^^^^
“Where is he, Frank?” Dean hurried to the back gate where Frank waited for him. He toted a jar in his hand.
“He’s this way. And . . . it’s about time you showed up.” Frank led the way.
“Sorry. I had to at least help Ellen start to get the lab in order after we tried to exam Marcus this morning.”
“Out of your control again?” Frank shook his head as he walked deeper into the woods. “You need bigger people with you guys. Killer baby Marcus is almost as tall as you both.”
“Frank, that’s terrible. He’s not a killer baby,” Dean defended. “Just sort of mutated.”
“Dean,” Frank stated his name. “I saw what he did to that chicken the last time he got loose.”
“And no one is supposed to know about that,” Dean instructed. “How much further?”
“I dropped the SUT somewhere around here.” Frank peered around.
Mouthing the word ‘SUT?’ Dean followed Frank.
“Oh!” He rushed to the right. “Here.” Frank stood above the body and rolled him over with his foot. “All yours.”
Dean stopped as soon as he saw the man. “Aw, Frank. What did you do?” He asked almost whining as he knelt before the body and set down his specimen jar.
“I killed him.”
“I’d say.” Dean threw his hands up in the air. “I can’t use him.”
“Why not? You said you needed to examine his brain for that chip.”
“Yes I do. But you shot him in the head. He has no brains left.” Dean moved to the top of the body and to the gunshot wound that seemed to take a two inch section of his forehead out. Pulling out gloves, Dean put them on and pulled out a penlight from his pocket. He shined it through the entrance wound of the forehead while probing his fingers inside. “Nothing. Frontal lobe is completely shot . . . so to speak.” Dean took off his gloves. “I need a viable sample, Frank.” He stood up. “You think there will be more?”
“Inevitable.”
“What are the chances of you getting me one with the head still in one piece?”
“I can do that.” Frank nodded and began to walk.
“Any chance . . . you bringing me one alive?”
“I can do that, too. But I thought you wanted to get a brain sample.”
“Well . . .” Dean cleared his throat and picked up his jar and followed Frank back to the gate. “It would be a lot easier, and scientifically, it would breed a better sample if the subject was alive during the expulsion process.”
“You’re gonna take out the man’s brain while he’s still alive?” Frank asked.
“A fresher sample. That would tell me what part of the brain exactly was removed. I could even watch it function for a while . . .”
“Dean that’s cold. And people talk about me.” Frank waited until they passed through the gate and he gave security the call to arm it again.
“It’s science. And uh . . . thanks for trying today.”
“No problem. And Dean?” He called to Dean as walked further from him. “I’ll bring you a live one. If not, I’ll bring you his head. Will that work?”
“Uh . . .” Dean walked backwards. “Yeah, that’ll work. Don’t wait too long though.”
Frank shook his head in a ‘no problem’ manner, and gave a thumbs up. He watched Dean leave down the small grade of the hill. “The man is sick.”
^^^^
Henry’s long coal black hair dangled over his face when his head dropped forward and he let out a long dramatic fake cry. “No, Joe.”
“Henry.” Joe slammed his hand on the desk. “It’s decided, you have to make the run anyhow.”
Henry lifted his head. He looked at George pleadingly then at Joe. “A run, I’ll make. But, Joe, you guys are sending me to North Dakota.”
“To pick up Jason Godrichson’s work.” Joe said.
“A time machine.” Henry corrected. “Call it what he thinks it is. A time machine.” He grunted. “You have me going to North Dakota for a time machine. Think about it.”
“I did.” Joe stated. “And whether he believes he is H.G. Wells or not has no bearing. It’s his life’s work and he’s been very helpful here. You’ll do the run to North Dakota.”
“Fine.” Henry slumped in the chair. “Go to North Dakota. Run mechanics. Do containment while El is in the lab. Be a tower hero. I’m only one man. Well . . . at least I helped get one today.”
George looked confused. “Get one what?”
Henry was happy and proud to answer. “One of those . . .”
“Elks.” Joe interrupted. “Damn things keep knocking the perimeter off. Henry spotted him. Good job.”
“But, Joe.” Henry spoke up. “I . . .”
“Henry!” Joe snapped. “No need to be modest. Frank told me the whole thing.”
Henry threw his hands up then let them fall. “Fine.” He stared puzzled and forward at Joe.
“That should be it.” Joe gathered up the papers. “I’m heading off to plastics. George, you’ll do a shift fill-in at the bakery.”
“I thought we needed me in the security bay?” George asked.
“Um, no,” Joe said. “Greg’s training a new man. We’re good there. Bakery.”
“All right.” George shrugged and stood up. He noticed Henry wasn’t moving. He sat in the chair biting his nails. “Something wrong, Henry? We’re done.”
“Sort of,” Henry said. “I’m just having a bit of a personal problem with Frank. I’d like to talk to Joe about it.”
“Oh.” George walked to the door. “I’ll just leave you two to air it out.”
Joe, with raised eyes, collected his papers as he waited for George to leave. “What’s going on? And be forewarned I’m not in the mood to hear you bitch about my son.”
“I don’t have a problem with Frank. It’s you.”
