The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  ^^^^

  Bertha Callahan, George Hadley’s right hand man in a large woman’s body, watched her leader on the phone. She felt his distress as his head dropped. She knew the news wasn’t good. George was distressed about losing the Game when they left the compound to head back, but his spirits lifted when they got into a high speed conversation about what they would do with the city of Lodi, Ohio, a small town barricaded in on the wrong side of the country.

  They chuckled over how they would annihilate the small town of rebels if Lodi didn’t pack up its own freedom stance and move off the Society side.

  A bright spot turned glum when George picked up the phone to check in back at Quantico. Bertha didn’t know what was being said but she knew she felt compelled to wrap her twenty-one inch biceps around the President, pull him close to her breasts, and give him a big hug.

  George hung up. His heavy sigh followed him as he turned around.

  “What’s happened?” Bertha asked.

  “Forget Lodi for a while. We have bigger problems.”

  “Bigger? Beginnings?”

  “Nope. It seems . . . we had a new group of defectors within our ranks. They . . . they took my son, Callahan.”

  “Oh my God!” Bertha said with shock.

  “Johnny fought. He took out about eight of them but they got him. Boyens and Lange have a search party out now. They’re following what they said was . . . a blood trail.”

  “Sir,” Bertha said with her masculine compassion. “I’m sorry. We’ll find him.”

  “I hope. I hope.” He nodded. “Johnny’s all I have. He was lost within himself to begin with. Now . . now he’s at the mercy of these new rebels and lost within his home somewhere. I’ll tell ya . . .” George spoke heavily. “Nothing else matters. Nothing. Not Beginnings nor Lodi. Nothing . . . until I get Johnny back.”

  ^^^^^

  Lodi, Ohio

  Johnny stood in the cold and faced the man made iron walls that barricaded Lodi. He was told by the guard it wasn’t an easy thing to be face to face with ‘the man’, Chief Michael Manis. When the iron gate opened and Michael stepped forth, Johnny saw that even more than with his father, standing face to face with Michael was a difficult task.

  Michael Manis didn’t just stand tall, he was tall and brawny as well. His blonde hair was pulled into a pony tail. He wore jeans and a tee-shirt. Michael made Johnny reevaluate the thought that his father was big.

  “Yes?” Michael asked. “I’m being told you seek political asylum from the Society.”

  “Yes, sir, I do,” Johnny answered.

  “You’re pretty young. What’s the story?”

  “I wanted out. You can check my things. I really don’t have much. I have a lot to offer. Yeah, I’m young, but I have been trained in the medical field since I was sixteen. Your medical people can test me. I can be an asset. I can do examinations, simple surgeries, experiments, and lab tests. I was trained . . . I was trained by the best.”

  “In the Society?” Michael questioned.

  “No, sir . . . Beginnings.”

  Michael’s attention was caught. “Beginnings? Why in God’s name are ya standing here?”

  “I had a falling out,” Johnny explained. “I was misled. I left Beginnings and it was my error. To be honest with you, I want to go back home. Home to my family. Home . . . to Beginnings.”

  “But they won’t let you.”

  Johnny shook his head. “I’ll prove it to them, though. I’ll earn their trust back and work my way there. I just have to start somewhere.”

  “And you figured here was the place to start?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Stewart Redman.”

  “Stew?” Michael had a chuckle. “Originally from East Texas?”

  “Huh?” Johnny questioned.

  “East Texas. Plague. The Stand?” Michael saw the lost look on Johnny’s face. “All right. You were probably too young when the world ended to know that. Come on in, Stew.” Michael stepped back and opened the iron gate further. “Welcome to Lodi.”

  Johnny stepped inside his safety. It wasn’t Beginnings, but it wasn’t the Society either. In Johnny’s mind, it was his his first step to getting home, but what he didn’t realize was how close the city of Lodi was to taking that step to Beginnings as well.

  CHAPTER TWO

  What was supposed to be a welcoming joyous occasion and an end to a missing person case, ended up being totally annoying for Joe.

  Joe grumbled a few times, looked at his watch and then up as he stood at the back gate. “Christ, Henry, get up.”

