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

by Jacqueline Druga

  Danny looked at the video signal, weak, the slow blinking of the light told him that the motion signal picked up was not that big. “Maybe I should adjust the values. What do you think, Henry.”

  “We can do that. Lower them a little.”

  “Until then,” Danny shouted to Mark over the loud noise. “Can I give you a little advice?”

  “Yes!” Mark was willing to listen, then watching a reach of Danny’s hand, the noise stopped.

  Danny grinned. “It’s called volume control.” He patted Mark on the back.

  Mark so frazzled, ran his hand about his own hair. “I need to get back in the Field. Between the Security room. The Tracking room and Communications room, I’ll be flipping out when my alarm clock goes off.”

  Danny shook his head then checked out the time. “Frank and Robbie will be here soon to see how this place will run. We’re gonna do a full scale test on what we have, before we shut it back down to hook up the other ...” The odd feeling of being examined overwhelmed Danny, he shifted his eyes to Henry staring with a bewildered look. “Something wrong?”

  “Your hair.”

  Danny sprang up. “What’s wrong? Does it look bad?” he spoke rapid and with concern.

  “It’s fine. How do you do that with it? How do you get that ... that look? We were just tromping through the woods.”

  “It takes a few extra minutes in the morning.”

  “I put a few extra minutes in the morning into my hair. I can’t get that look.” Henry shook his head and folded his arms. “Do you use our Hair Hold?”

  “Just a little. In the right spots.”

  “It doesn’t work for me.”

  “Have you considered ... maybe cutting your hair just a little and maybe adding a few more layers.”

  “Will it work for me?” Henry asked, deep in his conversation with Danny, not paying attention to Mark whose head went back in forth listening to them. “I have some layers. Andrea is timid about cutting it.”

  “Go to Bentley.”

  “He won’t cut it too short?”

  “No way.” Danny waved his hand.

  At that moment, Mark had all he could take. He stood up. “Can I take a break?”

  Frank’s ‘no’ as he walked in the room, sat Mark back down. “Hey.” Frank looked around. “Check this place out. You guys worked hard.” He looked at the system. “Is this it?” He pointed. “This is great. Good job. And Mark, what is wrong with you?”

  “Them.” Mark held his finger to them.

  Frank looked to Danny then to Henry, and knowing the two of them, didn’t question Mark anymore. “Go take five, Mark. And search out Robbie.”

  “Thanks, Frank.” Excited, Mark jumped from his chair and flew out.

  “Man, what did you guys do to him?”

  Danny shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  Henry interjected. “We were talking about hair, Frank.”

  “Hair?” Frank questioned.

  “And speaking of hair,” Danny said. “Frank, have you ever considered letting your hair grow in some.”

  Frank’s mouth opened, but Henry spoke. “He tried that Danny. A couple years ago, It’s too curly.”

  “Maybe he didn’t have the right cut.”

  “You might be right. We didn’t have a stylist.”

  “And people with thick curly hair can’t just let their hair grown in without good cut. They’ll have no control.”

  Henry snapped his finger. “And speaking of control. We didn’t have Hair Hold back then either.”

  “Whoa.” Danny laughed. “I bet your hair was flipping all over the place huh, Frank? You have that texture.”

  Frank’s eyes shifted. “I’ll uh ... I’ll be right back.” Spinning quickly, and rolling his eyes, Frank too, like Mark, made his hasty escape from that station.

  <><><><>

  How much longer could he go on was the not the question on Private Tom Collin’s mind. How much farther did he have to go to be free from them was the one. Running. Running without stopping, huffing fiercely out of breath and in horrendous pain. Private Collins only looked back when he thought he heard something behind him, otherwise he kept on going, despite the hurt and despite the fact that he had been shot in the back.

  The Caceres Society Army arrived twenty-two miles north of Beginnings. Arriving like Minute Man missiles. Taking the long route, coming in from Canada and settling. But the Society Army had one big advantage. They knew the flight schedule of the reconnaissance flights of Beginnings. So the army knew when they could arrive in the small town. Knew when they had to stay within the structures and they knew when they could move about.

