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

by Jacqueline Druga

  Dean’s eyes widened from the surprise ear beating and reading of the riot act he just received. Robbie stormed away.

  Shaking it off, Dean decided he’d let Ellen cool down some before he found out how she was. He had a minor confrontation with Robbie and he knew how he felt. He could only imagine the state Ellen was in.

  <><><><>

  The woman’s hands flung about. They were nearly black from the pooling of blood. Inadvertently she hit Ellen in the face as a defense as Ellen tried with desperation to suction the fluids from her mouth, fluids that could very easily be inhaled causing drowning and death. Pinning the woman’s back against her stomach, Ellen placed the tip if the suction in the woman’s mouth to try to help her. The woman struck about and tried to turn her head despite Ellen’s hand pressing it down. “Knock it off” Ellen scolded. “I’m trying to help you. Don’t you want my help?”

  “Die ...”The words crept from the young woman. “Want to die.”

  Somber, Ellen pulled the suction from her mouth and shut off the machine “So do I.”

  Wheeling the machine to the next patient, Ellen stopped. A hand came over hers. She followed the hand to the face. “Dean.”

  “How are you?”

  “Busy.” Ellen pushed the machine.

  “Ellen.” Dean pulled her back. “You’ve been going for hours now. Stop. Talk to me. Just give me a moment O.K.?”

  “I don’t have moment, Dean, and neither do you. Things are falling apart. Even with your father and that other guy here now, we can’t keep up. And what is the use?” She turned the next patient on his side and flipped on the machine to the suction.

  “I know this is hard for you. I know you need some time.”

  “You haven’t a clue how hard this is for me.”

  “No I don’t,” Dean said sadly. “But just know if you need me. I’m here. You can come to me.”

  “I can’t come to you.”

  “Why?” he asked, holding the man so Ellen could work on him.

  “Because what I’ve gone through personally is asking too much of you to handle.”

  “You are why I came here, Ellen. You.” He noticed the struggle of the man and Dean held him securely for Ellen. “Not these people. I came to help you.”

  “Unfortunately, Dean, I’m not the same woman you met three days ago. The same woman you came to help is not the same woman standing before you.”

  “I didn’t think she would be.” His free hand moved to her face when he saw her frustration with the man. She dangerously maneuvered the suction hose. “Ellen. Stop.” Taking a chance of having her bite his head off, Dean reached down and laid his hand on hers that held the suction. “These people can’t help that they’re sick. Don’t resent them for it.”

  “I do, Dean. I resent them because they’re dying. I resent them for laying here when I wish it was me at someone else’s mercy.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do. I do.” She pulled out the suction. “When this is all said and done with, when the help I’m forced to give is finished, I hope to God I die like the rest of these people because I don’t want to live. My life is over. It’s over.”

  The cold hard truth delivered by Robbie Slagel hit Dean at that moment as he watched Ellen walk away. It wasn’t ten seconds later, when he heard the frantic sound of Jenny Holmes screaming for help, Dean looked up to see Ellen rushing to her aid.

  “Someone get me some Haldol!” Ellen shouted, her hands near the convulsing woman with Jenny screaming hysterical right by them.

  What was happening? Dean reached into his pocket to one of the filled syringes and barreled over.

  It looked like a horror film. Jenny’s fingers were lodged tightly within the convulsing woman’s mouth. Blood seeped down the woman’s chin and Ellen struggled to slip her fingers into the woman’s mouth as well.

  “Inject her!” Ellen cried out to Dean.

  Dean pulled out the syringe and injected the violently convulsing woman. Nothing happened. “It’s not working.”

  “Oh God, Ellen! Oh God, they’re coming off!” Jenny cried out in pain. “Robbie, help!”

  Just as Robbie neared and Dean reached to help, a loud ‘snap’ rang out. Jenny flew back to the ground, her hands freed from the woman’s teeth.

  Ellen, without hesitation and with all of her emotional strength, had snapped open the woman’s jaw. The woman stopped convulsing and died.

  Ellen raced to Jenny and helped her up. “Her hands are bleeding badly, Dean. Can you stitch them?”

