“It’s strictly as friends. I’m moving in with . . . Robbie. We spoke to Joe . . .”
“Enough.” Frank immediately stood up. “Please I don’t . . .” Through his breath he spoke in a whisper. “My brother.” Frank covered his face with his hand then slid if off his face with a change of attitude. “You know what? I . . .I’m . . .You’re right. We are supposed to go back to being friends. We can’t do that El if we live together. We’d end up fighting. There would be stress, and it can’t be good for the baby. You know, maybe, maybe staying with, with Robbie is a good idea.”
“Frank, listen to me.” Ellen grabbed his hand. “We have to do this.”
“We can do this.” Frank embraced Ellen. “I’ll be by you too, through this whole thing. I want to.” Taking a controlling breath, Frank closed his eyes and pulled away. He kissed Ellen softly. “I’ll uh, finish putting your things away . . . not for good but for wrinkle purposes.” Kissing her cheek then touching it, Frank walked back to the closet.
There was a lot of laughter at the house. The kids ran around, everyone talked and Frank, Frank stood off to the back alone. He had found a bottle of moonshine, and he poured himself a glass. Sipping it, Frank took in the night. Laughing when he thought he should, never knowing what he was laughing or smiling about because his mind was elsewhere. Elsewhere on Ellen.
A lot of reality hit Frank that night while listening to stories he hadn’t heard in years, stories about Robbie’s teenage infatuation with Ellen. One, Frank was certain, grew into an adult infatuation. All stories stemmed from the new housing situation that would entail. What a chord that struck., a painful chord.
As the evening wore on, along with the numbing effects of the alcohol he consumed, a truth hit Frank. He knew he had his reasons to end his marriage with Ellen. But did he take the steps too fast, and in too center of his hurt over Joey? Frank wasn’t lonely. He’d never be lonely. He had his children and he did have a strong friendship with Ellen, one he knew would never fade. But what he didn’t have, was Ellen. Staring at her he realized that he didn’t just set her free, he set her to be with someone else.
Frank finished his drink and poured another. It was easier with that drink in his hand to face the fact that Ellen may have been in his house, but she wasn’t in his home. A part of him felt it would have been easier knowing Ellen would be living with Dean. He had become accustomed, in a sense, to the Dean and Ellen relationship. But Ellen living with Robbie was different. Even though it would be strictly friends, Robbie and Ellen had an underlying bond that was deeper since time was rippled. Robbie himself was different. Unlike any other man in Ellen’s life, Robbie had no expectations. That was exactly what Ellen needed. And with that hard core fear running in his mind, Frank downed another drink.
^^^^
Robbie’s ears hurt so badly from the frigid wind that whipped against them as he rode his motorcycle with speed out to the mobile lab. The single spotlight outside the quantum lab gave some light to the very dark area, an area almost spooky. Pulling on his leather gloves, Robbie shut off the bike and grabbed a flashlight. He reached for the keys Ellen had given him that he placed in his jacket pocket. Walking in a long outward circle, he made his way to the lab door and unlocked it.
He flicked on the lights to the mess that lay untouched. A scene of the night before stared back at him. Remembering Ellen’s mentioning of a note, Robbie walked to the turned over table by the window. “A note. What note?” Robbie looked around the floor and he saw it, the small note. He bent down, picked it up and read the words that Ellen told him, the words that foretold of her stoning.
In the lab, with the exception of the total disarray of equipment, the scene fit Ellen’s story. The blood by the door where Dean shot Moses. The pool of blood on the floor where Dean had laid. Red tainted fingertip smears on the counter where Dean had gripped before falling.
Robbie followed the trail of blood and the details of Ellen’s story. They led him into the other mobile. He turned on the lights as he walked in. The trail consisting of blood droplets and bloody footprints led to the living room. Ellen claimed to have struggled with the door before hitting Moses with it. The blood by the door and the splattering of it onto the coffee table confirmed that.
