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

by Jacqueline Druga

  Pulling over just past Denver, signified it was time to change drivers. Frank needed the break and wanted to rest and clear his mind for the rest of the trip that wasn’t that far from over. It was smooth driving down, no militant groups canvassing the roads like zombies from a ‘B’ horror flick. Just the overgrown wilderness and the animals that sometimes, curiously peeked from the camouflage of the trees to see what the strange noise was.

  Jumping into the back of the truck, Frank knew it had been a while since he pestered and made Dean nervous. He took a seat right next to Dean and perched his rifle between his legs.

  Dean looked oddly at Frank who smiled at him, his stomach twitched.

  “Hey Dean. You’ve been pretty quiet most of the trip.”

  “I’ve been sleeping.” Dean patted down his hair. “Why?”

  “I’m just being concerned.” Frank hid the smile that crept up from Dean’s nervousness. “I thought something was bothering you. Would you like to talk about it?”

  Dean peered at Frank through the hand that covered his eyes. “Oh you have this all planned don’t you?” He scooted further from Frank. “I know Frank. Others do too.”

  Frank shook his head and laughed. He smiled a huge smile watching Dean edge more away, and he knew he could relax. He laid his head against the back of the truck and closed his eyes.

  ^^^^

  George knew the end to his time in that installation was near. Lowered belongings and equipment to the twenty-seventh floor would soon be raised back up on the next day’s light when George left the installation. He was packed already. His small bag containing the few items he brought, plus the one he didn’t, the case containing the drug he fully planned on giving Joe. In a sense George, couldn’t wait to get back home. Plan or no plan there were actually people in Beginnings he missed. Henry for one, Andrea, he had the best story to tell her, and a couple of the survivors. That was it. The rest he really didn’t care much for.

  George made it back to his room, the late breakfast, or whatever it was he ingested, not setting right with him. He had a meeting with Jeffrey and Joanna in the early afternoon, and he wanted to be in top shape for it. He didn’t want to sound like a sick old bird barking out orders on how not to screw things up while he was gone. He would be much less than threatening if he began gagging in the middle of his speech. An after meal nap would help. And that was where George headed.

  ^^^^

  Frank hustled up the grade not far from the installation to the secluded area where the others worked diligently to conceal the truck. “Gather round.” Frank called to them, as he sat on the ground waiting. As soon as the other seven encircled him, Frank began to talk. “All right. There are two at the front gate. One at the guard station and two at the tunnel entrance. Now Dean and I are going to make it down the brush near the front. We’ll hold ground there. Wait until you see us down by the gate. Once you do, I want them taken out. Try to get them in one shot. Arrows only. After we see the coast clear, Dean and I will head on in, and take it from there. I want all of you to stay put until we give you an all clear signal. Got that?” He saw the agreement of everyone. “Now let’s do one more weapons check and head on out.” Frank stood up. “It’s show time, ladies.”

  ^^^^

  Ellen walked into the calm quiet of the chapel. It would have been a perfect place had it not been for Henry standing on the ladder fixing that ceiling light he never could get right. And there was Andrea perched in a pew directly under him. She was who Ellen sought. Avoiding walking under the ladder--not a good time to do that--she slid in the pew next to Andrea. “Joe said I could find you here.”

  “I’ve been here all morning.” Andrea’s eyes were closed, a bible on her lap. “It’s very comforting.” A pattering sound and plaster fell on her bible, Andrea wiped it away.

  “Under Henry?” Ellen brushed off her arms.

  “I was here first. I wasn’t moving. Besides I don’t even notice him.”

  “How could you not.” Ellen looked up to the clanking fix it guy, her face greeted with white stuff. Ellen ran her hand across her mouth. “What’s going on?”

  “I was thinking and talking to the Lord.”

  “Concerned about Miguel?” Ellen rested her hand on Andrea’s knees. She felt the plaster again, she bit her lip and disgustingly looked up and shook her head at Henry.

  “No I know he’s in good hands.”

  “That’s right.” Ellen patted her knee. “Our men will bring him home.”

  “That’s not the hands he’s in.” Andrea rested her hand on her bible.

