The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  ^^^^

  “It’s some sort of gas,” Bertha explained to George.

  George’s only response was to look up at Bertha across the edge of his hand.

  “With in thirty seconds, not a soul remained.” She shook her head. “They took the leap as an escape. We were . . . we were basically trapped and were fortunate enough to get out with seven remaining.”

  “Seven? Seven out of how many?”

  “One twenty-five sir. However, they all were not taken out by the gas,”

  “This is absurd.” George stood up. “Absurd. There are three of them and they are toting one very weak female. How in the hell did they . . .” George winced and snapped his fingers. “Someone do quick math on our totals for me.”

  “Two hundred and twenty-two,” Bertha gave the body tally.

  “Two hundred and twenty two. Is anyone else here think this is out of control. How is this happening?”

  Henry’s voice emerged with reason. “I think you know, George. Come on.”

  George spun around. “You gonna give me that Slagel theory?”

  “What were we just talking about?” Henry stepped further in the room. “There is a bond between them all. They think and act alike. They work together like a fine tuned instrument.”

  “Have any suggestions, Henry?”

  A crocked smile hit Henry. “Yeah. But, uh . . .” He winked. “I think I’ll keep them all in here.” He pointed to his temple.

  George’s tight fist came down in a frustration pound to the counter. “We gave in too much on the rules.”

  Bertha gave a sympathetic shrug. “It’s too late now though. We can’t change them.”

  “No, we can’t.” George nodded. “But I’m tired of this shit. Bring it in.”

  “We only have three,” Bertha informed. “I would think you would want to save . . .”

  “Bring one in. Now . . .” George ordered. “They can’t get away too easily from that and certainly three men on foot can’t bring it down. Bring it in.” His voice graveled with seriousness. “End this shit once and for all.”

  ^^^^

  If there was an instantaneous cure for his nerves, Dean would have initiated it into his blood stream without hesitation. He couldn’t take it. He had run his fingers through is hair so much, he swore he was going bald.

  By far it was the worst week of his entire life. The work load he had only doubled because his mind drifted off too much and too far when he should have been concentrating on work. He couldn’t. All he could think about was Ellen and how every single day that went by that Frank, Robbie, and Hal thwarted a Society attack, was another day closer and another percentage drop that luck wouldn’t be on their side for long.

  Dean only hoped he was wrong in his thinking. Perhaps worry was the reason he wasn’t as optimistic as he wanted so why was he torturing himself? He promised himself the moment they lost the Swahili Society announcers voice that it was his sign to not listen anymore. Not hearing the conclusion to the most recent confrontation was maybe a means for Dean not to hear about a painful end.

  He resolved himself to that, so why when Joe sought him out, did he follow? He went at top speed back down to the Communications Room.

  Did something horrible transpire? Joe, Elliott, and Danny Hoi all had the same expression when Dean opened the door to the Communications Room. Dean could not take another step forward. He was frozen with his eyes locked to Joe’s. The words barely came out. “What . . . what’s going on? Did Danny get the signal back?”

  “Yes.” Joe nodded in the silence. “He tweaked the satellite but our Danny Hoi tweaked it well.” With a slight turn of his head to the right, he gave another nod to Danny. “Turn it up.”

  Dean finally moved forward a step. “Joe ,I don’t think I want to hear what . . .”

  “Shh.” Joe held up his hand. “Listen.”

  The crackle rang out, followed by more static as Danny tuned in.

  “And lead us not into temptation. No . . .” Her voice rang out. “He leads us into the icy cold waters of a hell on earth.”

  Dean grinned and his insides churned with an excitement that made him want to scream. “El. That’s . . . El.” He laughed and charged to the speaker as if it made him closer to Ellen. He grabbed Danny Hoi and kissed him on the cheek. “That’s Ellen.”

  ^^^^

  “I could have drowned, Frank.” Ellen stood on the muddy bank next to the river.

  Frank ignored her. Hands on hips, he peered up the cliff they had leaped down.

  “Drowned.”

