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

by Jacqueline Druga

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  “I know you’re doing all that you can for my son, Dean. Just let him know that we love him very much.”

  “I will, Joe.”

  The final words of Dean’s conversation with Joe stayed with him as he gathered the things he would take back into the bathroom with him. Having to call Joe and tell him was so hard for Dean. How do you tell a father that his son had unexpectedly taken such a turn for the worse, that it made even Dean’s head spin? The virus had turned more violent than any of the reports of the illness Robbie had sent.

  Dean heard no sounds as he approached the bathroom door. No splashing, no movement. It was almost too quiet and that scared Dean.

  He held out a robe and laid it on the commode for Ellen who turned her head away from him when he walked in. She stared at the wall, her cupped hand brought to her mouth. Grabbing two towels, Dean set them on the floor, then knelt upon another at the tub’s side. He pulled his stethoscope from around his neck and listened to Robbie’s chest.

  Ellen sniffled then wiped her hand across her face. She spoke nasally, almost as if her voice had disappeared somewhere deep in her. “I’m holding him and he’s not moving. I’m so afraid. I think I feel him breathe. I think I feel a pulse but he’s not moving. I’m so afraid what I feel is my imagination that I’m not feeling a heartbeat or a breath. Please tell me, Dean. Please tell me he’s still alive.”

  Slowly Dean lowered the stethoscope and set it on the floor. He swallowed, “Barely.”

  Ellen whimpered and held Robbie again.

  “El.” Dean grabbed the blood pressure cuff and wrapped it around his arm. “I can tell his fever is down some. It's enough to get him out of the tub. We have to get him out.” He began to take his pressure.

  Ellen listened to the ripping Velcro sound. “How low is it?”

  “Too low.”

  “He’s dying on me, Dean. He’s dying.” Ellen let out a single sob then with tightly closed eyes, she buried her head into Robbie’s.

  Dean listened to Ellen cry like he hadn’t heard her do in so long. “El.” He laid his hand on her shoulder. “Strength. You have to be strong.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Bullshit. I watched a hundred pound woman help lift a man twice her weight and then support him. That’s strong. That’s not just coming from your body, that is coming from within you. Use that, feed on that, because we’re not done yet.” Dean slowly shook his head. “We are not done yet.”

  A long sniffle from Ellen echoed in the quiet bathroom. She looked at Dean who stared at her. “Take hold of him, Dean. We’ll get him back to bed.”

  Dean slipped his hands under Robbie’s arms and pulled his limp body forward so Ellen could get out. As the splash of the water occurred when Ellen stood up, Dean whispered to Robbie as he held him. “Don’t give up on us yet, Robbie, not yet.”

  <><><><>

  Supporting Robbie up in bed, Dean watched Ellen’s trembling hands as she worked placing in the catheter of the intravenous into Robbie's arm that dangled down to let gravity fill his weakened veins with blood to fill them enough to take the IV. “You all right?”

  “Can you reach to hold up my sleeve?”

  “Yeah.” Dean moved his hand down to hold back the robe that reached her fingers.

  “I have it.” Ellen laid a piece of tape across the catheter then connected the tubing from the bag that hung from the stand at his bedside.

  “Here, you want to hold him while I administer the meds.”

  “What are you giving him?” She walked over to the bed, slipping behind Robbie in a synchronized move with Dean as he slid out the other side. “Are his lungs clear enough for him to lay down yet?”

  “Somewhat.” Dean grabbed the first syringe he had prepared.

  “Dean? The rabbits you injected with this so called antidote...how are they?”

  Dean only raised his eyes.

  “Dean, come on.”

  “The second died twenty minutes ago.”

  Ellen gasped. “But they weren’t even close to that stage of the virus.”

  “I know. I’m still standing on the premises that the virus isn’t killing them. Once again, the symptoms did. For some reason this antiserum is magnifying or speeding up the process. That’s why I’m giving Robbie all we have. I’m just dumping it in him.”

  “What?” She watched him inject the first syringe in.

  “Well, from what I could come up with, our A-17 actually worked with the antidote to speed up its reaction. I’ve given it to the third rabbit and he’s still hanging in there. I’m giving it to Robbie now. We need both to work faster, so I’m giving him an epinephrine syntheses to speed up the reaction and it will also open his bronchi for his breathing. I’m also giving him steroid equivalent to strengthen his lungs.” Dean picked up another syringe. “And a fever reducer at a higher dose.”

  “All those together?”

  “El, it’s our best chance. Fight it with everything all at once.”

  Ellen sniffled again and ran the back of her hand under her nose. “I’m sorry to doubt you. I’m just upset.”

  “I know.” Dean tossed out the last syringe. “Why don’t you lay him back down again. There should be enough pillows there and we’ll keep checking on him.”

  Kissing Robbie softly on the cheek, then running her hand over his wet hair, Ellen slowly began to slide out from behind him. She tried to keep the transition from her to the pillow smooth and without his notice.

  Robbie’s eyes opened slightly. “El,” he called out.

  “I’m right here, Robbie.” She spoke softly, still sliding out completely as she rested him back on his pillows.

