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

by Jacqueline Druga

  Frank understood. “What about our personal lives? El and I are married, I know that. And we’re obviously having problems since she’s bunking here with Henry. But tell me, tell me she and I have always been together.”

  Robbie shook his head and pointed to Dean. “She was with Dean for a really long time, Frank. You kept interfering and Dean finally said enough is enough. But you and her are working through this. It kind of went full circle and Ellen ended up cheating on you with Dean.”

  It was a relief to Dean. Even though their personal lives were still the same scrambled mess, they were a familiar ground they could stand on. “So you played no interference in the relationship aspects?”

  “No.” Robbie shook his head. “Oh.”

  “What?” Frank asked.

  “Well, you may find out. You may not. You know what?” Robbie waved his hand. “I’m not saying anything.”

  Dean’s eyes lifted to Robbie in slow revelation. “You slept with Ellen.”

  Frank scoffed. “Oh he did not, Dean. See where your warped perverted mind is at? Robbie said nothing about him . . .” Frank saw Robbie’s eyes lift in an innocent manner to the ceiling. “No.”

  “Well.” Robbie stood up slowly. He saw the glare in Frank’s eyes. “No, wait,” He defended. “It was a short time after the plague. She shut everyone out but me. And I believe that’s because I stayed by El’s side the whole entire time. The whole time, just like your letter said.”

  Frank’s nostrils flared as he tried to control the hard hit of the news. “I’m not happy about this.”

  “Yeah, well. You weren’t back then either,” Robbie said.

  Henry decided to divert the subject. “What about you and me, Robbie. Do we get along?”

  “No.” Robbie replied as he sat back down. “We clash, our tempers flare, and occasionally we square off. Actually I’d go as far as to day we hate each other.”

  Henry whistled a breath in relief. “Oh good, because I just needed to feel justified for not liking you very much right now.”

  “You know we wouldn’t have these problems right now,” Robbie said with a slightly raised top lip, “if you didn’t take advantage of my emotional vulnerability and convince me to have that affair with you.”

  “Oh my God!” Henry nearly flew back. “I’m gay in this Beginnings?”

  “Flaming.” Robbie winked.

  “See.” Frank pointed. “What did I always say, Henry. You bitch too much like a woman to not be gay. And you broke my brother’s heart. Shame on you.”

  “Now, see.” Henry shook his head. “Now I know you’re lying. You probably put him up to this.” Henry cringed at Frank’s laughter. “Yeah, laugh. Assholes.” He saw Dean stand up. “See, you offended Dean.”

  “No,” Dean snickered. “I’m just gonna go home. Josh will want to bring the kids back from Frank’s. Thanks, Robbie you told us a lot.”

  “Yeah.” Frank stood up too. “We’ll talk tomorrow Robbie. I’ll go get the kids, Dean. Bring them right . . .”

  “Wait.” Robbie stood up. “I answered questions for you guys, answer me this. Not that it matters now, but I’m curious. Frank said I didn’t arrive in Ashtonville. It took years for me to get here. What happened to me?”

  Frank hesitated, but took a deep breath to start his explanation. “See Robbie, you searched for us. For five years you looked. You lived out there and when you got here you were . . .”

  “Sick.” Dean interrupted in a fast speaking manner. “Very, very sick. A major infection had taken over your body and . . .” Dean slowed down his talking. “By the time you got here, it was too late. We couldn’t help you. You died not long after.”

  “Well at least I found my family right?” Robbie smiled. “I succeeded. Thanks for telling me. I’ll walk out with you guys.” He moved to the door. “Hey, night Henry,” Robbie said snidely.

  Henry, looking at his journals and history, lifted his head in a snubbing manner pretending not to see Robbie flip him off.

  Frank laughed as he was the last to walk out. But he slowed down in pulling the door closed to grab Dean’s attention. Behind Robbie’s back, silently, and mostly with his eyes, Frank delivered a ‘thank you’ to Dean for interfering in the painful ‘Robbie’ truth.