  “You wouldn’t have drowned. Hal . . .” Frank looked back, lifted the radio headset from Ellen, and handed it back to Hal. “It’s not funny. Trust me I hear her.”

  Hal laughed. “Sorry, Frank. I just thought it would be entertaining for the mile trot up stream.”

  “Speaking of that,” Ellen said. “A mile? How far are we from the truck now?”

  “Five miles or so,” Hal replied.

  “I have to walk five miles!”

  Frank rapidly spun back at Ellen. “What do you want me to do Ellen? Go get the truck!”

  “Yes!”

  “Fine, but we still have to make it up this fuckin cliff.”

  “Which . . . you threw me off,” Ellen griped. “You know Frank, why don’t you just shoot me yourself and hand me to the Society?”

  “Why are you so ungrateful?” Frank asked.

  Ellen gasped. “Ungrateful? I’m a pawn in a game. I would think with the military mentality of you three combined that somehow, someway, there had to be a route to take where, I don’t know . . .” Ellen fluttered her lips. “Where I’m not running, getting shot at, or dying of hyperthermia. But no . . . every corner we turn it’s something else. How is that? How is that happening?”

  “El!” Frank yelled. “I’m sorry we have to run! I’m sorry we’re dodging bullets. But I’ll tell you what. You may run, you may have to jump, and your ass may get wet, but there is one thing! One thing I will tell you for sure. You will, not may, you will be alive when this is all said and done.” Frank looked up the cliff again. “What the fuck is taking Robbie so long!”

  At the exact moment Frank screamed up, the end of a rope, rolled down from the top.

  “Yes. Thank you.” Frank took the end then spoke into his headset radio. “How’s it look up there?”

  “There’s nothing alive in the tunnel, Frank. It’s not a pretty sight. We can go around or through,” Robbie replied.

  “We’ll make that decision when we hit topside. Right now . . .” He handed the end of the rope to Hal. “Lead the way.”

  “You don’t want Ellen to go first?” Hal asked.

  Frank laughed. “Are you nuts? No. I need her in front of me so I can move her along.”

  “OK.” Hal shrugged. “See you topside.”

  “Frank?” Ellen said, humbled. “I can’t climb a rope.”

  “You don’t have to. Just climb the hill and use the rope for support. It’s easy.”

  “You’ll catch me if I fall, right?” Ellen asked as she reached for the rope.

  “Don’t I always?”

  A smile of security swept across Ellen’s face. She held onto the rope for dear life and followed Hal up the hill.

  Hal stopped. “Frank? Do you hear that?”

  “No,” Frank answered. “I don’t hear anything. Just climb.”

  “What?” Ellen asked.

  “Frank?” Robbie called over the radio. “Do you hear that?”

  “No.” Frank climbed faster, moving into Ellen. “I hear nothing.”

  Just over the half way point, Hal looked down. “It’s a chopper, Frank.”

  “Fuck. Climb!” Frank yelled.

  Hal scurried.

  “El, move!” Frank encouraged as the chopper came closer.

  “I’m trying.” Ellen slipped some.

  “Move, El.” Frank yelled louder, hearing the fluttering of the blades. “Hurry.”

  “I’m trying.”<
br />
  “Frank!” Hal yelled his loudest as he felt the wind of the chopper move in.

  “I know!” Frank blasted.

  “Move for cover!” Hal ordered. “Now!”

  Hal’s final word seemed to sound off the events that followed. The vibration of the ground was caused by not only the closing in helicopter, but by the spray of bullets that hit against the ground. Frank reached down his thigh and in one swing up, he chopped the rope above Ellen’s head, grabbed her by the waist and with a hard push outward, flung the two of them backwards and off the cliff just as a the sear of bullets ripped the dirt beneath them.

  Hal’s hand hit the top of the cliff at the same time he heard the loud splash of the water below. He rolled to the surface with the aid of Robbie, then looked below for certainty that Frank and Ellen were fine before he ran for cover in the tunnel as the helicopter made another pass.