  His hand blindly reached out to the voice he heard. Robbie felt the softness of the robe she wore as his hand landed on the belt.

  She wanted Robbie to know she was there so Ellen hesitated before she stood and got out of the bed completely. She figured she would stay there until he fell back to sleep and stopped stirring, then she would take her place in the chair next to him.

  Robbie moaned barely audibly, a painful moan and his other arm came to her as he rolled on his side. He slipped his hand, almost in a search, across her stomach and gripped tightly to her waist. With all of his strength he raised his head, eyes closed, and dropped it weakly onto her chest, feeling his face against her skin as he pulled at her, moving closer. “Thank you.”

  Ellen looked up to Dean, so lost and confused and with eyes that conveyed her fears. She brought her hands to Robbie’s head, slowly brushing her chin against the top of his wet hair.

  Stepping to them, Dean adjusted the pillows under Robbie. He brought the covers up over him and grazed his hand over Ellen’s. “I’ll check back.” He received a closed eye nod in response and he walked to the door. He paused before leaving to take one more look back at Robbie who clung to Ellen like a sick, lost child. Clinging in hopes of something. Clinging maybe in fear. Dean realized, for as much as Robbie needed the medication, Robbie needed Ellen as well.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  JULY 17

  There was something unnerving about calling George at that time in the day. Anyone could walk in. But seeing how John Matoose hadn’t had contact with him in two days, he had to call, like George wanted, within a certain time frame. It couldn’t be before a certain time of the morning. George was out and about running things on his side of the world. And if it was later, he could be napping and George hated to have his naps disturbed. “As near as I can figure George, Frank went out to get Ellen and Dean.”

  “At that particular moment he went out at exactly the same time our CME’s hit?”

  “The way I got the story was Henry broke down and told Frank.”

  “What about what you heard over the radio?” George asked. “You said it sounded like they knew Robbie was in danger.”

  “I asked about that,” John continued. “Dan said that they were concerned about Dean and Ellen.” He leaned back further in his chair in th
e communications room, his index finger trailed around the rim of his mug.

  “Dean and Ellen. What the hell were they up to? If I was the leader, their asses would have just stayed out there. It’s Ellen, the little trouble maker. I hate that bitch.” George sounded so angry in his telephone conversation.

  “Yeah, well, join the club. To make matter worse, her and Jenny have been speaking lately.”

  “Stop it. Stop it now. The last thing you want is for that impressionable wife of yours to get Ellen attitude.” George let out a loud huff over the line. “All right, how’s Robbie?”

  “I haven’t heard, but I don’t think he’s good, not by Frank’s demeanor this morning. They have him in the mobile lab.”

  “Keep me posted. I had a secondary plan of action in case we failed. If Robbie pulls through, we’ll get him. When is that run of Cole’s coming up? The second plan hinges on that.”

  “It’s been pushed back another week or so. Why is that so important?”

  “See if you can get me some exacts on where he’s off to. It’s a simple metal run. One day right? We’ll set him up and if Robbie is well, you know for a fact he and a team will head out there immediately. We’ll grab him.”

  “George, I have to say getting Robbie out of Beginnings is not going to make me sad one bit. But you do know he just might die and then you’re out of luck with this new plan.”

  “I’ve got another,” George said so arrogantly. “Don’t worry about it. I’m disconnecting this call now. We’ve been on too long.”

  “George, wait. What about the virus? You still aren’t using it, right?”

  “Knock it off about the virus, John. I told you what I’m doing.”

  John pulled the phone from his ear when he heard the abrupt disconnection. Shaking his head, he placed the phone away and to his surprise, just in time. The buzz of the door opened and Jenny walked in. John sprang up. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same.” She carried a small box with her.

  “I’m working, filling in for Steve’s break. You?”

  “John, you and I have to talk. It’s Friday. You know Mary and Forrest teach for me while I do supplies and replenishing.” She walked across the room. “Right now, I’m replenishing coffee supplies. You men sure drink it down here.”

  “That’s right. I’m sorry I forgot that you do that. I don’t know where my mind is at.”

  “How are the office supplies, pencils, and such?” Jenny lifted a clipboard from the box she set down.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why? You’re always here filling in, John. Pay more attention.”

  “Why do I need to pay attention to what’s here? I’m only down here for fifteen minutes at a time. Besides, they use no supplies so don’t worry about it.”

  “All right. But if Joe yells at me… You know he won’t distribute supplies unless it’s an emergency.” Jenny pulled out a canister and removed the lid. It contained coffee and she poured the grinds into the communications room’s container that was nearly empty. She sniffed loudly. “These grinds smell bitter. Do they smell bitter to you?” She looked back to ask only to see John wiping his hand across his head. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

  “No.” He shook his head.

  “You seem nervous.”

  “I’m just upset about Robbie.”

  “We all are. I spoke to Joe a little bit ago and Robbie is not good. Speaking of Robbie, I need you to go to distribution this afternoon in our time slot. I need bread and cream. I’m going up to the mobile lab and I might not make it back. You know how far out of the way that is.”

  “Why?” John asked.

  “Boy, aren’t you absent minded today?” Jenny gathered her supplies. “I have a meeting at the house tonight. I need cream.”

