The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series

by Jacqueline Druga

  Frank lifted the limp body out of the grass and onto his legs, he held him in his arms. His heart broke as he stared down at the young face, beaten so brutally he was barely recognizable. “Oh my God.” Frank held Denny close to him, pulling him to his chest. His huge hand strived to find the pulse that just wasn’t there. Frank reached down for his radio, and emotionally called out. “Dad” his voice was weak. “Dad, it’s bad. They brought back one of our people . . . it’s bad.” Frank held Denny tighter. “I need only you at the back gate.” He tossed the radio to the ground, then secured his arms underneath Denny’s body. With Denny in his arms, Frank rose to his feet, the moment he stood Denny’s arms and legs dangled and his head flung back. Slowly, and in pain almost too much for him to grip, Frank headed to the back gate.

  “I thought you were dead,” the familiar voice halted Frank dead in his tracks.

  Frank turned around, his eyes glazed over when he spotted the huge man walking from the trees.

  “Frank Slagel, boy won’t your brother be surprised.”

  Frank couldn’t believe it. This man was taunting him? Right then as he held the body of such a young boy? Was he that fuckin’ stupid? Frank slowly, without giving it away, began to lower Denny’s body.

  “Like the little package I gave you, Frank? Did it myself.”

  Softly to the ground he laid him. As Denny’s body rested to the earth, Frank’s sadness turned. It turned into something he had never felt before, an uncontrollable rage that sent him forth, barreling towards Moses.

  Moses stood waiting for him. He wasn’t afraid of Frank.

  He should have been.

  Shooting out like a cannon, Frank charged ahead. Though Moses outweighed him, he could never out-strength him. Frank was driven by too much hurt, too much anger, and too much sorrow. Frank’s body hit Moses with such a force, both men flew ten feet back, rolling one over top of each other into the woods.

  Moses tried to fight back, but he hadn’t a chance. Frank hovered over him, crashing down with violent blows, one right after another.

  With a loud scream of emotion, Frank stood and lifted Moses to his feet. He grasped tightly to the huge mound of red hair and rushed the weight of Moses forth into a tree that stood only a few feet away.

  Moses whipped into it. As if the tree had an elastic surface, his body bounced back. He would have fallen to the ground had Frank not stopped him. It wasn’t the end. Moses’ pleas for mercy at that moment would not be heard, they could never be heard. For Denny, for his baby, for Dean and the children still in Egypt, Frank hurled Moses back into the tree. He crashed his face into the bark. Smashing it with force over and over again.

  Frank felt the warm blood sprawl out over his hands with each devastating blow. Just when he felt that Moses had enough, just when he felt that Moses was seconds from death, Frank dropped him, releasing him to the dirt. Moses was alive, barely. He laid face first on the ground, moaning, trying to lift himself in one more attempt.

  Slam!

  Frank crashed his boot down onto his back and he dropped to his knees hovering Moses from behind. He wrapped his arm across Moses’ shoulder. Lifting him some, arching his back. Extending his fingers across the bloody forehead and Frank’s huge hand gripped tightly, bracing the entire head.

  His nostrils flared as Frank breathed heavily and sweat poured from his brow. He leaned forward into Moses, placing his lips close to his ear. “This is for my people.” Frank gripped tighter. “Die you sick fuck.” With a single cry filled with agony and strength, and one loud crack, he broke Moses’ neck.

  It was over. Still huffing and emotional, Frank stood to his feet and ran from the woods. As he hit the road he could see his father racing toward the open gate. He, too, saw Denny, the sadness on his father’s face matched his own.

  Joe dropped to his knees at Denny’s body, his eyes weld up as he lifted his eyes to Frank who stood above. “This didn’t happen. Oh, Christ, tell me we didn’t let this happen.”

  Frank knelt down, his hand running across Denny’s face. “They have to pay, Dad. Every single one of them. It’s time.” With his eyes filled with hatred, he stared at his father.

  “You’re right. It’s time.”

  “One of them was still here when I found him.”

