“No.”
“Yes.” Dean nodded. “And bet me it’s happened before. But we can’t really get mad because we weren’t there in that history.”
“Technically we were,” Frank said. “We just don’t know it.” He looked at his watch. “Shit, we’d better be splitting up. We’ve been out here long enough.”
Dean checked out the time also. “Yeah. You’re right.”
“I’ll head out first.” Frank began to walk. “Hey, Dean. Thanks for the talk. And work on that chemical.”
“I will. You work on my animal.”
Frank just grinned and kept on walking.
^^^^
Beginnings, Montana
Was Andrea home already? Joe asked himself when he walked in the house, smelled the scent of food, and heard the . . . slamming of pots? “Andrea.” Joe walked in the kitchen.
“Joe.” Andrea kept her back to him. “I pretty much have everything ready. I have to do something around dinner time at the clinic. A, uh . . . . patient. It won’t take long. Hand the salad duty over to someone, please.”
“What’s wrong?”
It was high pitched and so female. “Nothing.” She laid a lid on the pot. “I just a patient.”
“I’m not talking about the clinic. I’m talking about with you.”
“What do you mean, Joe? What’s wrong with me because I won’t make the salad?” She stirred the cooking pasta. “I hate warm lettuce and you know perfectly well if you break it too soon it turns brown. I don’t know about . . .”
“Andrea! For crying out loud.” Joe stepped to her. “You found something out, didn’t you? When you, Jason, and Johnny looked into the autopsy you found something . . .”
SLAM! The metal pasta fork banged off the counter. Andrea spun coldly to Joe. “I found nothing.”
Joe’s eyes widened at the sudden switch in demeanor. “Excuse me?”
“And don’t you ever ask me to go behind a coworker’s back again. You hear me? Leader, former leader, council member. I don’t care.” Her arms waved about. “There was nothing what so ever in those reports. None of us found anything, Joe. You!” Andrea pointed as she backed up. “Just want answers so badly that you will stoop so low as to go behind Ellen’s back to find out. There are no answers, Joe, and I feel really awful for doing your dirty work. From now out, if you want to play private investigator and find out what you think you know, then you do it. Stop asking everyone else to do it. Stop asking me!”
“Why are you so upset about this? I asked you to read her reports.”
“Without her knowledge.”
“Yeah. So.”
“It’s wrong.”
“Yeah so.”
Andrea grunted loudly. “I’ll tell you what your problem is, Joseph Slagel.”
“O.K. I’m game. Tell me,” Joe said.
“Ellen said it was inconclusive., but your problem is this isn’t the CIA. When the truth is staring you in the face, you don’t want to believe it because it’s not hidden behind anything. Well, Joseph, not all things are hidden deeply somewhere and sometimes you just have to take it for face value. Sometimes the most obvious truth really is the answer and this is just one of those cases.” Andrea stormed out.
Joe stared at the empty doorway. “In more situations than you realize, Andrea, you made a valid point.”
^^^^
Quantico Marine Headquarters
George smiled as he hung up the phone and looked at Steward who stood before his desk.
“Good news, sir, from Beginnings?” Steward asked.
“I don’t know. Could be.” George tilted his head with a smile. “Seems Beginnings has two men dead. Very violent killings.”
“And . . . does this have to do with us?”
“Aside that it’s just pleasant news to hear, it may.” George leaned back in his chair with a pleased smile. “It just may.”
^^^^
Jess and John had to stay hidden deep in the brush so that the headlights from the four huge military trucks didn’t shine upon them. They were taking pictures then they needed to be when the trucks arrived. They were so engrossed with Frank standing on the roof of the one building, posing as if he were some hyped- up wrestler in an arena full of people. It was so evident that Frank knew from Dean that John and Jess were probably out there, scouting and taking surveillance photos. John and Jess took some good shots of Frank and had some laughs before the trucks pulled through the gate and stopped just inside. The arrival of the trucks shocked them but not as much as the regimented lines and lines of shaven-head soldiers who stared blankly and coldly as they marched right in.
“Shit.” Jess exclaimed.
“What?” John asked.
“CME’s.”
“What?”
“I estimate that over two hundred of what you call SUTs, just made our chances of getting in that base a little tougher.”
^^^^
Dean kept looking at the men who started to line up at the gate. They were waiting for someone but obviously not Frank. They were in the distance, but still Dean could tell by their expressions what they were. They weren’t all human. That was a quality they lost at the hands of some cyborg surgeon.
Dean would walk, stop, look, and walk again to the lab building. He was so into the arrivals that he didn’t see Leonard walking out of the lab building. Dean nearly bumped into him.
“Dr. Hayes.”
“Leonard.” Dean tried to get passed him.
“Working late this evening, I see.”
“I found some interesting compounds we don’t have in Beginnings. I wanted to look and work with them some more. Is that a problem?”
“No, not at all. President Hadley would be pleased to know of your curiosity.”
Dean grunted and moved to the double doors.
“Dr. Hayes.” Leonard’s call caused him to stop. “In your journeys across base, did you by chance run into Lt. Murphy? He’s the black man that stays with we ambassadors.”
