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

by Jacqueline Druga

  “El, you can’t even drive from the driver’s seat.”

  “Get in, Dean.” Ellen gave him a shove and then she walked to the other side. She stepped in the jeep and watched Dean feel his way around as he climbed in.

  “Ready,” he told her, gripping the steering wheel.

  “OK. Now the jeep is faced the right way. Just turn it over and go. I’ll tell you how to steer by saying numbers on a clock.”

  Nervously, Dean reached for the key. “This is so dangerous.”

  “Good. You have to live life dangerously or you really don’t live life.”

  “Aren’t you being Miss Philosophical?” He didn’t see it, but Ellen smiled with arrogance. “Pretty cocky for someone who is in a moving vehicle with a blind man driving.”

  “Just drive, Dean.”

  Dean turned over the engine then shifted gears.

  “Pull out slowly keeping it steady at twelve. You’re good. Just go straight.”

  “Oh God.” Dean’s heart pounded as the jeep began to move.

  “Good, Dean. Good.”

  “How’s my speed?”

  “Excellent.” Ellen giggled.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, one o’clock, Dean. Good.” Her giggle transformed into a laugh.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing.” She laughed harder. “Oh!” Another laugh. “Two o’clock, three, back to twelve.” She held on as the jeep swerved. “Great!”

  “Ellen, what hell?”

  “You’re good.” A deep sigh came from her. “Oh that was fun.”

  “What was? Ellen, am I going in the right direction?”

  “You are now.” She wiped her hand down her face, looked back at Beginnings, then smiled. “Watch out for that tree ...” She felt the jerk of the breaks. “Just kidding.”

  “What the fuck was that shit all about?” Frank blasted out his question as he stormed into the mobile lab. “Ellen?”

  Ellen immediately ran by Dean. “Bury your head, Dean,” she whispered.

  “What is he doing, El?”

  “Hello!” Frank called out. “Answer me. Why am I walking through town, at casual pace mind you, and then ... and then fuckin Dean tries to run me over with the jeep. You think you’re being funny, Dean?”

  Dean kept his back to him. At first he didn’t think it was funny, but then the visual of Frank running from a zigzagging jeep hit Dean and at that moment he started to laugh. “Sorry, Frank.”

  “Yeah, real funny. I have to talk to you.”

  “Oh shit,” Dean said softly. “El, get him out.”

  “Frank.” Ellen faced him. “You have to go.”

  “Nope. I have to talk to Dean. In fact, can you leave us alone for a second?”

  “Nope.” Ellen returned to her work. “We’re busy. Go, Frank.”

  “No, El.” Frank walked closer to Dean. “I have to talk to him.”

  “Can I ... uh ...” Dean fiddled with his notebook that Ellen placed right in front of him. “Can I work while you talk?”

  “I don’t give a shit. Just make sure you listen.”

  “El,” Dean called her, “it’s all right. Just go in the special lab. All right?”

  “Are you sure?” She laid her hand on his back. “I can stay.”

  “Go.” Dean lifted his head. He heard her footsteps and then the special lab door opened and closed. “Frank, now what is ...”

  “El!” Frank yelled at her. “What are you doing? Go!”

  Dean couldn’t believe it. Ellen pretended to leave? She thought she’d get away with that with Frank, but Frank wasn’t the one blind. “Go, El.”

  “All right,” Ellen whined and opened the door. “I’m gone.”

  Again, Dean heard the door shut. “Is she gone?”

  “You don’t know?” Frank asked.

  “I don’t feel like looking.”

  “Man, are you lazy. Anyhow.” Frank stood right behind him. “She’s gone and we need to talk. I do have a purpose for being here.”

  “Then talk.”

  “Now something is going on and I need to know. It’s a dead giveaway, Dean, the time you two are spending together.”

  “Frank.” Dean could hear it coming, Frank thinking he was with Ellen. Trouble and interference is what would happen, if Frank felt strongly that he was. Dean couldn’t have that. “Frank, I know where you’re going with it. I do. I want you to know there is nothing going on between me and El. Nothing. I have no interest in her.”

  “Really?” Frank smiled with a closed mouth and nod. “Bonus, I didn’t even ask about that.”

  “Bonus?”

