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

by Jacqueline Druga

  “I would like Ellen to be here too.” Frank stood up. “And why am I staying at your house? I have my own . . . I think.” He scratched his head.

  “Because I don’t trust you, that’s why. And this is your punishment for screwing around with time. You have to listen to me bitch.”

  “Well quit it. This won’t be for long.” Frank walked to the door. “I’ll be back.”

  “Where are you going? Stay put.”

  “I have to see her, Henry. You go on, start working on that history.”

  “Frank, she lives with Robbie. And you don’t even know . . .” He shut his eyes tight when the door closed loudly. “. . . where that is.”

  ^^^^

  Tossing his shirt over the side of the couch, Robbie placed his hands on Ellen’s face bringing her closer to his body. “Try to be a bit more responsive. Please?”

  “I’m sorry.” She laid her chest close to his. “We should have gotten the kids by now.”

  “Tough, Dean can handle them for a little while more. I would like to be with you.” Robbie slid his hand up her bare thigh, positioning her closer across his lap. His fingers slipped under her shirt--the only item of clothing he left remaining on her. “Responsive, El.” He tilted his head.

  “Sorry. More responsive.”

  Getting the reaction he wanted, Robbie moved his lips more intensely on hers, sliding down just a bit in the position he had on the sofa. Moaning slightly, Robbie paused and lifted his head to what he thought was a loud ‘Ellen!’ coming from a distance. Shaking his head, Robbie returned to kissing Ellen. Again, he stopped. “No.”

  “What’s wrong? Now who’s not being responsive?”

  “You can’t hear that?” Robbie rested his head against the arm of the couch. It grew louder.

  “Ellen!” Frank’s voice blasted in the distance.

  “No.” He shook his head. “Tell me my brother is not calling your name in the middle of the street.”

  Ellen closed her eyes tightly. “Shit.”

  “Fuck would be a better word.” He heard Frank’s voice grow louder. “I’ll handle it this time.” He waited for Ellen to slide back from him and he stood up. “Put some clothes on in case he barges in here again.” Robbie walked to the front door. “Frank.” He whispered loudly at his brother who was walking down the street. “Knock it off.”

  “Robbie.” Frank spun to the house. “So this is where you live.” He walked to the door. “I need to talk to Ellen.”

  “No you don’t, Frank.” Robbie held his arms close to his body. The fall air was chilling against his bare chest. “We are busy, Frank. We are really, really busy at this moment.”

  “Tough. I’m coming in.” He stepped inside.

  “You’re drunk, aren’t you?” Robbie closed the door.

  “I don’t get drunk,” Frank stated.

  “Yes you do,” Robbie said.

  “I do? When?”

  “All the time,” Robbie spoke with disgust, “just like you are now.”

  “I’m not drunk. El, do I get . . .” He stopped when he saw her half-dressed. “No, No. Please don’t tell me you just slept with him.” He moved to the couch. “Why would you do that?”

  “Why?” Ellen stood up and fastened her pants. “He’s my husband Frank, that’s why.”

  “No, El, see.. That’s wrong.” Frank stepped closer. “I’m your husband, not Robbie.”

  Robbie threw his hands in the air. “That’s it. He’s loaded again. Where’s my shirt?”

  “Frank.” Ellen stepped to him. “Listen to you. Can’t you see when you drink, how you get?”

  “Ellen, I never, never, get drunk ever,” Frank argued.

  Tossing his shirt on, Robbie ran his fingers through his hair to straighten it. “You always, always get drunk, Frank. El, I’m getting Johnny so he can straighten him out before I kill him. Watch him.” Robbie grabbed his coat. “And don’t let him touch you.”

  Frank scoffed at the slamming of the door. “He’s nuts. I’m not drunk.” Frank grabbed a hold of Ellen. “El, listen to me.” He tried to kiss her.

  “Frank, stop that.” She stepped back.

  “No listen to me.” He kissed her again, despite the fact that she fought him.“El, listen.” Frank dropped to his knees and grabbed her hands. “This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. You are supposed to be with me. Me, El. Not him.”

  “I’m married to Robbie, Frank. I think that says who I’m supposed to be with.”

