Frank pulled the pin on the second grenade, tossing it, and taking out two more. Rifle carefully aimed through the smoke, catching the scurrying men in the scope of his rifle, Frank very nonchalantly picked them off, one by one as if they were sitting ducks in an easy child’s game. He put down his rifle, grabbed his revolver, then stood up.
“Frank get down.” She pulled at his leg.
“El, they’re all hit.” Holding his revolver out and aimed, Frank walked to the highway. He extended his gun to each of the four men he hit. And one at a time, Frank nudged them with his boot, then fired into their heads. Placing his revolver back in his shoulder harness he went back to Ellen. “We have to go now.” He began to lug the gear over his shoulders.
“What about your dad? You said that he’d be here.”
“El, we don’t know how long that’ll be. That was eight men. Eight. If there’s more, we have to get out now.”
Ellen stood up and followed, Frank was walking toward the just killed men. “Where are we going?”
“To cross the highway. We’re going east for a little bit.”
“East? Home is north.”
“We’ll shift north after we get far enough out.” Frank led her. “And whatever you do, do not step in any blood. The only trail I want to leave them is a fake one.”
Ellen watched her every step. Being careful not to touch her foot down upon anything that once used to be alive was difficult, Frank had made quite the mess.
^^^^
Henry whistled long and drawn out as he lifted the stack of papers. “This is one disk?”
“Seven hundred and fifty sheets.” Dean stated.
“And how many of these trained assassins does the plan call for?” Henry asked.
“Twenty-five hundred.”
Another whistle came from Henry as he stood up. “What in the world do they need all those assassins for and where are they?”
“According to their theory, in order to rebuild a perfect civilization non viable life forms will either be eliminated or restructured, whatever that means.” Dean shrugged. “Where? I don’t know. The first disk is merely the preparation phase. I have the other disks printing out now. Or at least some. Some of them the decoder won’t touch. They’re password protected.”
“Bet me like the hidden files that we didn’t find yet.” Henry tapped his hand on the counter and backed up ready to leave, he paused as he reached the door. “Find me when you know more. I’ll be at the hanger.”
“Will do.” Dean returned to his stack of reading.
“Dean?” The woman’s voice called softly to him from the lab door.
“Melissa.” Dean turned. “What’s up?”
“Are you busy?” She stepped in. “I’m having a problem with this pregnancy.”
“What kind?” Dean asked.
“I didn’t want to mention it yesterday. I started noticing it the day before. Dean . . . I’m starting to swell. I mean really swell.”
“You hands, ankles? What? You’re not even a month along.”
“Tell me about it.” Melissa moved closer. “So if that’s the case. Why do I look like this?” She opened up the big lab coat she wore that covered her. Protruding forth was her stomach, it’s roundness looked as if it belonged to a woman in her fourth or fifth month, rather than her first.
“Holy shit!” Dean literally fell from his stool, knocking it over and sending it crashing to the ground. “Shit.” He reached his hand out but didn’t touch her. “Cover back up.” He closed her coat, grabbed his stool and nervously sat back down.
“What are we going to do? This isn’t normal.”
“Um . . .um.” Dean shook his head. “No it’s not. I’ll tell you what.” Dean ran his hands through his hair. “Give me an hour. Meet me back in the room with the ultra sound. O.K.?” He jumped up and ran to the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To find out what we implanted.” Dean bolted to the hall then stuck his head back in. “What number was that. Thirty-seven?” Snapping his finger he took off for the Cryo-lab. Trying to look cool and calm, Dean knew he was failing at that task. He was fearful of what he did. Fearful of going down into the lab and finding out for sure, what number thirty-seven really was.
^^^^
Crouched down, Joe looked at what appeared to be a finger ten or so feet from what looked like a blast site. “Yep, Frank’s work.” He stood up and brushed off his hands, and moved up closer to the site. “Sloppy trip wire. Frank you’ll have to be better.” Joe spoke to himself as he examined everything. Michael stayed in the truck, while Greg made his way over to the green picnic table. “What else.” Joe placed his hands on his hips looking about, catching glimpse of the arm waving to him from the tree. “Damn grenades are good.”
