The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20
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“Did Sgt. Doyle tell you who he was? Or rather what he was to the Society?”
“No. Why? I figured he was just a trainer.”
Elliott snickered with a shake of his head. “He’s more than that, much more. He was informed of all Society military aspects about as much as you inform . . . say, Frank?”
“Holy shit.” Joe’s eyes shifted in search of Sgt. Doyle. “This could actually be a hell of deal if he’s for real.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Dan from Security, holding a radio, stepped to the pair. “Joe?”
“What!” Joe blasted. “Christ. Can’t you people see I’m talking? You’re like a group of goddamn children.”
Dan stepped back. “Sorry, Joe. I just have a radio call for you. You really need to loosen up. I’ve been taking these anger management course that Danny Hoi . . .”
“Give me that!” Joe snatched up the radio. “Christ.” He pressed in the button. “What?”
“Joe, this is Scott,” he spoke over the radio. “I think we need you in Beginnings. We have a little bit of a problem only you can deal with.”
“What kind of a problem?” Joe asked.
“I’d rather not say over the radio, but there’s a slight situation at the cemetery.”
“What the hell kind of problem could there be at the cemetery? And don’t tell me zombies . . .” that was a mistake. No sooner did Joe say that than every single person monitoring the transmission over the radio had to inject their concern. Joe pulled the radio away when the numerous questions from various voices poured over. “Knock it off!” he yelled into the radio. “Quit eavesdropping when you shouldn’t be. I’m handling it.” With a grumble, Joe handed the radio to Dan, excused himself from Elliott, and made immediate arrangements to head back to Beginnings. It was not only to find out what type of problem was brewing in the cemetery but, because he knew his community so well, he wanted to halt any obscure rumors about an attack of the walking dead.
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Emotional huffs of breath was all Joe heard when he arrived at the cemetery. Of course, not knowing the source explained why he was stopped four times en route to be questioned about the dead rising from the grave.
Perhaps Joe shouldn’t have pacified them with a remark about a Dean or Ellen experiment gone wild in the cemetery, but it was better than telling them the truth. And the truth was Joe knew exactly the reason for the huffing noise.
Joe stepped over the dirt that was scattered everywhere to Andrea’s grave and crouched down. He spoke calmly as he peered into the deep hole. “Ellen.”
Ellen was on her hands and knees, her face tear streaked and muddy. She only looked up and continued her digging.
“Ellen, stop it. Get out of there.”
“No,” she spoke emotionally. “No. I have to find out.”
“Find out what?”
“If she’s here.”
“What are you gonna do? Keep digging until you reached the coffin. Then what? Huh? Open it?”
“Yes!” Ellen blasted.
“Why . . . why in God’s name are you doing this?”
“I need to know, Joe. I need to know.” Ellen sounded so desperate. Her hands moved frantically as she quickly tossed out dirt with the small shovel.
Slowly, Joe nodded and kept his voice calm. “Ellen, Andrea is . . .”
“Gone.” Ellen looked up at him. “She’s gone. Right. That’s what you’re gonna say, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t we get to see her before you buried her. Why did you guys put this coffin in the ground before her service? And why . . .” She swiped a tear from her eyes, smearing the dirt over her face. “Why is she always gone? Never is she dead. Say it, Joe. Say it. Tell me right now Andrea is dead and I’ll stop.”
“Ellen.”
“You can’t.” Heavily, she let out an emotional sigh. “It’s not fair, Joe. It isn’t. I loved her too. And my life . . . . God, things are happening in my life . . . I’m falling apart. There’s no one I can turn to, no one that can help. I need to talk to her so bad . . . I just need to talk to Andrea. She’s the only one that can help me right now.” Her fist raised then dropped hard to the dirt. “The only one.” Ellen’s head lowered. “Oh my God,” she whimpered out. “What am I doing? What am I doing? I’ve lost it.” On her last word, Ellen’s entire body fell forward and she began to cry.
“Ellen.” Joe reached his hand down and touched his fingers upon her back. “Come on.”
She only shook her head.
