Still hearing Henry’s outside complaining, Dean smiled when he walked into the hall. Frank stood at the bar. Robbie, in his usual arrogant manner, sat at the long table next to Jason, awaiting whoever else would arrive for the meeting. Immediately, Dean walked up to Frank, snatching the glass of whiskey from his hand as Frank brought it to his lips. “No booze, not tonight.”
“Fuck you, Dean.” Frank snatched it back. “It’s the first time in a long while I don’t have the kids. I can drink. Besides, I want to be relaxed for my reunion with my . . .” He raised his eyebrows. “…wife.”
“Frank, you are going to experience side effects really soon. Alcohol will magnify it.” Dean reached for the glass again.
Frank argued, “Maybe for someone like you. Beat off.” He finished his drink quickly.
“Fine.” Dean threw his hands up. “Suffer.” He stormed off taking a seat at the table.
The ‘boom’ of the social hall door opening caught everyone’s attention, but they paid it no mind when Henry burst in. He shifted his eyes to the bar, then hurried to the table, grabbing Ellen’s arm before she sat down by Robbie. “I prefer you didn’t sit by him. He had you enough today.”
Arrogantly Robbie laughed, “Man, Henry, a bit possessive? It was a joke.”
“It wasn’t a joke, Robbie,” Henry came back. “And Frank, you have to tell your brother he can’t steal Ellen like that.”
Carrying his bottle of whiskey, Frank moved to the table. “Robbie don’t snatch Ellen up again. Henry doesn’t like it.” Laughing he sat down.
“Oh, funny. Real funny,” Henry snapped. “You won’t be laughing when . . .”
“Henry. Please.” Ellen tugged on Henry’s arm, pulling him to sit. “Robbie. Frank. You know he’s in a bad mood.”
“Like we care, El. This is fun.” Robbie rocked some in his chair. “Where’s my Dad?”
Henry answered, “He’s going to be late. He’s fixing something.” His eyes lifted to Robbie. “And why is that? Why is Joe fixing something? We have a mechanical division. Of course nothing was done in mechanical division while I was in quarantine. We’re weeks behind. Why is that Robbie?”
“Gee, Henry. I don’t know.” Robbie tapped his temple with his middle finger. “Let me think about it though.”
“See!” Henry pointed. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” Robbie asked hiding his laugh.
“Flip me off.”
“I was flipping you off?” Robbie raised his hands. “Did anyone see me flip you off? I wasn’t flipping you off. Fuck Henry, go back to quarantine. We’ll make that the equivalent of the loony bin, because you’ve lost it.”
“Is it any wonder when I have to deal with you?” Henry argued back.
“Dealing with me?” Robbie snidely spoke. “What is so hard about dealing with me? I am the easiest going person in the community. Not you. You’re too much like a woman.”
“At least I do my work Robbie.” Henry’s words were sharp. “You, you start and never finish anything.”
“Like what?” Robbie leaned back with a smirk, lighting a cigarette.
“The ceiling fixture in the chapel.”
“Your job.”
“The generator door on three.”
“Your job.”
“Inspecting the tunnel pipes.”
“Your job.”
Henry grew angrier. “Well what exactly is your job Robbie?”
“Pissing you off and I do a very good job at that.”
Henry immediately stood up, his chair sliding loudly across the floor. “I’m leaving. I’m not about to stay another minute in this room with that . . .” Henry pointed at Robbie. “…arrogant asshole.”
Dean saw it coming, so did Jason who still snickered, and Ellen looked worried as she stood facing Henry. Frank, he was too engrossed with playing with his drink.
Robbie stood up with rage. “What did you call me?!” he stormed even closer. “You Henry, have your fuckin nerve calling me arrogant, you little prick!”
“It’s not nerve.” Henry moved Ellen away as he stepped to Robbie. “You’re so full of yourself you make me sick.” Henry’s body leaned to him with each sharp word.
“You’d better be prepared to back up that mouth!” Robbie’s hand came down palm first into Henry’s chest, shoving him back.
“And you’d better be prepared to back up that shove.” Henry’s hand covered Robbie’s face and with an angry grunt, Henry pushed Robbie back.