  “No Andrea, you’re wrong.”

  “I don’t believe so. I’ve feared it for a while, and now I feel it.” Andrea spoke somberly. “I truly feel it. Ellen, do you think that, if God forbid, something happened to Frank, do you think you would sense that?”

  Ellen lowered her head. “Yes, I would.”

  “Then why don’t you believe me when I tell you what I sense.”

  “Because I don’t want it to be true.”

  “Neither do I.” Andrea placed her hand over Ellen’s. “Stay with me Ellen. Stay and pray with me.”

  “I’ll stay Andrea, but I’m not going to pray. I think I annoy Him.” Ellen looked up. “And none of us need to have Him annoyed right now. We need Him on our side.”

  Andrea smiled and leaned closer to Ellen, she sat there with her, taking comfort and hope with her friend.

  ^^^^

  Frank and Dean hid down in the brush not fifteen feet from where the front gate guards stood. They lay on their stomachs, crossbows aimed, and they waited.

  “Dean.” Frank whispered. “See that box on the corner of the fence on the left? Set your aim there, tried to hit that, that’s a current box. Take that out and I’ll head for the lock box control. When you hear the arrows, shoot.”

  “Got it.” Dean found his target.

  Frank, though aiming, kept his sight toward the hill. He waited for his men to shoot. He knew it was coming when he saw the thin flash of light, like a shooting star in the woods, as the sun caught the silver tipped arrow head. With a whistling sound, the arrows sailed downward, like the rain of an Indian attack, two sets from above, and Dean and Frank fired their own. Sparks flew from the current and lock boxes as the guards, all five of them fell to the ground.

  Rushing forward on Frank’s ‘Now!’ Dean and Frank hit the fence.

  Using the butt of his cross bow, Frank knocked against the metal fencing to open it. And they ran toward the tunnel opening. “Gas cans, three Dean.”

  Dean as he ran, handed them one by one to Frank. “You should only need one.”

  “Have to be sure.” Stopping at the opening, Frank pulled the tab on the first can and threw it as hard as he could inward. He did the same with the next two. When they heard the safety sound of the three popping cans they knew the gas was released.

  Dean watched his watch. “Thirty seconds to take effect. Twenty . . . ten . . . time.” Following Frank who ran fast through the semi dark tunnel, Dean could hear the cries, painful cries emanating toward him the closer he drew. As he reached the end of the tunnel he saw the source of those cries. Four uniformed men lay on the ground, pools of blood engulfed their shaking bodies. “Whoa.” Dean slowed down.

  “Come on Dean.”

  “It works Frank. Let me just stay and watch the effects.”

  “Come on!” Frank grabbed and tugged his arm. “Elevator’s this way.” He slowed up at the silver doors. He saw the digital display above the elevator. “It’s on its way up. Flush against the wall.” Frank pressed the button and pulled Dean to his side. Pulling out his knife he waited.

  The doors opened and the first unsuspecting guard darted off, he never made it far, Frank grabbed him by the hair, yanked him back, and slit his throat. The second guard saw Frank, but fumbled in his attempt to grab him weapon. Frank clenched his fist, connected with the guard and grabbed him before he could fall backwards. In one motion, Frank swung the guard’s ba
ck to him, braced his forehead, and in one quick jolt, snapped his neck. “Let’s go.” Frank snuck his hand in the elevator and pressed twenty-seven. He let the doors start to close and he stuck the thin metal bar down to stop it. Using his strength, he pried the doors back open and held them that way. He leaned against the doors watching the elevator lower. “A long way down.” He whistled. “So don’t slip.”

  “You’re an asshole.” Dean grabbed another bar from Frank’s backpack and secured the doors.

  Frank smiled and held his hand out in a point to the shaft. All yours. Ladder going up is to your right.”

  “Where are you going to be?”

  “Right behind you.”

  Dean began to step through, he made one mistake, he looked down. “Shit, I’m dead if I fall. Frank, you’re not gonna shove me are you?” He stepped through grabbing the rungs.

  “I’ll just wait until after you released the weapon.”