‘I thought if I made it to the lab,” He heard Ellen explaining, “I could lock him out and pull Dean into the special lab until help arrived. But just as I got to the door, he grabbed me by my hair. And he held me there. And . . . I, I don’t remember what happened next. I guess I passed out.’
Looking at the collection on the floor, then looking outside, Robbie’s mind began to spin in confusion and he raced back to his bike. He grabbed the knapsack he had strapped there, in a dart through the cold, he brought it into the lab and opened it up. Ellen’s dirty clothes from the night before. Evidence he just wanted to piece all together. Robbie didn’t know why at first, but as he stared at her clothes. He did.
It was obvious that Dean shot Moses and that Moses chased Ellen. A constant trail of blood, steady, showed signs of an oozing man. But Ellen’s insistence that Moses caught her just before she stepped inside the mobile lab brought the most important and puzzling question to Robbie’s mind as he stared down at Ellen’s dirty clothes. If Moses was the one who grabbed her and lifted her then why wasn’t there any blood anywhere on Ellen’s clothes?
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
January 26
Bowman, North Dakota
A mere speck Elliott was as he walked through the barren blizzard tainted streets. He looked more like a lone survivor making his way through a nuclear winter than second in command on a mission to find the Captain in a growing small town.
The school building that used to house grades kindergarten through eight sat on the road about a half mile out of town. He could see the steam generated from the horses’ mouths, as it seeped out of the recently erected metal barn next to the school. Even though the howling wind he could hear the animals and it made Elliott cringe.
He stomped the snow from his boots and flicked the flakes from his head when he walked inside. It was eerie, the lit school with classroom doors closed and the mumbling of voices seeping through.
Elliot could have thought it a bit strange that classes were being held, but he found it an uniquely intelligent approach diverting something he had seen a lot of through the years . . . cabin fever. Winter was a time when the world shut down. Activity diminished. People hibernated. And in Bowman, scouting parties were pulled in because of the weather. The same men who could have been just sitting around, eating ration, trying to bide their time while going crazy, were not only learning physical skills indoors, but intellectual ones as well. Of course Elliott argued that the ‘etiquette class’ that he himself taught, should have been obsolete.
He made his way down the corridors listening to the escaping sounds of the instructors teaching classes such as, algebra, American history, and Latin. And then he reached the last room, the largest one, the class the Captain taught.
Elliott had to chuckle. The Captain posted the suggestion of the class as a joke. But when the men found out--via Elliott--that the Captain himself would be teaching the class, everyone thought it was a brilliant idea for a winter diversion and signed up. The Captain was stuck.
Elliott hated to interrupt. It was amusing listening to the Captain conduct his Shakespearean literature class, reading the works with pose and eloquence, when not the night before he was trying to bribe Elliott to teach the class. A class on the works of a man the Captain described as being, ‘an eccentric little cross dresser who was probably on a crack equivalent when he wrote Hamlet.’
It was time to be a savior. After hearing one more Shakespearean line, Elliott knocked and stepped inside.
The Captain smiled. “Sgt. Ryder, are you joining us? We need a Juliet.”
Withholding any sarcasm, Elliott shook his head. “Hate to disturb you sir, but I need to pull you away momentarily. There seems to be a problem that needs your atten
tion at the House of Women.”
It was a huge scale of debate for the Captain, Shakespeare or Grace? Choosing the lesser of the evils, he set down his book, appointed a classroom substitute, and walked out into the hall with Elliott.
“What’s going on?” The Captain asked.
Elliott raised his eyebrows. “They have another request. They would like it now.”
“Now? Right now? Two feet of snow in the ground and they have a request.” The Captain tried to remain calm. “I know, I know. I started this. Shut up.” Pulling his bandana from the back of his pants, the Captain placed it on as he walked down the hall. “But, I’ll tell you Elliot,.” He spoke as he moved, “they can’t do it. I don’t believe there’s an item they can name that we haven’t, over the past month, thought ahead on. All of us men, placing our heads together, came up with one heck of an obscure women’s supply list. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes. And we’ve kept up very well with it.” Elliott opened the main doors for the Captain. “And I plan to keep it that way.” The Captain spoke as he walked toward the barn, ignoring the pelting snow, “We as gentlemen, aim to please. And beastly spoiled women or not, as gentlemen . . .” the Captain winked, “we are prepared for anything they ask for..”