Joe stopped what he was doing. “You have a problem with me? Then I suggest you spill it son. I have to get to plastics.”
“Not you personally. Wanna tell me what’s going on? Why you hid the fact that we got a SUT from George?”
“No particular reason. I just wanted to keep that between me and security.” Joe walked from behind his desk.
“It’s me Joe, come on.” Henry stood up. “George is council.”
“Yes, I know.” Joe moved to the door.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Henry.” Joe grasped his shoulder as he walked by Henry. “Just do me a favor and keep it under wraps for a little while. Thanks.”
Henry didn’t care much for the answer that Joe had given him. And Joe didn’t elaborate any further. He just left. Treating it like anything else that bothered him, Henry would not let it leave his mind until he figured out what Joe was up to.
CHAPTER TWO
Wiping up the last of the cleaning solution and seeing a smudge free cloth was Ellen’s signal that she was done. Remnants of a bad day with Marcus were gone. She tossed the rag in the cryo-lab sink like a basketball. “Done.” She smiled and turned to Dean who sat before a computer. “Dean?” She walked to him. “I’m going home.”
Snapping out of his work daze, Dean raised his eyes and turned his stool. “So early?”
“Early?” Ellen snickered. “It’s after four. What are you engrossed in?”
“Just reading over the ingredients of our identified seven vials.”
“Dean? If we identified them, why are you concentrating on them? We have forty-five others to work on.”
“I know.” Dean rubbed his eyes. “Trying to find a connection.”
“You look tired. Find one later. Go home, rest. Frank and I have the kids. Come back tonight.”
Dean nodded. “Maybe I will. You wanna work with me tonight?”
“Oh, no, Dr. Hayes.” Ellen waved a finger. “I learned a lesson working at night with you.”
“There you go joking about it again.” Dean lifted his hand as she laughed. “I’m serious El, you keep ignoring it happened, pretty so
on you’ll deny it all together.”
“Deny what?” Ellen asked. “Are we talking about the same thing?”
“Our little . . . incident.”
“Oh, my God. Did we have an incident?” She shook her head when Dean gave up. “Night, Dean. See ya tomorrow.” She moved to the open door, only to find herself not walking out into the hall, but into Joe. “Oh, hi Joe. Bye Joe.”
Before Joe could respond, Ellen was happily moving down the tunnels. Shrugging he stepped in the lab. “Hey, Dean.” He made his announcement.
“Hey, Joe.” Dean turned around. “What brings you here?”
“Kind of hoping you had a progress report for me.”
“Oh, I could give you one. But if you want actual progress, that I can’t do.”
“Still at seven with the vials?” Joe asked.
“Yeah. I’m trying a different route though.” Dean saw he had Joe’s interest and waited until he moved closer. “I’m breaking them down, finding a common connection, and possibly coming up with guesses as to what they are so I can eliminate them that way.”
“Sort of like if you guessed one of those vials were chicken pox. You’d test them all for chicken pox.”
“Exactly.” Dean said. “And chicken pox we got. Vial forty-three.” He smiled. “Sorry I can’t help with anything else. We’re still theorizing that the hidden files in the computer system contain information we don’t know. Which I’m led to believe, or why else would they be hidden.”
“You haven’t found those files yet?” Joe questioned.
“Oh sure, Henry did, all three hundred of them. But it’s useless, they’re all password protected.”
“And you can’t break them?”
“To be honest, Ellen and I tried a few times, but we gave up. After three tries the system shuts down and you have to boot up all over again. It becomes tedious.”
“Thanks, Dean.” Joe gave a smile and a swift pat to his shoulder. “I’ll check back with you later.”
“Joe?” Dean called to him. “You’re acting like I just told you something you needed to hear.”
“Actually . . .” Joe opened the door. “You did.” He paused. “Oh, and one more thing you told me. But it was something I didn’t want to hear.”
Oddly, Dean looked at him. “What was that?”
Joe gave a knock on the door. “Let’s just say, if you and Ellen are going to discuss your little . . . incident, check the hall or at least make sure the door’s closed. Night Dean.” With a smile and a wink, Joe left.
Dean’s heart dropped and immediately he thought, ‘oh, shit’. After he calmed himself, grateful it was Joe and not anyone else, Dean returned to working on the vials.
^^^^
It was Frank’s version of a Walkman. Having Mark in the security bay place the radio microphone to the speaker of that small cassette player of Ellen’s, Frank could enjoy all his favorite songs. Of course what Frank listened to, everyone who had a radio listened to as well. Frank justified it as his right as head of security and he only asked for ‘Frank Radio’ one hour a day.
Frank stood before the fourth warehouse, screwdriver in hand, the security keypad to the building, dangling. He sang unknowingly louder than he thought to some obscure Journey song. In his own world, he just wanted to finish up and go home. The unexpected tap to his shoulder caused the last note Frank sang to squeal out. He spun around taking off his headset. “Oh, hey, George.”
“Thought you’d be home by now. It’s been a long day for you.” George tapped on his own watch.
“I was, but . . .” Frank lifted the cover to the keypad. “I remembered this. My father has been bitching at me for days to fix the keypad. And . . .” He screwed it in. “I did. I’m tired of hearing about it. This and those reports I’m behind on.”
