The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “At least you got rid of him,” Frank complained. “Now I can have some rest.”

  “How are you, sweetheart? You look so handsome today.”

  “I am.”

  Smiling, Andrea pulled up a chair.

  “What? You’re sitting? I thought you were doing the doctor thing.”

  “Ah,” she sighed out. “It’s time to relax and since you are a Christian man . . .” She held up the Bible to Frank’s view. “We’ll read. Let’s start with the book of Corinthians, shall we?”

  Frank just closed his eyes.

  ^^^^

  It sounded to Joe as if he had walked into an episode of ‘Happy Days.’ The sock hop music blared at him the second Dan from Security buzzed him in.

  ‘Let’s twist again, like we did last summer . . .’

  “Christ,” Joe grumbled, listening to the music and Ellen sounding like a bad Richard Simmons wannabe.

  “Let’s twist again . . .’

  “Come on. Hands up. One and two. That’s it and turn.” Ellen called out.

  Joe knew what he would see when he walked into the Skills Room, the place where the sound originated. With a folder in his hand, he stood in the doorway and watched a lineup of twelve of the twenty non-survivor residents twisting, with Ellen in the lead.

  Ellen was in her own world with her hands waving, getting the residents to do a really bad replica of the twist in synch with some sort of hand motions that didn’t go with the rest of it.

  “Everyone, big spin . . .” As Ellen turned, she stopped mid-pivot when she spotted Joe. When she froze, so did the lineup. “Hey, Joe.”

  “Hey Joe!” they all shouted.

  “No.” Ellen turned back to them. “Um . . . Davis.” She looked at one of the people who was sitting in a chair, watching. “Can you take over? Watch the wide arms swings. They’re hitting each other.” She caught her breath as she walked over to Joe. “What’s up?”

  “Can we go to your office?” Joe asked with a motion of his head.

  “Am I in trouble?”

  “No.”

  “OK then.” Ellen shrugged.

  “New exercise?”

  “No. It’s for a recital.” Ellen followed Joe.

  In front of her office door, Joe stopped. “Recital as in dance recital?”

  “Well, more like a review show we hoped to have completed by Christmas. Didn’t it put you in the spirit?”

  “Of what?” Joe asked crass.

  “Christmas. This is all Blake, you know. I’m just picking his back-up dancers. Will you come?”

  “To what?”

  ‘The recital.”

  “Christ, Ellen,” Joe griped and walked in. He sat behind her desk. “You’re getting as goddamn loony as the Containment residents.”

  “Joe, please.” Ellen pulled up a chair. “We don’t call them loony. We call them reality challenged.”

  Joe just stared for a moment. “Are you doing anything to get these people back into reality?”

  “Oh sure.”

  “Oh . . . sure.” Joe nodded. “Like what?”

  “Oh sure, like therapy and drugs, but they don’t work, at least for some of them. They’re pretty much, you know . . .” Ellen whistled. “Gone. But they’re fun.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Now see this folder. This is why I’m here, Missy Jane.”

  “I thought you said I wasn’t in trouble,” Ellen said.

  “I did. Why would you think you were?”

  “You called me Missy Jane and that’s a dead give a way. So . . .” Ellen stood up. “If I’m in trouble, I’d rather be practicing the dance recital.”

  “Ellen. Sit.” Joe pointed to the chair. “Now.”

  Ellen did.

  “First . . .” He opened the folder and pulled out a stack of papers. “Reqs. There are forty-seven requisitions you turned into Mechanics, and to me, over the last ten days. There are various items like . . . an addition to Containment.”

  “We need that.”

  “I see. It’s for . . .” Joe peered at the paper. “Private quarters for the long term residents.”

  “Privacy is important.”

  “Four computers.”

  “Rehab.”

  “Carpet.” Joe lifted another req.

  “Warmth.” Ellen nodded.

  “In the bathroom?”

  “Well, Joe, it’s cold in there.”

  “How about this other copy machine.”

  “Blame my brother.” Ellen held up her hand. “Bub, the lobotomized Savage, and the others are used to taking self portraits and the copy machine we have is too slow.”

