The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  ^^^^

  “She’s practically living in your house, El.” Frank stood with folded arms and stared down at Ellen in such an explaining mode.

  “Frank . . .” Ellen near laughed as she continued to build a privacy wall out of books so she could sleep.

  “I’m serious,” Frank said. “She’s always there, bathing the kids and working all your experiments. I think she slept in the bed.”

  “Frank.” Ellen laughed.

  “I’m not sure but she was wearing your clothes. I know that.”

  Halting in her task, Ellen stood upright. “Why are you saying this?”

  “It’s true.” Frank raised his right hand. “I had a huge falling out with Dean over it. See.” He pointed to the corner of his mouth. “When I confronted him, he decked me.”

  “Dean hit you?’

  “Would I lie? Really, would I?”

  “No.”

  “Then there you have it. He’s been playing around the entire time you’ve been gone. I think El, I think when you get back, you should initiate the second ever divorce in Beginnings’ history.” In a spin, Frank turned to look at a snickering Robbie. “What?”

  “Sorry.” Robbie stopped laughing. “It’s just funny that if El divorces Dean there will be two divorces in Beginnings history and both of them are Ellen’s.”

  A wide amusement grin hit Frank. “Oh, shit. I didn’t think of that. Is that funny or what?”

  “No!” Ellen barked. “It’s not funny. I’m gonna go ask Hal. He’ll tell me the truth.”

  “Go on,” Frank encouraged. “He’ll confirm it. He hates Dean.”

  “I will.” Ellen backed up and started to leave the main room.

  “You ask. But uh, El . . . call his name first. Hal has a jerk-off addiction and you don’t want to disturb him.”

  Ellen’s mouth dropped open in disgust. “You are such a pig.” Shaking her head, she walked out.

  Laughing, Frank walked over to help finish her wall.

  “Is that true?” Robbie asked.

  “Yep.” Frank picked up books. “Hal’s addicted to masturbation.”

  “No, I mean about Dean and Misha?”

  “In a sense.”

  “So you exaggerated?”

  “A little. I need her mind off of things that are going on out here,” Frank said, “because I have a feeling it’s not gonna be all cozy like it is now. The Society won’t let it.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  January 17th

  “I wouldn’t disturb you if it wasn’t important,” Elliott spoke as fast as he walked with Joe into the Communications Room. “I know you go for treatments today.”

  “No, Elliott, that’s quite all right. What . . .” Joe paused when Leo, who was monitoring communications, stood up and saluted. “What the hell?”

  Elliott gave a nod. “At ease. Can you leave us, please?”

  “Right away,” Leo responded and with another salute, moved by Joe and walked out.

  “When did we start doing that?” Joe asked.

  “If I am going to run a uniform security of tri communities, they will all show the same respect.” Elliott pulled out a chair for Joe. “Please.”

  “What’s going on?” Joe asked as he sat down.

  “Communications began picking up an FSC transmission about five hours ago. It repeated, paused for ten, repeated, then . . .”

  “FSC?” Joe questioned. “What the hell is an FSC?”

  “It’s the Beginnings form of Morse Code. Frank developed it,” Elliott explained. “Frank has been trying to implement it for a while but since the Society found the house, we have been using it.”

  “Frank developed a code.” Joe nodded impressed.

  “Yes, but it’s rather new so it is taking us sometime to decode it. But . . . we have it.”

  “FSC? Frank Slagel Code?”

  “Um . . .” Elliott cleared his throat. “As much as I would like to say yes, I can’t. It stands for Frank’s Secret Code.”

  “Oh, brother.”

  Elliott handed him the sheet. “This just was deciphered.”

  “Frank’s Secret Code.” Joe shook his head. “At least he used his brains and developed it as a means so the Society can’t break into our transmissions.” Before reading the sheet, Joe saw Elliott look away. “He didn’t develop it for that, did he?”

  “No.”

  “Then tell me . . .”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  Joe grumbled. “Tell me.”

  “Well, Frank believed with the meteor approaching, there also was a chance that alien life forces could be waiting for the opportunity to . . .”