  “Yeah. That isn’t what I wanted to ask you about ... And, Dean, Alex writes better than you.” Frank pointed to the notebook. “She at least writes in the lines.”

  Dean tried to ignore Frank’s bad wit. “If that wasn’t what you wanted to know, what is it then?”

  “Oh.” Frank cleared his throat. “Are you fuckin dying?”

  “No!” Dean snapped. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Just thinking about it.” Frank shrugged. “Oh well. I’ll see you guys later.”

  That’s it? That was the big Frank question. That was the other reason—aside from almost being run over—Frank came to the lab? It was perfect. It was short, sweet, and almost painless.

  “What did Frank want?” Ellen asked as she returned.

  “He wanted to know if I was dying.”

  “I hope you told him no.”

  “I did ... now can we get back to work?”

  “Oh sure, Dean,” Ellen said, “but one thing ... while I was in the special lab, I noticed three rabbits had died. Numbers 16, 19, and 23.”

  “Shit.” Dean brought his hand to his forehead. “They weren’t supposed to die yet. They weren’t.”

  “They folded under pressure, Dean. They couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “You know what this means, El?”

  “No.” Ellen shook her head.

  “It means we no longer can put in the background, the things we have been.”

  “Such as?” Ellen asked.

  “Such as, we have been swamped trying to beat this virus. When I’m starting to believe the virus may not kill us after all.”

  “That’s good news,” Ellen stated and smiled.

  “No, El. That’s bad news. Because if this virus gets here and it doesn’t kill us, the symptoms will. It’s time to get to work on that.”

  <><><><>

  Robbie would look at her through the corner of his eye, look away, and then look back again. What was up with Andrea, smiling and buzzing around his father’s house? His head jolted up to a loud thump above his head. Robbie walked over to the stairs. “Frank! I hope you don’t have those kids in my room.” He shook his head at Frank’s ‘shut up’ and walked back into the living room. “Henry.” He spoke to Henry who sat on the couch, a notebook open on his lap, “It’s Sunday. What are you doing?”

  “Working, Robbie.”

  “On what?” Robbie looked over his shoulder.

  “If you really want to know ...”

  “Not really.”

  Henry grunted.

  “Just kidding. What is it?”

  “Well I am learning the SUT programming and I am going to reprogram the second chip to be something totally not on the program list.”

  “No way?” Robbie asked. “You can do that?”

  “I’m hoping. What you do to the SUT depends on where you implant the chip. See?”

  “I get it. So while the SUT has the one chip implanted in him, you’re gonna reprogram the other and when that’s done, reopen his brain and stick that one in?”

  “Uh ...” Henry gave a cringing face. “I was kind of hoping for another SUT.”

  Robbie folded his arms and rubbed his chin. “We can do that. The next time we spot one, I’ll get him for you.”

  “Thanks.” Henry smiled.

  “Get what?” Joe asked, when he walked into the living room
.

  “Henry wants another SUT.”

  Joe gave that disbelief look to Henry. “They’re humans, Henry. You do know that.”

  “Yeah, Joe, sure.” Henry read his notes. “But I need another one to implant with the chip I’m working on reprogramming.”

  “Then we have time.” Joe sat on the couch. “Another year, maybe, for you to do that?”

  “Ha, ha, ha. Ye of little faith.”

  “No.” Joe pointed at him. “Ye of little time.”

  If Frank could have barreled down the steps any louder at that moment, he would have annoyed the people in the next row of houses as well as those in the living room. “Hey,” he spoke upbeat, smacking Robbie on the back of the head as he walked behind him. “What’s up with you yelling at me?”

  “What’s up with you hitting me?” Robbie nudged into him.

  “Ow!” Frank faked whined and grabbed his shoulder. “Your bones are hard.”

  Robbie wanted to lash out again in a fun, fighting mannerism but he stopped when Andrea waltzed into the room. He looked oddly at her and so did Frank.

  Andrea smiled, shaking her head. “You boys.”

  Robbie mouthed the word ‘boys’ in question to Frank.

  Andrea set down a coffee for Joe. “Would any of you like some? No?” She shrugged. “Henry, I brought that planner over for you to look at.” She reached for the notebook he held.