  HENRY’S JOURNAL

  November 27

  Oddly enough I am on the last page of this particular journal. And as I close it, I also close another book on the ripple we all caused. A lot of answers were given to me, but I guess I do not know the whole truth. That would be impossible. Too many years have passed. I suppose, there will be times when I am confused when my mind will wonder how bringing Robbie back caused this or that. I must remind myself to not drudge over it…to move on and not worry. There’s nothing that can be done. The changes have been made. Our lives before this now have been sculptured a little differently than we know. A new history is set in stone. And even if ill-informed, I have to accept it. Because this is the way it will be from here on in.

  CHASING TOMORROW

  CHAPTER THREE

  November 28

  Bethel, Virginia

  It looked more like a manual to better football plays, rather than the military manual it was. But Society troop leader, Sgt. Hemsley found the ‘Caceres Society strategic handbook’ quite the asset especially when picking out which maneuver he wanted to use in the dawn raid of that defector camp.

  He liked under sneak attacks, maneuvering CS-422. Especially because it stated that he himself had to stay back while his men went into the opposing camp. And that was what Sgt. Hemsley did. Stayed back by the trucks, a mile or so away, and waited.

  Corporal Warren gave a simple single chirping sound, his signal to the society soldiers that it was time to move in on the sleeping camp. So quiet the camp was, but on his call, the soldiers barged in. Weapons raised, they opened fire across the tents, ripping them to shreds. They followed through with the tossing of grenades. The small fire arms rained upon the camp causing the finishing off explosions that sent dirt and debris into the air.

  And then silence.

  “Hold your fire,” Corporal Warren called out. “Hold your fire.”

  A shot here and there trailed off.

  Corporal Warren assessed the camp. There were no sounds. Only the dead quiet that they anticipated following the slaughter of fire that the society lay upon them. “Move in!” he ordered out.

  Weapons lifted still ready to engage, the society patrol moved in slowly.

  Corporal Warren reached the center camp along with his men. “Anyone you find alive, shoot. And . . .” He stopped talking when he heard the whistle, just a single one. He turned his head thinking it was one of his men. Before he could find who signaled him, it rang around them in a frightening thunder, the shifting and pumping of weapon chambers. “What the hell?” Corporal Warren looked about. He saw nothing. No one.

  “Fire at will!” The Captain’s voice rang out across the silent camp. And on his charge, the gunfire began.

  Perched in trees and hidden in the brush, the forty-four men who would have died in that raid, along with the defectors, unleashed a bloody death upon the thirty-two unsuspecting society soldiers. The bodies were ripped apart by bullets that came from gunmen they never saw. The tables had been turned.

  The first symphony of gunfire and explosions were expected but the second sent Sgt. Hemsley into a tailspin. Something was wrong. He could hear the distance screams of pain echoing through the dead world distance. Immediately he jumped in his jeep, tossed it in gear, and sped off down the overgrown road toward the raid.

  The gunfire slowed down and instead of steady shots, occasional pops rang out. The closer he drove, the more he knew something was not right. Knowing this, and knowing someone had to report the trouble, Sgt. Hemsley decided to turn around. Releasing his foot from the gas and gripping the wheel, Sgt. Hemsley slowed down enough to turn. But as soon as he jerked the wheel to the right, out from the trees, darting across the road was Elliott Ryder.


  Instinctively Sgt. Hemsley hit the brakes. The jeep screeched and slid to a stop at the same time Elliott’s hands slammed onto the hood when the vehicle nearly hit him.

  Both men locked eyes. The stare wasn’t as long as it seemed. Breathing heavily, Elliott, stepped back, and reached for his weapon.

  Sgt. Hemsley did the same and realized he had left his behind. Jeep still running, he hit the gas, jolted the wheel, and just drove off. Even if it wasn’t on the road, he was making his escape.

  Elliott fired at the jeep. But the thick trees that Sgt. Hemsley disappeared into were a shield of nature’s protection. Elliott lowered his weapon in defeat, then turned and headed back toward the Captain to alert him of what happened.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Beginnings, Montana

  “Morning, Dean,” Ellen said semi chipper as she entered the clinic lab. She turned to her right and stopped cold. She looked at the empty coffee pot. “Dean, if you’re gonna drag my ass to work on a Saturday, you have to make coffee.”

