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

by Jacqueline Druga

  The one lone gunshot was the signal. It was Beginnings’ signal. The moment Dean’s face felt the concrete, a loud eruption of gunfire broke out above his head. It encircled Dean, it came from every direction. It was the beginning of the end for Robbie’s men.

  Robbie jumped when he heard the gun fire. He knew. Reaching for his blade tucked in his shirt, he ripped it out and turned to his father only to find himself facing the barrel of a gun.

  Joe clenched tightly to Robbie’s neck, holding the gun steady to his face as he kicked open the inventory room door. He literally carried his son across the room by a choke hold and threw him in a chair never taking his gun off of him. Joe swiped the knife from Robbie’s hand and tossed it far across the room.

  “You set us up!” Robbie screamed trying to get out of his chair.

  Joe pushed him back. “Did you expect anything less of us? Did you expect us to just let you walk in here and take this from us? You underestimated me, Robbie. You underestimated all of us. Listen Robbie! Listen Good! Do you hear that? The gunfire? The screams? Listen to your people die! Listen to your people pay for what they did!”

  Dean covered his head as the noise kept going. Ringing in his ears. He was afraid to look, afraid to move. He didn’t know who was shooting who. As his weakened body tried to crawl to a safer place, he was stopped by the dead weight of someone who fell on top of him. Dean was pinned beneath him. He could feel the blood from the man above him, seeping through his own shirt, dampening his own skin. Dean, though trapped beneath the lifeless body, was somewhat shielded from the death that now surrounded him.

  Robbie’s men did not stand a chance. Rapid gun fire, shot forth at them, from men that hid on roof tops, in trees, in windows. Beginnings fired upon them from every corner, but the gunmen were nowhere to be seen. The gunfire held no mercy as it ripped apart Robbie’s men. It cut into their bodies so fiercely, it ripped limb from limb. Blood spewed forth, bathing the ground and turning it deep red. There was nowhere to run, they were completely encircled. Beginnings left no stone un-turned. Nor would they leave one man of Robbie’s breathing. The firing continued until there was not a single soul moving. The shots slowed down, like popping corn, single shots getting further and further apart.

  Though not one sound was heard or one moan, it was not over. The men of Beginnings marched down to the street, to the massacre they created. There they stood above Robbie’s men. They approached the bodies one by one, and in execution style, fired a single shot into their skulls, sealing their deaths and ensuring the end to their reign.

  Robbie could hardly breathe, he knew he was done. Joe had not removed the gun from his face the whole entire time he sat there and felt as his men went down. He listened with anguish to the silence that was just outside.

  “It’s over.” Joe stepped back from him.

  “You’ve won.” Robbie refused to look at his father’s face.

  “Not completely, no.”

  “I suppose now you’re going to kill me?”

  Joe shook his head. “No, I couldn’t kill you. You’re my son.” At the sound of a closing door from the back of the room, Joe put his gun away. “Goodbye, Robbie.” He lowered his eyes, stepped back, and walked from the inventory room.

  The door closed, and his father was gone. Robbie heard the footsteps. The heavy sound of walking came from behind him. A slow steady walking, it grew louder and louder, then finally stopped. Robbie knew someone was in the room, they stood right behind him.

  With the sound of two more steps, that person stood before him, facing him. It was the brother he thought he had killed . . . Frank.

  Frank stared down at Robbie, his face cold, emotionless. His eyes, as Robbie had never seen before. With an intense look of calm . . . Frank lifted his gun.

  Robbie closed his eyes. “Oh, my God.”

  Joe stood directly outside the inventory door waiting. Waiting until he heard it. Within seconds it happened. It made him jolt. One shot followed by a thump, and Joe knew. It was over, it was finally over.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Miguel tried to shake what appeared to be brains from the tip of his boot as he shuffled his feet wading through the pool of dead bodies. “I found him!” Then Miguel lifted a corpse and tossed him to the side. “Hey Dr. Dean? You alive down there? Hey Joe, I found him.”