  Joe looked around. “Where is he? I didn’t hear any gun fire. Did he get away?”

  “No . . . I killed him.” Frank looked down at his hands, they were covered with blood. “We have to get Denny in. I’ll carry him to the jeep.”

  “Then where Frank?” Joe stood up. “Christ.” He ran his hand across his head.

  “I’m taking him to his mother.” Frank reached down to lift him.

  “I’ll head to town first. She’s at the clinic. I’ll stop by and get Miguel. Give me a few minutes.” Joe was shaking. He was faced with one of his most difficult tasks. He had to look Andrea in the eye and say her son had come home. But not like they had all hoped and prayed. Joe backed up and ran to his jeep. He quickly jumped in and drove away.

  Frank lifted Denny. He slowly carried him to his own jeep, and sat him in the passenger’s seat. He walked back to the gate and locked it, then radioed to security to put the perimeter back on. Before getting in the jeep he took one more look at Denny’s face. Should Andrea see him the way he was? The pain that she was going to feel would be insurmountable. Frank took off his shirt, reached in the jeep for his container of water, and doused his shirt with it. He wrung it out and wiped off Denny’s face, removing the blood and dirt that hid who he was. Cleaning Denny as best as he could. “I’m sorry, Den.” He dropped his shirt and got in the jeep. With his right hand bracing Denny in, Frank drove slowly back into town.

  “Andrea,” Joe called softly into Dean’s laboratory where Andrea sat with Ellen. “Andrea?”

  Andrea looked up, she was laughing. “Joe, Ellen and I were just laughing at some of Dean’s code names.” She pointed to another one. “Look at this one, Ellen.”

  Ellen laughed loudly. “He is such a nerd.”

  Joe walked in, he grasped Andrea’s wrist. “I have to talk to you.”

  The smile dropped from Andrea’s face. She saw Miguel hovering in the doorway, and she saw something on Joe’s face she had never seen. Tears. “Sweet Jesus what’s happened?” She jumped from her stool. “Tell me, Joe.” She walked past him. “Miguel?”

  Joe reached for her arm, pulling her back. “There’s been a tragedy. We . . . I need you to stay here.”

  “Something’s happened.” Andrea rushed past Joe, passed her husband and out into the hall. They tried to stop her but it was too late. The glass clinic doors at the end of the hall gave her the answer she so much did not want. The vision of Frank carrying her son across the street. “Oh my God!” She flew down the hallway, flinging the doors open. “No. Not my son.” Her hands reached out to Frank’s arms. She trembled as she touched her son’s cold skin. “Not my baby.” She reached for Denny. “No.”

  “I’ll bring him inside for you.” Frank continued carrying him, even as Andrea pulled for her son. Joe opened the doors to let them in.

  “Denny.” Andrea took him from Frank’s arms and fell to the floor with him. “What have they done to you?”

  Frank couldn’t take anymore. He turned and walked out.

  “My baby.” Andrea cradled him close to her breast, pressing her lips to him, rocking him. “What have they done to you?” She resisted and fought off anyone, including her husband, that tried to come near her. She sat in the hallway holding her boy, sobbing from her soul as she held his lifeless body. “I love you.” She lifted her tear streaked eyes to Joe. “Look what they did to him. They beat him. What did he ever do to them? Look what they did to my baby.”

  Ellen backed away, her hand covering her mouth, her face streaming with tears. She had been where Andrea was. She had felt that pain that she was feeling. She too had held her own son in her arms wishing it was her. Ellen couldn’t bear to watch, she too had to leave.

  Joe
reached down to Andrea. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “He was just a child, Joe. He was my son.” Andrea wiped her face with the back of her hand. “My Denny.” She pressed her lips to him again. “My son.” She held tightly to him for a long while, never wanting to let him go. On the floor of the clinic she cried for her son, for the pain he endured, for the loss of his young life. Andrea’s cries were heard throughout Beginnings.

  Ellen opened the door to the dark empty social hall. She saw Frank sitting on a stool, hunched at the bar. “Frank?” She called to him slowly walking to him. She slid on his back. “Frank?”