  “Sorry.” Dean looked up from the computer. “I got busy. And, El, thanks for coming by this morning to watch the kids until Hap got there. I really needed to start prepping things for this future trip.”

  “Which by the way . . .” Ellen walked to the counter. “…was there a problem last night?”

  Confused, Dean peered from his work. “No, why?”

  “Frank didn’t bring all the kids home.”

  “Sure he did.” Dean snickered.

  “No, he didn’t. You’re missing one.”

  “Oh.” Dean nodded. “Brian stays with Frank, El.”

  “Not Brian.” Ellen said. “Dean, where’s your son?”

  “Isn’t he home?”

  “No. When I went up to check, he wasn’t in bed.”

  “Oh, my God.” Dean sprang up. “Billy’s missing?”

  “Not Billy.”

  Dean tilted his head with an even more confused look. “El, Frank brought the kids home last night. Who else could it . . .” His eyes widened trying to hide his confusion on how that odd child still existed. “Frank.” He said the same in a complaining manner.

  “What?” Frank answered as he walked into the lab. “I heard the call of greatness.”

  “Asshole.” Dean walked from behind the counter. “Where’s my kid?”

  “Which one?”

  “You know exactly which one.” Dean said. “You were supposed to bring them all home last night. Where is he?”

  “Who?” Frank asked.

  “You know. Um .. .” Dean closed his eyes. “What’s his name.”

  Ellen tapped Dean on the shoulder then folded her arms in an angry stance. “Joey.”

  Dean snapped his finger. “That’s it. Thanks, El. Joey. Where is he, Frank? What did you think? I wouldn’t notice you didn’t return my kid.”

  Frank laughed. “You didn’t.”

  “And you knew I wouldn’t, so you did it on purpose.” Dean turned his head to Ellen’s gasp. “What?”

  “You wouldn’t notice your own son not coming home?” Ellen asked.

  “No he wouldn’t.” Frank interjected. “Shameless father, which brings me to the reason for my visit. I have a proposition for you, Dean.”

  Dean rolled his eyes. “This ought to be good. Go on.”

  “Let me have Joey.”

  “What!” Dean blasted.

  “No, hear me out.” Frank held up his hand. “Let me have him. He and I, we have a bond. He looks just like me. Let me have your kid, Dean.”

  “No!” Dean yelled.

  “Come on, Dean. I can dress him up in baby cammies, make him a miniature Frank. No one will know.”

  “Frank.” Dean barked. “Everyone will know if I just give you my kid. And no.”

  “Come on Dean, let me have him.” Frank followed Dean around the lab. “Dean. The kid can successfully hang jump from the second floor window without injury. Do you know what that means?”

  “Yeah, there’s something wrong with him.”

  “Exactly.” Frank failed to hear the numerous sounds of shock come from Ellen. “So I should raise him. Give him up. He’s not your type of kid.”

  “No, Frank, this is absurd. I can’t believe you just want me to give you my kid.” Dean said. “And you raising my kid isn’t even an option. I would like him to know how to read.”

  “Dean,” Frank spoke with seriousness. “Have you talked to Joey? I don’t think he has that in him. I’m gonna have to go another route of skills.”

  Dean bobbed his head. “You may have a point.”

  “Oh my God! Enough!” Ellen exclaimed. “I can’t believe I’m standing here listening to this. Dean. Do you have a problem with Joey?”

  “No,” Dean said in a defensive manner.

  “Then why are you implying he’s not smart?” Ellen asked.

  “Well . . .El.” Dean tilted his head.

  Another gasp came from Ellen. “I have blood work.” She turned with a jolt. In her storm from the clinic she nearly barreled over Joe. “Excuse me, Joe.”

  After watching Ellen whiz by, Joe stepped into the lab. “Is there a problem?”

  Both Frank and Dean turned around.

