room so hard, the plaster in the wall cracked loudly as Dean smashed into it. Robbie would not stop. He could not stop. His rage took over. He was going to show Dean through all of his emotions how angry he was. Physically Dean would feel it. Though he knew it was not in the best interest to kill Dean, he would do everything short of it to make him pay.
Robbie jumped over the bed and dove on Dean, picking him up, and banging his head to the wall. Somewhere between the first and second punch thrown by Robbie, Dean lost consciousness. It was a good thing that he did. Dean did not feel the rest of the beating that his fragile body took at the hands of an outraged Robbie Slagel.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
July 17
Frank made his way down the steps into the living room. The light from the dining room was the only one on. The couch had not been slept on, Johnny was working late rounds. He turned the corner and saw Ellen. She looked frazzled. She sat at the table, head propped up by her hand, holding her hair straight up from her eyes. She held a pencil in her hand and stared down at the paper before her.
“El? You think you may want to consider coming to bed soon?”
Ellen turned her head to look at him, her face was tired. “I’m sorry. What time is it?”
“Late.”
“Late? That tells me a lot.” She tossed down the pencil and rubbed her eyes.
“It’s three-thirty. I go up stairs you said you’d be right up. I fall asleep and wake up four hours later and here you are . . . still. What’s going on? Henry gave you
the letter to write. Why aren’t you using it?”
“I want it to be from me. I have a bad feeling, Frank. Something is wrong.”
He reached across and grabbed her hand. “It’ll be over soon. I promise.”
“I’m just scared. And to top it off I hate feeling scared. It makes me vulnerable. That drives me nuts. I’m afraid for Dean, I’m afraid for you, for our home, our land, our children. Everything. What makes it so bad is, I don’t know anything. You won’t tell me anything. All you guys say is, ‘get the clinic ready. When the time comes, we will tell you what you will do’, that doesn’t help any.”
“Do you trust me?” Frank’s hand slid up and down her arm rubbing it.
“Yes, more than anyone.”
“Good. Then listen to what I’m telling you, I give you my word that I will do my best. I can assure you this plan is a good one. If I could tell you to ease your mind I would. But I can’t. A part of me doesn’t think anything will ease your mind. Not even that letter you’re trying to write. Let it go, Ellen.”
“I can’t, Frank.” She rested her head on his hand. “I feel that I have to write to him. Tell him something, anything to make him feel better.”
“There is nothing that will do that. He’s in a bad situation that seems to be getting worse. What will help is the bible passage my Dad and Henry decided on. That will help him. Get that to him and that’s all you can do. That and wait. Now come to bed with me, finish that letter in the morning.”
“I guess I can do that.” Ellen stood up. “I’m sorry I was down here so long.”
“That’s fine, El, but why you were down here dealing with all of this yourself is what I don’t understand. I’m here to help you. Let me in on what’s bugging you. Like tonight. Did I help?”
“No, not really.” She scuffed past him, pulling him along by his hand.
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 75