  Dean ran his fingers through his hair. “You broke her jaw, Ellen. Was that necessary?”

  “Yeah, Dean, it was. Now are you gonna stitch her fuckin fingers or should I ask your father.” Holding Jenny closely, Ellen stormed off pausing only as she walked by Henry to snatch the towel from his shoulder and throw it over Jenny’s hand.

  Robbie looked at the motionless woman and her disfigured jaw. He pondered in thought for a second at the strength and emotions Ellen must have generated to do such damage. After clearing his throat with a ‘well’, he saw Dean just staring out. “You’d better go help her.”

  “Uh… yeah.” Dean checked out the woman once more, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

  “Dean,” Robbie called out as he lifted the corpse from the cot. “Welcome to the world of Ellen. It’s only going to get worse.” With a slight grunt, he tossed the lifeless woman over his shoulder and moved away.

  Hearing Robbie’s words, Dean proceeded to the house, the whole time thinking ‘how much worse’? Knowing what lied ahead for them in the next twelve hours, the finalization of the plague, it frightened him to think how much worse Ellen could get and was there anything, anyone—including himself--could do?

  Wednesday June 3-4:15 a.m.

  Ashtonville, Connecticut

  Ellen had just started to doze off, but the vision of Gary, the last person of them all to die, made her eyes pop back open and pull from that heaviness of the moment before falling asleep. She could visualize how they all stood around waiting for that inevitable moment and hoped that it wouldn’t come, but it did. Everyone was quiet when the time came. Everyone closed their eyes, perhaps saying a final prayer, their hearts going out full-fledged to the eighteen year old boy who held on with his last dying breath … everyone but Dean. Dean couldn’t let go. He couldn’t face the last person dying without facing a part of himself. Ellen knew that. She saw that in his eyes. She heard him speak the words while everyone cleaned up and prepared to rest before undertaking the grueling task of clearing the town. Dean said it all in two words, ‘I failed’. To Ellen, Dean proved himself a doctor. His years of work proved himself a scientist. She was certain that vial William brought, and those notes to a cure, would haunt Dean. Would he kick himself for not even trying at the end? One day, Dean would try to cure it and would, but no words could be spoken in his final moment of grief. No words could possibly convey to him, no matter how brilliant he was, no one was brilliant enough to overcome the tragedy that wiped out their world so fiercely and so quickly. No one, not even Dean, could make a miracle in a day out of a little bottle.

  That last day, that last moment, would stay with her for a lifetime. When she closed her eyes to sleep, would she see her children and Gary’s face forever? It seemed like she would, especially on this early morning while everyone slept. She lay in her bed listening to the eerie quietness of her house, her street. Not too long ago, it was a madhouse. Ellen couldn’t lie there anymore. She had to get away from it all.

  Swinging her legs over the bed, Ellen brought herself to a sitting position, ran her fingers through her hair and slipped her feet into her tennis shoes.

  “Where you going?” Robbie asked groggily from his spot in the bed.

  Ellen looked back at him as she stood up. He lay on his stomach on top of the covers, lifting his head up some. While everyone was finding a spot to rest in her big house, Robbie claimed a spot in her bed. she didn’t mind at all. He was
there for her. And perhaps Robbie, by crashing with her in her bedroom, was trying to say in a nonverbal way that he needed to be close to someone, only Robbie was too strong and too proud to ever say that. “I’m, uh, getting something to drink.”

  “You O.K.?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Go back to sleep. I’ll be right back.” Giving him a soft smile he couldn’t see in the dark room, Ellen slipped from her bedroom and walked downstairs. People were everywhere. Maggie and Jenny had taken her children’s room. Joe claimed the den and the other men sprawled out on the floor and sofa. Knowing what she wanted to do, Ellen made her way to the kitchen. On the back of her pantry door was her favorite sweatshirt, something she’d want to put on to go outside. It would be chilly.

  Stepping into the kitchen she immediately saw Henry. He sat at the kitchen table, slumped down in the chair and staring blankly into a cup. Giving him a closed mouth look, Ellen walked to her pantry.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked softly.

