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

by Jacqueline Druga

  “What about others?”

  “It’s possible.”

  Ellen closed her eyes. “Then we have to start again. We have to pick up where we left off and work until we finally beat what wiped out this world. Because we can’t chance losing another child. I . . . I can’t chance losing another child to this plague.”

  Dean slowly looked at her then moved across the lab. “You have to get pregnant first.”

  “That was cold. You know how hard Frank and I are trying. Maybe since the miscarriage something happened to me.”

  Dean laughed. “It’s not you, El. It’s him. You and I didn’t have problem. First shot and we had twins.”

  “Frank has a theory on that. He says you were a virgin, and when thirty-five years worth of built up sperm was released, they invaded me like Normandy Beach.”

  “There’s something not right about him.” Dean said with a hint of anger. “Frank is full of theories and reasons when it comes to finding excuses for himself.”

  “Dean, stop it.”

  “No. He’s blaming you. That’s not right. It’s a constant blame. Come on, El, the man was in here last week asking Andrea how to jump start your ovaries.”

  Ellen snickered. “You have to admit it was funny.”

  “It’s not funny.” Dean said with seriousness. “Frank is looking for something to take away the pain of his brother’s death. There’s a lot more going on in Frank’s mind than you, I, or anyone else knows about.” He moved to her softening his voice. “Frank’s behavior goes way beyond a man mourning. And his focus for having a baby is just a cover up.”

  ^^^^

  There was another way to get to his office from town, and Frank was never one to avoid things just because it stirred up feelings in him he didn’t want to deal with. But he was actually debating on taking a new route, because each day that went by, it grew harder and harder.

  It wasn’t just any warehouse in Beginnings. It was the warehouse. And he passed it every single time he went back to his security office. Always ending up being the same routine that he tried, honestly tried not to do. But he did. Mind fixated on something that had to do with the community. Head high. Stare forward. Stride steady. Then the moment he tried to make it by the warehouse it seemed, almost as if it had hands of its own, the warehouse grabbed him. Frank always slowed down, his stomach immediately gnawed and before he took another step forward, he would always say a small prayer. If Frank believed in ghosts, he would believe that Robbie’s was the cause of it. Lingering in that warehouse where he met his death.

  The gnawing and emotional pulling would have stayed with him had it not been overwhelmed by the anger. Anger that spawned from his inability to deal with things. And that anger grew worse every day, staying with him longer. It was reaching the point, and Frank knew it, that the anger would fail to leave all together.

  Enraged with himself, Frank stormed into his office, hoping to calm down. He unzipped his leather jacket, took it off in his stride, then as if he were trying to toss the feeling out, Frank in a spin whipped his coat across the office.

  Smack!

  “Ow!”

  Frank hunched his shoulders in a slight chuckle when he saw Henry sliding the jacket from his face. “Sorry. I didn’t see you follow me in.”

  “Obviously.” Henry held up a small box. “Got a surprise for you.”

  “It’s not a piece of that wall is it?” Frank walked behind his desk.

  “No. I didn’t tear it down like I said. I’m over it. I think.” Henry sat down in a chair. “Yeah, I am.”

  “Am what?”

  “Over it.”

  “Over what?”

  “Frank!” Henry snapped then calmed himself. Frank was on edge as it was, and yelling at a man on edge was never a good idea. Especially when he was a big as Frank. “I . . . am over that cold.”

  “Good. I didn’t know you were sick.”

  “Um, yeah. Anyway.” Henry slide the small box to Frank. “Your surprise. I picked up the entire stock yesterday on the run. My paper plan is ready to put in motion, and I’m hoping when you see, it you’ll help.”

  “I love surprises.” Frank pulled the box closer. “You should have wrapped it.” He lifted the lid and nearly shrieked. “Oh, yeah.” So excited like a kid, Frank lifted the headset radio from the box. “For me?”

  “Yours for when we get it working.”

  Standing, Frank grinned as placed it on. “Lightweight, easy to move my head.” He shook his head back and forth.