  “Not cream, Jenny!” John snapped. “The mobile! Why are you going to the mobile.”

  “Apologize for that tone, John.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Thank you. You don’t want me to start calling you Frank now do you?” She heard her husband grunt and she giggled. “Anyway, I wanted to speak to Ellen. I want to go over . . .”

  “No,” he said strongly.

  “No?”

  “Don’t go to the lab. I don’t want you going up there.”

  “Sweet.” Jenny grabbed her box, walked to John, and laid her hand on his face. “Don’t worry, I won’t catch anything. I’m going to stand outside.” She tapped his face a couple times. “I’m off to the next place.” She kissed him quickly. “See you. Don’t forget . . . distribution.”

  John let out a breath and placed his hand on his hip when Jenny walked out. He had hoped that sometime during the course of his day, he would have a conversation with someone where he was the one in control.

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  The slight fluttering movement of a rabbit’s paw twitching against the bottom of the cage where he laid was the only sound in the special lab at the mobile. Dean’s stared silently into a microscope, a notebook next to him, a pen in his hand. He was starting another journal on the virus. The same as the last, he had his hopes that this would be the last journal, that sometime during the course of all his note taking and work, the answer and cure would come.

  He pulled back from the lens. He had to pause again rubbing his eyes and the blurriness. It was the third time since he started viewing slides that his eyes went blurry. He wanted to go get Ellen to help, but like Dean, her sleep was limited the night before with worry and care for Robbie. She slept now and Dean was certain that it was the first time during the whole night she had fallen asleep, so he let her rest.

  What had happened? What caused Robbie to take such a critical turn for the worse? Dean reviewed his notes over and over. Did he make a mistake by giving Robbie that antiserum? His preliminary tests showed that the antidote fought the virus, so why didn’t it fight it in Robbie? In every blood sample he took from Robbie, the virus increased, not decreased like it should have. Robbie had shot from a second day victim to a tenth day victim in less than ten hours. Had Robbie been anyone else, Dean was sure he wouldn’t had made it through the night. He shouldn’t have made it through the night. Not with his vital signs as low as they were. Not with his heart rate barely beating enough to circulate blood to the brain in order to function. His lungs were so bad, Dean was ready for when they collapsed but they didn’t. Since he gave Robbie the antidote, everything Robbie experienced was now different than any future notes or any notes Robbie sent him during it all. Such a fighter Robbie had to be to hold on through all that.

  Because of the differences, Dean wanted to be uncertain on what would happen next, but he wasn’t. Making a notation into his journal before turning back to his microscope, Dean wrote down his views of Robbie’s next stage, adding a last sentence to a paragraph entry already written. After he finished, he dropped his pen, plopped his elbows to the counter, and covered his face with his hands. He prayed that the words he just wrote, the words he hesitated to write all night, were wrong.

  July 17 - 7:45 a.m.- After viewing the samples of Robbie’s blood again, a specimen taken at 1:00 a.m., it is apparent that the virus has grown even stronger. At this point, with the rate of deterioration that Robbie Slagel has achieved, it is no longer relevant to do any further samples. We have done all that we could and we gave it our best shot. Sadly, Robbie is not responding and it is becoming more evident that he isn’t going to make it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “Next on the agenda . . .” Joe, who was leaning forward onto his desk, raised his eyes to a loud Henry yawn. “Henry, what the hell?”

  “Sorry, Joe.” Henry held up his hand. “It’s not you.”

  “It better not be.”

  “The baby was up all night.”

  “Like father like son.” Joe sat back and pulled out a cigarette. “Now you know how we used to feel, before you had anyone in your life, with the way you’d wake us all up.”

  “Oh I was not tha
t bad.” Henry waved his hand at him then quickly turned his head to Andrea who gave a ‘hmm’. “I wasn’t. Not like the baby.”

  “Wouldn’t he go back to sleep for you at all, Henry?” Joe asked.

  “Frank. He wouldn’t go back to sleep for Frank. Frank, he plays with him. I told him if he would ignore the baby then the baby . . .”

  “Henry,” Joe interrupted him, “why were both you and Frank up with that kid?”

  “Frank made me get up. He said if he was going to get up with him, so was I,” Henry sulked.

  “Then why didn’t you just let Frank go back to sleep if you have to be up anyhow?” Joe continued in is questioning.

  “Oh no, Joe. Not me. I don’t do the baby thing well.” Henry shook his head. “I’m learning.”

  Joe grunted and looked back down at his notes. “Back to our council meeting. Let’s finish off old business. Recycling. So, let me get this straight. We’re telling Stuart that he can only burn trash twice a month every other month?” He saw he had their agreement. “He wanted to switch it to twice a month every month. But . . . survivor smoke signals. I’ll tell him in the winter we’ll do it twice a month.” Joe made a notation. “We’re all in agreement that the seven in containment will work fields until we have divisions that they can be trained properly in. None of our division head want to train new people until this crisis is over.” Joe said. “Let’s face it, most of them can be called to security at any time. We’ll grant them that.” He shifted the sheet of paper. “New business. Andrea, did all the women register their menstrual cycles with you yet?”