The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Dad,” Frank laughed. “He’s dressed like a militant soldier. Please.”

  Joe rolled his eyes.

  “Pap.” Billy caught his breath. “You’ll never guess . . .” He stopped and looked at Robbie.

  “What’s wrong?” Robbie asked.

  Billy gazed up to him. “You look different. Pale. Are you sick?”

  “A little yeah,” Robbie nodded.

  “When was the last time my Dad did a blood count on you?”

  Robbie shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Like Dean, Billy did a single ‘up’ nod of his head, “So um, what happened to your arm.”

  “I lost it in the explosion,” Robbie answered.

  “Is my Dad gonna give you a new one? He grows body parts in his lab you know.”

  “Yep.”

  “Cool. Anyhow . . .” Billy returned to Joe. “Pap.” He smiled.

  Joe pointed to Billy as he looked at Frank. “Why is this kid so goddamn happy? Oh, I get it. He’s not in school.”

  “Yeah, he is,” Frank argued. “Frank school.”

  “Christ.”

  “Pap. Guess what?” Billy said excitedly. “We saw a SUT at the back gate.”

  Quickly Joe looked at Frank. “A SUT?”

  “One.” Frank held up his finger. “No more. Just one.”

  Robbie questioned. “One lone SUT? That’s odd.”

  “It was boring too.” Frank rolled his eyes.

  “No,” Billy argued. “It wasn’t boring. Pap, you should have seen how far the blood splattered when Uncle Frank shot him in the head. One shot, that’s . . .”

  Joe shrieked. “Frank!”

  .“What!” Frank jumped back. “I had to use one shot. Please, you can’t use less than that.”

  “You . . . You . . .” Joe stumbled for the words. “You shot a man in the head in front of this boy? Robert, stop laughing.”

  “SUT,” Frank corrected. “Not a man.”

  “He’s a human being, Frank!” Joe barked, “and you can’t shoot a goddamn human being, microchip in his head or not, in front of a seven year old kid.”

  “Why not?”

  Joe tensed up and held back from screaming, but his voice was still extremely loud. “Because you just can’t!”

  “He didn’t seem to mind,” Frank said.

  “Frank . . .”

  “Besides, what choice did I have? He was aiming at us. I didn’t have enough time to say. ‘Billy cover your eyes’.”

  “Where were your goddamn brains?”

  Through his snicker, Robbie mumbled. “We know where the SUTs brains were.”

  Frank laughed. “That was funny.”

  “Yeah, real funny.” Joe shook his head. “You’re missing my point.”

  “No, Dad,” Frank said. “You’re missing my point.”

  “And what would that be?” Joe asked sarcastically.

  “There was a SUT. A . . . SUT at the back gate. Now when’s the last time we saw one of those aside from when Dean is running around?”

  “And me soon,” Robbie interjected. “I’m getting a microchip to work my bionic arm.”

  “Oh, my God.” Frank swung his views to Robbie. “No way?”

  “Yep.” Robbie nodded proudly.

  “Will you be really strong like the Six Million Dollar Man?”

  “Frank!” Joe yelled. “Get back to the SUT.”

  “I can’t!” Frank yelled back. “I shot him and moved him already. Killer babies are having him for lunch right now. Man . . .” He started laughing and looked at Robbie. “Bill and I weren’t in the killer baby region five minutes when those things smelled that flesh and . . .”

  Joe reached out, took hold of Frank’s chin, and turned his face to only look at him. “Tell me you didn’t take Billy into the killer baby region.”

  “Dad, if I didn’t take Billy to the killer baby region, what else was I supposed to do with him when we drove up there with the SUT in the Jeep?”

  “I give up.” Joe let go of Frank’s face.

  “No. See, Dad.” Frank took a calming approach, “When I said, ‘what else was I suppose to do with him’ that wasn’t a trick question or joke.”

  “I didn’t say it was.”

  “But you gave up,” Frank stated.

  “On you, asshole.”

  “Why are you calling me names? Do I deserve that?”

  “Yes!” Joe snapped. “If you weren’t so goddamn dumb, I wouldn’t call you names!”