“Was it the elk today that put you behind?”
Frank was a bit puzzled. “Elk?”
“Yeah, your father said you got one at the back gate.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Frank nodded then shook his head. “Elk.” Frank snickered at the thought of how his father was trying to outdo him on a better name for the SUTs. And Frank knew his name was better. He couldn’t even figure out what Elk stood for. But to save his father any embarrassment over coming up with a dumb name, Frank just pretended that was what they were called . . . for the time being.
“And not like you don’t have enough on your mind as it is,” George spoke understandingly.
“Exactly.” Frank shoved the screwdriver in his back pocket. “The keypad, reports, Elks. But . . . I’m going home now. I’m all caught up on everything and I won’t have to hear about it. My Dad should be happy. At least for a little bit. Night.” Frank gave a nod of his head and started to walk away.
“Night.” George took a step back and pretended to leave as well. As soon as he knew Frank was far enough out of sight, he returned to warehouse four and lifted a screwdriver from his own back pocket. He brought it to the keypad that Frank had just fixed. “Sorry about this Frank. But can’t have Joe happy, yet.” He unscrewed the pad. “Not yet.”
^^^^
A simple ‘hmm’ every once and a while from Jason Godrichson, was all the response he gave Henry. In the social hall, Jason nursed a drink. He occasionally ran his hands through his salt and pepper hair, but never looked at Henry. His eyes stayed transfixed on ‘Sam’ the mannequin as if the phony bartender would somehow get him out of the verbal lashing.
“And no dallying.” Henry instructed.
Jason sipped his drink.
“I hope this . . . thing doesn’t waste my gas. A heavy object will do that.”
Jason did his stock ‘hmm’. He knew all he had to do was abide through the complaints and Henry style-bitching and soon enough he would have his life’s work right in Beginnings with him. Of course, that would be after a four hour torturous trip each way. But it would be worth it in the long run.
“No excess baggage. I have a late meeting tonight so you’ll have to do some driving. But you can’t drive too fast. Or out of control.”
“Hmm.” Jason added a nod with his groan.
“I’ll be tired and a little irritable so be ready. O.K.” Henry gave a swat to Jason’s back. “I feel better about this. See you at five in the morning.”
Jason listened, sipped, and then turned his head to make sure Henry was gone. He breathed out in relief when he saw that he was. Being the newcomer in Beginnings, Jason had a lot to learn. He didn’t have much exposure to many people and he preferred it that way. He also had to admit he paid no attention to the community complaints about how annoying Henry could get. He doubted the truth behind them. But as Jason finished off his drink, he realized the merit in those complaints. And, oddly enough, he was grateful for Henry’s unnerving abilities. Because even just the fantasy of sticking Henry in the time machine and zapping him fifty years or so into the future was incentive enough for Jason to complete his life’s work.
^^^^
With an open mouth smile, saying the word ‘what’ in a high pitch voice, Johnny Slagel held Brian as he sat in a chair at the dining room table with Ellen. He talked to Brian, lifting him up to his eye level like Brian was a puppy dog. “He is getting so cute.”
“Yeah.” Ellen’s hand brushed against the table, she enjoyed her evening talk with Johnny.
“I can’t believe I’m gonna have one of these soon.”
“Johnny, please, you’re making me a very young grandmother. Don’t remind me.” She watched Johnny--so much like his father, in looks and actions--hold Brian to his nose pretending that Brian was attacking. Johnny would scream in fake pain. Ellen would shake her head and laugh. “I’m glad you came by tonight.” She saw Johnny lift him higher.
“Me too. He’s getting so big,” Johnny lowered the baby back down. “So has Jenny still been throwing digs about how far behind Brian is.”
“When isn’t she?” Ellen slumped on her hand, and then immediately jolted up and cringed when her daughter, Alexand
ra, let out a loud shrill happy scream. It was followed by Frank’s big mouth mumbling something. “God, Frank!” Ellen yelled into the living room. “Knock it off!” She shook her head. “He drives me nuts with them.”
“It makes me a little jealous.” Johnny cradled Brian.
“You want your Dad to wrestle with you? Johnny, don’t you think you’re a bit old?”
“No.” Johnny laughed. “Not that. Just, just the way he is with the twins, and Brian. I don’t know. Part of me wishes I had memories of him being like that with me when I was a kid.”
“Your Dad is a good father, Johnny.” Ellen’s hand rested on his arm.
“Now he is. El, come on. You know as well as I do, he was never around when I was a kid. He was always stationed away. I never saw him. And when he did come home, usually he and mom fought and he’d storm off somewhere.” Johnny looked down at Brian. “Hey, he’s asleep. I’ll lay him in the cradle and I have to take off.”
“So soon?”
“Dad has me on the tower at five a.m. then it’s the clinic.” Johnny stood up. “Long day.” He carried Brian over to the cradle which rested just inside the living room. He laid him down. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“O.K.” Ellen kissed him and started walking him to the door. “Frank, say goodnight to Johnny.”
“Night, John.” Frank tilted his head back on the couch.
“Night, Dad.” Johnny leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. “Night, El.”
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 127