“Ellen, I if have to drop my old ass in this hole, pick you up, and lift you out, there will be hell to pay. Now take my hand and get your ass out. Now,” he said sternly.
Ellen lifted her head. “You’re gonna take me home and tell Dean, aren’t you? Please, Joe. Please don’t tell him or Frank. Please don’t . . .”
“Ellen just . . .” He wiggled his fingers. “I’m not telling them. Just come with me.”
“Where.” Ellen took his hand.
Joe gave a tug and help her to stand. “No questions. Just come with me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
So many times Robbie used that small case for patch chords. It was eight inches by eight inches, small and perfect. He carried that case, tucked under his arm, like he did many times before only this time he didn’t carry chords. Laying inside, wrapped in clear plastic, was the revolver he dug up.
All Robbie heard was the voices. How many times on his way back home was he stopped?
‘Robbie, is it true your dad found Ellen digging up Andrea’s grave?’
‘Robbie. What’s up with Ellen? I heard she was digging up Andrea’s grave.’
‘Was Ellen digging up Andrea’s grave or chasing an experiment that rose from the dead.’
Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to lie, but unknown to Robbie, he concurred with his father on the experiment issue fueling only more wild fire in Beginnings.
Something had to be done. It had reached the point where Robbie had to step forward to stop the madness for Ellen. Clenching that case for dear life, nervously, Robbie knocked on the clinic lab door. “Dean?”
In his scurrying about, Dean stopped. “Hey, Robbie. What’s up?”
“You have a minute?’
“Not really,” Dean replied. “I’m waiting for Johnny and I can’t find Ellen anywhere.”
“She’s with my Da. Didn’t you know?”
“Great.” Dean slammed his hand on the counter. “I’m only a third of the way through the new people and she’s jotting off somewhere with Joe.”
“Dean, she needed to.”
“No, she needed to be here. Where the hell has she been all day?”
Staying rational, Robbie stepped into the clinic and laid the case on the counter. “We need to talk. Take a minute, please.”
“Fine.” Dean faced him. “What’s up?”
“I know what’s going on with Ellen.”
“What do you mean?”
Robbie grew perturbed. “Her behavior? Her actions. I know what’s going on. I know how to help her. Dean, it’s not a drug problem.”
“Then what is it?” Dean asked.
“You have to stop this.” Robbie’s hand laid on the case. “I tried to talk to Frank about it. He got mad. Dean, I think . . . no. I know Ellen knows who killed Bev and . . .”
“Robbie,” Dean stopped him. “Ellen doesn’t know.”
“Yes, she does and that’s the reason for the way she’s acting. See . . .” Robbie reached to open the case.
“Robbie,” Dean spoke with attitude. “I know you care about her, but she’s my wife. It’s none of your concern.”
“Fuck you, it’s none of my concern.”
Dean’s voice blasted out of control and emotional. “It’s none of your concern! Stay out of it!”
“Fine.” With a swipe of his hand, Robbie lifted the case and walked across the lab. “I’ll end it for her. Dick.”
Dean’s eyes closed and the m
oment Robbie was gone, he turned, dropped his elbows to the counter, and buried his face with desperation in his hands.
^^^^
A small amount of alcohol doused the glassful of ice that Joe nursed as he sat on Hal’s sofa. Joe stared in thought and in silence as smoke rose from the cigarette between his fingers.
“I’m back,” Hal announced as he walked in, holding a small stack of clothes. “I knew she had fresh items at Elliott’s.”
“Thanks.” Exasperated, Joe stood up, took the clothes, and walked to the bathroom door. “Ellen.” He knocked. “Here.”
“Thanks, Joe.” Ellen opened up the door, reached out her hand, and took them.
Hal waited for his father to return. “Is she all clean now?”
“Yep.” Joe placed his hands in his pockets.
“Does she know?”
“Not yet, but she will.” With a heavy breath, Joe shook his head. “After this I’m packing her up. I don’t know what’s going on with her. Something is. She needs a break. She needs to get away.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I’m giving sort of bogus reason to her and Dean. No if ands and buts about it, she has to be in New Bowman for a while. Is that all right with you?”