  Why they were there and what they would do was the reason Tom Collins started to leave. He found out things he didn’t want to know. A plan he disagreed with. Little did he expect when he disobeyed his order to return, that he would be shot in the back. And it was only after he had taken a bullet that he started to run.

  He wondered if they chased him long, if they chased him at all. He started to feel safe. And with the relief of that, Tom Collins started to get dizzy and weak. He fought to keep moving knowing full well that once he stopped, they would find and finish him off. Even the thought of that didn’t bother Tom that much. He’d rather die while on the run, then die amongst men fighting a battle they didn’t even think about.

  Tom couldn’t run anymore. His steps began to stammer and the bright day around him began to spin. With the struggling last step, Tom fell harshly to the ground. With the feel of the grass clenched between his fingers he heard the sound of it. He raised his head, so weakened. As he heard the ‘nay’ of the horse again, he saw the hoof and the legs, then Tom’s head plopped down and he passed out.

  <><><><>

  Joe couldn’t recall when the last time he was at the cryo-lab. Yet there he was making his way down there. It seemed weird, almost uncomfortable to him, but wanted to find Ellen. They were taking a break from the virus, Dean told him, and working on a community project. What that could be, Joe wondered. His curiosity piqued even more when he heard the laughter and giggles coming from the closed door of the lab.

  Buzzing himself in, Joe heard the voices, but saw no one. He heard a shriek, Ellen shriek and it came from the back. That was when he noticed it. The windows on the lab area where Henry used to work could no longer been seen through, there were smeared with something, a substance, red and brown. “What in God’s name?” Joe moved closer and jumped back when he heard another shriek, followed by a laugh. “Hey.” He peeked in. “Oh shit.” Joe stepped back.

  Ellen turned from Joe, laughed, then faced him. “Hi, Joe.”

  Dean peeked around the bend. “Hi, Joe. What are you doing here?”

  Joe stood with his back facing them. It was strange enough that Ellen and Dean had settled into the old Henry-lab, it was even stranger the way they were dressed. Raincoats, both of them, hoods pulled up and tied tightly around their faces and goggles. But the strangest thing was the lab itself. Splattered with red, the blood of some animal, the fur of the animals stuck to the wall as well. “What are you two up to?”

  “Check this out, Joe,” Dean said. “I almost have your mouse killer.”

  Joe thought about it for a second. “Wait a second, I thought you were making something that would explode their stomachs ... only.”

  “Uh ... I am,” Dean told him. “The only thing is I am having a bit of a problem getting it right, I keep exploding the entire creature. Give me some time, I’ll have it for you.”

  “Where did you get all the mice to explode, Dean?” Joe asked.

  “Mice.” Dean looked at Ellen.

  Ellen looked out the door. “They aren’t mice, Joe. They’re rabbits, or were. Silly. You actually thought mice would make this much of a mess.” She turned back to Dean. “How much longer till the next uh ... test.”

  “Should be happening in five minutes.”

  “We really need to quicken the effect,” Ellen said. “Joe? How come you�
�re here. Come to check on your mice eliminator?”

  “No. I came to talk to you, seriously.”

  “I didn’t do it, Joe.” Ellen held up her hand.

  “No, I know. But I need to speak to you about Henry.”

  “Talk. I’m listening.”

  Slowly Joe turned around to face her. “Dear God do you look ridiculous. Can you at least take off those stupid goggles so I can talk to you?”

  “Sure.” Ellen removed her goggles. “Hey, Dean, give me a count down on those rabbits, I have my goggles off.” She looked to Joe again. “Go on.”

  Feeling like he was talking to Daffy Duck, Joe spoke to her. “I need you to put your foot down and get to the root of Henry’s problem.”

  “Nope.”

  “Nope? Ellen, the man needs someone to help him though this. You and I discussed this.”

  “I know. He doesn’t want my help. I tried.”

  “So what. Help him. Put your foot down. His moods are so up and down, I can’t keep up with him. He had an incident with Ben while you were in Holding.”