Elliott knew it was bad by the expression on the Captains face when he emerged from the House of Women. “Well?” He asked the Captain.
After a heavy, very heavy breath, the Captain nodded once. “It’s a war game to them Elliott. And I will not be defeated. I will not.” Eyes ahead on his awaiting horse, the Captain handed Elliott s very small slip of paper and stepped off the porch.
Elliott, lost, watched the Captain mount the animal and he peeked at the request. Immediately he looked back up to see the Captain trotting away. “Chai tea?”
^^^^
Former Quantico Marine Headquarters
It was a small private room located on the third floor of the medical facility. George stepped from it pulling the door closed as he moved into the hall. “He’s thin.”
“That was the month in solitaire,” Sgt. Doyle stated. “We plan on working on that.”
“Are you sure we can trust his choice?” George asked as they began to walk at a slow conversing pace.
“Absolutely,” Sgt. Doyle assured. “It’s not the society he wants to turn his back on; it’s what he was doing. He fully understands that we have to harness the women for the best interest of the future. He just doesn’t want to be a part of that anymore. Also . . . the two brothers help.”
“The insurance. You’ve located them?” George asked.
“Yes. One is outside of Norfolk, the other up near Minnesota. Actually, Allan Boyens is part of the special teams that were placed near Beginnings. I sent word to both Boyens brothers to correspond via inner Society mail to Jess. Their CO’s are making them aware of Jess’ depressed nature,” Sgt. Doyle spoke snidely. “The letters will work to our advantage, allowing Jess to see the realism that his brothers are alive and out there. Also, with winter, and survival sweeps basically geared toward the underground societies, I’ll have more time on my hand to personally oversee his behavioral manipulation and training. I’d like to have him prepped to go with or before the virus.”
“A back up of sorts?” George liked that idea. “Of course, we have to get the antiserum and things ready first. We can’t have inside people not immune to what we’re hitting Beginnings with. But then again at the rate we’re going, we may not have to worry about any virus. Inside infiltration may have to be our answer.” At that moment George saw Steward step from the elevator.
Steward smiled when he saw George. “Just who I was looking for.” He made his way to George and Sgt. Doyle. “Just heard from Dr. Burke and his team.”
George grumbled, “Trust me when I tell you I dread that.”
“Well, you may not,” Steward said, upbeat. “Burke and his team have been reviewing what we got from Beginnings. He said they have a few more tests to confirm then he personally is coming in to see you.”
“Did he saw why?” George questioned.
“Not specifically but . . .” Steward gave a pleased raise to his eyebrows. “He did say, be believes he brings the good news you’ll want to hear.”
With a subtle clench of his fist and a quiet ‘yes’ in an assumption of what that news was, George gave a little skip of excitement and started walking again. His day was getting better.
^^^^
Beginnings, Montana
The ground crunched as Frank walked beyond the back gate. The temperature dropping so low the night before, any snow that remained out there was hard, slippery and, sometimes, fun. He canvassed the area for footprints, not that he expected to find any. Never in the history of Beginnings had anyone wandered near in the dead of winter. The terrain and snow made it impossible. That thought also gave Beginnings their safety net against the SUTs, knowing fully that even they would have to hold up somewhere until mother nature lessened her fury.