Catching his step, Robbie flung himself forward to Henry.
Ellen shrieked as Robbie and Henry grabbed on to each other. “Frank! Do something!”
With the slamming of his drink, Frank stood up. “All right.” He spun around, reaching in between the two and separating them both harshly and stepping in the middle. “Stop the shit!” Frank saw both of their fists raise. “And lower them hands gentlemen. I have no intention of stepping from between you two and I’m in no mood to be hit. Got that!” Frank looked at Robbie. “Now sit down!” He turned his head to Henry. “And you! Fuckin chill or something. God!” Frank grabbed his own head. “Making my head spin. What is wrong with you, Henry?”
“Frank, your brother just . . .”
“No!” Frank spoke strongly. “You came in here bitching. You know the way people are. They’re gonna ride you when you get like that. Just . . . just calm down. Take a walk, get some air.”
“No. I’m fine.” Huffing, Henry placed the chair back at the table and sat down. “I just want this over with. I’m busy.”
Everyone’s heads turned to the mocking and nasal ‘nah-nah-nah-nah-nah.’
Dean laughed along with Jason, but quickly stopped when Frank slammed down his hand.
“Robbie,” Frank yelled. “Enough. All right? Quit picking on him.”
“Sorry,” Robbie snickered.
Henry rolled his eyes. “You know, it was a much better Beginnings without you.”
“Yeah, well,” Robbie said snidely. “Probably not as good as a Beginnings without you.”
“Ah.” Joe’s voice entered into the room. “Conversation pleasantries.” He walked to the table. “Ellen, get out. You’re not allowed to be here.”
“But, Joe, I want to stay,” Ellen said.
“No. It’s a brief meeting. I purposely didn’t invite those who would make it longer than brief. And see, you already have. I’m arguing with you. Go.” Joe pointed to the door.
“Fine.” Ellen stood up. “Dean instigates. Jason laughs. Frank gets drunk, Robbie and Henry fight and I say nothing. They act like third graders and I get kicked out.” In a storming mode, she left the social hall.
Joe was ready to engage in the meeting until he saw Frank’s puzzled look. “What’s wrong, Frank?”
“I’m confused.” Frank scratched his head. “How is my getting drunk acting like a third grader? I don’t ever recall a third grader drinking whiskey . . .”
“Frank.” Joe tried to stop him
“Unless he has a problem,” Frank winked. “I don’t recall ever drinking when I was in third grade.”
“Frank,” Joe spoke stronger.
“No, wait that’s a lie.” Frank shook his head. “You let me sip your beer. Wait. Is that why Ellen said I acted like I was in third grade. Did she mean that?”
“Frank!” Joe yelled. “Enough about the third grade comment.”
“Joe?” Dean raised his hand some. “You let your son in third grade drink beer?”
“No, no.” Joe shook his head. “Don’t even go there Mr. Scientist. Not when your prescription for teething infants is moonshine. All right.” Joe let out a breath. “If we can get to this meeting. First order is we will go tomorrow. And . . .” Joe noticed Dean waving his hand. “Yes Dean.”
“Why do I have to go Joe? I don’t know anything about this car bomb stuff.”
“Because I said you go,” Joe told him. “Aside from administering the antidote to the virus, you were the only one anal enough to keep every s
ingle drivers license you ever had. Hence, you have a valid license for back then. We need that to rent the car.” Not really in the mood for any more interruptions, Joe continued on. “Now, there is something I’d like to say so I don’t forget. Tomorrow, if we succeed, which I’m certain we will, we will be bringing back to Beginnings one scared, little older gentleman. So please, during this few days’ or weeks’ time that he’s adjusting, don’t scare the hell out him. Because I believe he holds answers to questions we haven’t even begun to ask.”
Joe noticed it all during the meeting, and even more so as it died down and ended. Frank. He said not two words; his face drew paler and paler as the hour passed. As he stood from his seat he saw Frank leaning over the bar. “Frank? What’s wrong?”
“I’m really sick. I can’t remember being this sick.” He only moved his eyes to Joe. “My head. It’s killing me and I just feel bad.”
With a deep breath and fatherly concern, Joe used his instincts and laid his hand on the back of Frank’s neck. “You’re warm.”