  “Never mind.” Joe finally peered to the sheet. “Holy shit.”

  “My initial thoughts exactly.”

  Slowly Joe stood up. “The entire Duluth base.”

  “Our scouts said it appeared that way. They were all settled . . . as of this morning.”

  “They had to have prepared the place.”

  “We never saw movement there, then again, we aren’t in that region too often.” Elliott powered up the board.

  Joe exhaled and peered up. “I guess this is where our focus should be for now. The beginning ground of one war now is the start of another.” Joe ran his hand over the top of his lip. “We’ve come full circle, I see.” he stepped back and sat down. “What are you up to, George?”

  “Anything you want us to do?”

  “Peaceful movement,” Joe stated, still staring at the spot on the board. “Gear up about four or five units and send them down. Keep a distance from the site, but keep in communications with us. I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. He’s on our side of the world right now. That is the end of this game. George has one hour to pack up and start moving. He goes.” A heavy breath escaped Joe. “Or we take him out.”

  ^^^^

  George raised his eyes and gave an ‘is it safe’ glance as the elevator jolted once.

  “We’re still getting things moving,” Bertha explained. “We really didn’t have much time to prepare this place.”

  “Beginnings wiped it out.” George watched the numbers illuminate on the elevator.

  “It was wise to bring things back here. At least the power was easy to get up.” The lights flickered.

  “Let’s hope they stay this way,” George said then watched the elevator doors open. “Is this the floor?”

  “Yes, sir.” Bertha led the way. “We’re operating on a skeleton security crew right now, but enough to ensure safety while you’re here.” She led the way.

  “You do know we cannot use the additional fifty men.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I don’t want to take any chances especially since we’re so far from home and so close to Beginnings. They infiltrated this place once . . .” George paused at the entrance of what seemed to be a wide open military command room. Only three other personnel were there. “They infiltrated once, they can infiltrate again.”

  “This way, sir.” Bertha held out her hand and walked down a few steps to the center aisle. “You know, Mr. Kusakari is still asleep. Shall I wake him?”

  “No. Please. No.”

  “But the war . . .”

  “There are no rules that state he has to be awake. He just has to be here. He’s here. We’ll inform him. But for now . . .” George sank into the plush, comfortable feel of a big leather chair. He smiled an ‘ah’ and drew serious. “For now . . . let’s start this thing.”

  ^^^^

  The bright blue sweat jacket zippered all the way up to the neck, with the hood covering her head, and big purple sunglasses did nothing for Ellen. But it made Frank, Hal, and Robbie laugh as she stood encircled by them center of the street.

  “I look ridiculous,” Ellen griped. “I’m gonna . . .”

  “No.” Frank stopped her from taking off the hood. “You have to be like this.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “So you can be spotted.” Frank explai
ned.

  “By who?”

  Robbie answered. “Us. We don’t want to lose sight of you.”

  “You have to be in our scope at all times,” Hal added.

  “Speaking of scope,” Frank said. “Robbie?”

  “I’m getting there.”

  “Hal, what about the truck?” Frank questioned.

  “It’s ready to go,” Hal answered. “We have to remember that we lucked out here. We may not be so lucky next stop with gas, so let us not use the truck as a means of escape. We’re smart enough gentlemen to create our own diversion.”

  With a sniff, Frank looked up. “Yeah. From my end, it’s just about there.”

  Robbie shook his head. ‘I’m close, but not yet.”

  “OK.” Frank clapped his hands together once. “Hal, you take the prize.”

  Ignoring Ellen, who looked from talking brother to the other, Hal shook his head. “Why don’t you take the prize?”

  “I took the prize last time,” Frank said.

  “What about Robbie?” Hal asked.

  “Robbie had the prize for a while.”

  “I had the prize for a while, Hal.” Robbie shrugged. “It’s your turn,” he told him as he reached into his back pocket.

  “Fine,” Hal exhaled. “I’ll take the prize. Let me know when.”

  “Almost.” Robbie looked at what seemed to be a television remote in his hand. “Frank?”

