“Why? I told you I would help.”
“I know,” the Captain said.
“You’re doing this on purpose. You’re not giving me anything to do because you’re pissed off at me, Elliott stated. “You’re doing it to be a dick.”
The corner of the Captain’s mouth raised in a snicker, “No, my friend. I am not doing it to be . . . a dick,.” he chuckled, “not at all.”
“Then why are you leaving me out.”
“If I recall…” The Captain pointed to his own temple. “…you said you didn’t want to do this.”
“Yes. But I said I would help.”
“We don’t need it.” The Captain saw Elliott look away. “No, listen to me. Take a look around Elliott. Look at these men. Do you see the motivation they have? It isn’t because they believe one hundred percent that we will achieve this, how did you put it, impossible dream. They are doing it because for the first time in six years they have direction. They aren’t wandering aimlessly, living day to day, no future in sight. They know if we faced the society today, we would face defeat. But they also know if we do this right. Take our time, learn, live and build it correctly, then we stand a hell of a chance of making this whole thing work. For these men, finally they have a goal. And finally they will be fighting for something else other than their day to day survival. Their fight Elliot. And as you so painfully put it . . . not yours.” The Captain turned and began to walk.
“So what am I supposed to do?” Elliott called out tossing up his hands. “Stand around all day and watch.”
“No.” the Captain spoke as he walked backwards. “You have a job Elliott. You’re the church organist. “
Elliot shook his head when the Captain again, turned with nothing more said. “Church organist.” Elliott began to mumble sarcastically as he moved along. “Oh, no. He’s not doing this on purpose.”
^^^^
Former Quantico Marine Headquarters
“As you can see . . .” Steward said in explain mode, leaning over George’s shoulder. “…from everything I kept, it’s impossible.”
Documents piled up on George’s desk as he reviewed them. He smiled when he lifted a tattered copy of a thick document entitled, The Caceres Project. “Where in the world did you get this from?”
“That is so interesting,” Steward said. “It’s the original planned detailed by Dr. Forrest Caceres in 1970 for the presidential committee on post apocalypse survival. Actually, remember all those marine films on apocalyptic survival. Dr. Caceres was the co-creator.”
“This is amazing.” George flipped through it.
“And you can tell, we’ve enhanced the original plan. His plan structured around the Garfield land with eventual panning out in, he theorized, ten years.”
In awe George read it. “How many times was he at the original Garfield Project?”
“Um . . .” Steward leaned into the desk and grabbed the correct document. “…constantly during construction in 1972. Then biannually with the committee until 1984 when the original Garfield projected was aborted due to the seemingly end of the cold war.”
“What made you keep all this?”
“Fascination. I don’t know. It helps now. I picked up all this information when a group that named themselves the Caceres Society approached the government in 1985 to purchase or lease the Garfield Project land. I was finishing my internship back then, and the documentation came across my desk. They were a underground group that had been pretty much in operation under a different name since 1949. They happened upon the Caceres plan, which was what? Surviving the apocalypse. So they adopted his name.”
“Even I didn’t know the extent of the history. Some of it, yeah.” George read as he spoke. “I was a young eager senator heading up the subcommittee on population control when they approached me. I joined and not much later they invited Dr. Caceres to join. Then . . . he died. It was years before I found out the reason.”
“And the reason was . . . they trusted him,” Steward stated. “They invited him to the conference, trusted him, told him everything, and he freaked. At least that’s what I remembered. He threatened to go public with the information, despite the fact that it could be decades before implemented.”
George looked up. “Then he couldn’t possible know the extent of the project’s worth.”
“I would say highly unlikely.” Steward said. “But, he could very well know when all that information would be accessible and available to Beginnings.”
“What do you mean?” George asked.
“Time, dates. When it was initialized, set up.”
“So what. Who cares if . . .” George leaned back in his chair. “Shit. That goddamn time machine.”
“Our person says they can only make three more trips.”
“All it takes is one.” George swiped his hand across his face in thought. “As delightful as it would be, we can’t have Caceres killed. But . . . we can kill something else.”
“What would that be?” Steward asked.
“Any chance Beginnings has of…traveling to that information.” George leaned back in his chair. “Get a hold of our Beginnings person.”
^^^^
Beginnings, Montana
It was time to face the music again. Evening had fallen and Ellen couldn’t recall putting in such a long day at containment. Not that she had much work to do there, but it was the only place for her to be. She waded through the ‘not yets’ given to her by Joe. But after so many subtle warnings not to venture there, Ellen had bite the bullet and to go home.
It felt quiet before she even opened the door, yet, Ellen heard voices, male voices conversing in sorts. Glad someone was there, she opened the door and apprehensively walked in.
Frank stood up from the couch.
“Hey, Frank I . . .” Ellen’s eyes shifted to Rev. Bob who sat on the sofa. “What’s going on?”
Frank said nothing, drink in his hand, he turned and walked to the corner of the living room.
Rev. Bob stood slowly. “Ellen. A lot has transpired today. Revelations. Decisions have been made.”