  “Me!” Frank’s voice matched in volume. “I’m not the one who thought I was asking a trick question. It seemed pretty clear to me that I was making a fuckin statement. Robbie, didn’t it seem clear to you?” Frank looked down when he felt the tug on his pants. “Yes, Billy?”

  “Uncle Frank.” Billy pointed to Joe. “A man of his age should not let his blood pressure get to the point it is now. He could have a stroke.”

  “Very good.” Frank smiled and looked at Joe. “Did you hear that? He knows the signs of a stroke.”

  “I’m glad he does, Frank.” Joe shook his head. “Now . . . let me state this in idiot terms.” He slowed down his speech. “Can we. . . . talk . . . about . . . that SUT . . . now?”

  “Yes . . . we . . . can,” Frank replied.

  Impressively Joe stayed calm through Robbie’s annoying childish laughter. “Frank, slip into Mr. Military mode, right now. O.K.?” Joe waited for a nod. “Now, why do you think we saw a SUT . . . uh-uh-uh,” Joe stopped him. “Do not say ‘because he was there’. Do you think he was a straggler from a bigger group? Possibly a hint of a bigger hit?”

  Frank was in debate. “It’s hard to say.”

  “May I?” Robbie asked.

  Joe held out this hands. “By all means.”

  “One SUT. It seems pretty clear cut to me,” Robbie stated. “We are in communications limbo. We know there is another insider in Beginnings. Now, it’s been what? Two weeks since George has talked to them? He’s getting worried. He needs to know things are fine. Why else would he call Hal? He’s trying to get in touch with you. What better way than to start sending little hits. You call up, you say, ‘hey George, what the fuck? I thought we were in a cease fire’. And he’s hoping, through that little communication, to get something from you.”

  Impressed, Joe looked at Robbie. “Did you just think of that? That is really good.”

  Robbie smiled. “Thanks. But, I think we should expect more hit, but lLittle ones. Nothing major yet. Don’t call him.”

  “Frank?” Joe turned to him. “Can you handle it?”

  Frank fluttered his lips. “Please. I hope he sends more than one next time. One’s too easy to take out.” He checked out his watch. “We have to go, Bill. We have rounds to make in town to check keypads.”

  “O.K.” Billy was glad to get moving again.

  “Frank.” Joe stopped him. “Nothing demented. You hear?”

  Frank gave a thumbs up and opened the door for Billy. “Hey, that was your first strategy meeting. What did you think?”

  “It was a little loud and confusing.”

  “That’s my Dad. He does that at every meeting.”

  Robbie bit his bottom lip after the door closed. He glanced at Joe. “Hey, Dad, did you ever notice that right after Frank leaves a room you get that feeling you just stepped off an amusement park ride?”

  Joe just grunted and walked back into the kitchen.

  ^^^^

  The envelope. Hal waited until he saw Alexandra was at Katie’s house, made sure Ellen had returned his Danny Dollar card, and then he opened the letter from Richie. It was folded and Hal could see the semi-sloppy handwriting on the back. But before he read it, he checked out the self portrait of Richie stuck in the copy machine, autographed of course. After initially getting irritated with Frank for blatantly abusing office equipment, Hal couldn’t help but laugh. Poor Richie. In his chuckle, he turned over the paper.

  ‘Hal. This is a love note. I love you. You are nice. And swell.�
��

  Thinking, ‘Asshole Frank, what the hell are you making him do now?’ Hal was just about to stop reading the note and save it for when he really needed a good pick me up when he saw it. Not that Hal was particularly in a bad mood, but a smile was a smile and what Richie had to write certainly bred a smile on Hal’s face that would last him a really long time.

  ^^^^

  There was something sadistically high school-like that Ellen enjoyed about eating at the mess. She had to give it to Hal for having it. He trained the men so much, schooled and worked them, at least he could do was take away the burden of preparing their own meals. Of course, Ellen truly believed it was Hal’s lack of wanting to cook for himself that produced the installation of the mess.

  Ellen often wondered, if New Bowman ever became a budding community of more people, would the mess hall continue? She figured it would, since Joe’s long range plans were to keep the families protected within the walls of Beginnings and the single men and soldiers would live elsewhere.