  “Oh shit, did Henry turn gay?”

  “No!” Joe yelled at her. “He got rough, shoved him, snapped at him. Ellen. Swallow your goddamn pride and be a grown up about this.”

  “A grown up? I’ll have you know, Joe ... I’ll have you know ... you ...” Ellen smiled. “I see through the corner of my eyes, the large extending belly of that one rabbit. When I yell ‘duck’ you better duck.” Ellen put on her goggles. “Ready, Dean?”

  Joe caught her attention. “Ellen. Will you?”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Joe could see Ellen was preoccupied, but she was thinking about it. That was good. And another good thing was, they finished their conversation at that point, because Henry walked into the lab. “Henry.”

  “Hi, Joe. They said you were here. Why are you here? And why can’t I see through the windows of Henry-World.”

  “They uh ...” Joe pointed. “They were fixing it up. Come take a look.”

  Seeing no harm in that, Henry moved to the back lab. He was like the new kid. The one who joined the game so late into it, he was clueless about the rules. He should have paid attention to the rules, deep within him he knew them. But had he paid attention, and had he seen something in the fact that Ellen, Dean, and Joe all hit the floor when Ellen yelled ‘duck!’. Henry would have too. And if he’d done so he would have spared himself the nausea, over-turned stomach, and vomiting that hit him at the same time every internal portion of that one rabbit exploded outward and landed all over him.

  <><><><>

  Slow, very slow, George typed. And he only used two fingers to do so. He never was much of the typist, nor did he want to be. Looking over his work for errors—ones that he would fix by hand—George found his latest letter to one of his division heads acceptable. Capitalizing a letter that he missed, George reread it one more time.

  August 14

  Dear Captain Richards,

  All seems to be going as planned in the Garfield Take-over. Coordination of our attacks are in motion. Please be advised that it appears back-up from your division’s army will not be necessary at this time. You may continue with Operation Clean Sweep in your region and any other training maneuvers of your men you deem necessary for future needs.

  Sincerely,

  President George P. Hadly

  George folded the letter neat, creasing the seams tightly. On the smooth side of the letter he addressed it to ‘Captain James Richards, League of Caceres Society States, Lexington Region’. After flipping over the letter, he reached for the very tiny ladle he had sitting in the heating wax. Adding a small dot, he grabbed his presidential seal and stamped the letter closed. He stood up with his letter and left his office. His ‘Pony Express’ equivalent would be leaving at first light, and George wanted to be sure he had that letter in his hand.

  <><><><>

  If their voices weren’t loud enough, Frank and Robbie sounded even louder, echoing as they walked through the front tunnel to the gate area. Danny tried to block them out as he walked behind them wishing they would have brought the jeep, so much shorter the argument would have lasted.

  “Frank, I am not a babysitter,” Robbie complained.

  “You are today. And so am I.”

  “Anyone else can sit out here with Danny when he attaches that thing. I was out here an hour ago when they ran the lines.”

  “And you’ll be out here now.”

  “This sucks. Why can’t I be at the other sites when they’re running the lines.”

  “Cause I want you here with me.” Frank was adamant.

  Robbie grunted loudly. “I have other things I can be doing, Frank. I still have to be at Containment in an hour.”

  “Robbie, quit being a baby.”

  “A baby? Fuck you.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Oh my God.” Danny laughed. “This is too funny. Have you guys always fought like this? I bet Joe really considered an orphanage as a second home for you two when you were growing up.” Danny hid the smile when both brothers stopped cold and spun to look at him. “Maybe not.”

  “He couldn’t have Danny,” Robbie said. “I didn’t grow up with Frank too much. He was older than me. Much older than me.”

  “I am not.”

  “You are too,” Robbie snapped. “You’re fuckin old, Frank.”

  “I can kick your ass, Robbie.”

  “Only because I let you.”

  “Yeah right.”

  “I’m telling you, bro,” Robbie spoke arrogant as they neared the front gate. “Look in the mirror. Old. Grey hair, probably hiding the fact that you can no longer get it up.”