  ^^^^

  The bullets fired from the open side door of the helicopter hit against the ground in a fast forward motion toward the opening of the tunnel. The last bullet hit with a whistle not far from Frank’s head as he peered out and tossed his finished cigarette. “Assholes.” He shook his head and headed more into the tunnel. He walked to the small fire where Ellen sat with Robbie and Hal. Frank paused before joining them, taking a second to check out Ellen who not only had quieted down, but stared almost in shock. “El, you OK?”

  Ellen nodded and brought her knees closer to her chest. “Just tell me we don’t have to go back in the water again.”

  “We made it up here. We’re good.”

  “How much longer in here?”

  “I don’t know.” Frank sat down.

  “They’re relentless,” Hal said, lighting a cigarette.

  “And they don’t give up,” Frank added.

  “That too.” Hal smiled.

  “They have to stop to refuel,” Robbie stated. “They have to.” He looked at his watch. “At the rate they are passing, they’ll fall from the sky before long.”

  “How long?” Frank asked.

  “Another two hours,” Robbie said. “Maybe. It depends.”

  Frank groaned. “Two hours? How does the other end of the tunnel look?”

  Hal shook his head. ‘We’re gonna run into the same situation no matter what. We leave, they’ll get us. With them firing from above, the chances of one of us getting hit are great.”

  “So we stay?” Robbie asked.

  Grumbling in frustration was all Frank could do. “A chopper. They have a chopper. Man.”

  “It wasn’t/t a part of the rules,” Hal said. “What are we gonna do? We can’t out run it but we can wait until it refuels and take advantage of that lag.”

  “That’s the only choice,” Robbie added.

  “Man, a chopper,” Frank said in awe. “Do you know how cool it would be to have a chopper?”

  “Yes,” Hal nodded. “But we don’t.”

  “I mean, really . . .” Frank stood up. “We could be unbeatable with one.”

  “True, but . . . how are we gonna get a chopper?” Hal asked.

  “The Society has one.” Frank walked toward the tunnel’s entrance. “Shh. Listen. Another pass.”

  “Frank?” Robbie snickered. “Um, that chopper is in flight.”

  “Yep. It flies by, fires, flies off, circles around, and then comes back closer,” Frank whispered, “We need that chopper.”

  “Again.” Hal stood up. “I’ll agree. However, what are you gonna do?”

  “Steal it.” Frank smiled.

  “Steal it?” Hal asked in disbelief. “How in God’s name do you propose to do that?”

  “Like this.” Frank darted out of the tunnel.

  “Frank!” Robbie screamed, and at the same time as Hal, lunged forward.

  They reached the opening of the tunnel and were greeted and sent back to the sides by the spray of fire.

  “Where is he!” Hal shouted.

  “There!” Robbie pointed to the brush. “Now he’s . . . there!” He indicated as Frank started to run to the cliff’s edge.

  “What’s he gonna do . . . jump for it!”

  “Uh . . .” Robbie winced watching as Frank, at full speed, hit the edge of the cliff and leap outward toward the moving chopper. “I’d say yeah.”

  The Society pilot felt the thump and heavy drop of his helicopter. “What the hell was that?” he asked back to the gunner.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then look.”

  The gunner peered through the open door. “I don’t see anything.”

  “It has to be something,” the pilot said “We feel heavier.”

  The gunner looked at the pilot. “I’m telling you, nothing is . . .” He looked back around. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “Surprise!” Frank grinned as he stood up from his lift into the chopper. Before the gunner could even respond, Frank grabbed him and braced his head. Frank figured it was a compassion move to save the gunner from experiencing a fall to his death. With a jerk to the right, Frank snapped the gunner’s neck before sending him out the chopper door.

  “What the . . .” The chopper nosedived when the pilot saw Frank approach. “Oh shit.”

  “No-no. Control.” Frank pulled out his revolver and held it to the pilot’s head. “Lift her up.”

  Shaking, the pilot did as instructed.

  “Good job.”

  “I’m just the flyer.” The pilot spoke desperately. “I’m just a flyer.”

  “I understand that, but understand this. I need this bird. You’re part of this Game. I wanna win. So . . . right now . . .” Frank pulled the knife that was strapped to the side of his leg. “You lose.”