  Like a greedy child, Henry protected it. “No. What planner?”

  “The wedding planner. It’s on the table by the door. It’s all the details we women have come up with.”

  “Swell,” Henry mumbled.

  “What was that?” Andrea, with folded arms asked. “Anyhow it’s over there. You’ll like it.” She lifted her arms and raised them with a drop. “Robbie?” she spoke so chipper. “You’ll play for us, won’t you?”

  Robbie gave an odd look. “Play what?”

  Andrea giggled. “Guitar, silly. And sing. Oh when we were back in the old world, we used to sit on the porch and listen to the boy downstairs play and sing. When you guys were practicing the other night, I thought of that. I enjoyed it. You’ll play, right?”

  “Andrea, I’m like old. I’m not twelve. No one cares.”

  Andrea tapped him on the cheek. “Sweet. I’m going get some strudel and you can grab your guitar.” She moved to the kitchen. “Oh, and I want to hear that ‘Silly’ song.”

  Robbie tossed his hands up. “What is up with her? Is she going through a change of life or something? The ‘Silly’ song. That’s a joke.” Robbie looked at his father. “Dad?”

  “Grab your guitar, Robbie.”

  “All right.” He pouted. “When I was eleven you used to make me play that stupid song, the only song I knew. What was it?”

  “Proud Mary,” Frank answered, sounding so distant.

  “Yeah that was it.”

  “You sucked,” Frank commented.

  “Thanks. Dad, do I have to ...”

  “Be nice.” Joe sipped on his coffee giving a ‘blow off’ attitude to Robbie, speaking to him like he indeed was a child. “We have company and we’re doing a family night.”

  “Aw,” Robbie started to whine, then stopped. “Shit, I sounded like Henry.” Robbie laughed when he saw Henry’s raised hand extend the middle finger and then Robbie walked over to the closet. As he did he saw Frank staring down at the table. “Frank.” Robbie stood right next to him and he saw his big brother staring, so sadly, down at the planner. “What is it?”

  Frank closed his eyes and titled his head. “They’re really gonna do this thing, aren’t they? My best friend is going to marry Ellen.” With a subtle slam of the planner, Frank ran his hand across his short black hair and grabbed the back of his neck. His eyes shifted to Henry.

  “Frank, none of this is gonna happen.”

  “It looks so real.”

  “Yeah, well, my only concern is Ellen getting so wrapped up in it, she may forget it’s not supposed to happen.”

  “Yeah ...” Frank nodded slowly. “The details are so ... particular. The whole situation is bothering me. It’s hitting me.”

  “The baby, the first fake marriage?”

  Frank nodded. “I’ll be back. Tell Dad I had something to take care of.”

  “He’s right there, tell him your ...” Robbie didn’t get to finish, Frank had left, “... self.”

  Joe immediately spun around at the close of his door. “Did Frank leave? Where did he go?”

  “Um.” Robbie scratched his head. “He went to the Social Hall to get the tambourine. He doesn’t want to feel left out.”

  “Good.” Joe stood up. “I’ll go help Andrea with that strudel.”

  “Good?” Robbie chuckled. “I bet he didn’t even hear what I said.” Shaking his head he walked to the couch. “Henry? You have to go after Frank.”

  “No.” Henry closed his notebook. “I’m not playing tambourine, Robbie. I’m not Tracy Partridge.”

  “Sure you are, Henry. You have the long hair.” Robbie held up his hand when he saw Henry’s facial muscles clench. “Seriously, go after Frank. He’s upset and I’m afraid he’ll drink. I’d go after him myself but I’ll flip on him and you’re the one who needs to talk to him.”

  “Me?” Henry asked. “Why me?”

  “Seems my brother got a reality check.” Robbie pointed back with his thumb. “He was looking at that wedding planner and he got upset. Not so much about the wedding plans, but everything ... everything.”

  “Shit.” Henry nearly stomped. “Thanks, Robbie. I’ll find him.” He tucked his notebook under his arm.

  “Henry, what are you going to tell him? What can you tell him?”

  “I don’t know, Robbie” Henry opened the door. “But I can’t let him feel bad about it. I just can’t. I knew this would happen. Shit.”

