“Got it.” Not insulted Frank gave a thumbs up and moved to the door. “Just like in the first Rambo movie.” Frank opened the door. “Let’s go Dean. I may be great, but I can’t ride your bike for you too.”
Dean couldn’t help but chuckle. “Does it not figure that Frank just analogized himself like Rambo?” He stood up. “It would be amusing to see the Miles City Sheriff chase him out of town.” Still chuckling, Dean walked out.
Henry soon followed to the door. “I’m not a religious man, but I’m gonna pray they don’t screw things up.”
“Henry,” Joe scoffed with a laugh, “it’s a simple information gathering.”
“Yeah, but you’re sending Frank.” Henry walked out.
With the close of the door, both Joe and Jason nodded at Henry’s valid point. Sending Frank was a risk but both Joe and Jason were intelligent enough to know there was a bright side. If Frank did do something to mess things up, Henry would be really annoyed.
^^^^
Former Quantico Marine Headquarters
Sector 48B was an area the Society administrators liked to call the ‘dock and go’. A mere wait station for those deemed highly viable, men who needed little training and would be an asset to one of many different aspects of the Caceres Society. The area could house three thousand and it was pushing the limits. Tents sprawled out with cots lined up inside. Men hung about biding their time in the one to two week wait until they were placed. It was crowded and a lot like a homeless camp where even the Camp master hadn’t a clue on the names. They were only given numbers.
Each sector had a records man and he was the only individual who semi knew who lived in the sector. Sgt. Doyle headed to Harv, Sector 48B’s records man to check on the groups of men who defected in the night.
Sgt. Doyle knew Harv was probably trying to organize the personal data of the thousands of men out there before more were brought in. He hated to bother Harv, but he had too. The president had requested information on the defectors, and Sgt. Doyle only hoped Harv had the information organized enough to find it with little problem.
After knocking twice on the door of the small blue frame house where Harv deemed his place, Sgt. Doyle walked in. “Harv. It’s Tim. You here?” A step further into the home brought a stench that burned Sgt. Doyle’s nostrils. “Harv?”
The creak of the floorboards was the only sound as Sgt. Doyle made his way to the dining room. He stopped in the doorway. Back facing, Harv was in a chair at the dining room table. Stacks upon stacks of papers were everywhere. But Sgt. Doyle didn’t call out. He knew something was amiss. Not just the smell, but the dried blood that painted the table and the floor by Harv’s feet confirmed that suspicion.
He stepped closer, hand out to the salt and pepper hair of Harv. Sgt. Doyle reached down to the head on the table and lifted it just to look. Harv was dead. His throat had been sliced. And Sgt. Doyle knew by the dryness of the blood, the peeling sound made when he raised the head, that Harv had been dead for days.
^^^^
Beginnings, Montana
Frank turned off the motorcycle, stepped off of it and walked it into the garage. “John., he called to John Matoose who was kneeling before another bike. “Oh, wow. You picked up more. And this one’s way nicer than mine.”
“You like it huh?” John stood up. “It’s a shame we didn’t think about them sooner. They barely use any fuel.” He wiped his hands off. “Now security is stocked.”
“So these bikes were in good shape?” Frank walked over to him.
“Dusty, but excellent.” John knelt back down. “Good thing Dan used to be a biker. Speaking of Dan, Janet’s in labor. Another baby will soon born in Beginnings.” John made an adjustment. “I bet him and Bill are ecstatic. I remember Patrick and me last year when Caroline was born. I think he was more nervous than me. How’s Denice doing with that future grandchild of yours?” John looked up at Frank, rubbing in the grandfather fact.
“Good.” Frank folded his arms. “Johnny’s not real excited about this baby. But then again, Denice lives with Curt. Fuckin share shit confuses me.”
“They’re called understandings. And they’re a way of life.” John grunted as he worked on the bike. “Well, for some of us. They work. Johnny’s just young. I don’t think sharing Denice has anything to do with being happy about the baby.” John stood up and moved to a work bench and grabbed a set of keys. He tossed them to Frank. “Try her out.”