  It was a swipe of motions made, a grasp to the pilot’s head, a precision slice of the throat, and still holding on with a grip, Frank hurriedly moved the pilot’s body out of the way and scooted down in the seat.

  It was touch and go and the chopper definitely dropped nearly to an irreversible point, but Frank managed. Though not well, Frank flew the chopper with a huge, pleased grin upon his face.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Misha released a tiny giggle when after inhaling the intoxicating lemon scent. The most minuscule of furniture polish droplet sucked into her nostril.

  She rubbed the tip of her nose, giggled again, then wiped off the long dresser type table in the corner of Hector’s dining room. She was trying to make heads or tails of the home that hadn’t been lived in fully for some time since Hector moved in with Henry to help out with Nick. Misha took pride in her cleaning of the house. After all, it would be her home when she and Hector married.

  Boxes were everywhere. Some were empty and some half full from Hector’s vain attempts to pack up his life and move a few rows of houses away. But all that changed and Hector was in the midst of unpacking those same boxes again. A part of Misha felt guilty for taking Hector away from the need of his friend, but she justified it as Nick wasn’t losing one of his fathers, he was gaining another mother. Misha had resolved herself to loving Nick as much as Hector did. Out of his bond and friendship with Henry, Hector had also developed an unbreakable parental bond with the child of Ellen and Henry.

  “Just dump the papers on the bureau. I’ll sort through them later,” were Hector’s instructions and Misha followed them.

  She grabbed a handful of papers that lined the bottom of the box, opened the drawer she knew was empty, and placed them in. She wasn’t about to sort through the papers. They looked like personal items from Hector’s past, items that she knew he’d eventually share.

  But there was something about the card with the crayon drawn heart on it that made Misha’s curiosity pique. It was yellow and tattered, obviously handmade by a child a very long time before. It was one of many different items that resembled personal treasures that Misha was dispirited about not possessing herself.

  How fortunate Hector was to have kept things from the previous world. Smiling, she lifted the card. Immediately upon open
ing, it a small photo fell out. She laughed at the picture of a boy about eight or nine. He looked so much like a young Hector. His black hair stuck up on one side and he grinned a school boy smile. His shirt was in disarray and in complete contrast to the solid blue background of the obvious class picture.

  Her heart felt warm at that moment and knew it has to be Anthony. Knowing from experience and looking at photos, she turned the picture over and received her confirmation. ‘Anthony, third grade’ it said on the back. It was Hector’s son. She moved the photo aside and read the simple card that phonetically wrote a happy birthday message and a conveyance of love to his father.

  Having spoken so much to Hector, Misha was so well aware of Hector’s life before the plague. His life had been so full and he had loved it and every aspect of it. Misha took some sense of pride in the fact that she was helping Hector finally move along after all the years of loneliness and lack of love. She felt privileged that he was opening his heart to her and allowing her to give him the physical contact, even though innocent, that he was so much deprived.

  The items in the bureau were not for her to see. It was, in a sense an invasion of his privacy, Misha knew. But they were also items that belonged to the man she loved. He was a private person, he told her. Hector also had mentioned that there were aspects of his past that he wanted to keep to himself. She respected his decision to not speak of them and understood because she too would find it painful to speak of a family loved and lost.

  But she wanted to know more and even though the phrase ‘in due time’ kept popping into her mind, the curiosity and woman in her felt it was fine to look. To her, it wouldn’t hurt and she didn’t need to mention it to Hector just in case he would get angry. In part, she would be looking at things that he would eventually share with her anyhow.

  Or would he?

  Misha froze. Her hand was the only extension of her body that moved when it trembled out of control. In the second drawer filled with many pictures, cards, and notes, she found it. It was a more recent letter as she could tell by the paper that reeked Beginnings. Wrinkles of a previous crumbling smothered over the words handwritten on the paper, words Misha did not want to see. The letter started out nice, an apology of sorts for taking advantage of a friendship, but then it drew personal and the clarity of the meaning came in the simplicity of the phrasing Hector used in his letter to . . . Henry.