Carrying his clipboard, a small map of the area was attached. A hand drawn map with lines through it, was divided up into sections, each section was scratched off if it was clear. All of them so far on that morning were. Making his way in, zigzagging through each section, Frank stepped into S-8. It lay just adjacent to the road that was barely seen through the snow. He was cautiously looking only at the ground, keeping his ears open and radio on. But his senses were in full alert, perhaps that’s why Frank knew it the moment it happened. A crack, a whistle and then . . . an arrow. Frank let out a painful grunt as it connected with him. It pierced his flesh on his upper thigh, burning, aching, and feeling as if it had hit bone. Blood seeped out around the dark metal head of it. “Fuck.” He spoke lowly then looked down at the arrow again, the second time speaking louder. “Fuck!” He broke off the arrow just below the head. His eyes shifted to the clipboard, and he snarled, slamming his bloody hand against the paper, shouting his frustrations and pain from his gut. “FUCK!” His one word echoed through the trees, repeating itself over and over. Frank stopped to listen to his own voice as it faded in a special effect through the wilderness. Taking a minute to amuse himself at that, he returned to being pissed off and headed to his bike.
^^^^
Henry was wearing a coat? Joe had to close his eyes and look again. That tall lanky body, clad in a dark brown leather jacket couldn’t be Henry. If it wasn’t for the longish hair, Joe would have thought it someone else sealing the doorway to storage building five. “Henry? What are you doing?”
Borderline agitated, Henry moved about his arms, bringing them back up to the archway he worked on. “Hey Joe, seal is coming off. I didn’t expect it to last this long, guess we’re lucky. So what’s up?”
“I’m looking for Robbie. I checked the mechanical schedule he’s not on it. Where is he?”
“At the mobile.”
“Still?” Joe shook his head. “Why? Don’t you need him in mechanics?”
“Sure.” Henry worked as he talked. “But, since I’m not at the quantum lab anymore--which by the way no one gets in there since Jason and Forrest started their project--I have more time for mechanics. He says he’s doing something up there. He explained. I agreed.”
“It was pretty messy. He’s probably still putting it back together and helping to clean.”
“He’s not cleaning it,” Henry stated.
“He’s not? What is Christ’s name is he doing?” He watched Henry look at him then turn away. “Henry?”
“Ask your son.”
“I’m asking you. He’s been up there for days. What is he doing?”
“You should ask your son.”
“Fine,” Joe huffed. “Be that way.” He hopped back in his jeep to where he would find the answer to that question, since he obviously wasn’t getting it from Henry.
Joe pulled up to the area where the mobile lab and quantum lab were set. He parked on the road’s end just beside the quantum lab. Joe chuckled as he stepped from the jeep and saw th
e big sign on the quantum lab door, the one that read ‘Do not disturb’. Shaking his head in amusement at the sounds of arguing and banging that came from the quantum lab, Joe headed straight to the mobile.
The lab door was locked so he jiggled the handle then knocked. “Robbie.”
A click-click and the door opened. Robbie peeked out first then opened the door wider. “Hey Dad, come on in. But walk between the lines please so you don’t mess anything up.”
“Walk between the . . .” Joe stepped in carefully. Everything looked worse than when he was there a week earlier. “You and Ellen are supposed to be cleaning this place.”
“We are, sort of. El’s handling the contagious stuff and working on it. I’m doing the rest.”
“Robert, what is going on? This place isn’t clean. It looks . . .” Joe peered around. “It looks like a major investigation. Samples Robbie.” He picked up an envelope and peeked inside. “Is this a hair?”
Robbie took it from him and set it in a box. “One of sixty I found.”
“Sixty? What for? Why are you collecting evidence so to speak? And why wasn’t I notified of this?”
“First, we really never had an investigation in Beginnings so I figured it was security. Frank heads that, I told him I wanted to look further into it and he gave his O.K.. Second Dad, second . . . I feel that there is more than meets the eye with this Reverend Thomas gone bad thing. We know he’s been communicating with men outside. What happens if there are more in Beginnings. I know for a fact that there was someone else here besides Reverend Thomas that night.” Robbie motioned with his hand. “This way . . . walk between my lines.” He pointed as he explained. “First he broke the door then Dean shot him. Reverend Thomas then struck Dean, shot him, and went after Ellen. Here’s where it gets interesting. Dad, all over this place there’s blood. A trail. The man bled badly.”
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 220
