The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Hello?” she called out.

  The fanning stopped and then they lowered.

  “Oh, shit.” Ellen’s eyes widened. Four women stood above her bed. Immediately they lowered their heads when Ellen sat up. They all wore thin, beautiful white dresses and there were bands on their heads. But despite how beautiful they were dressed, they still couldn’t hide the fact that they looked like four female versions of Christopher Columbus.

  “She awakes,” the one said.

  Another turned her head quickly to the sound of footsteps. “He comes.”

  “He comes,” another repeated,.

  The fourth looked at Ellen. “He comes.”

  “Who?” Ellen asked, but before she received an answer, all four women darted out of the room.

  Alone, she sat up in the bed and looked around. It was a very large chamber style bedroom with minimal furniture, a chair, the bed, a dresser, and a table. Across the room was a wall of thick, black curtains.

  The footsteps drew closer and closer and Ellen pinpointed where they came from, a set of double doors at the far end of the room.

  She zoomed in when the steps ceased and watched the latch knobs turn. Slowly the door opened.

  At first she thought it was an optical illusion. Her distance made him look that tall, but when the man walked in, Ellen knew it was no optical illusion.

  Well aware of how tall Frank was, she knew the man that approached her had to be at least seven feet tall, if not more. He looked different. He wasn’t like the women that were in the room or like Christopher Columbus.

  He had skin and it was tanned as well. His long wavy dark blonde hair fell just past his shoulders with the bangs draped almost in a sexy manner across the corner of his right eye. He walked closer to the bed with a poised posture. A slight amount of chest hair poked from the long white robe he wore. His beard was trimmed and as he sat on the bed, he smiled, flashing what Ellen believed to be the most dazzling green eyes.

  She scooted back some. “Oh my God.”

  Again, he smiled. “Exactly.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Then you know . . .” Dean carried the coffee pot over to the cryo-lab counter and poured some in Frank’s mug. “After you and I had the little spat and you hit me . . .” Dean set down the pot and then pulled up a stool. “You not only knocked me over, you knocked some sense into me.”

  “That night you didn’t see it?” Frank said then lifted his coffee.

  “No, but I tried the next day. Remember? I tried to talk to you and you walked away.”

  After sipping, Frank thought about it. “Yeah, you’re right. You did. And you tried to talk to me before I left.”

  “I know.”

  “I have to tell you something, Dean.” Frank said. “I heard you.”

  “Oh yeah?” Dean smiled. “I heard you too.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Exactly. Silence says a lot and so did you on the radio. I’ll get more into that later. For now … back to my problem.”

  Frank laughed. “It’s funny.”

  “No, it’s not. I fired her, Frank. That was it. Now this thing is out of control. The women won’t talk to me, which isn’t a bad thing. Ben is trying to get a third of my Danny Dollar hours because I stuck him too hard with a needle in his backside. I’ll tell you . . .” Dean shook his head. “Hey, at least I don’t have to worry about the third sexual suit, do I?”

  Frank turned his head and whistled.

  “Frank?”

  “Yes.” Frank cleared his throat.

  “You are telling the women to drop this aren’t you?”

  “Dean, they went through all that trouble of typing up the . . .”

  “Frank!” Dean stood up and yelled. “You can’t possible press charges against me for sexual slander.”

  “Dean, it would be fun.”

  “Fun?” Dean screamed. “Frank!”

  “But you told everyone I was your gay lover.”

  “No. No.” Dean stated strongly. “I told Misha, she told everyone.”

  With revelation, Frank looked out. “Yeah. She did.”

  “In fact . . . it’s her you should blame, not me.” Dean sat back down.

  “I should.”

  “Drop the charges against me and place them against her.”

  “You should do it too,” Frank said. “I mean she slandered us both, right?”

  “She spread it around like this,” Dean snapped his fingers.

  “Dean.” Frank looked serious. “Why don’t you type up the thing we need and I’ll give it to Jason tomorrow.”

  Dean grinned. “Oh, what payback it would be.”

  “It would.”

  “Should we?’

  “We should.”

  Dean’s hand happily slammed on the counter. “Then we’ll do it.”

  “Excellent.” Frank stood up, downed the rest of his coffee, and picked up his radio. “I’ll see ya.”

  “Whoa. Wait. Why are you leaving?”

  “We’re done.”

  “No, we aren’t. You’re waiting on Christopher Columbus, remember?”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Frank returned to sitting down. “You don’t think I missed him do you?”

  “What? No. He wasn’t here.”

  “Are you sure?” Frank asked.

  “Frank, don’t you think you would have seen him?”

  “Can I?”

  “Can you what?” Dean questioned.

  “See him.”

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “He’s invisible,” Frank stated.

  Dean laughed. “Chris is not invisible.”

  “Was he? Because my Dad said, or was it Elliott. I’m not sure, one of them did. Was he?”

  “Invisible?” Dean hesitated. “Um, yeah, for a short period of time, but I gave him a reappearing drug and now he isn’t.”

  “Oh.” Frank nodded. “That makes me feel better. I need to talk to him.”