  Dean grunted and opened his eyes. Red, all he saw was red. And it wasn’t anger. He was completely encircled in blood. “What the hell?” Dean tried to lift himself up and the pain shot straight from his injured leg. “Shit, I’m dying.”

  Joe reached down and helped him up. “You aren’t dying, Christ it’s a leg wound.” Joe checked it out. “Looks like it went clear through too.” He whistled. “May have some trouble walking. Good thing the clinic is right over there.”

  Dean smiled at Joe as he was assisted to the clinic. It was good to be home. It was good to be back. “Thank you, Joe.”

  “Don’t thank me, I wasn’t around. Let’s just get you to the clinic and cleaned up so Andrea can work on you.”

  “Cleaned up sounds great.” Dean hobbled holding on to Joe for support.

  Ellen and Andrea held tighter to the guns they were given. It had been a while since they heard the last of the shots. Whose shots were fired they didn’t know. The children in the room had finally stopped crying. They were clueless to what was going on just outside the door. They couldn’t leave. They didn’t know what they would face.

  Making the entrance that only he could make. Frank opened the skills room door slowly, then kicked it flinging forth. He held Katie on his hip, and he was smiling as he stepped inside.

  A loud burst of relief, followed by screams of joy filled the room.

  Andrea rushed forth reaching to her daughter, “My baby.” She took Katie from Frank and clenched her with dear life in her arms. She mouthed the words ‘thank you’ to Frank as she closed her eyes, tears streaming down, and held tightly to her daughter.

  Without saying a word Frank swept Ellen up, swung her around as he embraced her.

  Ellen took his face in her hands and kissed his face several times. “Tell me.”

  A huge grin came upon Frank’s face. “Dean is fine. He really is fine.”

  “Where is he?”

  “At the clinic. He has a very minor injury.”

  “Thank you! I’ll be back!” Ellen’s words carried and faded as she rushed from containment.

  Joe meant what he said when he told Dean he would get him cleaned up. Upon getting him in the clinic Joe stripped him down and threw him in the shower, no matter how bad it hurt his leg.

  Dean lay on top of a bed, still waiting for Andrea to return. Joe had bandaged up his leg and gave him a fresh pair of boxer shorts to put on.

  “So Dean, you mean to tell me you actually thought we were giving in to Robbie?” Joe pulled up a chair to wait with him.

  “You have to admit, Joe, you certainly made it out that way.”

  “Oh ye of little faith. As if I would fold. You should know me . . .aside from that, are you doing all right?”

  “Yes, I am. My leg is killing me.”

  “Eh . . .it had to be done.” Joe waved him off and leaned back in the chair.

  “What do you mean it had to be done?” Dean began to get excited. “Do you people realize what I’ve been through? Knowing all this, you shoot me?”

  “Aren’t we filled with attitude?” Joe stood up. “I’m trying to be nice here Dean. It was a rescue attempt. A shoot the hostage situation.”

  “Was it planned?”

  Joe him-hawed about. “You can say it was, yes.”

  “You planned for me to get shot?”

  “We weren’t gonna shoot one of the kids now, were we?”

  “Just tell me who . . .” His voice faded as he looked up.

  “Who what?” Joe saw Dean had stared past him. He turned to see who it was. Ellen. “I’ll be back. We’ll talk about this after Andrea gives you something to calm you down.”

/>   “Fine,” Dean said, never taking his eyes off of Ellen.

  Joe reached down and grabbed Dean’s hand. “Good to have you back.” Releasing it, he slowly left the room, bracing Ellen’s shoulder as he walked past her.

  Ellen leaned in the doorway. “Can I come in?”

  “Please.”

  Ellen began to move to the bed, she moved slowly almost as if she were afraid. “I kind of feel like I don’t know what to say.”

  “We said a lot before I was kidnapped.”

  Ellen reached down and took his hand. “I missed you.”

  Dean squeezed her hand. “I missed you, too.”

  “You look different.”

  “I’ve been beat up.”