  “When you use it watch how loud you talk, though.” Henry instructed.

  “Yeah.” Frank spoke in awe. “I look cool, don’t I?” Frank nodded then struck a quick mean pose.

  “The coolest.”

  “Check me out.” Frank placed both hands on his desk and leaned into it speaking graveled. “There’s a bomb on the bus.”

  “Oh, my God Frank, that is so good. You look just like him in an older, worn down apocalyptic sort of way.”

  “Yeah.” Frank stood straight. “What did you need me for?”

  “Well, I have to get the signal transmitters set up so we can use them at a distance. I wanted you to go beyond the wall with me to see where we can plant them outside.”

  “Hell yeah, let’s go.” Frank hurried to the door, picking up his coat. “I want this system set up.”

  “It’s still gonna take awhile. I have the whole community to map out. Find spots. Hook up. God.” Henry whined. “What a project. You would think George . . .”

  “Henry, quit bitching.” Frank silenced him as he stood by the open door. “Let’s go. I’m up for this.”

  Henry took a step and the door closed. He was glad to see a smile on his friend’s face. An expression not seen in a while. Henry even began thinking that maybe Frank’s enthusiasm over the wireless system would be the answer to changing his whole recent awful behavior.

  “Henry.” Frank opened the door. “One more thing. After we get the jeep, I wanna stop at containment to yell at El.”

  The moment that Frank left again, Henry thought ‘maybe not’.

  ^^^^

  The skills room in containment was the place the survivors gathered. They learned, they amused themselves there. It also was the place where most of the trouble broke out as well. Ellen hesitated in her entrance into the skills room to linger at the door. Miguel was in there. He was seated at a round table with a survivor. Miguel was big and brawny. Rough looking. He was society’s epitome of his real old world job of a truck driver. But Ellen knew him better. He was nothing but a teddy bear. And he showed it as he tried with diligence to explain the passage in the bible he read to the survivor, Max.

  “Don’t tell me you’re my guard.” Ellen said as she walked to him.

  “For the time being.” Miguel stood up. “Greg had to leave. I wasn’t busy up at the field house. And Max, he’s been problem. I just wanted to try to reach him. Perhaps reach someone.”

  Ellen smiled sadly. “Miguel, I know where you’re coming from. Trust me.”

  “I believe you do. When our Denny died, Andrea, she won’t share. She pulls away and is quiet.”

  Slowly Ellen nodded. “Maybe it just takes more time for some people. We’re in the same boat. Only you get silence and I get . . .”

  “El!” Frank’s voice boomed across the skills room.

  “That.” Ellen pointed, folded her arms and cringed watching her survivors scurry in fear at the sound of Frank’ heavy boots. “He sets them back when he’s pissed at me.”

  “I’ll handle him.”

  “El!” Frank called out again, knowing he was very obviously being ignored.

  “Frank.” Miguel walked to him. “She is conducting something important. Can this wait?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll get her if you tell me you won’t start this screaming.” Miguel spoke softly. “Frank, it’s not good for your relationship.”

  “Don’t.” Frank stepped back with a heavy point. “Don’t ev
en fuckin' give me marital advice when yours is falling apart.” Turning in a huff, Frank marched away, got a few feet down the hall and stopped. He turned back around with a change in his demeanor. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I’m just . . . I just lashing. I guess that’s why I’m here. El, always makes me feel better.”

  Confused by that remark, Miguel pulled the skills room door closed and walked to Frank. “Lashing out at Ellen makes you feel better?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t you think that is kind of a sadistic approach to therapy?” Miguel questioned keeping his voice low. “Frank, if Ellen makes you feel better, then maybe your subconscious is telling you it’s time to tell her the truth. She can help you through this.”

  “If you’re suggesting that so you won’t be the heavy any . . .”

  “No.” Miguel shook his head. “I find no shame in being the one everyone believes is the one who removed Robbie. But, inside you need to deal with that. Even if no one else knows, your wife should. She needs to know why you cannot handle Robbie’s death. She needs an explanation to this violent grief. I think she’ll help you.”