“Did you say something, Joe?” Greg moved closer, holding a sleeping roll.
“I said our homemade grenades are good..” He pointed up to the tree.
“Oh yeah.” Greg spoke with sarcasm. “Real good. Got that ‘blast it a mile away effect’ going. Anyway, two rolls left behind.” He tossed them to Joe. “Frank is running. But with who?”
“It’s definitely Ellen.” Joe took in the site around him. “My son would die trying to get her if he had too. My guess, Miguel and George are still in there.” Joe began to walk back to the truck. “And by the looks of things, Frank’s going on with the plan, move forward if there’s trouble.”
“So we’re gonna try to find them?” Greg opened his side of the truck.
“Yep.” Joe climbed in. “Barring any more trouble Frank knows we’re heading up here. He’ll be close to the highway if not there.” Joe turned over the ignition and placed the truck in gear. After the subtle bumps of going over the two torsos, they drove on.
^^^^
Andrea’s looked at the ultrasound picture of Melissa’s baby. She brought it to her lips, taping it several times as she stared at a very frazzled Dean. “He looks normal.”
“On the outside, yes.” Dean’s stated. “We have to abort it.”
“Do you hear yourself, Dr. Hayes?” Andrea asked sternly. “This is life.”
“Not the way it’s meant to be.”
“You knew there was a chance of that when you proceeded, you knew it. Now you want to turn it all back? Take it back? You’re a scientist. Do you always abort your experiments?”
“We’re talking about Melissa’s life here, Andrea.” Dean snatched up the photo. “Yes, this baby looks normal. Looks. He’s approximately four week’s gestation and is measuring a very large twenty-two weeks. All characteristics appear to be normal, but he is not. G.A.F. number thirty seven.” Dean pulled out a sheet of paper. “Genetically enhanced male. Intelligence level seven. I looked up their level-seven. Level-seven intelligence are designed for manual labor, physically created to withstand the elements.” Dean held up the paper. “That’s exactly what it says, withstand the elements without any detrimental effects to mental or physical state. Therefore lessening the chance of the worker becoming non-viable.” Dean slapped the paper down. “Not to mention, less-than-intelligent.”
“You want to destroy this life because he’ll be less than intelligent?”
“No.” Dean drastically shook his head, passion consumed his tone of argument. “By this little black and white picture he looks normal. But designed to withstand elements. What the hell is that? And you are forgetting the most important thing. G.A.F., doesn’t stand for genetically altered fetus. It stands for growth accelerated fetus. Designed to achieve complete gestation not in forty weeks, but in eight weeks. The human body is not designed to give birth that quickly, you know that and I know that. We have to abort to eliminate any risk to Melissa . . .” A very strong and stern ‘no’ came into the room. Dean and Andrea both looked to the door, Melissa stood there.
“No, Dean.” Melissa shut the door. “I’ve been listening, I’m sorry. But I can’t sit in the hall and let you determine the fate of my baby.” She rubbed her hand over
her stomach.
Dean was rattled in shock by her statement. “Melissa look . . .”
“No, Dean.” Melissa spoke softly. “You look. I feel this child move . . . move.” She sat down in a chair next to him, speaking from her heart. “Since I was fifteen years old I was told I would never have a child. I want this. Isn’t it life, no matter what it is?” She looked to Andrea. “Isn’t it life?”
Andrea leaned into her desk. “Dean’s concerned about you. You have approximately four more weeks to go, the shock of going into such a sudden labor could be deadly.”
“Then take the baby out before he’s due.” Melissa leaned in.
Andrea the woman heard her, but Andrea the doctor had to think. She leaned back, resembling Joe just a bit as she sank into thought. “We could do that. Maybe in three weeks.”
Dean’s hand slammed down on the table. “No. Don’t risk it.”
Andrea, whose hands were in a prayer motion at her lips, turned to Melissa. “I will have it be your call.”
Melissa smiled slightly. “I’m risking it. I have faith in you two.”
