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

by Jacqueline Druga

  Joe stepped forward. “Holy mother of God. What is this place?”

  Greg, flashlight in hand, stepped into the room. “As I told you before, Joe, this is your answer. I saw it when I was heading down to the cryo-lab. I knew as soon as I saw it, this was it. This is what you needed.” He disappeared into the dark room. With a loud click, a humming occurred, and one by one, rows of ceiling lights came on brightening the once dark room. A large room, deep. Set in the center were three tables of electronics, monitors of some sort, unlit intricate panels next to each one. They lay there like video games waiting to be turned on and played.

  Robbie knew exactly what it was when he stepped in. “This is it Dad.”

  Joe’s head dropped and he let out a breath of relief. “Thank God. Greg, . . .” He lifted his head. “What can we say? Thank you?”

  “Eh.” Greg waved his hand and moved about excitedly. “Joe, in this room.” He pointed to a door. “Boxes, Joe, Boxes and boxes of cellular phones. That’s why we have fiber optics in Beginnings. We were designed for phone communication.”

  Frank was just as stunned. “Dad, is this what I think it is?”

  “Yep.” Joe took it all in. “This, gentleman, is a communication center. Remember these panels from the service, Frank?” Joe pointed. “These can be used to pick up any signals being sent, via phone line, satellite, radio etcetera. And that.” Joe pointed to the blacken wall length board. “I am willing to bet any money that it lights up and indicates also.”

  “It needs linked up,” Greg said then pointed to a door in the back. “That door leads to a storage room. The means to build the link up dish is in there.”

  With a smile, Joe looked to Henry. “Can you do it? Can you mantle the dish?”

  Henry scratched his head. “Yeah, it may take time but Joe . . . call me stupid.’

  “Stupid,” Robbie snickered.

  Henry glared. “What’s the big deal? We have phones. Whippy. Really, this can’t be what the society wants so badly? Phones? How hard would it be to start that up again?”

  “You really don’t get it, do you?” Joe said, as he held out his hand in an indication of the room. “The Garfield Project wasn’t the center of the food industry for them. It wasn’t the center of their cryogenics process. It is the heart of their whole plan. This is supposed to be the center of their operations, the main communications link,” Joe spoke with much arrogance. “And they never expected for us to discover it. This is what George protected and wanted so badly, his eyes to the world. He would be able to see it all. Yeah, yeah, he’s growing, but so what? We don’t need massive forces to bring the society down. We can do it little by little, bit by bit. Surgical strikes. Because they have to communicate. All these troops they send out. They aren’t out there blind. They’re out there, and so will we. And the moment we get this place up and running, the moment anyone, a single soldier to an entire brigade sends out a signal, we will receive it, we will locate them, find, and then . . we will take them out.”

  A RACE AGAINST TIME

  HENRY’S JOURNAL

  March 29

  The satellite dish is complete, the lines are hooked up, and tomorrow we see if what I have done works with the programming Forrest completed the computer network in the communications center. If it does, then Robbie’s return from getting equipment will signify his leaving soon. Only it will be to stop anything that is near or comes close to us. I’ve always prided myself as being the master of tools. But today too much hinges on the fact that even the slightest incorrect insertion of a screw will spell failure. Fingers crossed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  March 30

  Beginnings, Montana

  “The master of the nomads has returned,” Robbie made his announcement as stepped into his father’s office.

  “Christ.” Joe shook his head and stood up from behind his desk. “Just in time too.” Joe embraced his son. “Glad to have you back.”

  “Just in time for?” Robbie asked.

  “Henry finished everything. Right now he’s running the final connections up to the satellite. You didn’t see it when you came in? It’s right by the front tunnel on that hill.”

  “No, we came in the back gate. And I am ripe. How much time do I have?”

  Joe looked at his watch. “About an hour. But you may want to allot time to stop by the clinic. You’re an uncle again.”

  “No shit?” Robbie grinned. “Denice had the baby? How are Frank and Johnny being?”

  “Frank’s ecstatic. Johnny, well, he’s about as excited as he can be. It’s being considered Curt’s blessed event. He’s married to Denice. Who the hell knows? I’ll never understand these issues.”