  Henry’s shins and knees were flush to the ground as his face was lowered to the dirt before Joe in some sort of praising mode.

  Hands on hips, Joe shook his head. “I told you to get up.”

  “I’m home, Joe. I’m home!” Henry stated.

  Joe opened his mouth to speak again, then looked over his shoulder to the Jeep when he heard Elliott laughing. “You think this is funny?”

  With his arms crossed as he leaned against the front of the Jeep, Elliott wiped the smile from his face. “No, Mr. Slagel.”

  “Joe,” Henry spoke in awe as he stood. “Joe,” he wisped out, gave a closed mouth pucker look, and then, with his arms extended, latched on to a reluctant Joe. “Joe.” With his head against Joe’s shoulder, Henry hugged him.

  “Yes. There.” Joe gave a pat to Henry’s back.. “Nice to see you too.”

  “Joe.”

  “Henry, this . . .”

  “Joe.” Henry stepped back and sighed out. “Elliott. Hello.”

  With a smirk, Elliott lifted a wave. “Hello.”

  Almost too dramatically, Henry laid his hand on his chest. “I didn’t think I’d get out of there alive. It’s good to be home.”

  “Henry, you act like they tortured you.”

  “They did, Joe. Oh my God, they did.” Henry picked up his bag. “They made me eat this brown substance. I lost weight. I had to hang out with George.”

  “You poor thing.” Tired of standing there, Joe led Henry to the Jeep. “Let’s head down to my office. I want to get this debriefing meeting over and done with.”

  “Oh, me too, Joe.” Henry embarked in the Jeep. “I have so much to tell you.”

  “Good. I have a lot to tell you too,” Joe said.

  “About?” Henry asked.

  “Beginnings, Frank, Robbie, Ellen, Hal, and . . . other personal things that have to deal with you.”

  “Like?”

  “Well . . .” Joe hem-hawed some. “Henry, your personal life is pretty much inadvertently in a tailspin.”

  “I don’t have a personal life,” Henry stated then looked quickly at Elliott who laughed. “Do I?”

  “Put it this way . . .” Joe said. “If you had a personal life you wanted to keep personal, it’s not personal anymore.” Joe gave a raise of his eyebrow.

  Henry looked lost. It took a second or two and then a horrified look hit him. “No!” he graveled.

  “Yep.” Joe nodded. “Hector is trying to sort through the aftermath.”

  “The aftermath?” Henry was confused. “What happened?”

  “One word.” Joe said. “Misha.”

  “How?” Henry asked. “How did she . . .”

  Elliott interjected, “We still aren’t certain. We do know Ben from Fabrics had a lot to say.”

  “Bastard.”

  “Yes.” Elliott nodded. “Why she went to Ben for answers is still a mystery, but he gave her answers.”

  “So the aftermath is Misha finding out and Hector being distraught.” Henry asked, thinking he was being the perceptive guy.

  “And some.” Joe responded. “It seems the entire community now thinks Frank and Dean are gay lovers.”

  “Ben started that?” Henry questioned.

  With a snicker, Elliott answered. “No, Dean did but not on purpose. He was trying to defend you and, well, things happened and Misha talked.”


  “So that’s the aftermath?” Henry asked.

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” Joe answered. “See, it’s like in the old world when the stock market took a nose dive. You have to wait until the smoke clears to see the true after-effect. That’s what stage of the game we’re in now. The smoke was the Misha-Ben-Hector-you-Hector beats up Dean-Dean-Frank-lover thing. We’re waiting on the aftermath. It’s just a hunch, but my gut is telling me it’s gonna get out of control.”

  Henry had to chuckle. “Really, Joe. Don’t you think you might be overreacting? Out of control? Isn’t it already out of control. I mean how out of control can it really get?”

  ^^^^

  It wasn’t a forceful pounding of a gavel, but it conveyed enough to add silence to his courtroom. Jason Godrichson exhaled the smoke, placed his cigarette in the ashtray, and leaned back in the high leather chair. “Now,” he spoke to the courtroom of all women, “this is my court. I set the rules and my rules are, peaceful or not, you cannot demonstrate in here. Put down the ‘unfair to Misha’ signs please.” He waited until he saw the signs lower. “Now . . . I keep things moving here. I solve domestic situations with . . .ease.” He smirked. “One of you. One,” He lifted his finger. “may speak.”