  “Oh fuck you, Robbie.”

  “Getting a little on edge about it, Frank? I hear that old guys sometimes get defensive when faced with ...” Robbie stopped walking. “Shit.”

  Frank lowered his microphone to his headset. “Down the front gate. Now.” He spun to Danny. “Run back and get the jeep.” He tossed him the keys. “Hurry.”

  Danny set down his tracking system equipment. “Right away, Frank.” He stepped back, turned and took off running.

  Waiting to hear the buzz that the gate was down, Frank rushed through with Robbie at his side.

  Robbie immediately bent down to the body of a man. He lay there, back bandaged and wearing only blood stained underwear. “He’s alive, Frank.”

  “That bandage looks fresh. Lift it.”

  Robbie untied the thick string that wrapped around the man’s torso to hold the cloth bandage. As he peeked under the bandage, his eyes raised to Frank. “Bullet wound.”

  “Shotgun?”

  “Nah, rifle. Looks like he was shot from a distance. No burns.” Robbie tuned the man toward his back. “And it didn’t go through. Unless whoever bandaged him got it out. It’s still in there.”

  Frank took a deep breath, slowly through his nostrils, he heard the sound of the coming jeep. “All right. Let’s get him inside.” Bending down to help Robbie lift the thin man, Frank paused to grab Robbie’s cell phone which was hooked next to Robbie’s radio.

  “What are you doing, Frank, we have to get him into the clinic.”

  Frank ignored him and kept dialing, he held his finger up to Robbie as he listened to the phone get answered. “Hey, Dean. It’s me. You alone?”

  “Uh ... no.”

  “Then don’t let on that it’s me. Listen, how fast can you run one of those tests to see if someone has the virus.”

  “It’s only a matter of minutes.”

  “Good. Meet me at Receiving ASAP and bring what you need.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Frank hung up the phone and handed it back to Robbie. “He waited how long till we found him, he’s gonna have to wait a few more minutes for help.”

  “Good thinking, Frank.” Robbie secured under the man’s head then lifted the man with Frank and carried him to the jeep. Then just to be on the safe side, made sure Dann
y went nowhere near him.

  <><><><>

  Joe sat alone in Andrea’s office, waiting for answers to come from all angles and they weren’t coming fast enough. How long had he waited, an hour, two? Though he kept doing his business about Beginnings along with everyone else, he kept checking back. And now he sat, a result of his last check in with the clinic when he was told it would only be a matter of minutes. So uncomfortably, wanting that cigarette he couldn’t have in there, Joe waited.

  It wasn’t the person he expected to give him answers, but she would do. “Andrea.”

  “Hello, Joe.” Andrea walked in and sat down across form Joe as he sat in her chair.

  “Where’s Dean?”

  “He had to get home.” She slumped some.

  “You look beat.”

  “I am. I’m hoping to catch me a nap before my meeting tonight.”

  “You do that. So what can you tell me about our newest arrival.”

  Andrea slightly rolled her eyes at Joe’s lack of concern and opened up the chart. “John is ...”

  “Hold it.” Joe stopped her. “John?”

  “John Doe. John is approximately twenty-eight years old, Caucasian as you know. In good health. No signs of infection, illness. Nor, according to Dean, of our future virus either. Dean’s pretty confident that he isn’t carrying it either. He isn’t in your typical Survivor shape. Body’s toned, clean, nails are even trimmed. His underwear are newer, homemade.” Andrea raised her eyebrow. “He has a single gunshot wound to the upper thoracic region. We have him stabilized and the bullet is still in him. It is embedded in near the third thoracic vertebra. Fluid is engulfing it and right now, his state is too fragile to operate and remove the bullet. We’re hoping in another day or two we can go in.”

  “Does this mean when he wakes up and if he’s well he’ll be crippled.”

  “Not necessarily. We don’t know. He’s still unconscious, he lost a lot of blood. The wound was cleaned and dressed when he got to Beginnings. So that’s good sign, less chance of infection in or around the spinal region.”