  “Funny Frank, really funny.” Dean climbed up all the way up. Adjusting his projection gun behind him, Dean lifted himself into the vent, he crawled down some and waited on Frank. “Here it is.” He spotted the main air shaft and pulled on the grate. “It’s stuck.”

  “Watch out.” Frank pulled out the thin metal bar again and jarred it open. He dropped the rope from his shoulder, unraveling the end. “Let’s get this around your waist.”

  Dean felt the rope. “This will hold me, right?”

  “No. I’ll hold you. Ready?”

  Dean peaked down the vent he was to crawl down into. “I just know I’m going to be claustrophobic in there.”

  “Will you please quit whining? Now get down there. I have the end so if you slip, I got you.”

  “Are you sure?” Dean lowered his legs in.

  “I’m sure. Now yell up when your about ten feet from that fan. Brace yourself against the wall like I told you. Got that?”

  Dean nodded nervously. “Back against one side, feet on the other.”

  “Aim between your legs.”

  Dean began to use the robe to climb down, he muttered softly as he did. “Aim between my legs. I can’t breathe. It’s too cramped.” He saw where he was. “I’m there, Frank.” Using his feet Dean pushed himself back. He thought, easy enough, as he tried to crouch in a suspended squat, the slickness of the walls took him by surprise and he slipped. The tension of the rope saved him.

  “Dean, what are you doing?”

  “I’m bracing myself. It’s slippery.” Dean finally found his position. He aimed the projection weapon between his legs. “Come on fan turn on so I can get out of here. Are you sure you’re all right holding me up. I’m not too heavy right?”

  “No Dean you’re not. God it’s like holding up my wife, and trust me, I’ve suspended her for longer than fourteen minutes.

  “Spare me Frank.” Dean rolled his eyes.

  Sounding about as frantic as he could, Frank called down to Dean. “Oh shit Dean, the ropes breaking.”

  “Pull me up! Hurry!"

  “Just kidding.” Frank laughed.

  “God, are you an asshole.” Dean tried to slow his heart beat that raced within him. He could hear Frank laughing above him, that big-shot laugh. “You’re real cute, Frank.” Dean’s finger held tight to the gun.

  “What’s the matter, Dean?” Frank teased him as he leaned with his back against the vent wall, the shaft Dean was in, between his legs. The rope wrapped securely around his wrist. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “No I don’t.” Dean glared up. “I cannot believe I’m allowing my life to dangle in your hands. Your will.”

  Frank took an offense. “I’ll have you know other men would feel trusted with me holding this rope. Other men would not be this much of a pansy.”

  “Pansy!” Dean grew annoyed and his voice raised higher. “Frank, other men have not had sex with your wife!”

  “What!?” Frank looked down. “What did you say?”

  “I mean, you know what I mean.” Dean breathed heavily.

  “Hey Dean!” Frank called down. “Tell me right now, are you having an affair with my wife?”

  “Frank, what are you stupid? If I was or wasn’t, do you really think I’d tell you right here while you have me dangling above the killer fan.” Getting ready for more Frank backlash, he heard it, the humming. “Frank, I think it’s time.”

  Changing his tone, Frank gripped tighter, just on the outside chance the fan had more suction then they anticipated. “Brace yourself and get ready. I have you, don’t worry about it.”

  Dean wiped the sweat that formed from his eyes and laid his finger on the trigger. With the whoosh of the fan, the sound of a slow motor started and grew faster and louder. The spinning blades not ten feet below him were his sign. It was time to begin. No turning back. Dean aimed his weapon.

  ^^^^

  Jeffrey Barnett handed George the small wrapped up package. “Now secure this in your bag. You’ll need this data. I left instructions on how to download this onto the main cryo-lab computers.”

  George took it and placed it in his small bag. “It will work?”

  “Oh sure.” Jeffrey spoke. “Just in case they access the hidden files in the computer. They have to get past the password, but if they do, this ensures that what they see, they won’t see very long.”

  Joanna added to it. “Make sure you access the networking between the systems down there. When one goes, the others will go at hour intervals.”

  George zipped up his bag. “How much damage will be done? I can’t take a chance of the underneath of Beginnings being wiped out.”