  The ice had been broken, Ellen left out a nervous laugh. “That’s not what I mean. You seem different.”

  “When you’re locked in a room for a month, you have a lot of time to think.”

  Ellen hung her head down. “I’m sorry things went down the way they did.”

  “Me too . . . and that’s one of the things I thought about. Now, I come home and I know things are different. You’re with him now, aren’t you?”

  Ellen hesitated. “Yes . . . I am.”

  Dean closed his mouth tightly and rested his head back. “Did you come in here to see me or did you come in here to get my forgiveness and blessing?”

  “I came in here to try to make things right with you.” She released his hand. “Dean, I know you won’t believe me, but I care about you. I am so proud to have you in my life. I’ve gone through changes, too. And Dean, check me out. I can say it.” She leaned closer to him. “I love you.”

  Dean hesitated in asking. “But not the same way you love him.”

  Ellen didn’t answer.

  “I didn’t think so.” He reached down and took her hand in his. His tone changed. “I’m all right with it. Like I said I had a lot of time to think. I can handle it, it’ll be tough at first, but I’ll manage. Especially when there’s not that many women to chose from. But I’d like you to know, that we can start over again, this time as friends. This time with honesty.”

  “You got it.” She leaned down and kissed him.

  “And speaking of which . . .who in the hell shot me?” Dean’s voice began to raise.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Who shot me? It was this big plan, I’m sure you knew. Shoot me, get me out of the way then fire about on everyone else. Who shot me? I didn’t see anyone with a gun. Now there’s only one person that I know of that can shoot . . . Oh no.” Dean looked up, Frank stood in the doorway walking in. “Please tell me it wasn’t you.”

  Frank stepped closer. “Wasn’t me, what?”

  “It was. Shit. This is great. This is just great.”

  “El, do you think you can give us a minute?”

  “Sure.” Ellen slid off the bed. “Dean, I’ll bring the kids by as soon as they get the street cleaned up out there. It’s kind of gross.” She kissed him one more time, waved, then left the room.

  Dean watched her leave, never taking his eyes off the door, never seeing Frank pull up a chair.

  “You still love her, huh Dean?”

  “Yeah I do. Not that it matters much.” He folded his arms. “What is it that you want, Frank? Are you wanting to rub salt in the wounds. No . . . wait . . . here.” Dean lifted his leg up. “Here’s an open one, it should make it easy for you . . .” Dean was obstinate. “I can’t believe you shot me.”

  “You know you’re lucky it was me. Anyone else could have missed such a small target.”

  “Why are you sitting here, Frank?” Dean grew perturbed. “You obviously want something.”

  “Man, do you have attitude? Can we be civil for just five minutes?” He waited until he had Dean’s attention. “What I have to say is very difficult for me.”

  “And you thought I’d make it easy?”

  “No . . .” Frank tapped his hand on the bed railing. “I need to thank you for what you gave me.”

  Dean exhaled. “I didn’t have a choice in that one Frank. I didn’t give her to you.”

  “I’m not talking about, Ellen. I’m talking about my life. You saved it. I’m standing here today because of you. You don’t know what that means to me.”

  “I’m a doctor, that’s my job.”

  “I know that.” Frank stood up and began to pace. “I feel sort of, you know, bad.”

  “Bad? No, you don’t.”

  “Yes I do.” Frank took a deep breath. “I wronged you. And after all that I put you through, you still saved my life. That takes a certain type of man. And in my book, that makes you the better man. I owe you a lot. I wish I could repay you somehow. There’s nothing more I’d like to do then tell you, that if you wanted, I’d walk away from Ellen. Maybe give you back some of the life you lost.”

  Dean rolled his eyes. For a moment, just a brief moment, Frank had him. He actually sounded human. Dean knew him better. “Would you? Would you really?”

  “Well . . .no.”

  “That’s what I thought. So why say it?”

  “Cause it sounds good?” Frank lifted up his shoulder, he was without a good answer “Look . . . is there any way we can get past this? Try to be friends?”

  “That will never happen.”

