“No, no, no.” Dean waved his hand in the air as he stood in explanation mode before Ellen and Henry in the mobile lab. “Henry won’t have to be the logisticalizer. We’re going to the future. He can actually assist in getting what we need.”
Ellen finally understood. “So he’ll do the air samples by the lab and the samples nearer to town?”
“Exactly,” Dean said. “That way you and I can collect what notes and blood and tissue samples we need. But enough of it. Since we’re setting our destination for night and one day after Jason’s letter, things should be quiet in town and allot us the time to get what we need.”
“Hopefully the samples we get aren’t of a mutated strain that the antidote doesn’t touch.” Ellen pointed out.
“We’ll keep our fingers crossed.” Dean reviewed his list. “Next, I want to run a test of the radio and headsets through the bio suits. Check to see if we can communicate with each other because that is so vital.”
Seriously, but like she was still in school, Ellen raised her hand, “When we return is our first plan of action to see if the antidote is present in the vials?”
“Most definitely. It’ll make it easier for us to work with the virus if there isn’t a threat of catching it.” Dean replied. “Henry. You’re being quiet. Do you have any questions?”
Henry looked up. “Um . . . no.” He shook his head. “Yes. But I feel really dumb since it has nothing to do with all this medical stuff. O.K., yeah it does, but . . .”
“Henry,” Dean snickered. “What’s your question?”
“O.K. I feel stupid. But . . . you, me, Ellen. Right? Did we just already change the history because in Jason’s letter, Johnny is immune or rather got a hold of the antidote as well?”
Closing his eyes, Dean gave a slow nod of his head. “Yes. But we aren’t exempting Johnny from his destiny.” He saw another look of confusion on Henry’s face. “Those vials are not small. They are by my guess, more than three inoculations of the serum. So, we will give one to Johnny if it’s in there.”
Ellen had to question that. “Why Johnny? We already changed the future by bringing you back. So why stick to the guns of it? I’m not meaning to sound cold but we have other options.” She gave a flick of her eyebrows.
Henry interjected, “The future is not etched in stone, Dean. This is very vital. Hey, wait if it’s so vital, why waste it on me? Why not get Johnny to go and give him the serum along with someone else.”
Ellen whined. “No, Henry. I want you to go.”
“What value am I?” Henry asked. “I don’t know anything medical and . . .”
“You heard Jason. He wants you on every time trip regardless. You will always be the constant, the one who knows the truth. And secondly . . . why Johnny? Who else? Jason? Andrea? Do those two know any more than Johnny about the physics of viruses? No. I taught Johnny myself and though a novice, he knows. Besides, personally . . .” Dean smiled, “Andrea and her praying? Do you really want to be quarantined with Andrea?”
Henry pointed to Dean. “He’s got a point, El.” After getting a ‘thank you’ look from Dean. Henry had another question. “Dean? What’s it gonna be like when we go. Will there be a virus?”
“Hopefully not,” Dean exhaled. “We’re going to the future from this point in time. Jason’s letter was written from a future without me. So knowing the way I am, if we go and there still is a virus, I would have done a hell of a lot of work, notes, samples and such. We’ll bring supplies to copy and possibly steal what I did. My work in the future will be our ground work of today. So knowing that . . .” Dean paused when he saw Henry writing. “What are you doing?”
“Jotting that quote down.” Henry gave a thumbs up. “Good job.”
Dean grumbled. “I think . . . I think we’ve gone through this enough.” He started to gather up his notes. “Why don’t we go over to the trailer and get our things situated there.”
Henry stood up with a stretch. “Good idea.”
Ellen stood as well. Turning she stopped and drew up a quirky look as she glanced at the huge picture-type window and walked to it. “Dean.” She peered out seeing just a hint of the center of town in the distance. “I feel like we’re going to be the people in the plastic bubble, with this window.”
“Yeah, we will feel that way. We’ll be the entertainment for anyone who wants to come up and watch.” Dean shut off the computer.
Henry hesitated in his leaving the lab. “They won’t come up and watch if the weather gets as bad as I expect it.”