  “When I say.” Frank nodded. “I’ll call. Hal, you take the prize and head to the truck. You go your way. We’ll do our thing.”

  “Frank,” Robbie interrupted. “I hate to say . . .”

  “Oh, sorry. Hal, ready?” Frank questioned.

  “Yes.” Hal nodded.

  “Robbie? Ready?”

  Robbie held up the remote. “Yep.”

  “El . . .” Frank snickered when he looked at her. “Never mind.” He shifted his eyes about. “On my call.” He smiled. “Now.”

  On Frank’s charge, he grabbed forth his M-16. At the same time, Ellen released a grunt when Hal, at full speed ahead, slammed into Ellen, hoisted her up on his shoulder, and kept on running just as Robbie, with a shitty grin, pressed a single button, causing the simultaneous explosions on the roof tops of five of the buildings that surrounded them.

  “Battle’s on.” Frank fired out as bullets rained down upon them. “How many?”

  “I don’t know,” Robbie said, running backwards. “My guess is there’s not that many.” He dove behind an overturned car. “Frank, watch . . .” Robbie ducked when Frank’s huge body sailed behind the car as well, just as a stream of bullets ricocheted off the side of it.

  “You would think . . .” Frank said, getting ready to take aim. “Ellen’s not here. She’s the catch. Why are they firing at . . .?”

  Silence.

  “Us.” Frank winced. “Shit.”

  “You spoke to soon.” Robbie looked up. “Do you think?”

  “Oh, I know.”

  “Will Hal . . .”

  “He’d better.”

  “Then let’s head there and wait.” Without saying any more while free from firing bullets, Frank, with Robbie on his heels, stood up and ran.

  “Hurry, Hal, hurry.” Ellen beckoned. Her eyes moved to the side view mirror to watch the fast paced pursuit of them.

  “I’m moving.” Hal shifted gears and jerked the wheel.

  “Oh!” Ellen screamed. “Faster.”

  “Ellen.” Hal remained calm. “Whether you are screaming at me or not, I will only go so fast.”

  “But there is like two hundred soldiers.”

  “Hardly.” Hal checked out his mirrors. “More like forty some.” He grumbled, “What the hell, Frank? Couldn’t you two take out more.”

  “Oh, we’re losing them.” Ellen relaxed in the seat, but only for a second. With another scream and ejection of her hand forward, she pointed. “Hal! No! You’re headed back to town.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “What are you nuts! Forget Frank and Robbie. They’ll be fine. Go. Go. Go!

  “No. No. No.” Hal drove faster. “We’ll be fine.”

  ^^^^

  “So we’ll watch communications,” Joe said, stepping to the door, “and try to figure out by talks with Henry as . . .”

  Hiss. Static. Crackle. “Sgt. Ryder. Come in. ASAP,” called Security.

  Elliott flew with the urgency of his request to the radio. “What’s up, Mark?”

  “Pick up frequency 77.9. I think this might be important.”

  Elliott gave a nod of his head to Leo.

  “We found it by accident.”

  “What exactly . . .” No more needed to be asked. The sound of motor engines rang through, accompanied by the sometimes interrupted and heavy breath laced foreign language spoken.

  Joe rushed back in. “What the hell? Where’s that coming from?”

  Leo looked at the board. “Nothing’s lit.”

  “Can you tweak in?”“ Joe asked.

  “Mr. Slagel, I’m not that familiar,”

  “Here.” Joe took a seat at the control panel. “What country . . .”

  “Ours. You can hear English shouting voices in the background,” Elliott said then held up his hand. “The guy is giving details. Updates. They are chasing a . . . blue doll?’

  “Blue doll?” Joe worked the controls.

  “They are in pursuit of the truck that holds the blue doll and the truck is heading back to get the two left behind.”

  Quickly Joe looked up. “Is it us?”

  “I’m deciphering as quickly as I can.”

  “What language is that?” Joe asked, trying to pick up a signal.

  “Swahili.”

  “Swahili?” Joe nearly choked. “You know Swahili.”

  “Yes, fluently,” Elliott answered.