  “Urn no.” Ellen took out the old black sweatshirt and tossed it on.

  “It’s very difficult,” Henry spoke almost in a monotone, more to his tea than to her. “Everywhere you look it’s there even when you close your eyes.”

  Still saying nothing, Ellen closed her pantry door.

  “Ellen,” he called out to her as she walked across the kitchen. “In case ... in case, with all the confusion of tomorrow and today, if I don’t get a chance to thank you, thank you. Thank you for opening up your home to me and to us. It’s takes a lot.”

  “I really didn’t have much of a choice now, did I?” Ellen slid to a stop, closing her eyes just before stepping from her kitchen. “Henry?” She turned around and faced him. “That was wrong. You were only being nice.”

  “I understand.” He still stared down. “Some of us will be quiet and some of us will lash out. That’s how we deal with it.”

  “I was going to take a walk over to the next street, away from everything. You know, where there isn’t any death to see. Would you ... would you like to walk with me?” Ellen asked him as his eyes finally lifted. “We can walk in silence but just walk away from it.”

  “I would like that.” Henry pushed his cup forward and stood up from the table. Quietly they slipped unnoticed from the home. They opened up the front door and exposed themselves to the horrific nightmare that was now semi-lit by the full moon. Henry took a deep breath, viewing the motionless, silent street. The mounds of people sprawled out in no order, a scene evident of the final chaos they all faced together at the end. “Ellen, I think this walk will be exactly what we need.”

  “I do too.” Pausing in her leading of the way through the maze of dead, Ellen reached out her hand to the stranger she had just met—one of the ten remaining with whom, even unwanted, she would forever have a bond. She waited for him to grasp it and they continued onward.

  Thursday, June 4-7:15 p.m.

  Ashtonville, Connecticut

  Ellen couldn’t take the conversation about the plague and its origins any longer. She especially couldn’t take how every time she reached for the salt shaker, Robbie took it from her hand. So grabbing her plate, Ellen walked over from the table and found a spot far from the large picnic they had in the middle of the street—their reward for cleaning up the town. They cooked off of the meat that they found in people’s freezers, meat they may not have for a long time.

  “So.” Dean plopped down next to her. “You think calling Robbie a fuckin’ asshole will make him stop pestering you?”

  “Dean, I really want to be alone.” Ellen looked at the small amount of food on her plate.

  “I really wanted to come over and see you.”

  “I’ve seen you all day. I cleaned up the town with you as my partner, remember?”

  “I’ll never forget.” Dean smiled. “How about that guy George actually being the President?”

  “That is pretty cool. I voted for him, twice.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Wonder what he really wants.”

  “I don’t know. We’ll find out.”

  “Yeah, well, we aren’t finding out right now, especially at this moment when I want to be alone.”

  Dean exhaled. “If you want me to get up and leave …”

  “Yes.” Ellen snapped quickly, then tossed her napkin.

  “I’m not.”

  “Then why did you ask?” Ellen looked at him.

  “I didn’t. I was merely stating you weren’t scaring me away. Snapping at me will not scare me away. Snapping at Robbie is only going to make him worse with you. He’s just trying to help you.”

  “By stealing the salt shaker?”

  “I think in Robbie’s way, he’s just trying as best as he can to get you to release that anger.”

  “Dean. Please.” Ellen held up her hand. “Don’t. If you want to talk to me, talk. Don’t lecture.”

  “All right.” Dean remained calm. “Joe says he’ll hand us all notebooks to work on our survival plan for a week.”

  “I’m sure Joe will expect us all to have them filled to capacity or … She noticed a shadow cast over, blocking the last of the day’s sunlight. Ellen stared at it. “Seeing the size of this shadow it can only be ...”She looked up. “Robbie.”

  Robbie stood with his hands on his hips. “Is that all you’re eating? You haven’t eaten in two days. Dean, you say you’re a doctor. Tell her.”

  Before Dean could, Ellen stopped him. “This is all I need, Robbie. Go away.”

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “You have to eat. I want you to eat.”