Every ounce of Hal’s insides clenched an excited ‘yes, finally’, but he remained his cool self and nodded “Absolutely. We’ll watch out for her.”
“Good.” Joe walked to the couch. “Good.”
“Dad, listen. About what you are gonna do tonight.”
“Hal.” Sternly, Joe halted him. “I don’t want to hear it. My mind’s made up.”
“No. No argument. I wanted to tell you. I think it’s best.”
Joe was grateful. He needed something positive at that moment even if it was a few words from his so, because Joe’s head was spinning with all that had happened. Despite what his best intentions were, he feared that for Ellen, it may already be too late.
^^^^
Frank grinned then trotted to catch Johnny on the steps of the clinic. “Look at you.” He opened the door for Johnny. “All official going to work.”
“Yeah, I have to relieve Dean in a bit. We’re swamped.”
“So I heard.” Frank walked into the clinic with him. “You do real good around here, John. Just thought I’d tell you I’m proud of you.”
Johnny slowed down. “Thanks, Dad. Where is this coming from?”
“Just appreciation that you aren’t as demented as Ellen and . . . .” Frank pointed in the empty lab. “Dean. Wherever he is.”
Johnny snickered. “I’d never be that demented. I’m going to talk to Patrick. Hey, when I’m done do you wanna hook up for a drink?”
“I’ll meet you at the Hall,” Frank replied as he watched Johnny walk away.
“No drinking.” Dean walked from the back of the lab and stopped. “Frank?”
“Huh?’ Frank stepped inside.
“Why are you wearing flame throwers?”
Frank looked to his left and right shoulders as if he didn’t know they were there. “Oh, yeah. It’s just a precaution because I don’t know all about them or how to kill them. That’s why I’m here.”
Confused, Dean looked back to Frank. “Kill who?”
“The walking dead.” Frank smiled. “Oh, yeah” He nodded to Dean. “There are zombies in Beginnings. Thank you.”
“Frank?” Dean had to try his best not to laugh. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Dean, please. As if you don’t fuckin know.”
“No, I don’t.”
Frank huffed. “The walking dead. Zombies.” With a tilt of his head, a drop of his chin, and a moan and flutter of his eyes, Frank did a dragging walk across the lab. “Zombies. Get it.”
“Frank, I know what a zombie is.”
“Good, then you have to tell me. How do they die? Is it a simple shot or does it have to be a shot to the head? Can I burn them or will that kill them?”
Dean was lost. His hand lifted up. “Why are you even asking me this?”
“You started it.”
“I what?”
“Yeah. You created the first one. Now I need to know all I can. Are they flesh eating and will the victims eventually rise up and be zombies too?”
Dean looked very serious at him. “Frank, stop this.”
“Dean, I am trying to. I can’t do my job if I don’t know what I’m up against.”
“And you think it’s the walking dead.”
“I know it is.”
“Zombies in Beginnings?” Dean asked. “That I started?”
“Dean, what the fuck? Yes. Now tell me what you know.”
“Frank, there are no zombies in Beginnings. I didn’t create a new species of walking dead.”
“Did Ellen?” Frank asked.
“No!” Dean blasted.
“Dean, don’t do this. Don’t lie to me. Own up to it. My men were disappointed when the war didn’t happen today. They are hyped up for this. Now give me the truth.”
Dean stared for a moment. “Fine. Fine.” He gave up. “I don’t want a panic.”
“No.” Frank shook his head.
“You have to find the nesting. If it is multiplying, it has to nest before it completely forms into a zombie.”
“Whoa.”
Dean nodded. “It’s an interesting species, but I wouldn’t shoot any of them.”
“Why not?”
“Because they can return to normal after you killed the queen. Just tie up the suspected zombies and find the queen.”
“Like a bee?” Frank asked to be clear.
“Exactly. Kill the queen. Save the community.”
“Got it.” Frank winked. “Thanks, Dean. I didn’t hear this from you.”