“Nope.” Dean shook his head. “Losing men Leonard? George won’t be pleased.”
“No he won’t. I’ll have to find our other lieutenant for the arrivals.”
“You do that.” Dean really wanted to tell Leonard he could care less. But he didn’t want to draw any attention to himself. He just kept walking. He went into the building, through the main lab, and passed the freezer room into the hideous hideaway--as Frank referred to it. Then Dean stopped. “Frank.” Dean immediately closed the door and shut the blinds. “What the hell is this?”
“Your test subject.”
Dean looked at the black man in uniform, tied and gagged to the chair. The man was sweating and his head was bleeding. “This . . . this is Lt. Murphy.”
“Yeah. Your point?”
“They’re looking for him, Frank.”
“Yeah.” Frank placed his hands on his hips. “And your point?”
“They’re gonna know he’s gone.” Dean grew excited. “You can’t just kidnap and tie up everyone, especially him. They’re gonna start to wonder what happened to him, Frank.”
“No they won’t.” Frank waved his hand. “He’s at survival training.”
“Survival training?” Dean asked. “Where the hell is that?”
“That’s the special secret place that all good Society officers go.” Frank placed his finger to his own temple, imitated an explosion sound, and let his head drop to the right only before snickering.
“You’re sick.” Dean pointed.
“Yeah, and you have a test subject.”
“What are we gonna do with him while I figure out the chemical compounds?”
“Aha.” Frank walked over to a counter, bent down, and opened the large door underneath. “Quite cozy. While he’s tied up and gagged, no one will hear him.”
“That’s cruel.”
“It’s war and he’s our prisoner.”
Dean’s hand covered his eyes as he shook his head in whining debate. “Frank. Frank. Frank.”<
br />
“Dean. Dean. Dean. You gonna make him shrivel like in Colorado? Hey, Dean. Make it take a while, O.K.”
“Frank.” Dean cringed. “Enough of the sick comments. Let’s get him situated . . .”
“You gonna use him then?”
“I have no choice. We can’t set him free. Oh, if we get busted.”
“We won’t. If you don’t want him Dean, I’ll just take him out to survival training.” Frank began to place his finger in a gun fashion to his own temple again but Dean lowered his arm.
“Stop that. All right.” Dean looked at Frank. “Let’s take care of him. Then you, as fake C.O. here, have another issue to deal with.”
“Like?”
“Like the two hundred SUTS that just marched in the front gate.”
“Fuck.” Frank took off.
“Frank!” Dean spun with his hand out but Frank was gone. “Damn it.” He turned around and looked at Lt. Murphy, who, frightened and shaken, stared at Dean as if for help. Dean shrugged, raised his eyebrows, and lifted his hands to the Lieutenant. “Sorry.”
^^^^
Beginnings, Montana
Joe recalled in his mind how angry Andrea was at the snooping issue, going behind Ellen’s back, and looking into her things. Joe even recalled how Andrea--while getting dressed for the house full of company she left--went on and on to Joe about the respecting of other people’s privacy and business. Honesty and trust. Joe whole heartedly agreed with Andrea, one hundred percent but there were times where you have to just swallow your morals and what’s right and dig at whatever cost for the truth. That was the reasoning Joe used in his mind when he followed his wife from the house in the middle of a Slagel family gathering. Telling them he wanted to walk her home because it was dark, Joe left minutes after she did.
Everything Andrea preached about honesty, trust, and respect went right out the window when Joe saw she never went to the clinic. Quietly and in the dark, she sat on a bench behind the chapel with Rev. Bob--which was convenient for Joe because he could hide and not be seen. He couldn’t hear what they whispered, only that they did. But what they said didn’t matter. He didn’t need to hear the words. What he saw was enough. More so than Andrea’s lack of honesty was the fact that there in the dark, hidden and alone, were the two people in Beginnings who were somehow connected very personally to George. The two people in Beginnings who were Joe’s top suspects. And there they were . . . together.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
September 28
32 Miles West of Binghamton, Alabama
It wasn’t even light yet, but Robbie spotted Jess and John right on time. There was a certain fright of a chopper heard in such a dead world, hence the reason Robbie just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. Jess and John wasted no time getting in and closing the door, Jess for the simple fact that he just wanted to sit, and John Matoose because he awaited the reunion glances between Robbie and Jess.
“Man, do you two reek,” Robbie commented as he lifted the chopper.
“Ha, ha.” Jess shook his head with a smile. “You try spending twenty four hours straight outside in forest filled with decaying bodies, compliments of Frank.”
“Frank?” Robbie laughed. “Taking them out is he?”
“Oh yeah. We got some good shots of him though. Didn’t we, John?” Jess looked around to the back of the chopper where John sat.
“It was amazing seeing him, Robbie,” John said. “You know, I told your Dad from the start that George wanted him and would set it up like Frank was dead. I didn’t think he was dead. But it still doesn’t hit you that Frank’s all right until you see him.”
Jess raised an eyebrow. “Robbie, your brother has hair.”