  “You should. You signed that law.”

  Joe chuckled at his son, reached back, and grabbed his clipboard. “That I did. I’ll walk with you. I want to go down this list and see what you got and didn’t get.”

  “Everything.” Robbie opened the door. “Dad we are hooked up. We’re ready. Has Frank been working with my squad?”

  “Daily. Run into anything out there?” Joe pulled the door closed.

  “Nope.” Robbie walked with his father. “And it kind of makes me wonder.”

  “About what?” Joe asked.

  “Are they really out there?”

  “Oh they’re out there Robbie.” Joe laid his hand on Robbie’s back. “They just aren’t expecting us.”

  ^^^^

  Frank knocked once on the mobile lab door. He didn’t get an answer and figuring he couldn’t possibly be considered an intrusion, he just walked in. “Dean.” He called out to Dean whose back had faced him. Frank stepped closer to him and as he did, he noticed that Dean had headphones on. His head moved some in a nod as he wrote something on a clipboard. Wanting to peek and see what song Dean was writing the words to, Frank opted to disturb him first instead. With a Frank-style flick, he beamed Dean in the back of the head at the same time he called his name loudly. “Dean!”

  Dean jumped removing the headphones, and spinning as he stood from his stool. “Frank. Shit, you scared me.”

  “Where’s Ellen?”

  Dean was about to answer, but he stopped with an inconspicuous sniff. “Were you drinking?”

  “No,” Frank scoffed, “it’s eight in the morning. Where’s Ellen?”

  “Oh. Henry picked her up a few minutes ago. You just missed her. He’s showing her the satellite and they’re heading down to the test.”

  “Not that I want to. You want a lift?”

  Dean shook his head. “No. Johnny’s on his way up, I’ll take his jeep.”

  “All right. I’ll see you there. Oh . . .” Frank stopped in his walk to the door. “What were you listening to?”

  “Myself.”

  “Since when did you start singing?”

  “What?” Dean laughed. “I wasn’t listening to myself singing you goof. I was listening to myself talk.”

  “I guess someone has to.” He grabbed the door, laughing at his own wit. Frank started to leave but stopped when he heard the sound of something falling and crashing. He quickly turned around. “Shit . . . Dean!” He ran over to him.

  Dean held on to the counter, his head down, and he gripped the edges as if trying to get his stand.

  Seeing him, Frank grabbed hold of him, trying to steady Dean. “What’s wrong?” Frank looked at him. “Dean?” He saw the far off look in his eyes. “Dean?” He snapped his fingers.

  “I’m . . . I’m all right.” Dean gripped the counter harder. He mumbled softly.

  “What happened?” Frank asked.

  “The . . . pain.” A focus began to return to his vision and Dean saw the serious look Frank was giving. “I got hit with a bad pain. It was something I ate.” He grabbed for the stool and sat down, breathing slowly and through his mouth.

  “Man. Must be bad to knock you over. And since you mentioned that . . .I’m making an escape.” Frank gave a hard pat to Dean’s back and stepped away. “If you ate someth
ing that gave you gas pains that bad, I don’t want to be trapped in a small metal tube with you. See you at the test.”

  Grabbing his bearings and wishing he felt slightly well enough to chuckle at Frank’s comments, Dean turned around. “Oh and Frank?” Frank was gone. “Thanks.” Starting to feel better, Dean clenched his fist. He opened his hand, staring down into the palm of it. Seeing the evidence of how he gripped the counter so fiercely in his pain, he nearly drew blood.

  ^^^^

  Former Quantico Marine Headquarters

  It was huge, a painting of a window with a spring landscape. George sat in his office, rocking some in his chair, with a curl to his lip as he stared at it hanging on his wall. “Pathetic. What the hell is that?”

  “You mentioned you wanted a window with a view,” Steward said. “Until we refurbish the oval office. that’s for you.”

  “Well take it down.” George spun his chair around. “It’s stupid.”

  Steward spoke as his head was down to his notes. “You’re irritable because of the situation.”

  “I have every right.”