  “And I want you out of my house. Everyone else moved out yesterday. You’re still there driving me nuts.”

  “I’ll stay there too. If I recall, this country was under martial law when it ended. Which means the US government can seize what property they feel fit for their needs? I was military. I was government. Your property fits my needs.”

  “Yeah, well check your laws again. That’s a violation of my third amendment right.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t believe that applies in end of the world situations.”

  “It’s not the end of the world. We’re still here and you’re still at my house.”

  “So.”

  Ellen faced Dean who had the back of his hand covering his mouth to hide his snicker. “He’s not funny Dean. He’s isn’t …” Ellen’s head jolted when she heard Johnny’s voice call out. ‘Dad!’. Her eyes shifted beyond Robbie’s legs and they widened noticeably. “Oh my God, Robbie” She jumped up, dropping her plate.

  “What?” He turned around. “Oh my God.”

  Grabbing tightly to Robbie’s shirt, she emotionally buried her scream in his back. “Thank God. Frank!”

  Grabbing Ellen’s hand, Robbie ran with her down the street.

  Frank ran full speed, dropped his gear, and swept his son into his arms.

  “Frank!” Robbie called out nearly dragging Ellen. “Frank!”

  Frank’s eyes lifted from his son’s shoulder and his father’s embrace, peering at his brother and Ellen running to him.

  Johnny’s feet were barely on the ground when the powerful force of Robbie plunged to him, embraced him, and just about knocked him off his feet. “Robbie” Frank whispered emotionally, clinging to his brother. “You’re alive.” His eyes lifted. “El.”

  “Frank.” She was speechless. “You are alive.”

  Releasing his brother, Frank reached out and pulled Ellen to him. “You had me written off’? Please, I’m a Slagel.” He embraced her so tightly, her feet lifted from the ground.

  “That you are.” Ellen pulled from the embrace, laid her hands on his cheeks and kissed him. Before she could tell him how happy she was that he was there, she noticed his eyes moving about. Ellen knew who he was looking for.

  Frank swallowed and stepped back. “Dad?”

  Joe, holding Johnny, delivered the news. “They didn’t make it, son.”

  Robbie laid his hand on Frank’s shoulder with
a firm grip. He gave a reassuring smile, then grabbed Ellen’s hand and stepped back away. Joe had to tell Frank and Robbie prayed with everything he had that Joe--as planned--would not tell him the whole truth.

  <><><><>

  Robbie took one more drink of his warm beer and set it on the mantle in Ellen’s living room. He took off his shirt, tossed it on to the easy chair, and wiped his head with his hand. Though it was warm in the house, he was so tired that even the make shift bed on the floor looked inviting. Reaching back for his beer, Robbie took notice of the photograph of Ellen’s children. Hit by flash visions of their death, Robbie rubbed his eyes and lifted his head suddenly when he heard the screen door slam.

  Dean called out frantic. “Robbie!”

  Retracting his reach, Robbie ran from the living room into the entrance hallway to see Dean looking for him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Ellen and I were sitting on the porch and Frank came over. Robbie, something’s wrong with your brother.”

  Without asking for more information, Robbie raced through the screen door. His eyes skimmed up and down and stopped with a dropping heart to see Frank on his knees, his head buried to Ellen as she cradled him fifteen feet away. “Shit.” Barefoot, Robbie jumped over the porch railing and ran to them. “Frank.” He breathed heavily when he saw his brother’s red eyes. “Frank”

  Using Ellen for support, Frank lifted himself to his feet. “She killed my kids, Robbie.” He grabbed his brother’s shoulders. “She killed my kids.”

  Robbie placed his hands firmly on his brother’s emotional face, his eye shifting to Ellen whose head was lowered. “Frank, listen to me. Johnny lived. Johnny lived. You have that. I know this is hard for you. We didn’t want you to find out what happened.”

  Frank pushed his hands away. “Didn’t want me to find out? El? You didn’t think I should know what she did to my own flesh and blood?” Frank’s words were emotional. “I had the right to know? Were you ever going to tell me?”