Like an excited kid, Frank hopped on the bike. He tried to start it but it choked up and died. “John?” Stepping off and making room for John to check it out, Frank heard the call in his radio headset. “Yeah Chris?”
In the east entrance tunnel, Chris, a shorter stocky man peered into the thick overgrown brush. “Frank. I have movement of sorts out here. Tower spot anything?”
“Not in that region. You need a team?” Frank asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t see anything. But I can hear . . . whoa!” Chris called out and flew backwards when he felt the brush against his chest.
“Chris. Come on. What’s going on?” Frank asked.
Chris laughed. He looked to see the frantic deer racing down the tunnel. “Ignore motions Frank. And for a while. We were just invaded by a deer.”
Frank’s laughter seeped through the airwaves. “Let me know if you need help catching him.”
“I will. Thanks.” Still laughing at his unfounded fear, Chris lowered the radio and saw him. The mangled hair, glaring eyes and dirty face. A savage. But he only saw him for a second. A gurgling sound and choke emanated from Chris when the savage lunged a spear into his throat.
Chris dropped down to the ground, and the savage followed by seven others rose like the deer, down the tunnels of Beginnings.
^^^^
Yes, he was head of mechanics, but Henry also hated deer. Eavesdropping over Frank’s channel told him that one was rampant in the tunnels. But Henry had promised Dean he’d find that water leak in the pipes that ran under the community. The last thing they needed was another line breaking. So flashlight in hand, Henry followed the stream.
Like a person floating into heaven, the stream led Henry to a light, but not a divine one. Henry found the cause of the water problem. The light seeped into the tunnels from the skills room in containment above. And Henry knew Ellen wasn’t paying attention to her survivors, because they once again opened the escape hatch, and in some sort of demented water basketball game, had urinated through it. Pure disgust came from Henry in the form of a grunt. And not wanting to chance being caught in a bodily shower or feasted on by a blood thirsty Bambi gone mad, Henry, figuring plumbing problem was solved, hurried to get out of that tunnel.
^^^^
Holding up her radio, Ellen walked into the small office that sat in the front of the containment building. She held the steel door that separated the office from the hall open with her backside. “News from the clinic on Janet.” She smiled to Dan.
“How is she?” Dan swiveled his chair to face her.
“Progressing. Andrea says not much longer.” Ellen hooked the radio on her belt.
Dan laughed a breath of relief. “Thanks for checking on her. I’m so nervous, I sound stupid when I check.”
“You’re a guy and this is your first kid.” Ellen moved to go back into containment, but stopped. “You know what, Dan. This is dumb. Bill’s gonna be here in a half hour. Go to the clinic.”
“Frank will have a fit.” Dan said.
“No, he won’t. What’s gonna happen? My people are secured and they are ones who aren’t dangerous. They’re just playing pee ball in the skills room.”
“El, I don’t know,” Dan said in false debate. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Go. Mike the Dog is here if there’s trouble. And Diane too. I’ll even tell Frank.”
“Thanks, El.” Taking full advantage of the opportunity, Dan bolted from his chair with excitement.
After a smile, Ellen shut and secured the metal door. She paused in the hall
and lifted her radio. “Hello, Frank. Hey, I let Dan go to the clinic. I don’t have a guard for a half hour, thanks.” Quickly, she shut off the volume so as not to hear Frank’s bitching response.
As she walked to her office, she spotted Mike the Dog hurrying to her on his hands and knees. “Hey Mike. I can’t take you out.” She walked into her office and sat behind her desk. She felt Mike nudge her leg. “Not now Mike. I have stupid reports.”
He nudged her again and barked.