  “See, but you aren’t married to Robbie.” Frank kissed her hands. “Actually you aren’t. Just don’t mess around with him until I can straighten this mess out. Then you’ll see.”

  “See what?”

  “That you’re my wife.”

  “I’m not your wife. I’m Robbie’s.” Ellen pulled back. “And get up. Get up before he comes back. You are really bad tonight, Frank. This is getting out of hand.”

  Frank stood up. “I’m not out of hand. I am very rational right now.”

  The reopening of the front door brought a comment from Robbie. “And drunk,” he said as he stepped in with Johnny. “Take care of him John.”

  “Come on Dad.” Johnny walked to him. “We’ll walk this off.”

  “I’m not drunk,” Frank said pulling from Johnny’s reach and walking to the door.

  Robbie approached him. “Then why are you here?”

  “I just wanted . . .I just wanted to see Ellen. That’s all. I’ll leave.” Trying for that guilt effect, Frank dropped his head, slowly opened the door, and walked out. He stopped when he reached the sidewalk. “Hold up. Drunk?” He turned back and walked into the house again. They stopped talking when he walked in. “Um . . .” Frank closed his eyes and tried to think of how to phrase his question. “You guys insisted I was drunk. Now I can’t remember, the time machine thing. Do I have a drinking problem?”

  Robbie laughed in disbelief. “If it’s true and that time machine lapsed your memory, let me put it this way Frank. You could be the sole cause for the reorganization of Alcoholics Anonymous.”

  “Shit.” His eyes shifted around the room. “Thanks.” He stepped back out, closing the door. “I’m a drunk? Nah . . .It’s the ripple thing.” He started to walk and stopped again. “Maybe it’s not. Shit! Maybe I am and I just forgot.” He took off running. He had to ask Henry.

  HENRY’S JOURNAL

  November 25

  Frank is an asshole! Why he would even think that calling Robbie was a good idea. I don’t like Robbie. Now we’re stuck and everything is screwed up. He’s such an asshole. I’m too pissed to write.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  November 26

  Robbie Slagel looked totally drawn. He slumped in the chair across from his father in his office, finishing the last of his cigarette, and slamming it out in the ashtray. “Dad, he’s worse. I was dealing with it, I think, pretty good. But it’s been worse with him since he rescued her from Colorado.”

  “And he was drunk again last night when he showed up?”

  “He said he wasn’t.” Robbie sat up some. “He was talking crazy shit. Dad, he said he was married to Ellen.”

  “Oh dear God.” Joe rubbed his eyes, leaning forward on the desk. “This is a new one. What in God’s name is next?”

  “Ousting him. That’s what should be next. I actually thought of sticking him in containment, as a form of rehab, but then he’d love that.”

  “We can’t get rid of your brother. You know and I know he runs the security and runs it well. He’s the meanest man we have and we need that.”

  Robbie closed his eyes and shook his head. “He’s also the craziest man we have.” He threw his hands in the air. “I give up. But mark my words, this time machine memory shit . . . he’ll use it.” Robbie stood up from his seat. “He’ll use it like he’s doing now, pretending he didn’t remember he had a drinking problem.” He blew from his mouth in frustration. “He’s doing the Frank-pattern shit again. He does the crazy shit, runs to Ellen, plays on
her sympathy for him. And then you know what happens? I can’t deal with that again.”

  “I know.” Joe held up his hand. “I’ll talk to him. He’s coming in for a meeting anyhow about the Cleveland run. I’ll try to knock some sense into him.”

  “I appreciate it.” Robbie looked at his watch. “And I want to get to containment so I’d better finish my morning mechanics work, before the little prick . . .” He heard the door open and turning around, Robbie snickered. “Speak of the devil.”

  Henry’s shock to see Robbie hit him the second he stepped in the door. It was only the second time he had been face to face with the returning Slagel. Henry, one of the most logical men in Beginnings, stood there staring and having a hard time with his feelings. Distinguishing Robbie from the one he remembered and the one that stood before him would be one of his most difficult tasks.

  “Dad, I’m gone.” Robbie slowly walked to the door, stopping in front of Henry. “Why are you staring at me?”