  “These are all stupid, Ellen.” Joe neatly gathered the reqs into one pile.

  “I feel they are all important.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Joe held up the stack. “See these.”

  “Yes.”

  “Watch.” Joe tossed them in the trash. “Denied.”

  “Hey!” Ellen snapped. “That’s mean. I’m trying to make things comfortable in here.”

  “And I’m trying to keep things simple,” Joe stated. “This isn’t a goddamn hotel. Now granted, some of these people I agree can never function normally, in or out of Beginnings. But there are some that should be out. We have a town moving up. We can use the workers.”

  “Joe, all of these people are still under therapy.”

  “Ellen, I don’t think you want some of these people out.”

  “Joe, that is so untrue. I’m working with them.”

  “Yes, you are, but you also play with them. They aren’t toys. Some of these people should not be in here.”

  “Name one,” Ellen asked him.

  “What about Davis?” Joe questioned. “He’s been in here six months.”

  “He has issues.”

  “He’s only diagnosed as Obsessive Compulsive,” Joe said.

  “True, but Containment has never been so clean.”

  Grumbling, Joe stood up. “He gets out tomorrow.”

  “What’s with your mood, Joe? You’re making this aggravated noise.”

  “It’s called grumbling, Ellen. I always grumble. It’s my nature. You know this. I’m in a bad mood. In fact, I’ve been in a bad mood for eight years.”

  “Don’t I know that,” Ellen mumbled then saw Joe look at her. “Huh?”

  Joe just shook his head. “I’m out of here. One more thing.” Joe walked to the door. “Who’s in charge of Security?”

  “Frank, but Elliott is right now.”

  “So, Elliott has say-so over the guards right now?”

  “Of course.”

  “You agree to this?”

  Ellen snickered. “I just said that.”

  “Good.” Joe nodded. “Then don’t let me hear again from your new Containment worker that Security won’t let him in here under your orders.”

  “But, Joe, you won’t say who it is and I’m scared it’s Ben from Fabrics. He hates me now. Do you know he’s running around making up rumors about Dean?”

  “Ellen, I don’t give a rat’s ass. You need a worker in here. A replacement, like it or not, while you take you leave. As hard as that sounds, it has to be done. And it’s not Ben.”

  “Who then?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Joe started to leave. “They’ll be here in ten minutes. Be nice,” Joe ordered. “Train them correctly.”

  Ellen, with her arms folded, watched Joe leave. There were two things about the replacement that bothered her. One, she didn’t know who it was, and second, it was a replacement. For her. Another total reiteration of a situation forthcoming that no matter how hard she tried not to show it, it was breaking Ellen’s heart.

  ^^^^

  “Skippy.” Josephine called out sloppily from the doorway of the lab.

  With his back to her, Dean let his eyes flutter when he lifted his head. “What can I help you with?”

  “You can start by not making me face that lame skinny ass of yours.”

  Letting out a br
eath, Dean slowly turned around and placed on a pleasant look. He saw her sway some. “Josephine, have you been drinking?”

  “Yes. I had a few . . .” She hiccupped. “Maybe more. Why?”

  After thinking, ‘a few, maybe more?’ Dean slowly walked toward her with a concerned tone. “Don’t you think . . . don’t you think it’s a bit early in the day to be drinking?”

  “Christ Almighty, Skippy, no wonder your father never liked you.”

  “What?” Dean shook his head in shock.

  “Who the hell died and made you my sixth husband? That’s probably why I never liked you, you know. Asshole. I feel sorry for Ellen. And you people ask why she’s out screwing around with the Hot Latino Horse Soldier. I would if I had to choose between you and goddamn dumb Frank . . .” Josephine smiled. “Speaking of Frank.”

  After allowing his head to stop spinning, Dean remained relatively calm. “What about him.”

  “Is it true you gave him some drug? That even though he can see, hear and think, he can’t move a muscle or talk.”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Just double checking Hal’s word. That’s all I wanted to know.”

  Getting ready to question further, Dean didn’t get the chance. Josephine was gone.