“O.K.” She reached down blindly and patted him on the head. “Good boy.” Lifting up papers from the clipboard on her desk, she heard the human growl of Mike and felt him pulling her pant leg. “Mike!” She scolded, but he didn’t stop. “You want me to come with you?” She saw him not giving up. “All right.” She stood up and followed him. “I hope to God you didn’t pee on my skills room floor again. Not like it matters” Carrying her clipboard, Ellen followed Mike. He darted to the skills room doorway and backed up. “In here?” Shrugging, Ellen stepped to the door and stopped cold. The clipboard dropped from her hands when she saw the total bloodbath her skills room was.
Almost as if they were devouring prey, the savages dug into the bodies of the six survivors.
Ellen’s scream caused them to look up. One of them opened his mouth, released a shrill war cry type shriek, raised his arm and hurled a spear. Quickly, Ellen reached out and pulled the door shut at the same time she heard the spear hit the metal of it.
“Shit.” She held the handle. “Help!” She called out. “Shit.” Feet planted she felt the door moving. “Help!”
Diane flew from the dining area into the hall. She saw Ellen’s body jolting as she held back the door. She raced down the hall to her. “Ellen?”
“Get my radio. Call for help,” Ellen instructed. “Hurry.”
Diane lifted the radio from Ellen’s belt. “Frank. Frank.” She called into it. “It’s dead.”
“No it’s off,” Ellen told her. “Hurry,” she called out, panicked.
Fumbling, Diane turned the radio back on. “Frank. Joe. Someone. Help.”
“Hold it to my mouth,” Ellen said. “Frank, hurry. Come to containment.”
“El,” Frank blasted. “If this is a joke because you let Dan . . .”
“Frank!” Ellen screamed. “We have Indians in the skills room! Help!”
Frank, who had taken the motorcycle on a spin to proudly show his father his new transportation, looked up to Joe oddly. “They have what?”
“Who the hell knows?” Joe shrugged. His and smoothed over the black bike so impressed. “This is a beauty.” Suddenly Joe looked up. “Indians?”
“Fuck.” Frank took off. “Savages.”
Containment was close, a few buildings away, and Joe sped after his racing son.
“El!” Frank cried out her name as he raced through the security door. He could see Ellen vibrating from the door struggle.
“Frank,” Ellen said in relief.
“El. Step away from that . . .”
It appeared as if Ellen flew when the savages won control of the door, flinging it open violently and bodily bringing a screaming Ellen with it.
“Door. Fuck!” Frank barged ahead moving top speed to the skills room. His boots skid on the slick, blood lined floor into the vision of the savages encircling Ellen.
On her back, violently flipped over, Ellen peered up to the group of men holding their primitive weapons high. It was over. She knew it. The arrow tipped heads lunged down. And then . . . whoosh!
A grip to her ankle, a tug to her leg, and Ellen sailed in a fast slide out of that deadly circle a split second before the arrow heads clanked to the empty floor. The release of her leg sent Ellen on a childhood flashback ride on the ‘Slip and Slide’. Quickly she slid. The momentum across the skills room floor was broken only when she slammed into the wall. Out of her roll, she looked up to see Frank in a battle with the savages.
Hand to hand Frank fought the ensuing eight human beasts from outside the walls using the spear he fenced off the savages. Swinging, hitting, stabbing, and trying to seize an opportunity to grab hold of his gun. But they came at him all at the same time, trying to bring the big man down.
Ellen stumbled to a stand. She had to help. Just as her foot moved forward to do something--she didn’t know what--she knew she didn’t have to. Joe, with a gun, barreled into the room, weapon raised.
He stopped, he peered, and Joe looked as calm as if he were standing on a firing range. He picked off the second savage. The instant he dropped, Frank had the freedom to step back, retrieve his revolver, and join Joe in ending the bloody attack, loudly and quickly.
^^^^
“Did we at least get the deer?” Frank asked into his headset. He held one ear closed to block out the noise from the cleanup crew in the skills room. “O.K., good. Get back to me.”
Joe looked to Frank. “And?”
“And I’m definitely gonna post Sarge at that entrance. He’s psycho enough to handle any more sneak attacks. Rotate shifts there. Two men. That should work.”
“I agree. So, did they find anything?” Joe asked.
“You mean with the deer?”