  “You . . . I um . . . no reason.” Henry stepped in further.

  Robbie, ignoring the constant stares, walked out.

  With a twitch of his head in confusion, Henry pulled out the chair near Joe’s desk and sat down.

  “Problem with my son, Henry?”

  “I just don’t like . . . I just don’t . . .” Knowing that he may not have any reason for disliking Robbie, Henry thought quickly. “No.”

  “Good.” Joe slid a stack of papers before him. “The information you guys brought back. It gives us two places to check. That’s all. I’ll pass this around to see if I missed anything, maybe I did. But right now, we have two more shots than we did yesterday morning.”

  “What are they?” Henry asked, reaching for the information.

  “We have the address to the Cleveland site. That’s step one. Now, we have the group going for that CDC mobile tomorrow. Jason says as soon as you get that ready, there shouldn’t be a problem doing that future trip.”

  “That’s good to know we aren’t waiting the three weeks,” Henry said. “The sooner we get a sample of that virus, the more time Dean has to work on it.”

  “My thoughts exactly. Now . . . I wanna plan a week long run to Cleveland. An info run.” Joe leaned back in his chair. “The men will be prepared to scout the area. I don’t expect to find a SUT camp. Cleveland is too obvious of a place. I’m hoping when Chester booked out of there, he left a lot behind. Four men. Frank and the usual crew.”

  “Frank?” Henry questioned with concern. “Why would you send, Frank?”

  “I always do.”

  “But it’s dangerous. Joe, you should send someone without small children.”

  “Frank doesn’t have any small children.”

  “Yes he . . .” He paused embarrassingly. “Doesn’t. He doesn’t. That’s right. Sorry.”

  “Henry? Should you be working today?” Joe twirled his finger in a circle around his temple.

  “I’m fine.” Henry nervously pushed the paper back to Joe. “How will the Cleveland run affect the future time trip? Won’t they coincide?”

  “If they do, they do. I don’t see a problem with it, neither does Jason. After all, you guys are only going to the future then into quarantine. We can do two things at once around here.”

  “You’re right. I hope the quarantine isn’t too long. That’ll only leave two people to run mechanics and the work will be . . .”

  “Three,” Joe interrupted. “Three people in mechanics, Henry. John, Scott, and Robbie.”

  “Sorry I forgot.” Running his hand over his face, Henry thought it was just about that time to go. “Anything else Joe?” He stood up.

  “No that’s it.”

  “All right, see ya.” Henry darted to the door.

  “Henry,” Joe called out.

  With a squeak of his shoes, Henry stopped. “Yes, Joe?”

  “Is everything fine? Are you doing all right?” Joe asked with concern.

  “Couldn’t be better Joe, bye.” Like a jackrabbit, Henry sped off.

  ^^^^

  “I have to find out.” Dean spoke to himself, laying his mug of coffee on top of the file cabinet in the records room of the clinic. “I’ll just pull you and take you back to the lab. First, what is your name?” Bending down to the last drawer where the ‘S’ names were, Dean adjusted his glasses and opened the file drawer between his legs. “Slagel, Slagel. God!” He gasped out. “Look at all the Slagels. It’s an invasion of them. Alexandra, Ellen, Frank, Joseph, Joseph . . . two?” He pulled both folders out and opened the first one. “Well you aren’t fifty-nine. You must be . . .” Dean flipped just the corner exposing the birth date. “Three. You are three.” He shut the folder and laid it on the floor. He pushed in the file drawer, nearly falling over to his side as his foot was stepping on his lab coat.

  Grabbing the folder, standing up then collecting his coffee, Dean left the records room and headed back down to the clinic lab.

  His curiosity could have waited until he was well inside, but it didn’t. Dean set down his coffee on the counter to his right as soon as his first foot stepped inside. Peering down he opened the folder and kept walking. “O.K. What can I find out about . . . Holy Shit!” Dean banged right into a stool causing it to crash to the floor with a rattle. He leaned down blindly picking it up while reading. “Ten pounds, eleven ounces.” Feeling for the flat surface of his stool, he began to sit then realized he wanted his coffee. He looked back to how far away it was, and still reading, he went to retrieve it. Coffee in hand, folder open, Dean sat down before the counter. “Oh my God. Four weeks early?” Dean lifted the sheet. “Where is it? It has to be somewhere. We always . . . no.” Dean folded the third sheet over. “This can’t be right.” He took off his glasses and ran his hand over his face several times. “How can that be? He’s my kid? Where in the world did I get the genes to create him?”