  “I thought maybe there was.” Joe walked in further. “We had a meeting in my office a half hour ago. So knowing this, Frank, why’s your jeep parked outside?”

  Frank slowly shifted his eyes from Dean to Joe. “Um, because I can’t park inside?”

  “Frank!” Joe yelled. “The question should be why are you here?”

  “No, Dad.” Frank held up a finger. “The question should be, why are you here questioning me on why I’m here when both you and I should be there.” He nodded. “See?”

  Dean raised his hand slightly. “Joe, as odd as this is, in Frank’s defense, why didn’t you just radio him?”

  “I did.” Joe snapped. “I kept saying. ‘Frank, where are you?’”

  “And I answered you,” Frank said, “every time you asked. I told you. Bakery. My office. Here.”

  “Frank,” Joe stated his name with an eerie calm. “Get your ass up to my office for that meeting. We have the society and the Cleveland run to discuss. And Dean, since you’re supposed to stop by, you might as well hop a ride.” Joe started to leave.

  “Joe? What for?” Dean asked.

  Frank breathed out in irritation. “The meeting, Dean.”

  “Not that.” After a quick glare to Frank, Dean looked back to Joe. “Why, uh, am I meeting with you guys? I’m not remembering. We did come through that machine yesterday. Time machine memory loss.” He tossed his hands up.

  “That’s right.” Joe nodded. “When you returned from the nuclear holocaust.” Joe spoke as if he were talking to a three year old. “Dean. You’re supposed to give us a Marcus report.” After a pacifying smile, Joe gave one more nod and walked out.

  “Oh, yeah.” Frank grinned. “We’re talking about killer babies. My favorite topic. And speaking of innocent children...”

  “No.” Dean shook his head. “You’re not getting Joey.” He moved to the door. “Wait for me Frank. I just have to run down to the cryo-lab and get my Marcus notes. I won’t be long. Thanks.”

  “O.K.” Frank nodded. And after Dean walked out so did Frank. He left the clinic and watched Dean head to the entrance of the tunnels, then Frank got in the jeep and drove off.

  ^^^^

  “In excess of fifty-five miles per hour.” Dean laid down his notes as he sat in Joe’s office for the meeting. “And this is just a baby. Weather?” Dean fluttered his lips. “Not effected at all. We saw some deterioration in Marcus’ skin sample at three hundred and seventy-five degree, so in a sense you probably could burn them.”

  Frank reached for the notes. “Or shoot them. But . . . we’d have to catch them first. Any guess on how fast they’ll move as adults?”

  Dean shook his head. “I don’t want to think about it.”

  Henry’s whispering words caught their attention. “An ind
estructible army.”

  Joe, Frank, and Dean, all looked to him.

  Henry continued, “Not just workers, but a force indestructible that could march through anything, quickly too. The SUTS, that’s their first line of defense, having them around until these Marcus type people are ready. Remember they can only know one thing.”

  Frank rubbed his eyes. “So basically our next generation is looking at a hell of a war.”

  Dean chuckled emotionally. “Next generation? No Frank, this generation. These things grow fast. Right now Marcus has grown at six times the normal rate. At that rate, within three years they can have an army going. And how many embryos they created is not known either. We have one other problem. We have one hell of a generation gap here in Beginnings or hasn’t anyone noticed. Leaving out babies, we have a small group of children between the ages of four and ten, and three teenagers. Our median age for men here is thirty-five. Thirty-five is young to you and me, but we aren’t youthful men Frank. In five, six years, our young won’t be old enough to fight and our men may be losing their edge.”

  Frank scoffed, “Speak for yourself, Dean.”

  Joe, who had been silent, spoke up. “Though Dean has a point there’s nothing we can do about that. We just have to keep trying to find men for an army. Do you have any suggestions?”

  “I do.” Frank spoke up. “We have about a hundred of those killer baby embryos. Grow our own army just like them.”

  Joe winced. “They explode uteruses, Frank. Who’s gonna volunteer for that?”

  Dean interjected. “I was actually thinking, after the virus stuff was over, of creating an artificial womb. If I’m successful, go that route.”