  “Yes, but not to take it out on the hard work of a very talented man.”

  George scoffed, “Give me the news.”

  “All calls have been placed out. Should they not hear back from us, our men are to assume Beginnings has successfully linked up the communications center. Radio and telephone silence. No one is to use the phone. From here on in, unless notified otherwise, messenger and Morse code.”

  “We’ve regressed,”

  Steward shrugged, “For the time being until they realize how big we really are. Good news though. Sgt. Doyle reports Jess Boyens has moved into the brigade in which he will defect from.”

  George mumbled a ‘whatever’

  “You’re sulking.”

  “And with every right,” George snapped. “A little piss ant dot on the map is about to cripple us more than they even realize. And I’m supposed to . . . UH!” George shirked when the phone rang. “I thought you gave the order for no one to use the phone.” With a hard snatch up of the receiver, George spun his chair and barked, “What! No calls!” An immediate ringing silence hit the office which was broken by the slight creak of George’s chair when he leaned forward. “Say that again.” He nodded and turned his chair around again to face Steward. “When?” He spoke softly, then closed his eyes. “Thank you. Keep me posted.” Slowly his hand extended and hung up the phone. His eyes met the questioning ones of Steward’s. “That was Burke. The virus and antiserum match up. They work. He’s starting production on the inoculations and the two virus strains. He said about four weeks it will be ready.” George sighed softly in relief. “We have our means of getting Beginnings . . . now . . .” He ran his hand over his mouth. “How do we get it there?”

  ^^^^

  “There you are.” Joe stood up from the seat he had next to Forrest and Jason. He presented a great mood to Frank, Henry, Robbie, and Ellen when they walked in the communications room. “We’re anxious to test this thing.”

  Forrest stood up also, extending his hand to Henry. “An-ray. Good jobe. You must be very happy dat it is don. Boot, after all dis. I butt you luck to tuck a brick. Oui?”

  “Um . . . yeah Forrest sure.” Jittery, Henry stepped back, biting his nails in anticipation.

  Joe picked up a box and laid it on the counter table. “All right, here’s where we stand. While Henry has been working diligently on the satellite we learned this system again. There were three manuals and between Jason, Forrest, and I, we think we have the system programmed to react . . .” He slowed in his speech when Dean, dragging-like walked in. “Dean.”

  Raising one hand in sluggish wave Dean moved into the room. “Am I too late?”

  “No.” Joe shook his head. “Not at all.”

  Ellen noticed Dean’s demeanor right away. She quietly scooted to him. “What’s wrong?” She whispered.

  “Nothing.” He grabbed her hand, squeezed it then released it. “We’ll talk later.”

  Joe cleared his throat and continued. “As I was saying. I think we have this programmed correctly. The only problem is, we’re unable to go too far beyond the US. But the US is our main concern right now. We’ll work the bug out that’s holding us back. Anyhow . . .” Joe’s mood stayed ‘up. “When any phones or numerous radios are used, we should get a signal on the big map.” He pointed to the board behind him that lit up the United States. “Since we don’t have the man power, we only hooked up one table of monitors. That’s all we’ll need. We can pin point the type of signal and a close proximity where it is coming from. For the time being, Jason, Forrest, and I will monitor down here around the clock until we train someone. Now in this box.” Joe’s hand tapped on the box he leaned against. “We have sixty of the phones programmed and ready to use . . . Ellen.” He smacked her hand away. “Hands off. Henry worked really hard on these. So let’s use these to run a test. Henry power up that satellite. It’s your baby.” Joe pointed to the circuit box on the wall.

  “Um.” Henry shook his head. “No, Joe, I’d rather not.”

  “Henry!” Joe scolded. “Turn on the goddamn satellite.”

  Nodding, Henry took a breath and moved slowly to the box. Just as his hand reached for the switch, an annoying buzzing sound from Robbie made him stop.

  “Sorry,” Robbie snickered. “Go on.”

  Shaking his head, Henry, with another breath turned on the switch. A beep through the speakers of the system indicated it was on. “All right. Now let’s test it.”

  Joe pulled out a phone and handed it to Henry. “This is all charged up.” He then saw Ellen’s hand waving fanatically about. “Yes Ellen?”