“Dad.” Frank shook his head and reached for the bottle.
“Maybe it’s that antiserum Dean gave you. Let’s see.” With a short, ear piercing whistle, Joe not only caused Frank to wince, he caught Dean’s attention before he left. “Dean! Come here!” Joe shouted.
“Dad, please,” Frank winced in pain.
“What’s wrong?” Dean asked when he approached the bar.
“Frank’s sick. Headache. Not feeling well. Fever.”
“God, Dad.” Frank poured a drink. “I’m not a child.”
“You’re my child,” Joe corrected. “Is he all right, Dean? You mentioned mild side effects.”
“I’d say that’s what it is,” Dean stated, shifting his eyes and seeing Frank lift a filled glass to his mouth. He reached out and pulled it down.
“Anything you can do?” Joe asked.
“Nope. He’s been drinking. Everything’s worse. He just needs to sleep. Wait it out. Best I can tell you.”
“Thanks.” Joe gave a pat to Frank’s back and a look of concern. “I’ll head to the house and give Ellen a hand. See ya in the morning.” Joe walked off.
Frank stopped Dean before he too could leave. “You gave me this antidote tonight, on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Frank,” Dean gasped. “You mean give you the antiserum that I know would cause drastic side effects on the same night that not only happens to be my former anniversary, but the same night you have a physical reunion with Ellen? I wouldn’t do that. I’m insulted you’d think that way.”
“Sorry. But I’m just checking. Thanks.”
“No problem. And no more drinking.”
Grumbling in pain, Frank waited until Dean walked off and he grabbed the bottle again. If he was gonna feel badly, he figured he’d be so drunk that maybe he wouldn’t notice.
^^^^
Bowman, North Dakota
There were a few things that alerted Elliott to the Captain’s return to Bowman, the horse gallop, slow and echoing, the muffled voice of the Captain saying something, and the sound of drunken singing. Elliott thought he recognized the song as Nearer my God to Thee, that the male voice sang. but he couldn’t be sure. For all Elliott knew, his memory was just bad, not the gentleman’s singing voice.
Elliott heard these things, and confirmation came from the secondary night shift guard who knocked on Elliott’s door to summon him.
Leather jacket, red bandana, and perturbed attitude was what Elliott wore as he made it from his house to the main street of the small town. As warned from the guard who saw them coming and the sounds that were their alarm, Elliott watched the Captain walk alongside his horse. With the Captain were four men. Three walked with him and the drunken man rode the horse. At least Elliott assumed he was drunk, not just by his singing, but by the way his body failed to stay upright with every easy move the horse made.
“Elliott,” the Captain said with a smile as he stopped. He reached his hand up to help the older man from the horse.
With a sloppy ‘thank you’ the older man missed the Captain’s hand and in a slide, fell from the animal’s body.
Quickly, the Captain helped him to his feet. “There you go. Are you all right?” He asked then returned with a smile to Elliott.
Elliott had a parental scold on his face. His eyes canvassed the horse that toted a cart, a cart that wasn’t attached to it earlier. It was full of supplies, bags and boxes.
“Elliott?” The Captain snapped his finger. “Hello?”
“Theirs?” Elliott asked pointing to the full cart.
“Some.” The Captain looked back. “What’s wrong?”
A deep breath came from Elliot first. “I’ll wait,” He gave a motion of his head to the newcomers.
“Oh.” The Captain snapped his finger. “Brock, Kyle and John,.” the Captain introduced. “Kyle spent six years in the Air Force. Isn’t that wonderful?.”
“Yes. And what about . . .” A point of Elliott’s head indicated to the drunken man.
“Get this.” The Captain grinned from ear to ear. “I am so excited.” He tugged the drunken man forward. “Elliott. Meet . . . ready? Father O’Brien. Fr. O’Brien, Elliott Ryder.” High pitched like an excited child, the Captain spoke, “He’s a priest, an honest to goodness Catholic Priest. I thought since you played piano, you can be our church organist, Elliott. What do you think?”
“He’s drunk.” Elliott said when he tried to shake the hand of the man of the cloth and caused him to nearly fall forward.