“No.” Joe snapped. “The savages. Anymore?”
“No. Johnny’s doing another air surveillance. He didn’t spot any movement. Greg took a team out. They found evidence about two miles away of a camp. They probably watched us for a while seeing how we shut down and such and pulled this little stunt.”
“I didn’t think savages were that smart.”
“Give them more credit than that, Dad,” Frank stated with certainty. “After all . . .we all were intelligent men at one time. Were we not?”
Joe just stared at his son for the longest time following his comment. He wanted to remark, but he couldn’t. In Joe’s mind, Frank was doing good, sounding so credible up until that very moment. Then all Joe could do . . . was walk away.
^^^^
Like an anally detailed oriented secretary, Henry sat at his dining room table, small piles of paper spread neatly in front of him. He grabbed a few sheets, stapled them and set them to the side. Then in between his task he looked up to Dean who paced. “Don’t wear out my carpeting.”
“I’m not pacing that much,” Dean said, hands in his pockets. His attention was grabbed by the opening of the front door.
“Boys,” Joe said as he stepped in. He lifted his hand which held disks as he walked by Dean. “History. I don’t figure much will occur between now and tomorrow morning. But if it does we can copy another batch.” He haded straight to the dining room. “Put these in that purple panda pouch.”
“Thanks, Joe.” Henry took them and set them off to the side.
“What the hell are you doing, Henry?” Joe asked.
“Oh, I made copies of my journal just in case Frank screws something up. I don’t want to lose my original thoughts.”
“Yeah, but you’re gonna lose your position on council you waste our paper like that.”
“Joe,” Henry gasped, “these are four years of my inner feelings and views.”
“Swell,” Joe grumbled. “Where’s Frank? I want to get this short meeting over with.”
“Upstairs with Ellen.”
Dean looked up to the ceiling. “What exactly are they doing up there.?”
“Trying to squeeze a Reverend Bob lesson in.” Henry stapled some papers. “Not that it should concern you, Dean. She’s Frank’s wife.” So pompous, Henry stapled another pile.
Joe shook his head. “So, my son and Ellen are having sex.”
Dean stopped cold. “I knew it. Frank saved her life. That hero stuff always gets her. You said they were working on the marriage plan.”
“Why do you care?” Joe snapped. “Sit down. We’ll wait.”
“Not . . .” Henry paused to squeeze the stapler, “that it’s any of your business, Dean, but hero aphrodisiac or not, Frank is following the plan. And they can’t have sex for three more steps. So quit pacing Dean. The
y’re discussing childhood fears.”
The moan was raspy, deep and aching as it seemingly rolled from Frank’s gut as his hands touched upon her bare chest. His large hands smothered with an edge up her sides as Ellen straddled his lap while he knelt on the bed.
Her lips followed and slid up his chest, following directly behind his tee shirt that she lifted from him and tossed across the room. “Tell me,” She whispered bringing her mouth to his neck, “how fast?”
“Real fast,” Frank spoke through his heavy breaths as his eyes rolled slightly. “I never ran faster.”
“Were you scared?” Ellen brought her lips to his mouth.
“No. Not at all.”
“God, I love when you save my life.” She moaned and kissed him. Her arms wrapped as tight around his neck as her legs to his waist. The hand pressing hard to her back, Frank brought Ellen down to the bed. His mouth met hers widely, teasing the kisses that he hadn’t had in so long. And his body moved against Ellen’s in a reflection of the act that he needed, wanted, and missed so badly.
They were an instant and a few articles of clothing away. Hands moved, body shifted, minds fogged. But then Frank . . . stopped. He not only lifted his mouth from hers, but his chest as well.
“What?” Ellen asked. “What’s wrong?” She tried to pull him down. She felt his resistance. “Frank?”
“Trust me I want to. God, do I want to but . . .” He exhaled his frustration. “I want to make this marriage work and I really want to try to do that by following the steps.”
“Frank.” There was a certain amount of sarcastic laughter in her word.
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 177