  “Please Joe. Oh please can I call Henry on the phone. Please?” She begged like a child. “Please?”

  “Oh all right.” Joe gave her the other phone. “Power it up and dial . . .”

  “Joe?” Ellen looked at the phone. “Is this little number pasted her, my phone’s number?”

  “Oh, Joe.” Ellen powered it up. “I love these things. I used to love my cell phone. Boy did I use to rack up the monthly charge on that . . .”

  “Ellen. Dial!” Joe calmed himself. “Dial . . . 390-7766.”

  Ellen giggled with every beep of the phone. She pressed send and placed it to her ear. “Oh my gosh it’s ringing.” Immediately Henry’s phone rang. “Come on Henry answer.” She lifted her eyes to Joe. “I hope he’s home.”

  Hesitantly Henry answered, “Hello.”

  “Oh hi Henry it’s me, Ellen,” she spoke chipper. “What are you doing?”

  Ignoring Ellen’s annoying phone mannerism, Joe waited with bated breath and fingers to his mouth in the room that only held Ellen’s chattering. He along with everyone but Ellen stared at the big board. “Come on. Come on.” Joe beckoned. Then suddenly, like the startle of an alarm clock a loud beeping pattern began and a red light blinked on the United States map. “Yes!” Joe shouted along with every else. “Jason.” He turned around. “Pull it up.”

  Frank looked down at his watch. “Not bad. Forty-five seconds for the signal.”

  Jason moved his fingers quickly. He too was nervous for the first real test. “Got it Joe. This is telling me it is a fiber optic communication. It says single signal.” A few more taps. “Coming from Montana.”

  “Can you get it closer Jason?” Joe asked.

  “I’m trying. Yes . . . Garfield County Montana. Nearest listed location approximately . . .” Jason clapped his hands. “…forty-five miles west of Rock Springs.”

  Relieved to hear that, Henry dropped his head. “It worked.”

  “Oh Henry,” Ellen spoke in the phone, “you did so good. Let me talk to Frank.”

  Henry smiled and walked the phone over to Frank. He tapped him on the shoulder. “For you.”

  Frank took it and placed it to his ear. “Hello? Hey El.” He looked at his father covering the receiver. “It’s El.”

  “Give me the goddamn phone,” Joe sna
tched it up. “The test is over Ellen. Hang up.” He switched it off and down went the signal.

  Ellen whined, “Joe. I was having fun.” She ignored Joe as he reached for her phone. “Just let me try one more call.”

  “Ellen!” Joe yelled. “Who the hell are you going to call? No one else has a phone. We’re giving them out tomorrow. Just give it back. Now!”

  “O.K.” With a slam to his hand, Ellen laid it hard on Joe’s palm.

  “Jesus Christ.” Joe folded up the phone. “Someone get her out of here.” As he walked by Henry, he patted him on the back. “Good job. Very good job Henry. I’m proud.” Joe placed the phone back in the box with the others. “Now Robbie, from here on in you are on call. As soon as we get a signal, you and your crew have a direction and are off.” Joe smiled. “People I have a feeling it is going to be one hell of a spring.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Bowman, North Dakota

  The warming spring breeze carried a silence and solemnest to it. There were two noises for the moment in Bowman. The flap of the flag in the wind and the sound of Taps being played slowly on the bugle. Hands at sides, knees ever so slightly bent, and look of pride upon their faces, the men of Bowman stared at the lowering flag. All activity froze. Evening colors.

  The last note played, the flag was brought down, and the men dispersed for dinner at the mess.

  It was long and brown and it ran down to the plate like a combination of molasses and chocolate syrup. The Captain’s eyes stayed adhered to it. “Something went amiss in the reconstitution of that gravy.”

  “I’m sure it tastes fine,” Elliott said, waiting for his helping.

  The Captain moved his tray down the line. “Ah, the fruit looks . . .” He tilted his head. “…semi better.” With a chuckle he grabbed the mystery fruit and placed it on his tray. At the end of the line he filled his coffee mug and walked over to the table where the officers sat.