  “Dean?” Ellen’s voice softly called in the lab.

  Dean was startled to the point his hand slid down to the table, flinging the chart and its contents across the room. “El?” He spun to face her then quickly got up.

  “I was just . . .” She giggled at his nervousness, “leaving for containment.” Her words slowed. “What are you doing?” She walked over to help.

  “I got it.” Dean bent down.

  “Let me help.” She began to gather papers with him. “Dean?” She stood up reading. “Why do you have his chart out?”

  “Why?” Dean took the paper from her. “I uh . . . couldn’t for the life of me . . .” He grabbed all of the papers sticking them in the folder. “Remember if we tested . . . um . . . um . . . geez,” He peeked at the chart, “Joseph for hyperactivity. Yes, that’s it.”

  “Joseph?”

  “Don’t you remember now, El?” Dean gave a fake laugh. “You know my son, that dark haired kid.”

  “Joseph?” She tilted her head.

  “His name’s not Joseph?” Dean panicked.

  “Yeah, but since when did you start calling him Joseph?”

  “Joe?”

  “Joey,” She corrected.

  Dean thought quick. “Well, I uh . . .” He fluttered his lips. “I thought maybe if I started calling him Joseph, maybe he would be . . .”

  “Smarter?” Ellen asked. “Won’t work. One of the children was bound to lack your intelligence.”

  Dean’s mouth opened. “That is so wrong.”

  “And I have to go. You know how Robbie gets.” She leaned forward and kissed him.

  “How does Robbie get, El?” Dean asked.

  “You know.” She kissed him again, sliding her hand down his arm. “Dean? Are you mad at me? You seem different. It’s just that . . . I’m kissing you, you’re not kissing me.”

  Without saying anything, Dean slid his hand to her and kissed her. “I’m not mad at you.” He kissed her again.

  Ellen let out a sigh of relief--a long one. “Good. Right now is not a good time for it either. Frank’s doing his thing again, and you know how R
obbie gets with me when that happens. I need you.”

  “El.” He felt her hand slip from his. “El.” He watched her wave and leave. Turning and leaning, gut first against the counter, Dean spoke softly out loud. “How does Robbie get?” He felt frustrated. How many times had he heard her use that phrase in a short period of time. He needed an answer. Ellen wasn’t giving one. And aside from Joe, there had to be a person in Beginnings, nosey enough and close enough to give Dean the answers to Robbie he sought.

  “Dean.” The woman’s voice called out.

  Bright eyed, Dean looked up before turning around. He never thought he’d be so happy as to hear Jenny Matoose’s voice.

  “Dean,” Slightly crass she spoke. “I need some more of that nipple cream. My areola are cracking from breast feeding.”

  After taking a moment to cringe, Dean turned around to face Jenny with a bright, but forced smile.

  ^^^^

  Ellen slowly brought a piece of bread to her mouth as she sat during her lunch break in her office. She turned the page in the book she read, laughing softly at what was on the pages, then she heard it, the shuffling of feet from her quiet visitor. Raising her eyes, she smiled softly and tilted her head at the oddness of the visit. “Henry?”

  “Hi El.” Henry slowly took another step in. “Can I sit?” He showed his hand at the chair then sat. “Boy, I’ve been wanting to just sit and talk to you.”

  Ellen closed her book. “Henry, right now we shouldn’t be talking.”

  “Why?”

  “Robbie is coming to containment. He’ll be here soon. He hates when we’re together, especially since the wall. He’ll think we’re up to something.”

  “Since when do you care what anyone thinks?” Henry asked.

  “I always care, Henry. There’s less tension that way. And you being here right now will cause tension.”

  “Why?” Henry wanted to understand.

  “Frank came by last night in one of his drunken binges. You being here will only make Robbie think you’re helping Frank again. And we shouldn’t be talking here. Maybe at the social . . .”