  Jenny Matoose stepped forward.

  Jason smiled sarcastically. “It figures. Yes, Jenny?”

  “Well, Your Honor, we feel that Misha has been . . .” She stopped talking when Jason held up his hand. “What?”

  “Treated unfairly?” Jason asked. “I read your signs. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Jenny huffed, “Every one of us has made an attempt to get a job at the clinic with Dean. He won’t hire us.”

  Jason shrugged. “I see no sign in Beginnings stating equal opportunity employer. Anything else? Thank you for . . .”

  “No!” Jenny barked. “This is so . . . so typically Beginnings male. We feel so outnumbered.”

  “You are.”

  Her face nearly red, Jenny was going to do what she planned on doing. She was the spokesperson for the women and she’d do a good job. “Look,” She folded her arms. “Nothing has been done to handle this sexual harassment situation.” Her lip curled when Jason snickered. “No. You may not buy it, but it’s true and we want action, legal action. Joe ignored it. It is now time for you to handle it according to the laws our dear Judge Grace . . .” With a sigh, Jenny and all woman lowered their heads for a moment. “. . . set forth.”

  “Fine.” Jason rocked in his chair. “Following her rules, Dean is innocent until proven guilty. The burden of proof lies on you. In order to begin we will have to set a trial date but before that, according to Grace’s rules, I want a petition of suit presented before this court. I want damages stated, actions to be taken, and copies so parties involved may be served. Until then . . .” Just as Jason was about to lift his gavel, he watched Jenny approach the bench.

  Jenny had a smug smile upon her face. She laid papers before Jason. “Done. We went official too on the best Ben from Fabrics stationary. They even smell pretty. Set our court date.”

  ^^^^^

  Regimented testing every third day, without fail for over a year and a half, made Dean pretty certain he knew Hap and Josephine’s urine well. He knew their output, color, consistency, and results. Perhaps if there had been a few more samples for Dean to run that morning, his suspicions wouldn’t of risen, but there were only three, the typical Hap and Josephine samples and a Beginnings woman. When the healthy Beginnings woman had sugar, Josephine had high white blood cells, and Hap tested pregnant, Dean knew something was up.

  In fact, he was positive he knew what it was.

  Not too much hesitation went into his leaving of the lab. His lab coat flapped behind him in his steady fast pace and determination. When he made it to the part of the clinic where he knew he had to be, Dean didn’t knock.

  “Misha,” he spoke her name and dropped the folders on the table where she worked on bed sheets.

  “I am busy.” She looked the other way.

  “Well, I know you were pretty busy this morning. You had to be. Of course how long would it take you to switch labels, lids, and reqs on three urine samples.?”

  Misha finally looked up. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Calmly and smugly, Misha reached into her lab coat, pulled out a notepad, and wrote something down.

  Dean saw her motions. “What are you doing?” He reached out, snatched the pad, and read it. “Dean used vulgarity at me?” Chuckling, he tossed it on the table. “Please.”

  Hurriedly, Misha took the pad back but not without writing in it again. “I wish for you to leave, Dr. Hayes.”

  “I wish for you to leave my lab and my things alone.”

  “I said, I do not know . . .”

  “No.” Dean sharply cut her off. “You know. I was the only one in and out of my lab this morning. You know where everything is. Did you think I was stupid? Did you think I wouldn’t notice? I’m not you.”

  Gasping, Misha pulled out her notepad.

  Dean continued, “It was a childish immature thing to do and you’re screwing around with people’s health. Let me catch you doing something again and you’ll be out of this clinic and back at the House of Lesbians where you belong.”

  Misha wrote diligently.

  “Go on and write,” Dean said. “be sure to write down that I called you a little bitch too for crossing the line. You’re making this into a war.”

  “It is a war.”