Eyes still glued to Frank, Ellen spoke to Rev. Bob. “Decisions? Such as?”
“You and Frank have been great friends for over half your life. Sometimes things happen that can hinder that friendship. You’ve taken steps to right a wrong. But today’s there’s been a stumble in those steps. Frank . . . he wants to just go ahead and finish the annulment process.”
Sunk.
Ellen felt it hit her. “Finish the annulment? Frank? I just moved back in to work on this marriage. I just moved in to give it my all with you.”
Frank said nothing.
“Frank.” Ellen stepped to him. “Look at me,” she laughed emotionally. “You can’t be serious. What is it? You have Rev. Bob do you dirty work.”
“No. He’s here to make sure I keep my cool.”
“Right. You’re too much of a coward to admit you’re ending this marriage for a stupid reason.”
“Stupid?” Frank glared at her. “You juggled the paternity tests of my son. You . . .”
“You didn’t even know that son!” Ellen screamed. “How can you end this marriage based on that!”
“I’m not!” Frank stepped close. “I am ending this marriage because I know where you’re priorities lie. You’d rather deny me a child than hurt Dean by our affair. It’s not the act El.” Frank dropped his voice. “It’s not the act at all. It was the reasoning behind it. I believe with all of my heart you and I will always remain friends. Always. But we failed as a couple. We kept hurting each other and hurting each other. And despite the fact that we lived apart here recently, we were still a couple. That hung over our heads. That . . . allowed us to hurt each other. Without that, without the marriage, we can just . . .just stop the hurt. Just be what we used to be.”
“You don’t want this,” Ellen whispered in a mean way. “You’re striking out. You’re getting defensive. You’re making threats Frank. Don’t threaten me.”
Rev. Bob intervened. “Ellen, listen. Frank is not . . .”
“Stay out of this!” Ellen blasted, “Is this what you want Frank? Is it?”
“No.” Frank shook his head. “It’s what has to be done.”
“Fine.” Ellen stormed back to the door. “But keep this in mind. There will come a time that you will change your mind. I know you Frank better than anyone. You’ll want me back, and if it is the last thing I do, whether it hurts you or not, friend or not, you will never ever get me back.” After flinging open the door, Ellen stormed out.
Frank barged toward the still swinging door.
Rev. Bob stopped him. “Let her go. Let her calm down. While she does that, you better think one more time about this.”
Frank moved to the door to close it. He could see Ellen walking away, at a slow pace. And Frank just stood there watching.
^^^^
Dean didn’t have a clue what exactly it was that led him to jump from his relaxing state in bed, get dress, run next for Denny to watch the kids while he found an adult who could stay longer. Maybe it was the virus notes he was reading, or the fact he kept thinking about his impending blindness. Either of those thoughts involved Ellen in some way, they could have spring boarded him to do it. But Dean wanted it to believe that it was concern.
Dean knew it would be particularly hard to find Ellen. He knew exactly where she was. A search for her wasn’t out of concerned that she had wandered off, but out of concern for her mental state. The last he had spoken to her at containment she was down and dreading going home, and with every right. The last time Frank and Ellen had a blowout was when Frank found out about the affair. And remembering Frank’s reaction, made Dean want to find Ellen. Even if it was for a minute, he just needed to see if she was all right. He needed to.
^^^^
The social hall was half filled when Ellen walked in. She looked at her watch then around for Robbie. She hoped he would be there. Wishful thinking under the premises that misery loves company, Ellen knew that news traveled fast. How fast it did, did not sink in until the moment the door closed behind her. She wasn’t standing there long when John Matoose approached her.
“How can you even show your face?” John snarled the question.
Ellen closed her eyes. She was not in the mood to argue.
“Ellen? Aren’t you embarrassed to show your face around here? No one will ever trust you again. I know I won’t.” He began to encircle her speaking so soft, so cold, so bitter. “If anyone else pulled the shit you did, they’d be out of here. Maybe that’s what you should do. Maybe you should leave Beginnings Ellen. Do us all a favor. What a better place this would be, without a little bitch like you running around and starting trouble.”
He flew, John did, as if he had wings, three feet up and six feet through the air crashing back first into two joining tables. Robbie dove forward, leaping on him, lifting him by his collar, and slamming him to the bar. But that wasn’t enough. Catching John as he spun around in confusion, Robbie grabbed him by the throat, and punched him in the face. He punched him once, then again, and as his fist reared back again he heard Ellen scream.
“Robbie no! He’s not worth it.” She grabbed his arm. “He isn’t worth it.” She pulled at Robbie.
Robbie dropped John to the floor. “You’re right.” Grabbing a bottle from the bar Robbie grabbed Ellen’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
Ellen brought her knees to her chest, leaning on them as she faced Robbie sitting on the floor of the garage. “It’s cold.”
“I know.” Robbie showed her the bottle, but Ellen shook her head. “I lost it on him.” He took a drink.
“I hate him Robbie,” she spoke with sadness. “But is there truth in what he’s saying? Maybe we should leave for a while. Maybe I should leave.”