Dean smiled and listened to Frank bark out orders on his radio to the special team to equip themselves with nylon rope. Though he hated lying to Frank, he did find it amusing and it was the only choice he had if he wanted to return to work.
^^^^
Sardonic and gloating, Elliott bobbed his head. “Fifty points, Captain.” He wrote down his score. “You suck tonight.”
“I suck? Thank you for that, Elliott.” Hal put down his cigarette and before he could comment on the frantic knock on his door, Robbie burst through.
“Hal!” Robbie rushed in, sounding upset.
“Robbie?” Hal stood up. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m pissed, Hal. No, I’m furious! Yeah, I’m fuckin furious. I want to kill Dean. Not in the literal sense, but I do.” Robbie shook his head.
Elliott stood up. “Perhaps I should leave.”
“No.” Robbie held up his hand. “It’s all right. I’m tired of it, Hal. I have to stop this for her.”
“Who?” Hal asked.
“Ellen. I’m confused. I’m so confused. I tried to talk to Frank about it but it didn’t do any good.” Robbie laid the case before Hal. “Help me, Hal. Tell me what to do. Please, tell me what to do.”
Hal sensed he was invited to open the case and he did. With the lifting of the lid, his breath escape him. “Robbie.”
“Dean killed Bev,” Robbie said. “I found that. He killed her. Ellen knows and she’s covering for him. I know she’s losing it because of this. I don’t want to turn Dean in, but Hal . . . we have to do something.”
“You’re right.” Hal shut the case. “We will. But what?”
“Talk to her?” Robbie suggested. “Tell her we know and it’s all right. She doesn’t need to cover for him anymore. Maybe we will?”
“You said you went to Frank,” Hal said. “What was his reaction? Did he not believe you?”
“He didn’t give me a chance to even say Dean killed her. He told me to drop it. That told me he already knew. Hal, he went into the Hall and immediately had a drink.”
Hal’s eyes closed. “You’ve cornered Frank. That was the reason for the reaction.”
“Excuse me?” Robbie asked.
“Frank saw the killer,” Hal explained. “In a last ditch attempt, Da
d sent him through the machine to see who killed Bev. Frank insisted he didn’t see, but he did.”
Elliott interjected. “Robbie, may I ask how you know it was Dean?”
“I saw him burying the gun. Well, I saw him in the area where the gun was buried,” Robbie explained. “I didn’t think much about it until I started trying to reason out Ellen’s behavior and then it all came to me. They both lied on their statements. They both gave the exact same story. I mean, why that do unless one of them killed Bev and the other knew.”
“And you think it’s Dean?” Elliott asked.
“Yes.” Robbie nodded. “He was burying the gun. Just look at Frank’s reaction.”
“Frank’s reaction. Frank having a drink . . .” Elliott slowed down, “doesn’t spell Dean. You yourself said you didn’t get a chance to mention about Dean. I know you two probably don’t even want to consider this but . . . perhaps the killer isn’t Dean, but . . . . Ellen.”
“Ellen doesn’t have it in her,” Robbie defended. “She doesn’t.”
“And Dean does?” Elliott asked. “Surely a man of his knowledge, should he want to dispose of someone, could find a much easier, less slovenly way that wouldn’t spell murder. Maybe Dean wasn’t burying it for himself, but rather for his wife.”
Hal looked at Robbie. “He has a point.”
“No,” Robbie was adamant. “No. I refuse to believe it. Ellen wouldn’t do it.”
Hal shook his head. “Who’s to say it was malicious. We don’t know what happened. But before we do anything, we should really find out which one fired it.” He reached over and closed the case.
Robbie’s eyes closed. “You think it was Ellen, don’t you?”
Hal’s voice dropped to a whisper. “And I think, deep inside, so do you. Maybe looking at Dean was your way of denial.”
Saddened, Robbie’s mouth twitched. “I don’t want it to be her, Hal. What will happen to her if it is?” He lifted his eyes to his brother. “What are we gonna do.”
Assured and strong, Hal laid his hand on Robbie’s shoulder. “Whatever it takes, little brother. Whatever it takes.”
^^^^