  “No.” Frank breathed heavy as he stepped back. “No, I can’t tell her I shot my own brother. She loved Robbie. She’ll hate me. She’ll never look at me the same.”

  “How do you know that?” Miguel asked.

  “Because I know her. Her and I, we think alike. We’re . . . connected. And how can I expect her to ever look at me the same way again, when I . . . I can’t even look at myself.” With only a slight twitch of his jaw, Frank said no more, turned and left containment.

  ^^^^

  “Official History business.” George entered the clinic lab. “Dean?”

  Dean turned from his work. “Oh, hey George.”

  After rolling his eyes slightly, George held up the clipboard. “Tasks. Now, as duly designated history division coordinator, I think I’m fair. I’m not anal. I don’t ask for long reports. Hell, you can jot it on a piece of scrap paper. Just so I have a record to put in the files and something to read off of when I log it in the system. But . . . we log things, Dean. Everything. Timely. Deaths, births, accidents, attacks. Andrea registered her four burns and eight smoke inhalations by morning. You have one small child. What’s the hold up? Why aren’t you registering this infant’s death?”

  Dean took a long blink. “Because I’m afraid for the cause of death to get out.”

  George stared at Dean for a long moment. He laid the clipboard down. “Write it down. I’ll log it in the computer as highly classified. I won’t let it out.”

  After letting out a sigh of relief, Dean wrote it down and slid the clipboard back.

  George looked. “No wonder. I thought . . .”

  “So did I.” Dean interrupted. “And I still believe the chance is minimal that it will happen again. But . . . we have we been preaching. Have children. These women are not going to want to have a child if they even think that it can’t stand a chance.”

  “What can we do?” George asked.

  “I’m kicking myself, George. El and I, we stopped working in the cure. Put it aside. And having a cure is the only thing we can do. Finally beat the plague. And we want to work on it again. Go at it full blast.”

  “I think that’s a good idea.” George tucked the clipboard under his arm. “But if I recall, another reason you stopped working on the cure was because you and Ellen were getting a lot of slack for playing with the virus again. People pushed for you to bury it. Ignorance breads panic.”

  “I think this time we’ll just have to deal with the panic.”

  “Do you really think you can beat it?”

  “Yes.” Dean said with certainty. “I think given six solid months of putting our minds into it, we can come up with a serum that will counteract the virus should anyone be born with it.”

  “Then here’s what you do.” George suggested. “You take the time. You work. You put your all into it. When, and only when you have a cure that is a hundred percent effective, then you let it be known you were working on it. Not before. That way there’ll be no pressure to inhibit your work.”

  “That sound great. But can we pull it off without anyone finding out?”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  “Thanks, George.” Dean said.

  “Not a problem. I want this thing beat and put to bed finally. No more hanging over our heads.” He moved to the lab door. “You’ll keep me posted. Right?”

  “Absolutely.” Dean responded with a slow lift of his hand to say goodbye.

  “We’ll talk letter then.” George stepped from the lab and turned into the hall to leave the clinic. He paused to look at his clipboard. He read the information about Sarah and her clinic visit, then he saw where Dean filled in the cause of her son’s death. After reading, and a brief moment of thought, George ripped of the top sheet, crumbled it up, put it in his pocket then walked on.

  ^^^^

  It was getting late and Henry knew it. But what else did he have to do. He wanted to find all of his spots to place the receivers and transmitters or at least get started on the ones inside Beginnings. Frank actually had him hyped to get the wireless radios working. Beginnings was a lot bigger than anyone realized. Especially anyone who didn’t work with the pipes and power lines that ran throughout the tunnels that set beneath the entire community.