  “Christ Almighty, what the hell else can be strange in Beginnings?” Joe was just about to shake his head in frustration when the alarm blared out. “Got it.”

  Elliott quickly turned to the board. “Where is it coming from?”

  “Powell, Wyoming.”

  “It’s us.” In almost a nail biting mode, Elliott watched the board as he listened. “I believe, like any good sports channel, we are picking up. . . The Game.”

  ^^^^

  The slam of the truck door echoed in the dark empty tunnel just before Ellen’s loud, complaining voice did. “This is fine? This is what you call being fine?”

  “Ellen, please.”

  “Please what? You drove us into a sealed off tunnel?” she nearly shrieked.

  “Ellen, I implore you to get back into the truck.”

  “Implore my ass, Hal. You said we’ll be fine!”

  “And we will be,” Hal responded. “See?” He pointed as Frank and Robbie stepped from the even darker shadows.

  “Oh,” Ellen said sarcastically. “I see. Now, I get it. We’re fine. Yes. Frank and Robbie are here to die right along with us. One big happy fuckin family.” She looked at Frank, who grinned from ear to ear as he stepped to her. “What? What are you smiling about?”

  “Robbie. Open the truck door,” Frank instructed then looked back to Ellen. “El, I knew there would be moments like this.” Frank smiled again while the ‘ripping’ sound of the duct tape rang out.

  ^^^^

  “I step out for one second to take a whiz.” George hustled back into the control room and to his seat. “I missed a lot?”

  “Yes, sir.” Bertha said with confidence and almost happiness. “Seems the truck went back to pick up two they left behind and seeing how they knew they were surrounded, they made an attempt to, let’s say, hide it out. It appears now they have cornered themselves. I know due to war rules we cannot use explosives, but at this point we totally outnumber them. I just gave the directive to storm the tunnel.”

  In a whisper while staring out, George spoke his thoughts out loud,. “Storm the tunnel? Hide it out?” He tilted his head. “Hide it out? Cornered? This is the Slagels we are talk
ing. Shit.” George’s eyes widened. “They would never corner themselves.” He stood up. “It’s a trap. Callahan, pull our men out! Pull them out now!”

  ^^^^

  The beautifully orchestrated symphony of rapid gunfire came to the grand finale with the ‘thump’ of the last dead body and a ‘here and there’ shot ringing out.

  “First.” Frank swung his M-16 behind his back. “Most important. Anyone hurt?”

  “No, I’m fine.” Robbie shook his head.

  “Me as well,” Hal added. “And no damage to the truck at all.”

  “Excellent.” Frank nodded with approval. “I have to say, Robbie, that was good thinking on the fleshpots.”

  “Hey, blinding the enemy is best,” Robbie said. “Should we walk over and check for life? Maybe hit them with a head shot.”

  “Nah.” Frank shook his head. “That would be inhumane right now.”

  “Dear God.” Hal was dramatic. “He has a heart.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Hal!” Frank barked. “We do have one problem. We have to move some bodies to get through.”

  “We could drive over them,” Robbie suggested.

  “No,” Frank disagreed. “We should move them. Besides . . .” He took a step to the spread of flesh that was before him. “We need to keep a score card. So . . .” He smiled. “It’s body count time.”

  ^^^^

  To Dean, being ‘summoned’ anywhere meant one of two things. Either he did something wrong or something was wrong. Seeing how he really hadn’t even touched many experiments, he was willing to bet on the latter.

  His heart pounded right before the door opened to the Communications Room and it grew worse when he saw the look on Elliott Ryder’s face.

  Was there a twinkle of sweat on his brow? Perhaps Dean imagined it, but if there was, in a non-illness situation, Elliott Ryder being anything but calm was a rarity.

  Dean just wanted to walk in and let Elliott say why they called for him. With full intentions of doing so, Dean stepped inside the Communications Room with one hand in the front pocket of his jeans and the other holding back his growing bangs. No sooner did he see it, he smelled it. Cigarette smoke. When he saw Joe put out the butt of the evil he swore off, the words slipped from Dean’s mouth. “What’s wrong?”