  “Well let me tell you something, little girl . . .” Dean took a step into her. “If this is the best you can do, you’ll lose.” Saying no more, Dean turned and walked out.

  With her mouth closed and a smile of arrogance on her face, Misha released a short laugh and shut her notebook.

  ^^^^^

  Phil, one of the agriculture workers, walked backwards, then forwards, in his leading pace with Hector. “I’m telling you something is amiss in Coop Three. It doesn’t sound good.”

  “It never sounds good,” Hector said with some aggravation. “It’s the biggest coop. When does it ever sound good when you have hundreds of chickens together?”

  “No, Hector, it sounds . . . weird.”

  “Weird?” Hector asked. “Did a rooster get in?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why isn’t Matt dealing with this? This is his thing.”

  “Matt is sick. It’s cold and flu season, you know.”

  “It’s always cold and flu season in Beginnings. You people are a bunch of . . .” Hector slowed down as they neared the huge barn-like coop. “Babies.”

  “See?”

  Hector heard it, an off key, steady squaw of hundreds of chickens but that wasn’t what caught his attention. The site of the wooden hen house did. “Phil, is it me or are those walls . . .”

  “Moving?” Phil finished the sentence. “Yes. They’re buckling, to be more precise.”

  Hector rushed to the hen house. “It can’t be a killer baby. It would be quiet then.”

  “I wouldn’t unlock that if I were you.”

  “Nonsense. They’re chickens.” Hector undid the padlock. As the locked clanked open, the chicken noise stopped. “What the hell?” Holding the lock, he slowly opened the door.

  The silence lasted only a second. In the opening of where Hector stood, a blur of feathers and a single eerie squawk raged by him, but not before it rammed him in the head, and sent him flying back a foot.

  “Whoa.” Phil reached for him, “You OK?”

  Hector touched the top of his forehead. He was bleeding. “Fuck. Was that a chicken?” Keeping his fingers to his injured head, Hector stepped into the coop. “I was beginning to think it was a sea gull, like in that movie ‘The Birds’.”

  Phil chuckled. “It reminded me of it.” He looked around. “Where are the lights?”

  “They must be burned out.” He reached for his flashlight and Hector’s eyes lifted when he heard i
t. “Shit.”

  It seemed at that instant, every chicken in that coop screamed out loud, long, and continuously.

  Phil took a step back. “Maybe we should go.”

  “Nonsense. They’re in cages.” Hector’s eyes widened. “Maybe not.”

  Mixed with the squawking, there came an immediate sound of hard and heavy flapping of wings that seemed to convey closeness and speed. The entire coop filled with the thunder of it.

  Phil looked at Hector. “Run?”

  “Run.” Hector spun and right behind Phil, they dodged out of the coop. Hurrying, he turned, reached for the door but before he could close it, like a fast and furious eruption, the chickens all flew out.

  On the ground with their heads covered from the low level flight of the edible avian, Hector and Phil waited until there was quiet.

  Phil gazed up from his protective position, saw nothing, and stood. “Oh my God.” He walked into the coop, then stepped back out. “Hector, we just lost over three hundred chickens.”

  Hector could only say ‘fuck’ as his head dropped back to the ground.

  ^^^^^

  Joe’s eyes lifted to the ceiling of his office when he heard the slight thump. He shook his head. “Go on, Henry. What were you saying?”

  Elliott and Jason both groaned slightly and sunk further into their chairs.

  Henry ignored them. “She was big, Joe. Huge. She looked like a she-man body builder. She’s George’s right hand shim.”

  “Henry.” Joe rubbed his eyes. “I’ve sat here listening to food stories, dart stories, and Bertha threatening to put your head between her legs stories. Is there anything vital from the trip that you learned?”

  “Well, yes. I overheard something. It might not be important,” Henry said. “In eastern Ohio, there’s a city of rebels. It’s big too. They are holding ground against the Society. George is pissed. He wants to wipe them out.”

  “Eastern Ohio?” Joe asked then his eyes looked at Elliott. Immediately he knew he and Elliott were on the same wave length. The phone call from Johnny came from eastern Ohio. “Henry, do you know the name of this place?”