“Henry?” Dean had question to his voice. “I’m curious. How do you know so much about the weather?”
“My secret tell-tale signs,” Henry answered.
“Which are?” Dean asked.
Ellen shook her head with a chuckle. “Dean, they wouldn’t be a secret if he told.”
“Do you know them?” Dean asked Ellen.
“Oh, sure.”
“Then it’s not a secret.” Dean looked back at Henry who still stood by the door that led to the trailer. “Tell me.”
“All right,” Henry said. “You’re a doctor so you may appreciate this. It’s a combination of theory, common sense, and body signs.”
Dean laughed. “What?”
“Yes. See, when my monthly cycle symptoms intensify, it signals a change in weather. More sever means a worsening of weather conditions, possibly drastic. Decreasing or none for a month means reversed weather patterns. But…” Henry held up a explaining finger. “If my symptoms arrive early and are severe . . .” He whistled. “Watch out. There’s trouble.” He opened the mobile’s side door. “You guys coming.”
Ellen smiled and hurried to catch up. “Right behind you. Dean?”
“Wait.” Dean held up his hand then hurried to catch up to the pair.
“Dean, that’s all there is to explain. Geez. And you call yourself a scientist.” Henry stepped through first into the newly attached three foot corridor and across to the other trailer.
They entered the small trailer home through its back door. A narrow hallway greeted them.
“Henry?” Dean trailed behind as they took the hallway passed the two bedrooms and bathroom to the living room. “Your monthly cycle?”
“Yes, Dean. That’s what I said.” Henry spoke as if Dean should have known better. He moved to where a grouping of boxes set in the center of the living room.
“What cycle Henry?” Dean asked. “You don’t get a period. You aren’t a woman.”
“I know that. But I do get a cycle.” Henry handed him a box. “All men do. They have times of the month.”
Dean laughed. “No they do not.”
“They do too,” Henry argued.
“Henry.” Dean paused so as not to laugh at him. “They do not. I’m a doctor, I know.”
“Dean,” Henry spoke with insistence, “I go through mood swings just like Ellen.”
“That’s because her mood swings are so severe they affect you. She did the same thing to me when I lived with her. I never said I had a period though.”
“I’m not saying I get a period,” Henry argued, “Just PMS.” He listened to Dean laugh. “Tell him, El.”
“It’s true Dean, he does.” Ellen nodded. “Last month, he went through that wanting sweets, got irritable very easily, and Henry even got bloated. Huh Henry?”
“My pants were tight.” Henry shook his head.
“Oh my God.” Dean nearly toppled his box. “Henry you . . .”
“Dean.” Stepping to Dean, Henry tilted his head and smiled. “Why are you arguing with me? I know my own body. And I’m taking this box to the bedroom.”
Turning and watching Henry walk by him, Dean shook his head. “A monthly cycle…and I’m being quarantined with him.”
“Let’s hope not too long.” Ellen tapped Dean’s cheek. “He can get vicious.”
Just as Dean closed his eyes, he opened them when there was a knock at the door.
“Oh,” Ellen said excitedly. “Company. I
’ll get it.”
“You do that.” Dean reached down and grabbed another box. “I’ll take these to the back.”
Almost in a skip, Ellen headed to the trailer door. She turned the unlocked handle and pulled. Nothing. “Damn it.” She swore. “Robbie, you were supposed to fix . . .” With the emphasis of her word she kicked the door. “…this.” The door clicked then popped open. “Oh.” Ellen blushed. “Rev. Bob. Wow. What are you doing here?”
“How are you Ellen? May I come in?”
“Sure.” She opened the door wider. “And I’m fine. We’re just putting away some of our personal belongings we brought up.” She closed the door. “Is this official business?”
“Yes,” Rev. Bob nodded.
“That is really sweet. You’re gonna bless our trailer. Hold on. I’ll get Dean and Henry.” She took a step but Rev. Bob held out his arm.
“My business deals with you,” He spoke softly. “Frank came to me a few days back. He said he wants to stop the twelve step plan.”