  Frank lifted his head which rested in his hands. His red eyes looked at Ellen. “We lost a kid El, we lost Denny.”

  Ellen’s lips quivered, her eyes welled up again. Frank needed her to be strong for him, she fought back her tears with everything she had, a task even too difficult for her. She could only reach to him, hold him in her arms and hope to take even just a little of the pain away.

  Frank clung to her as if he were clinging to life itself. He buried himself deep in her chest, taking comfort in her arms.

  “Frank!” Henry came running in. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Robbie’s on the radio. Your dad said you might want to be there.”

  Frank lifted his head from Ellen. “I didn’t hear it.” He reached to see if his radio was on, and for the first time ever, it wasn’t. “Shit.” He grabbed Ellen’s hand and pulled her with him. They ran, following Henry, to the containment center.

  Joe’s hands were red as they held tightly to the microphone; he looked up as Ellen, Frank and Henry, burst in. “It was a low even for you Robbie. He was a kid.”

  “This I know.” Robbie was cocky. “I have Dean right here. I’m sure he’ll tell you about it when he gets back. He watched it all.”

  Dean’s shouting came loud and clear through the airwaves. “Kill them Joe. Kill them all.”

  “Shut up.” Robbie shouted to Dean. “I’m on the radio. You had your chance . . . Dad? You still there?”

  “I’m still here. You will pay, Robbie. That man that brought our boy back. He’s not returning. He’s dead. One of our men killed him with their bare hands. Bare hands. End this now, or we will end it.”

  Dean felt some sense of justice knowing that Moses was dead. And he knew there was only one man capable enough to kill such a large man with his bare hands, Frank. It was a sign to Dean, a signal. Frank was back in full force. The waiting was over. Beginnings was ready.

  Robbie laughed at his father’s warning, it didn’t faze him. Nor did the news of Moses’ death. He enjoyed it. “Look I make the calls here. You don’t threaten me. Yes it will end, and yes you will end it. You will let us in Beginnings.”

  “Never!” Joe cried out to him.

  “Heed my warning, Father. You have twenty-four hours. Look at your watch. Twenty-four hours I will call back, if I don’t get the answer I want I will send another warning. Another one of your people will be at your door.”

  “You’re sick, but I don’t believe you’ll kill one of those small children.”

  “You’re right. I don’t want to kill another child. I won’t. If by tomorrow at this time I do not get the answer I want, your Dr. Dean will be our next warning. And this I promise you. I will enjoy taking his life . . . Tomorrow!” Robbie’s words ended with static. He had given his warning. It was now in the hands of Beginnings.

  Joe rubbed his face as he stood from his seat, the microphone falling from his hand. “Henry, uh, gather everyone in this community together. It’s time for that talk.”

  ***

  Standing before the crowded room filled with every single person in Beginnings was difficult for Joe. He had to face them with the news. He had so much to tell them. The room was silent. Though filled, there wasn’t a noise to be heard. They waited to hear what he had to tell them, they needed to hear it. As their leader, Joe spoke with his heart. “Today is a day of sadness. We have fought so hard, all of us, to overcome so many tragedies. We’ve built this community and with the sweat of each of us, we’ve made it work. But as all of you know, there are those who wish to bring us down. They’ve taken from us what is precious, and they hold something of value we desperately want back, our people. Now they tell us if we don’t let them in, they will, without a doubt kill another one of us. All of us have worked so hard in a struggle to defeat them. I commend all of you for your unity. I am so proud to live among you. But the time has come. Now, for the safety and lives of our children, for Dean, and all of you . . . we’ve come to a decision.”

  Everyone listened to what Joe had to say. They acknowledged and accepted what he was telling them. The end was near.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  July 20

  Frank stood next to Ellen with his finger closing off his one ear.

  Ellen held out a gun, aiming at her target. She fired and flew back.

  “No. No. No!” Frank stormed up to her. “You shoot like a female!”

  “I am a female!” She held out the gun, pointing forward once more.