  “Not much.” Jeffrey answered. “That’s why you have to network the software. The first will be a subtle explosion. If there’s such a thing. Now the cryo lab section, sits on a shaft about ten feet deep. It should be enough to knock the floor out, then the second explosion will just ensure the entombment of anyone there.”

  George liked what her heard. “Of course the likely hood of them even breaking the password to that info is slim. But just on that chance . . .” He patted his duffel bag. “They won’t know about me for very long.”

  “That’s correct.” Joanna’s nose crinkled. “What is that smell?”

  Jeffrey looked around. “I don’t smell . . .” With a loud cry out, Jeffrey grabbed his head. He pressed his palms tightly to his temples.

  Joanna did the same. Within seconds, sweat formed on both of their brows and they started to tremble.

  George’s eyes shifted, he was confused. “Are you two . . .” He cut his words short. Joanna and Jeffery both began to shake where they stood as if they were being electrocuted. The sweat beads that were forming on their brows, turned into bubbling blisters on their red flushed skin.

  Jeffrey fell to the floor screaming cries of agony. Joanna held firm to her stand a bit longer.

  “Holy Christ!” George in a panic looked at them. “Were you working on something in one of the . . . I’m getting out of here.” As he stepped over Jeffrey, Joanna buckled to her knees.

  She gripped with dear life to George’s leg. “Help . . . Help me.” Her head twitched violently. Blood flowed from her eyes, her ears, her nose and her mouth. The blisters that formed grew bigger, oozing, exploding with blood and pus. A substance that acted as an acid burned the skin more as it flowed from the wound that expelled it. “Help . . . please.”

  George felt her grip weaken, but still holding him back. Without pity, without remorse, he looked down to her. “Get off of me.” He could have shaken her free, but he choose not to. He pulled back his foot blasting a fierce blow to her face to remove her. Instead of kicking her off like he intended, his foot sailed right through her head as if she were Jell-O. After cringing and pulling back, he shook off his shoe, opened his door with fury and ran out. Up and down the halls were the same vision. The same horrifying vision. Anyone who could still move, tried desperately for the elevator as if it was an escape from the death they seemed to face. Anyone who lay on the ground, their bodies seemingly d
isintegrated before George’s eyes.

  ^^^^

  “Time!” Dean yelled up to Frank. “Lift me.”

  Frank pulled on the rope, quickly, as Dean used his feet and hands to help with Frank’s efforts. Once Dean had made it up, Frank allowed him to crawl ahead first. “As soon as we get up there, let’s go signal our guys. You think it worked?”

  “I know it worked.” Dean reached the end of the vent and looking less than agile, he reached over to his right for the ladder down. He could see the doors to the elevator still open. They were his guiding light. When he reached the bottom he looked up. Frank still sat in the vent. “You coming?”

  “I’m adjusting, I’ll be right there.” Frank tightened and secured his belongs against him.

  Standing solid on the first floor, Dean stuck his head in the shaft to watch Frank take the first rung. As Frank’s foot extended to the second, a loud buzzing echoed through the hollow shaft followed by a clank, with it brought a sizzling crack, a zapping and sparks. Frank flew backwards. His hand releasing the ladder for a brief second before he caught himself again but only with a loud cry out in pain.

  “Frank?” Dean hollered in panic. “The elevator’s coming!”

  “I’m caught up!” Frank held on with one hand, his face scrunched up as he reached desperately behind him.

  “Frank you have . . .” Dean peered down to the slow moving elevator. If it made it to Frank before Frank freed himself into the vent right next to him, it would kill him. “I’m coming up.”

  “No!” Frank’s words were painful, he tried hard to loosen what had not only caught his clothes, but a portion of his back as well. “Too dangerous.”

  “Tough.” Dean, without fear of falling, leaped out to the ladder in the shaft and quickly, in a race against time, crawled up.

  “Get out of this shaft!” Frank looked down. “Now!”

  “No!” Dean, his body pressed nearly to Frank, held on with one hand as he maneuvered his to see where Frank was stuck. “I can get this.”