Dean stood to his feet. “It’s your life we’re talking about here, Melissa. I want my objection known.” Bewildered, beaten, with an outstanding argument given, but not heard, Dean picked up his report, giving into the recent defeat, and moved on. He had more work to do, and more to learn.
^^^^
“Son of a bitch.” Joe exclaimed in disgust as he screeched the fast moving wheels of the truck to a halt. The flock of birds that had gathered on the highway like something from a Hitchcock film, scattered like a black cloud into the air at the approaching vehicle. “What in God’s name is going on?”
Michael, nervous in the back seat, tapped Joe on the shoulder. “The military.”
Slamming his hand hard against the steering wheel, Joe looked to the rear view mirror. “There is no military!” He opened the truck door. “At least I didn’t think there was.”
Greg joined him looking at the scattered bodies. “Six?”
Joe shaded his eyes from the bright sun, looking about. “Nope. Eight.” His hand extended out. “One over there, and another, sort of, over there.” Joe moved closer to the bodies. “Frank. Two shots, chest and head.” Hands on hips, Joe looked upon the bodies, studying the scene, speaking his thoughts low and out loud. “Tell me something, Frank. Anything.” Joe reached his hand up rubbing his head. And he took in the angle of the fallen bodies. He spun his body to face the wooded area to his left. “They shot from somewhere over there. There’s a grade. Let’s check it out.”
Greg ran over first. Joe hem-hawed along at a slower pace. “Hey, Joe! They went back into the woods.” He was staring down into the grass.
“How do you know?” Joe ran back over and saw what Greg did. A trail of bloody footprints leading from the road, and fading into the woods. “I’ll be damned, he’s heading east.”
“No Joe, these woods are west.”
“My son is not that stupid. This is a fake trail. He’s trying to throw them off.” Joe turned back around, heading up to the truck. Once there he reached inside, giving a smile to Michael, grabbed the map from the visor, then spread it out on the hood of the truck. “All right.” Joe took a pen. “Here’s where we found the first bodies.” He circled the area and mumbled to himself in thought about what Frank would assume and wouldn’t. Joe folded the map. “Let’s go.”
“Whoa-whoa Wait.” Greg stated panicked. “We aren’t looking for them?”
“Not right now we aren’t. He’s heading east for a while before going north. We have to head home, then at dawn send out the choppers to look for them.”
“How will we know where they are?” Greg asked as he and Joe got back in the truck.
“Estimate.” Joe slammed the truck door. “He’s only going to hike it about thirty miles a day with her. We can get a pretty good guess where he’ll be.”
“What if he just heads east?”
“He won’t.” Joe started the truck. “He’ll go far enough out to throw them off. But he is going to count on those choppers.” He placed the truck in drive. “Let’s head home.”
“Can we not drive over the bodies . . .” Greg bounced up and down a few times. “You had to drive over them?”
“What the hell do they care? And be a man for Christ’s sake.” Joe pulled out a cigarette from his pocket as he drove home. He had to make it back to Beginnings quickly. Planning had to be done. Not only were Frank and Ellen wandering around in the unscathed world, but George and Miguel were still at the installation. Getting them out had to be a priority. Not only were George and Miguel Beginnings’ people, they were originals, and to Joe, they were family.
Joe began his phase of planning almost immediately, in his mind, in the cab of that truck. He wanted to have it straight and nearly lay out, so he could set it in motion the moment he walked through those gates of home.
^^^^
George kept his stride slow, walking the hall of floor nineteen alongside Dr. Theodore Peltzer. He stood the same height as George, the same built, yet much younger. Dr. Peltzer, a cyborg-physicist, handled the questions that George tossed at him with accuracy.
“They will follow their instructions?” George asked, his hands behind his back as he walked.
“To the specifications. The second group of soldiers should be back by morning, are they to be given the same instructions?”