Ellen snickered. “Frank is tired of that? I thought he was into it. O.K. Sure. No problem.”
“No.” Again Rev. Bob shook his head. “He came to me to ask for my help in getting you to try another route, a route that deals with you moving back into the house. Here.” He reached into his pocket and handed her Frank’s list. “I told him if he could convince me with ten reasons, I would speak to you.”
Ellen scoffed in a slight laugh as she reviewed the list. She gave it back. “This is fifty percent a Dean lashing list. I didn’t think you’d buy into it.”
“I didn’t. But you have to read between the lines and look at the situation with your eyes open. He made valid points.” When Rev. Bob heard Ellen’s sneering laugh, he filled with a little bitterness. “Listen. You’re married to Frank. You made vows to him. But for over a month you have been in annulment limbo. A decision has to be made now.”
“I thought you believed in your twelve step plan.”
“I most certainly do,” Rev. Bob said proudly, “but only when outside influences are minimal. Ellen, you are drowning in a vat of outside influence . . . Dean. Frank made valid points.”
“Frank made jealous points,” Ellen argued.
“Again, I say no. The cold hard truth is that conventional relationships in this community are nonexistent. Men have reached agreement with each other, even set forth new domestic laws regarding the sharing of a woman. Men in this community are able to do that without jealousy, rage, or greed. Frank and Dean are not classified with those men. They cannot. You cannot. And a decision must be made.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Make it that easy. Do the right thing. You have a husband who loves you and wants to make this marriage work. If you choose to end the marriage, I will sign the annulment. No questions asked. But if you choose to make it work.” After a deep breath, Rev. Bob moved to the door. “Then you, Ellen have to throw yourself into it, fully. Move back in with Frank. Even for half the week at first. I know Dean is the father of your children. But for the sake of your marriage, you must limit not just your professional, but your personal contact as well. Deal with him only when it comes to the children. It was done in the old world; it can be done in this one. As with all other aspects if your life, friendship, companionship, whatever . . . you must cut Dean out completely. It’s the only way, at least for a little while.” Giving Ellen a gentle smile and advice to mull over, Rev. Bob opened the door with ease. “Think about it.”
Ellen’s eyes closed when the door did. She brushed the chill from her arms that was brought on by the chilly air along with the blast of cold reality. Turning around, she stopped when she saw Dean. He was staring from his standstill just at the living room’s entrance. “Dean . . .”
“Who was here?” Dean said walking into the living room and grabbing a box.
“Um . . .” Ellen’s nervous breaths seeped into her words. “Cole. He stopped by to see if we needed anything.”
“Oh. Good. And you better grab your things and claim the small bedroom. Henry’s insisting you should have the couch.” Flashing a smile, Dean turned, carrying his box. He gripped it in his arms tightly and walked back out of the living room.
Breathing slowly and quietly outward, Ellen fell back into a lean on the door of the trailer. She was so grateful Dean didn’t her what Rev. Bob had said. But the truth was, though he hid it well, Dean did. He heard every word.
^^^^
The Plains, VA
For hours things were just about to the point of being packed up. The men, who stayed behind waiting for the transportation to be secured, worked to aid in the stockpiling of the home out west they soon would head to. Items that would be of use, and if not needed, could be placed in storage. It was something to do while they waited.
Carrying what had become his bible, The Captain read from the open log book of Steward Lange’s when he approached the school bus that Elliott had worked on. “My God, you do amaze me.” The Captain spoke with sarcasm as he walked up to behind Elliott. “A man of many talents. A school bus none the less. I was thinking before we get it going, perhaps we should paint it a patchwork of psychedelic colors. What do you say?”
Slowly Elliott lifted from under the hood. “I say . . .” He wiped off his hands. “As long as you promise to play guitar and sing, ‘Come on get happy’, I’m game.”
The Captain laughed. “How’s it going?”
“Going. You?”
“I’ve read every page.” The Captain held up the log book. “No mention of where this spoiling camp for women is. I am a little scared that our two men may have been, well, disposed of for non-viability.”