  In a quick pace that made her look like a billiard ball bouncing off the walls, Josephine made her way to Frank’s room. She knocked once, placed on her best smile, and walked to his bed. Frank’s eyes were closed and she poked his leg.

  Nothing.

  Grinning again, Josephine cleared her throat.

  Frank opened his eyes. “Oh, my God. What!”

  “Hi ya’ Frankie.” Josephine winked. “For all those times you harassed me at the bar. For all those things you said to me. I got a gift for you.” Without hesitation, Josephine stepped closer to the bed, grabbed the ends of her sweater, and whipped it open, exposing her aged, bare skinned floppy breasts.

  “Help! Help! Uh!” Frank screamed. But it didn’t do any good. The torment had begun. It wasn’t going to end quickly and Frank knew it when in what seemed like a taunting, agonizing long torture session, Josephine, for Frank’s visual benefit, began to fondle herself.

  ^^^^

  Ellen’s laugh was sadistic. Shaking her head and carrying her schedule clipboard, she walked from the Skills Room to her office. “Thank God, my day here is done.”

  “Ellen.” Richie walked behind her.

  “Hmm.” She stopped and pulled on her ear. “Do I hear something?”

  “Why are you being like this?” Richie asked. “Is it because Joe gave me the Containment position.”

  “Wonder where my assistant was today. Gee, Robbie will be here. Hopefully he can train . . .” Ellen spun around facing Richie. “Him.” She set the schedule down.

  “I don’t understand.” Richie tossed his hands up. “I may have been under that drug, Ellen, but I remember. You were nice to me in here when I was a resident.”

  “Exactly.” Ellen nodded. “Now, you’re normal and wear a UWA uniform. I am officially allowed to not speak to you. So there. I will though, eventually, when you pay me back my thirty-six hundred dollars plus interest.”

  Richie gasped, “You’re still pissed about that.”

  “I remember, Richie . . . I remember that day when you told me, no matter what, you would pay me back. Fifteen years. Fifteen years ago.”

  “And over half of that, the world’s been dead.”

  “Still.” Ellen folded her arms.

  “Still? Still? Ok.” Richie nodded. “How about this. How about I pull a Danny Dollar transfer as payment. Will that work?”

  “Steady at, say, twenty a week.”

  “Fine,” Richie agreed. “I’m your only family who survived. Do you realize how absurd it is of you to ignore me?”

  “You’re missing the point of the money issue,” Ellen said, “It’s not the money. It was a matter of trust. You broke that.”

  “And now we’ve fixed it. Speaking of fixing . . .” He pointed to the copy machine.

  Ellen looked. “Oh, Henry. I didn’t see you there.”

  Richie rolled his eyes. “It’s a six by six office. How did we miss him?”

  “I’m slick like that.” Henry stood up. “El, I can’t find anything wrong with this copy machine.”

  Ellen looked puzzled. “I didn’t say there was.”

  “No, Frank did,” Henry replied. “He filled out a req a while ago and since it was deemed less important, we just got to it. But I took the whole thing apart and I couldn’t find anything wrong.”

  “What did he req it for?” Ellen asked.

  “He said it kept losing count.”

  Ellen took a short pause so as not to laugh. “He’s right. I was here when he had trouble with it. Oh, well. If it works now, don’t worry about it.”

  “Good,” Henry exhaled. “I really didn’t want to waste any more time on it. I have . . .” He looked at his watch. “I have to go visit Frank. It’s almost my time.”

  “Oh! Me too.” Ellen smiled.

  Curiously, Richie shifted his eyes from Henry to Ellen. “There are visiting schedule times for Frank? I was gonna visit him. Who do I see to schedule a time?”

  Ellen answered, “Hal.”

  “Hal?” Richie asked. “Why, Hal and not Dean?”

  Henry interjected, “Because Dean is being possessive with Frank and keeping everyone away. Hal thinks his brother should have visitors. Dean wants to hog Frank to himself. If you ask me, I think a little weird thing developed between them two.”

  Ellen giggled. “No it did not. Dean’s just being over protective for some obscure reason.”

  “There.” Henry held out hid his hand. “There you have it. All those years they hated each other and what happened? They move in together and look at them now. Also, what about Ben from Fabrics? He said Dean hit on him.”