  “You never shot this bad before. Your aim is excellent. But you have to focus.” Frank moved behind her. “Don’t shoot, just hold still. Pretend you’re going to shoot. Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Frank popped the palm of his hand upward against her elbow, the gun fumbled in her hands, but she caught it before she lost it. “See El! Lock your elbows! Lock them!” He held them firm. “And your stance sucks! Plant your feet firmly. The weight of that weapon is going to knock you over when it fires. Nothing should be able to knock you over if you have a good stance.” He brushed into her, her body flung forward. “See!”

  “Christ, Frank, I can be standing in concrete and your big ass would still knock me over.”

  “Let’s try this again.” He stood behind grasping her hands as she held onto the gun. “Hold it tight, El. Stand firm . . .”

  “Now that’s what I don’t understand.” She abruptly turned around to face him. The hand that held the gun waved about as she spoke. “If I’m going to shoot someone. It’s not going to be like target practice.”

  “Watch the gun, El . . .”

  “If I’m in that situation, I’m not going to have time to stand firm.”

  “The gun . . .El, the gun.” Frank covered his face, waiting for an accident to happen.

  “Nor will I have time to tell my assailant, ‘Excuse me while I lock my elbows’.”

  “Enough.” Frank snatched the gun from her hand. Checked the chamber and placed on the safety. “We’ll take a break. We’ve been working all morning.”

  “Yes we have. Can you tell me why you are killing me today? First you bring me up here to beat me up.”

  “I wasn’t beating you up. I was working on your fighting techniques. It’s been six months since we worked on fighting and shooting. You need work.”

  “I don’t understand Frank. It’s not like I’m actually gonna have to shoot someone right? . . . Frank? Frank? I’m not going to shoot anyone am I?”

  Frank shoved the gun behind the back of his pants and grabbed hold of her, pulling her close. “You never know. I don’t think anything will happen, but just in case, in case I’m not around, I need to know you will protect yourself. Besides, you and Andrea are the only two women in this whole community that are callous enough to shoot someone in cold blood if needed.”

  “Thanks for the compliment.” Ellen pulled away and held out her hand. “Give me back the gun. I’ll work harder for you.”

  “Thank you.” He reached behind him, pulled out the gun and laid it in her hands.

  “But you can’t yell at me anymore. It’s getting on my nerves, and you tend to forget I’m holding a loaded weapon.”

  ***

  In his designated office in the library building of Egypt, Robbie stood confident, cocky, aside Dean who sat in a chair. “It’s nearly time.”

  “They won’t give in. My life is not worth to them as much as their home is
. I wouldn’t want it to be.”

  “You sound awfully sure.”

  “So do you.”

  “I am sure.” Robbie walked around the chair. “I am so sure it’s going to happen. My gut tells me so. Ever have that feeling before, Dean? Do you have that feeling now?”

  Dean did not answer.

  “I thought so.” Robbie walked to his desk and turned on the radio. “In five minutes it’s times up. If they don’t give me the answer I want, it’s times up for you. My gun is ready, they will hear you die.”

  Fear of death was far from Dean’s mind. He sat straight up waiting right alongside Robbie for Beginnings’ answer. He had come to terms with the fact that he would never see his children again. It made him strong. It made him see things a whole lot clearer. Dean waited on his death sentence. It was inevitable that it would come. In fact, if given the choice, Dean would choose death. He’d rather die at the hands of Robbie than see Beginnings give in. That was how strongly he felt against his captures. That was how badly he wanted to see them go down.

  ***

  Joe sat in the office of containment. The radio perched in front of him, a bottle of whiskey to his right. He poured one more shot and downed it. Feeling its warmth, gasping as it soothed him. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Looking down at his watch, he knew it would be any second and Robbie would call out to him. He was alone as he sat there. It was the way he wanted it to be. He wanted no one around as he gave Robbie his answer. Everyone knew exactly what Joe was going to say. Alone was the best way to do it. No faces staring down at him, no other emotions in the room except for his own. The waiting was nearly over. The hour was at hand.