  She went to the hall for what was called the ‘second lunch’. Everyone was assigned a lunch and dinner shift. Breakfast was ‘come when you please’ and more on the go. The line was long, but she had time. Ellen wished Alexandra was there to eat with her but she knew the importance of her and Katie spending time together. Katie needed to be around other children, since there weren’t any at all in New Bowman.

  With a sniff and her hands behind her back, Ellen leaned into the soldier in front of her. “What’s for lunch?”

  Almost surprised, he looked back. “Dr. Hayes, ma’am, we’re having Oodles of Danoodles.”

  “Oh, I love those. We don’t have those in Beginnings yet. I’m hungry.”

  “Then please . . .” He held out his hand before him. “Gentlemen,” he spoke up, “please allow Dr. Hayes to obtain her lunch ahead of us.”

  Ellen giggled when all activity stopped, silence entailed, and they stepped to the side for her to make her way forward. “Wow, this is great. Thanks, guys.” She made her way to the front of the line and happily watched the cook dish out a helping. In her reach, she felt her arm gently stopped.

  Elliott whispered in her ear. “Would you consider me extremely forward if I told you I wanted to steal you for a little while and I prepared lunch at my home?”

  “Absolutely.” Ellen turned around. “You are forward, but if that’s an invitation, I accept.”

  Elliott smiled and walked her through the line as he continued to hold her arm. “Gentlemen, thank you for being considerate,” he announced as he passed them.

  “They were so polite,” Ellen said as she left the mess with him. “Do you think we’ll ever have a mess hall in Beginnings?”

  “Really they should,” Elliott explained as he walked with her. “Do you realize in Bowman we have six times more people and we only use twenty percent more food than Beginnings? Of course, rationing food is not really a problem, not yet.”

  “Do you think it will be?”

  “Ellen, it should never be. Even in contained communities such as ours, Beginnings doesn’t utilize its full capacities. Besides, we have an entire country at our feet that we will get back.”

  “You are so patriotic.”

  At his home, Elliott opened the door for her. “I’m glad you didn’t mind coming here.”

  “No, not at all.” Ellen stepped inside. “Pasta?” she asked when she caught whiff of the aroma. “Thank you for this.”

  “Ellen, I have to confess it’s selfish. I just needed to spend some alone time with you. We’re not seeing each other as much, and it will be even less now that Beginnings has lost Dr. Godrichson.”

  “You’re right. I’m going to have to make some time.”

  “Don’t do that for me.”

  “No, I’ll do it for me.”

  “Elliott.” With the opening of the front door, Hal called out, “Oh, Ellen. You’re here.” He slipped Richie’s note into his back pocket. “Should I have knocked?”

  “Yes,” Ellen told him.

  Hal reached back to the open door, knocked then closed it. “They said at the mess you were here, Elliott.”

  “Is there something wrong?” Elliott asked.

  “No, I just wanted share . . . Richie wrote me a love note. Ellen? Did you read it?”

  “No,” Ellen answered. “He had it sealed. Why? What did it say?”

  The closeness of their friendship that spanned a good many years gave Hal the keen ability to look at Elliott briefly and convey so much through a single glance. He returned his views to Ellen. “Not much. He loves me.”

  Ellen smiled. “Richie is funny like this, but I miss the old Richie.”

  “Yes,” Hal exhaled. “It’s sad. Will he come out of it?”

  “Sure.” Ellen nodded. “Dean says hopefully he will with mind exercise and time.”

  “I’m curious.” Hal folded his one arm over his waist. “Didn’t he say to you that Bev injected him?”

  “Richie wouldn’t have known,” Ellen answered. “Everything that first week is gone from his memory. It’ll come back once he recovers.”

  “Good thing Bev is gone or else she would ensure that didn’t happen.” Hal smiled. “Right?”

  Slowly Ellen’s eyes lifted. “Hal, um, speaking of Richie.” Her voice had a little nervousness to it. “You know, Dean did say he should exercise his brain. I don’t think I’m doing that. I mean, I’m not. What do you think the odds are of protecting, I mean, keeping him here and helping him? Make him a pseudo UWA soldier until he’s healed.”

  Peacefully and assuredly, Hal looked at her. “Ellen, we would be happy to take Richie under our wing. In fact, I have a couple privates I can room him with. We’ll set him all up. What do you think, Elliott?”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Elliott replied.