  Richie had to laugh. “Ellen, you aren’t believing any of this, are you?”

  Ellen snapped a view to Richie. “Shut up. Who asked you? If I’m not mistaken, you are in training around here.”

  “I’m your brother. Forget it,” Richie exclaimed. “To think I was gonna offer to go with you when they ousted you.”

  “You?” Ellen laughed. “You? Oh, yeah, right. Oh, I’ll be protected.”

  “I’ll have you know I trained as a Society soldier.”

  “Let me let you in on a little secret, dick.” Ellen leaned into him. “I wouldn’t let that info out around here.” She winked. “People around here tend to kill those associated with the Society.”

  Richie raised an eyebrow. “You would know.”

  Henry heaved in the air of his offense. “That wasn’t very nice, Richie. Your sister didn’t mean to shoot Bev in the head. Besides, El, I would like to go with you.”

  A loud burst of laughter left Richie. “You? What will you do if there’s trouble? Bitch the person away?”

  Henry snarled, “I can see someone has been hanging around Dean just way too much.”

  “I like Dean,” Richie came back.

  “You would,” Henry nodded.

  The simple knock on the small office door silenced the trio. Robbie stood there. He wasn’t his usual upbeat self. “I would step inside, but I don’t think there’s room.”

  “I’m leaving anyhow.” Henry picked up his tool box. “It’s my Frank slot. Good luck working with him, Robbie.” Pointing at Richie, Henry walked out.

  Robbie stepped in. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “That’s OK.” After looking at her watch, Ellen lifted her schedules. “I got everything ready for you. Oh, courtesy of Joe, meet the new Containment assistant.”

  “Hey.” Robbie smiled. “You’re the one? Cool.”

  “See?” Richie nodded. “Someone is happy about my employment here.”

  “That’s only because I’ll make you do my work,” Robbie said. “Starting now. I just brought the lunch in for the residents. You can go gather them. It’s noodles today. You remember ‘n
oodle day’, don’t you Rich?”

  “Amongst other things you tortured me with. I’ll do it but only because I like you,” Richie grumbled and walked out.

  Ellen shook her head. “He just isn’t fun anymore, is he?” She noticed Robbie’s demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Well, I’m just, you know, last night put me down a little.” Robbie shrugged. “I’ll be fine. Maybe the motivating Frank thing Hal has in action will perk me back up.”

  “I’m sure it will,” Ellen spoke softly and compassionately laid her hand on Robbie’s cheek. “But if you need to talk.”

  With a nod, Robbie took her hand, slid it to his mouth and after kissing it quickly, he cupped it. “Thanks. I’d better go help Richie.”

  “And I’d better head over to the clinic.”

  Releasing Ellen’s hand with an exhale, Robbie stepped back. “Oh, one more thing,” he spoke as if he had to reach hard inside for enough volume for his words. “It’s not gonna mean much with me, but . . . I heard Henry and Richie. With you leaving soon, just realize I would go. I want to go with you. I want you to know, even with this . . .” He gave a motion of his head to his missing arm. “I would do my best to protect you and if nothing else, I’d be great company.” Robbie gave a sad smile. “Going with you . . . It’s not an act of chivalry, or looking cool, or family obligation with me. It’s just because I love ya, El.” Once more he gave that saddened boyish smile and with a tap on the archway, Robbie walked out.

  Robbie’s words spoke his pain and they magnified with Ellen’s own. To Ellen he not only left the room, but he bequeathed an ache that left her speechless.

  ^^^^

  “Yes, Captain.” Elliott Ryder spoke on the cell phone right outside the clinic.

  “Dean will be the best first judge,” Hal said. “You know what to do.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good luck. I’m counting on you.”

  Elliott gave a nod Hal couldn’t see and after disconnecting the call, and ignoring the odd glance he received from Andrea in his passing of her, he walked into the clinic.

  Steady. Steady. Steady.

  Dean reiterated the words in a calming manner in his mind. The drops had to be perfect. Not a smidgen more or less. With his hands not twitching an inch, Dean dipped the dropper in the beaker he held.