“You’re kidding?”
The Captain shook his head. “Both of those men were over the age of sixty. According to this log book, without specifics, I’m gathering they are pretty much stuck in jars for . . . parts.”
Elliott looked horrified. “Is there anything more inhumane?”
The Captain shrugged. “Performing a lobotomy and getting implanted with a microchip pretty much is up there with that. They have a camp where they keep the men scheduled for lobotomies.”
Elliott’s shoulders dropped. “You’re thinking of helping them aren’t you?’
“I didn’t say that.” The Captain held up a finger, “I mean, we have to find our women, right? If we so happen to figure out the location of this lobotomy camp then . . .”
“No.” Elliott shook his head. “I’ll argue you on that. You said yourself no more raids. No more trails to us. Captain, if you want to build in any way to have a defense against the society, we can’t go blasting in another camp. It’s going to throw the society up our ass.”
“Up our ass?” The Captain chuckled. “Elliott, I’m not thinking of going in there blasting like idiots. First we need to conserve our fire power, secondly, my god, we wouldn’t want the society to be . . . up our ass.”
Elliott rolled his eyes. “Ha, ha. Funny. What do you have in mind?”
“Quietly. A very, very small group of us will just . . . unlock the gate for those men.”
“All right.” Elliott nodded. “That’ll work.”
“You’re too easy,” The Captain said. “But, thanks for agreeing. Anyhow. We’ll unlock the gate after we get our women. And of course, after the Partridge Family bus is rolling. Which will be when?”
“Well, I’m just about done cleaning everything up and repairing what I can. But we still have one problem. We can gas her up but can’t make her go. The battery. I can’t find one not dead.”
The Captain grinned. “Elliott, you worry too much. That’s not a problem. I’ll take care of it.” He gave a swat to Elliott’s back and stepped away. “Keep up the good work.”
“But, Captain. How are you going to get a battery that . . .” Elliott watched the Captain move further away. “No.” Elliott shook his head, talking to himself. “I won’t ask again. Because I know I’m going to look like the fool when he pulls through.”
Shaking his head again, Elliott returned under the hood.
^^^^
Cleveland, Ohio
“Listen to this.” Robbie nudged his leg against Greg, who tried to get some sleep despite the extreme cold. “Greg, are you listening.”
“Um, yeah.” Greg lifted his head from the wall he leaned against. He rubbed his eyes and tightened his arms.
“These two entries in Chester’s journal were three days apart. They were written a good many years before the plague. Entry one reads, July 17th: Sometimes I wish that I was only a worker in this game. I look around my lab, at my assistant, and envy these people with mere bachelor degrees. Their lack of knowledge, their lack of scientific endeavor will breed a certain air of ignorance that at this moment, I wished I had. The memo is gone now. It has to be. A simple memo that had few words, yet spoke so many. Words that I, as one of the fifty ground breakers, needed to know. Was my one vote not counted, or was I the only one? This shall remain a mystery until all of us meet again.” Robbie turned the page. “Now what the hell was that supposed to mean? He just rambled on and on. Right? I’m sitting here reading this saying to myself, this Chester guy has lost it. I’m thinking this, Greg, until . . .” Robbie turned another page. “I read this. July 20th: It has been done. The main team can now proceed.” Robbie smiled.
“And?” Greg sat up. “There’s more, right?”
“No that’s it.”
“But you just acted like that told you a lot.”
“It did. Something happened. The depressed, not whacked out tone to the entry. The memo having to be gone. His vote not counted. The society decided on something. Bet me, the main team is the Beginnings team. Something was holding them up. It was an obstacle that Chester didn’t want to see eliminated.”
Greg snatched the journal from Robbie’s grip. “Where did you read this?”
“Between the lines.” Robbie took it back. “I’ve read Chester’s tone through all of these entries. It changes on the 17th, drastically. Something happened between the seventeenth and the twentieth, something that held up the Garfield end of the project. If we can find out what that was. We may be closer to finding out when they arrived in Garfield.”
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 194