“No.” George shook his head. “ I want the second group to march straight to Greeley, go that extra fifty miles, and then fan back toward us. Southeast and southwest. Knowing Frank, he’s going to stay off the highway. Doing about twenty miles a day with Ellen. It’s my hopes that our men will pass them, But . . . coming back, intercept them” George paused and looked into the large window before him. The room was filled with people, all wearing hospital gowns, all staring blankly outward. He tapped on the glass. “They don’t respond.”
“Not yet they won’t. They’re only in step one. They’ve had the laser lobotomy, we just need to implant them with the chip also. Then they’ll be easy to train. Just like our soldiers. We’ll ship them out in another week.”
“Good, we have to get them out and down there. On the outside chance Beginnings tries to pull some rescue operation, I don’t want them here.” George reached out bracing the arm of Dr. Peltzer. “I’ll leave you to your work. Just keep in mind Doctor, time is of a grave importance.”
“I do not understand why. If we work at our own pace, we’ll be much more able to complete everything with precision.”
“True.” George nodded. “But remember. It’s only been a month or so for you, since the world was normal. It’s been six years for me. Six years was a lot longer than we planned. And in six years, how much further do you suppose everyone else has gotten?” George raised his eyebrows, released the doctor’s arm and walked down the hall.
^^^^
“Goods?” Ellen stopped abruptly, the dust below her feet clouding up. Her mouth dropped open as she stared at the wood framed building, tall brown bushes meeting the window, the single gas pump in front over turned. “You think you’re going to find me something to wear in a place called, Bob’s Goods?”
“Sit!” Frank pointed to the wooden step that led to the long porch. “I’ll be right out.”
“Can’t I go in with . . .”
“No.” Frank rolled his eyes and tried the door knob, it was locked. It only took one shove with his shoulder and the door opened with a creek.
Ellen kicked her feet on the dirt below her, she could hear Frank’s coughing coming from inside. She mumbled out loud to herself. “Choking on the dust, huh Frank?” She kicked her feet. She listen to Frank as he shuffled about in the store. She’d hear things crash, he’d cough, then say ‘fuck’. Ellen giggled. Then she caught whiff of it, that oh-too-familiar survivor smell. She heard a creak then the board she sat on bounced up . . . she was no longer alone. Shifting her eyes only, she looked to see who or what just sat down next
to her.
He smiled at her, the man did. No more than thirty years old, his longer brown hair, cut into a page boy hair cut, blew a little in the wind. He wasn’t dirty, not at all. He looked more like a farm hand then a survivor. “Hi.” He spoke nervously. His nose twitched as he smiled. A look of excitement on his face.
“Hi.” Ellen spoke with a smile, no fear of the man at all. In fact she wanted to laugh at the nervous, skinny guy, especially with bad hair like he had. Ellen figured it was a poor taste practical joke one of his fellow survivors played on him.
“We-we saw-saw you com-coming up the road, the roadway.” His head twitched as he spoke quickly. “We live on a far-farm. Twelve-twelve of us. Gosh your pret-pretty.” He touched her hair lifting it.
“Thanks-thanks.” Ellen pulled his hand away.
“We were won-wondering, if-if, you may-maybe.” He sniffled and rubbed his nose. “Would like to-to com-come with us to have food. We have a-a deer. Gosh your pret-pretty.”
“El, I found some . . .” Frank stepped out with a thump on the wooden porch. “ . . .thing.” He reached his hand down to Ellen. “Let’s go.” He didn’t take his eyes of the stranger.
“Look Frank, I made a new friend.” Ellen ignored his hand. “What’s your name?”
“Os-Oscar.”
“Frank, this is Os-Oscar.”
Frank grunted and grabbed Ellen’s hand. “El, we have to move.”
“Frank, Os-Oscar invited me to a picnic. Him and his friends are having a deer roast.” She smiled at Oscar. He still hadn’t picked up on her sarcasm. “He wants me to come.”
Oscar nodded his head very fast. “She’s pret-pretty. We have fo-food. Wanna trade?”
Frank adjusted the gear he had. “You wanna me to trade my wife for food?” Frank rubbed his goatee. “Hmm. I don’t know El, I’m pretty hungry, feel like hooking him up?”
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 114