  “Thanks,” Ellen nearly sighed out.

  “Maybe . . .” Hal lifted a finger. “We can even get Elliott to place him in the choir.”

  Elliott closed his eyes in a slight cringe and shook his head to Ellen when he heard her start to question.

  “What smells good?” Hal asked.

  “Pasta,” Elliott told him. “I thought Ellen and I could have lunch here. It’s more private.”

  “Great idea. I’m starved.” Hal walked to the dining room. He looked at Elliott and Ellen just standing in the living room. “Let’s eat.” He pulled out a chair, sat down, and grinned.

  With a shake of her head and a mumble, ‘he’s such a Slagel’, Ellen sulked her way with Elliott to the dining room.

  ^^^^

  “I just want to go home, John.” Jenny laid on her hospital bed, looking exasperated as John worked massage therapy on her calves.

  “Jenny, you know I am so busy with Mechanics. I wouldn’t be able to take care of you. Dean said tomorrow or the next day.”

  “It’s awful. What an awful day.” She whined and looked out the window. “It’s sunny and I’m stuck in here.”

  John smiled. “It isn’t all that bad.”

  “It is when you thrive on community reaction and I’m missing it being stuck in here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You haven’t heard. Oh.” She grinned. “It hasn’t rolled around yet. Good. I’m not missing much.”

  “Are you talking about the ballot for punishment?”

  “No.” Jenny shook her head. “The news. Gemma said Ellen is so upset about it. Oh my God, she wants to disown him and everything.”

  In confusion, John shook his head. “I’m lost.”

  “Dean found out the truth about the father of Bev’s baby since he knew it wasn’t Kevin or him. What a smart move. None of us even thought about it.”

  “When did this come out?” John hid his smiled.

  “Today. I expect a community uproar.”

  “I do as well.”

  “Yes, can you believe he did that? Not only did that pig sleep with Bev, he let poor Ellen believe Dean did. Bastard Henry.”

 
; John let go of Jenny’s leg in shock. “Hen . . . Henry?”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “It came straight from Ellen’s mouth. Well, actually in a note. Gemma told me all about it.”

  “Henry was the father of Bev’s baby?” John repeated. “Shit!” He jumped up. “Son of a bitch. Goddamn it. Jesus Christ. I can’t fuckin believe . . .”

  “John,” Jenny gasped out. “Language, please. I know this is upsetting and all, but still.” She widened her eyes. “We’re taking it a little personal, aren’t we?’

  “It’s just . . .” John shook his head in disgust. “Henry of all people. Damn it.”

  “Language.”

  “Sorry.” John sat back down and continued massaging her legs.

  “Did you get your ballot?” Jenny asked.

  “I didn’t fill it out. I figured I’d wait until the ten days were up.”

  “Funny,” Jenny spoke near daze. “Me, too. I think we all are. I mean, we don’t want to see the person punished like this but I understand what Joe’s trying to say. It still won’t stop me from sneaking out or trying to get food to wherever they send the killer even if it is Henry.”

  “Do you think that’s who did it?”

  “Oh yes, especially with this pregnancy news. A little lower, John, please. Thank you.” Jenny let out a breath. “It angers me though. I still think the Bev murder should take second fiddle over finding who set that bomb in the warehouse.”

  “It was an accident. That’s what Joe . . .” John saw the look on Jenny’s face.

  “I wasn’t supposed to say anything, I swear.” Jenny held up her hand in a nervous panic. “You can’t open your mouth, John. Don’t do it.” She beckoned when she saw the anger build in John. “Making the person think they got away with it is the only way to trap whoever it was. Please don’t say anything. They entrusted us.”

  “They plan on trapping the person.”

  Jenny nodded. “Promise me. This can’t get past the suspect list.”

  “I promise you it won’t get past the suspect list.” The rage John felt had to have shown on his face. It was confirmed. Someone tried to kill his wife and he knew exactly who that someone was. If that someone was anyone other than Johnny Slagel, John was certain, even with zero trust, his word would be somewhat useful. He had some firsthand knowledge of things Johnny did. John had to wonder if his silence was as much of a crime as when he did help George. He could be vital. It was the chance he needed to make amends to his home. Speaking up and taking a chance was what John had to do but he had to speak up to just the right person.