  With a raise of his eyebrows, Robbie watched Henry leave. Then it hit him, the kids were upstairs. His Dad and Andrea were doing the strudel thing in the kitchen. Robbie could make his escape. Just as his hand reached for the door he knew that was an impossibility.

  “Robert,” Joe called out sternly, walking into the living room with Andrea who held her strudel. “Wrong door for that guitar.”

  “Right.” Robbie shook his head and faced the closet. He opened it and pulled out his acoustic. “Got it.”

  “Good.” Joe sat down with Andrea on the couch.

  Really wanting to let go and whine and pout like Henry, Robbie thought of one better. He placed on his guitar and walked before Joe and Andrea. He’d let them hear him play. As best as he could, he would play and sing loudly the most annoying songs he knew. And he’d start with the Brady Bunch collection.

  <><><><>

  “Point two five percent,” Ellen spoke softly, raising her eyes above the clipboard then watching as Dean held a dropper in his hand and held it over a beaker. “Good. Next, acid content. One percent.” She watched him pick up the next dropper and add the ingredient. “Hydration. Forty percent.” Ellen, with her eyes peered to Dean, stopped walking. “No.” She hurried over to him grabbing his hand. “Wrong one.” Trying to remain calm, she lowered her eyes just to read, and she heard the thunderous crashing of breaking glass. She lifted her head to see Dean’s arm in a final sweep of the counter. “What are you doing?”

  “Not this!” Dean stood pushing his hands at the counter.

  “Sit back down.”

  “I’m screwing up.”

  “So what? It’s a cough formula, big deal. That’s why you’re learning.”

  “I can’t do this, El.”

  “It’ll take practice.”

  “No! Now is not the time to be practicing and you know it,” Dean argued strongly. “How can I be trusted to mix medication that people will ingest into their bodies?”

  “That’s why we’re ...”

  “El!” His hand shot in the air. He turned to try to face her. “I can’t even see where you are, and I’m supposed to see what I am mixing into a med
ication? And to think I am being counted on to cure a virus. I’m useless.”

  “You’re not useless, Dean.” Ellen walked over to him trying to be comforting ...

  “Useless, El. I’ll never be able to be left alone without a babysitter in my own lab. Do you know how that makes me feel? I can’t take it.”

  “Dean, that’s not true. Come here.” Ellen reached for his jacket that not only was wet, but had blood that dripped from his hand. “Take this off. And your hand is bleeding, let me ...”

  “No!” Dean moved back. “Stop treating me like a child. You have me up here treating me and teaching me like a three-year-old. Talking down to me, scolding me when I make a mistake. I can’t help it, El. I just lost my sight. You don’t seem to comprehend what that is doing to me.”

  “I do, Dean.” Ellen’s voice stayed soothing.

  “No, you don’t. All day long I have to listen to you and Henry make bad reference jokes trying to cheer me up. It’s wrong. You have me driving. Wrong. You have me mixing chemicals that could inadvertently kill someone. How can I try to save a life, if I can’t even shave my own face? A face that is so itchy!” Dean ran his hand harshly across his chin. “It’s driving me nuts! I shouldn’t be here.”

  “You have every right to be here. This is your research.” Ellen laid her hand on his back.

  Dean’s hands reached out for the counter and he felt his way into it. “I feel horrible.”

  “I know.”

  “I just feel so lost. So lost.” His head dropped down.

  “Dean.” Ellen moved closer to him. “Let’s call it a night. Let’s just go home. Let me take you home.” Dean didn’t answer her. “Dean?” She placed her face closer to his. “I’ll even drive.” She watched his head sway from her with his eyes closed. “Dean, please.” Ellen listened as Dean let out a long breath of sadness and frustration then covered his face with his hands, so unresponsive to her.

  Leaving the lab was what they had to do. Taking a break and going home was for the best. Dean had worked so hard, but he just didn’t know that. The giant steps he was taking on this day would have seemed to him years earlier like baby steps and that made things worse for Dean ... knowing what he had the capabilities to do and feeling so powerless in expending them. But Ellen knew that before they slid backwards in any progress, she had to get Dean to care enough to take further steps to go on. And right then, she couldn’t even get him to care enough to take that first step from the lab and go home.