“Yeah.” Robbie nodded. “All over his body.”
“No on his head instead of that clipped short hair. It’s hair.” Jess stated. “He looks . . .”
“Weird?” Robbie asked.
“Yeah.” Jess nodded. “But enough of the good news.”
“Shit.” Robbie shifted his eyes. “What?”
“Let’s just say when we get home and we show you the pictures, all that bragging you do about being the infiltrating champ better be true,” Jess said seriously. “You have your work cut out for you.”
^^^^
He was a flowery sort of gentleman, eccentric and different. George wondered, as he stared at the conductor, what he was doing working for the Society. It was bad enough that they had to stop the train ten miles from Binghamton, but did they have to stop it because Chuckie the conductor wanted to release all the bad feelings the train was picking up on the journey. George looked at his watch as he walked outside the train, getting some air on their unscheduled break. His views snapped to the sky.
“What’s wrong?” Chuckie asked.
“Did you hear that. It sounded like a chopper.”
“Oh that.”
“So you heard it.”
“The chopper?”
“Yes,” George said.
“No.”
“Then why did you say ‘oh that’?”
“Because I know exactly what you mean.” Chuckie tossed his hand George’s way. “Sometimes I hear the television playing or a radio station. Sometimes I think I hear a car or a plane or even Mr. Rogers singing that Tomorrow song. Or is that Annie? Oh. Annie sang about the sun coming out tomorrow, Mr. Rogers sings about starting the day tomorrow. Did you ever catch that program?”
George really could have snapped and bit Chuckie’s head off. But instead he decided, in his bewilderment, to just do his best to patronize the conductor so he would just drive the train. “Mr. Rogers?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah. I even met him.”
“Really?” Chuckie asked with excitement. “My daughters loved him.”
“Mine too. But what the hell does Mr. Rogers have to do with me hearing a chopper.”
“Everything.”
“How.”
“Because you didn’t hear it just like I didn’t hear Mr. Rogers.”
“What the hell did I hear?” George asked.
“In the back of your brain there is this little memory reserve. It has life -like memories that overflow once in a while from your subconscious to your conscious. Sort of on the lines of déjà vu.”
“You’re crocked.”
“No, actually I’m sober. And . . .” Chuckie looked at his watch. “I’m getting off schedule. There was no chopper, just memories. But enjoy them.” He moved to the train. “Take in the good air while you can.”
“What?” George curled his lip in curiosity of the man as Chuckie got on the train. He winced when the whistle blew loudly. Then George had to start running when the train started moving without him.
^^^^
Beginnings, Montana
The tea cups were little, almost child size, but they were authentic. Danny found them and gave them to Henry. He and Henry sipped their morning tea in Joe’s ex-office.
The expression on Danny’s face said he was pleased with the tea as he set the cup down. “Good.”
“I appreciate you coming up here to talk about this with me,” Henry said.
“No problem. And I get tea. You’ve done good, Henry. You realize with my ideas and your hands and mind, we can recreate a better world.”
“But you’re inventive too, Danny.” Henry pointed. “Look at all the things you made.”
“True. But that’s in mechanical. Yeah, I can figure out things. I am the resourceful guy.”
“That you are.”
“So are you.”
“Thank you.” Henry smiled.
“I mean, You made tea again. Pork rinds and . . . Jell-o. Who would have thought. That was really good.”
“Thanks.”
“We should sit down and come up with a list of things we need again.”
“Let’s do that.”
“It’s a deal. Now . . . your problem.”
“My problem,” Henry stated with a heaviness. “W
ell?”
“My opinion?” Danny leaned into the desk. “You’re letting it get control of you.”
“You think.”
“Yeah, most definitely,” Danny told him. “The first day as leader, you took your time. You, Henry, took control. Now you’re kind of passive and it gets ahead of you and says ‘here’s the situation. I’m boss.’”
“Wow.” Henry looked at Danny. “That’s a really cool perception. So what do I do?”
“You have to say that you’re the boss now. Take control and give the situation no choice but to bow down to you.”
“How?”
“Cut it.”
“Cut it?” Henry ran his hand over his head. “I just did. A month ago.”
“Cut it again.”
“Like a trim?” Henry asked.
“No, like a cut. Come to the house tonight and have Bentley bring it just so it rests on your shoulders, no further.”
“Will that work?”
“Henry, come on. The less you have the more you can control.” Danny was so serious. “In my opinion, you can’t go short. You’ll look like a geek. Long hair suits you fine. But keep it long without being really long. You do this and watch how good your hair looks every day, without spending hours on it.”
“Like you.”
“Yeah. See?.” Danny ran his fingers though his layered perfect hair. It fell back in place. “Bentley does the best cuts. All it takes is a little dab of Hair Hold and five minutes of your time.”
“Maybe I’ll . . .” Henry looked up when the office door opened and Robbie walked in. “Hey Robbie. You’re back. How was Jess’s trip to Canada?”
“Good.” Robbie shut the door. “This is a bonus, the two of you together.”
Henry snickered. “You weren’t thinking of trying anything sexually kinky with us were you?”
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 437