  Perhaps Henry in his search for destinations went through that tunnel on purpose. His mind justified his being there as the main tunnel under town. But subconsciously Henry knew. And his actions said it all when he stopped before the wall. The wall, that to Henry, had a mystery to it, that he just wanted to solve. It ate at him like nothing else. He found himself staring, wondering, looking at the power lines and pipes that seemed to disappear into a thick wall of concrete. And before Henry also found himself down at that wall for a ridiculous long time, he forced himself to move on. The wall wasn’t why he was there. The radios were. And he had to keep reminding himself of that.

  ^^^^

  With the flashing vision of blue eyes, and the loud sound of four gun shots, Frank abruptly awoke from his dream, sitting straight up in bed with a loud grunt. He pushed the covers off and swung his feet on to the floor. Breathing heavily, he rubbed his eyes. The nightmare was haunting him. It wouldn’t go away. It was a part of him. Realizing he had to shake it off, he stood. His legs were weak, his thoughts were foggy, and his emotions rushed through his blood with every speck of his adrenaline. Frank could barely walk. As he moved closer to the door, he stopped. Taking in what he had just dreamt, he leaned forward to the wall. He lifted his arm above his head and placed it against the smooth surface. He rubbed the sweat from his brow across his wrist, then left his head resting there.

  Ellen watched it all. She felt him jolt from his dead sleep, she heard him cry out. Quietly she slipped from the bed, creaking the floor boards as she neared him. “Frank?”

  In his lifting of his head, Frank brushed the bridge of his nose against his arm, then turned his head slightly to look at Ellen.

  “Frank?” Ellen questioned, peering at the maddening look he seemed to harbor in his eyes.

  Frank blinked heavy, shook his head once, slipped by her roughly and walked in silence from their bedroom.

  CHAPTER THREE

  October 10

  ‘Talk to me about it.’ In her walk to the clinic Ellen heard her pleas to Frank not a few hours earlier.

  ‘It was a stupid dream.’ Frank had sounded so angry.

  ‘They’re happening more frequently. I know they’re about Robbie.’

  ‘You don’t know anything!’ He blasted her back.

  ‘Let me help you.’

  ‘I’ll deal with this on my own.’

  With her heart, Ellen tried to get through to him. ‘You can’t. You can’t handle this alone.’

  ‘Then chalk it up as one more thing I can’t handle. I can’t handle the nightmares. I can’t handle Robbie’s death. And I can’t even handle the
simple task of getting my wife pregnant.’

  Her body shuddered as if she slipped from a bad dream when she slipped from that memory. She knew, soon, something had to give or Frank was going to break.

  First she set down the mug of coffee before Dean, then she leaned on the counter across from him.

  From the coffee cup to Ellen, Dean looked. “You’re early?”

  “We need to talk.”

  Dean pointed to the cup then lifted it. “You want something. Never do you come bearing gifts unless you want something.”

  “You’re right. I want you to get me pregnant.”

  With everything he was Dean was glad he wasn’t drinking at that moment. Shifting his eyes slightly, he looked at Ellen. “Clarify.”

  “Exactly as I said. I want you to get me pregnant. And before you get the idea that I want you to put me on my back. Scientifically I want you to get me pregnant.”

  “Oh.” Dean chuckled out a breath. “A baby is good. But really El, you and Frank haven’t been trying long. Sometimes these things takes time.”

  “Time is something that man does not have.” Ellen reached over and grabbed Dean’s hand. “He’s breaking, Dean. I’ve never seen him like this. He wants a baby so bad.”

  Dean opened his mouth and nodded. “I see. In-vitro or artificial insemination is going to be difficult. We’ll need a sample from Frank, and you know how he feels about . . .”

  “I don’t want Frank to know.”

  “How in the world to you suppose we do that? He’s going to wonder why all of the sudden you’re asking him to masturbate in a cup.”

  “Dean, please.” Ellen slightly cringed.

  “El. Getting a sperm sample from Frank is not something we can do without his knowledge. We can’t just go up to him in the middle of the night and take one.”

  “I want you to get me pregnant.”

  “I’m trying to explain that we need a sample from Frank and we have to get him . . .”