  “You’re right. How about being civil?”

  “It’ll be hard seeing you two together. I love her, Frank.”

  “And I love her too, Dean, with everything I am.” Frank stopped pacing about and moved closer to Dean’s bed. “So what do we do now?”

  “Well since sharing her is out of the question, we just move on.”

  “You know Dean, I want you to know everyone is proud of you. I’m proud to know you.” Frank extended his hand.

  “What?” Dean looked at it. “What’s that for?”

  “Come on, Dean . . . shake. I just realized that in the five years that we’ve have been here, I’ve never shaken your hand.”

  “That’s because in the five years that we’ve been here you’ve been sleeping with Ellen.”

  “I’d really like to shake your hand.” Frank’s hand extended further out.

  Dean took it, without looking at Frank in the eye, shook his hand. “There.”

  “Thank you.” Frank backed up to leave. “Thank you for everything. For my life . . .”

  “For Ellen?”

  “That too.” Frank smiled.

  “See I knew you couldn’t go without that gloating thing you do.”

  Frank waved, and with that gloating smirk on his face, he began to leave.

  “Hey, Frank?”

  “With all kidding aside. You did good with me today, even if I do end up limping. And . . . For all that was said, thank you for your honesty. That’s all I ever wanted, you know.”

  Frank raised the corner of his mouth, giving a half smile. “You have it now Dean. Nothing less.” Somehow he felt better as he walked from Dean’s room.. As he left the clinic, he saw Ellen waiting outside. He stepped out to join her. “Hey El.”

  “All done talking with Dean?”

  “Yeah, it went well, too.” He stepped down onto the sidewalk, taking in the view of the massacre that had happened. “Man, is it fucked up out here.”

  “Tell me about it. So . . .” Ellen took a breath as they walked. “You said it went well.”

  “Very, I feel unburdened. I was honest with him for the first time.”

  “Me too.”

  “It feels good, El, really good to be honest.”

  “Doesn’t it.” Ellen spoke in relief. “And I think that we should have that attitude from here on in.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Ellen slowed down in her walk. “Um . . . by the way. I didn’t really say anything. You didn’t by chance . . . mention that we got married last night, did you.”

  “No way.” Frank took hold of her arm. “I think we should just let him and everyone else discover that little one on their own. Don’t you?”

  “Abs
olutely.”

  ***

  The swish-swish of the echoing push broom paled in comparison to the gags Henry made in the tunnels that ran under Beginnings. “Joe, I’m dying.” Henry lifted his shirt over his nose.

  Joe looked at George and shook his head. “Henry. Where would you rather be. Up there with chunks, or down here with streams.”

  “That is so gross, Joe. That is so foul.” Henry pushed the broom behind George and Joe who carried the hoses that saturated the tunnels. “All this blood, Joe. We have to seal the street or something. This isn’t right. This should never have . . .”

  Joe stopped walking. The pushing broom sound stopped along with Henry’s complaining. He shut off the hose at the same time George shut off his. They both looked back.

  The handle of the broom made a loud bang when it slipped from Henry’s hand. “Oh, wow.”

  Letting out a huffing sound of irritation, Joe saw Henry standing there. “Henry?”

  “Oh wow.” Henry repeated and pulled his flashlight from his belt. He turned it on and shined it on the wall. “Oh, Wow.”

  Tossing his hands up, Joe led the way back to Henry. “What in Christ’s name are you doing?”

  “I found it. This has to be it.”

  “What?”

  “The two percent power loss. Look.” Henry shined the light on the wall bringing the beam to the ceiling. He illuminated a grouping of power lines that disappeared into the concrete wall.

  “So.”

  “So where do you suppose they go?” Henry asked.

  “Into that wall.” Joe scoffed at Henry’s glare. “Henry, they probably run through that wall as a short cut.”

  “No Joe.” Henry shook his head. “I know the lines. I can’t believe I never saw this. I probably did but didn’t pay attention. I think they’re powering something behind this wall. What do you think, Joe?”