“If you go, I go.” He ran his hand down his face. “California. Let’s go to California. When’s the last time you saw the ocean El?”
“Six and a half years ago, with Dean.” She rested her chin on her knees.
“God. And we talked about this. What would happen if anyone found out?” Robbie took another drink. “I just never thought they would.”
“Me either. We knew it would be bad.”
“I’m sorry this is happening, El. Everything about it.”
“Me too, Robbie.” Ellen lowered her head further, this time placing her forehead on her knees. “Me, too.” She drew silent
^^^^
Bowman, North Dakota
The cigarette was rolled with old cigarette paper that was pretty much beat. But even though it barely stayed rolled, and the tobacco wasn’t the best, it still tasted good to the Captain.
The smoke form the cigarette flowed out the partially open window of his home. In a chair, by the window, the Captain sat. The cool winter air mixed with occasional flakes, seeped in, moving the curtains slightly along with flapping the papers in his hand.
But the Captain didn’t sit before the open window out of some ludicrous desire to be cold. He sat there for the music. As if the huge hollowness of the church were a PA system of its own, it channeled out Elliott’s piano playing into the night. The air of Bowman was the speaker that allowed for the songs to carry though the town.
It was just music but it was a part of Elliott. The Captain couldn’t recall an evening in the entire six years since the plague and even a while before hand that he and Elliott didn’t sit and talk. It became a routine. Talk, drink, talk. It bothered the Captain that even though in the same town, there was distance between them.
The Captain couldn’t say what song was playing, but he certainly knew when the music stopped. Deadness took over the night and that was the Captain’s clue to get away from the window and sink into his notes as well as into his warm sofa.
Setting the papers and such aside, the Captain stood up. His hand rested upon the window preparing to lower it. Just as he went to shut it, he heard the bang of the church doors. From where he lived, the Captain could see the church, and he also saw Elliott step from it.
Elliott zipped up his jacket and looked the Captain’s way.
The Captain, not known if he were spotted, lifted his hand in a wave anyhow. Elliott’s must not have seen him because he just started walking.
Seeing Elliott walk away made the Captain see what he had to do. Even though Elliott said things that hurt him, the Captain would have to understand that was Elliott’s opinion. And after a few days wait, if Elliott hadn’t changed his mind and come around, the Captain would just swallow his pride. Though he may not agree, he would accept Elliott decision and even listen to the reasoning. He had too. Elliott was too good of a man, too good of a friend, for the Captain--like he just watched him do--to allow Elliott to keep walking away.
^^^^
Beginnings, Montana
“I can’t believe I was so wrapped up in that microchip,” Henry stated almost frantically as he walked with Dean. “When did all this go down?”
“This afternoon, “Dean answered. “Thanks for helping me look for her.”
“It’s not gonna be hard, Dean,” Henry said. “She should just be . . .” Henry slowed his speech down when he saw Frank walking. “Home.” He walked up to Frank. “Hey, Frank. Where’s El?”
“Don’t know.” Frank tossed his hands up. “I’m going to the hall. I need a drink.”
Dean looked at Henry. “I’ll go back toward town. You see what you can find out.”
Henry nodded and returned to Frank.
Frank watched Dean. “He’s not wasting anytime, is he?”
“You mean looking for Ellen?”
“No getting back with her.”
Henry chuckled. “What are you talking about? You have the understanding with me.”
“Not anymore. El and I . . . it’s over,” Frank stated.
“For now.”
“For good.”
“Right.” Henry took a few steps. “This is you we’re talking about.”
; “And I’m telling you Henry, no more. I’m not doing it anymore. It’s over.”
Henry paused in his walking, he saw Frank’s look. “You’re serious.’” He watched Frank nod. “You can’t do that. You can’t break up with her over something she did in a past that you didn’t even experience. That is so wrong. How can you judge that fairly? How do you know what you were like?” Henry asked with an edge.
“Henry, this is only the icing on the cake. It’s coupled with everything else. We keep hurting each other. It has to stop. If it doesn’t, we’ll never even be able to face each other as friends again.”
“And if you do this Frank, you won’t be able to face each other as a couple again. Your relationship cannot withstand one more break up. It can’t.”
“I know this.”
“Then why are you doing it?” Henry asked with passion.
“It has to be done. It’s over.”
Henry shook his head. “Don’t do this Frank. Don’t. Go get your drink. I have to go.” Quickly, and with no further words, Henry walked away.
^^^^
It sounded quiet, no voices came from the garage when he arrived there. Dean had gone to the social hall again, listened to the story of the fight, and how Ellen left with Robbie. That was something to go on. He kept going back home in between stops, hoping she was there. She wasn’t. Finally the night guard said that he saw them go into the garage. Having that, that’s where Dean went.
A light was on; they had to still be there. Opening the door without knocking, Dean walked in. He saw them facing each other, a conversation between them stopped when he was spotted “El.” He called her name, hoping she’d turn around. “El.” He walked closer. Her head was down.
“Hey, Dean.” Robbie cleared his throat then finished off the last of the bottle.
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 212