“Minor problem.” The Captain waved his hand. “He’s a priest. Father, we have a church. It’s yours. And Elliott . . . he has kept his vow of celibacy all this time.”
“Um . . . so have I, Captain.” Elliott nodded his head.
Fr. O’Brien drunkenly chuckled. “If . . . if he’s the Captain. What are you?” He asked Elliott.
The Captain intervened. “He was a sergeant.”
“Sgt. Ryder.” Fr. O’Brien lifted his hand to salute and missed.
Elliott rolled his eyes.
The Captain smiled, pleased. “Look Elliott, he’s christened you a name. Sgt. Ryder.” About that point the Captain noticed Elliott’s demeanor wasn’t lightening up. “Someone’s a bit testy. OK, I know what you get like when you get groggy.” The Captain turned to Kyle. “Kyle, could you lead the others and our Catholic Priest to that building over there?” The Captain pointed to the ‘town hall’. “Doors open, I’ll be right there.”
Kyle agreed, took the reins of the horse, Fr. O’Brien by the arm, and led the men across the way.
Out of ear shot, Elliott faced the Captain. “Do you know what time it is?”
“No. Haven’t checked recently, why?”
“I thought you died!” Elliott’s whispering voice screamed out. “Dead. You have been gone since morning. You said you had a few things to get for the grand plan.”
“I did and I got them.” With a swat to Elliott’s arm, the Captain nodded. “Anything else?”
With a heavy breath and a shake of his head, Elliott tossed his hand in the air. “No. When . . . when do we hear the unveiling of this plan?”
“Tomorrow,” the Captain said with excitement. “And it is so good I’ve thought a lot about it. It has merit. I’ll tell you before everyone though.”
“Tell me now.”
“Can’t. Much too in-depth. But . . . I’ll give you a hint.” The Captain chuckled at Elliott’s whine. “You don’t want your hint?”
“Yes, “Less than enthused Elliott answered. “Give me my hint.”
“When we were in the service, our branch of the service had a theme. What was it?”
The corner of Elliott’s mouth lifted in a sarcastic smile. “The few, the proud.”
The Captain gasped. “How dare you blaspheme by calling us Marines. Try again.”
“Um . . .” Elliott shook his head so annoyed. “Be all that you can be?”
“Nope. Not that one.”
“What one!” Elliott grew impatient.
“Elliott. Please. This one . . .” Dramatically the Captain held his hand up. “It’s not just a job it’s a . . . It’s a what, Elliott?”
Elliott closed his eyes. “Oh, God. Adventure.”
“Good boy.” The Captain gave a slight shake to Elliott’s body. “That should give you a hint. See you in the morning.” The Captain began to walk away. “And get some sleep. You’re cranky,”
The plan. The grand plan. Elliott knew it had to be ‘out there’ for the Captain to work it out for so long before presenting it. And with the Captain coming up with it, surely it wasn’t without flare and dramatics. Watching the Captain walk away and listening to him sing his own rendition of Nearer my God to thee, Elliott put the guess work of the plan out of his mind. Knowing the Captain as well as he did, Elliott knew he could guess all night long and still not come even close to what the imaginative Captain came up with.
CHAPTER TWENTY
December 13
Bethesda Biological Research Center, Maryland
The wide dull grey eyes, the pasty pale skin with fresh blisters, the bloody regurgitation dripping from the mouth, the thick mucus that oozed from the nostrils...that was the look on all four bodies behind the glass wall.
George turned away. “When?” He asked Steward.
“Lab aid discovered them this morning,” Steward replied. “Couldn’t have happened very long ago. Everything appears pretty fresh.”
“Any idea what they were working on?” George asked. “Is it the virus we hit Beginnings with?”
“Don’t know. We’re still waiting for Burke,” Steward shrugged. “Obviously we can’t ask our top biologist and virologist.” He pointed to the window.
George groaned at the site of Dr. Radovich’s dead body. “Well, this proves my theory that Radovich didn’t know what the hell he was doing. As soon as . . .” George looked up. “Burke.”
Dr. Burke, thin and lanky, seemed to move in a side to side manner as he came down the hall. “Mr. President.” He looked into the window and cringed.
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 206