  “Speaking of that,” Dean softened his voice, “I have to ask you something. I know you are going back out there to get Ellen and Robbie. I know you came home and that tells me something but I have to hear it from you. You have this uncanny connection with Ellen. You can sense her miles away. What . . . what are you getting? Is she safe? Is she all right? Tell me, because I will trust whatever you say.”

  “I’m off,” Frank claimed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m off. To be honest, I’m not working.” Frank tossed up his hands. “I think my psychic connection to her has been terminated or at least disconnected for the time being.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I feel she is safe, but the other thing I’m getting is too weird.”

  “Well, tell, me.” Dean inched in closer. “Maybe it’s not so weird.”

  Frank blew out. “Oh, yeah, it’s weird.”

  “What is it.”

  Frank looked around.

  “Frank!” Dean snapped. “No one is here but us.”

  “Just making sure Columbus didn’t walk in. He’s invisible.”

  “He’s not here. What is it?”

  “Ok.” Frank started to whisper, “Like I said, it’s weird. I really feel she’s safe, but when I think of her, all I see is Cleopatra.”

  “Cleopatra?” Dean asked.

  “Yeah. Cleopatra.”

  With a thinking ‘hmm’ Dean inched back.

  “What do you think?”

  “That’s weird,” Dean said, puzzled, “Why in the world would you be getting . . . Cleopatra?”

  ^^^^

  “My queen.” His deep voice resonated as he pulled a chair forth for Ellen to sit by the table. “That is what I am searching for.”

  “Who . . . who are you?” Ellen reluctantly sat down.

  “I am called by many names.” The tall man walked to the drapes and opened them. “You need sun. Please, sit down. Enjoy it. Can I get you food? You must be starving.”

&nb
sp; “That can wait. Who are you?”

  “Around here they call me . . .”

  “God,” Ellen answered.

  “Exactly.”

  “Ok, God, before we go any further, where is Robbie?”

  “Robbie?” he asked.

  “I was with him. Where is he?” Ellen asked with passion. “He’s tall, blonde . . .”

  “One arm.”

  “That’s him.”

  “He had an injury en route.”

  Panic hit Ellen immediately and she flew for the door.

  “You don’t even know where you’re going.” He grasped her arm. “Slow down, little woman.”

  “Listen, big guy. I need to know about Robbie.”

  “He’s fine. He’s probably resting. The injury wasn’t bad. The Drunes overdosed him in their sedation. It will have an effect for the next three or four days.”

  “So he’ll be sleeping?”

  “No, he’ll be awake, just suffering from after effects. When he is awake like you, they will come for me. Please . . . sit.” He motioned his hand to the table.

  “Are you sure he’s fine?”

  “Positive. The Drunes would not hurt one they think is a god.”

  “It’s not them I’m worried about.” Ellen sat down at the table. “Do you have coffee? I know that is a bit much to . . .”

  “Yes, it is on its way.” He joined her at the table. “You said it’s not the Drunes you worry about. Who is it then?”

  ‘You.”

  “I’m not one to fear.”

  Sarcastically Ellen snickered. “Why? Because you are God?”

  “No, because I’m nice.” He shrugged. “Creed.” He extended his hand. “You are?”

  “Not your queen.”

  “Yet,” he smiled.

  “Not ever. Trust me. Frank won’t allow it.”

  “And Frank is?”

  “Everything.” Ellen finally took hold of his hand. “Ellen.”

  “You are from Utopia.”

  “Some call it that. I call it home. Beginnings.” Her head turned to the knock on the door.

  “One moment,” Creed called out. Then, with an extension of his arm, he closed the drapes. “Come in.”

  Another female version of Christopher Columbus walked in,. She carried a tray. Delicately she set it on the table, bowed her head in a subservient manner, and then backed out, not turning around until she reached the door.

  “Drunes?” Ellen asked.

  “She didn’t seem to surprise you,” Creed stated.

  “Not appearance wise.” Ellen shook her head. “I’ve seen Christopher Columbus.”

  Creed’s eyes took on a surprised look and then he smiled. “He is alive?”

  “Yes, very much so, and from what I gather, living in Beginnings.”

  “Good.”

  This shocked Ellen. “He made it seem as if you didn’t want him to leave. He said it’s a sin.”

  Creed laughed. “These people, I fear for them. If they are exposed to the elements, they will die. A simple common cold to them is like pneumonia. They have limited immunities. Their WBC count is low. They exhibit the same traits as Lupus.”

  “You are a doctor.” Ellen said.

  “Was. Am. I guess.” He shrugged.

  “So tell me why . . .” She shut up when he held up his finger. “What?”

  “You are going to ask questions.” He stated.

  “Of course.”

  “I expected as much, but I’d rather not answer them twice. I assume Robbie will have questions as well. I will answer them all when he wakes. As for now . . .” Creed lifted the lid from the tray. “Breakfast and coffee. Along with . . .” He stood and opened the curtains. “a bright California sun.”

  Ellen checked out the pot of coffee and plate of eggs before her. She was hungry and the sun felt really warm. She had a lot of questions, the first being what she was doing in California. But she knew the answers had to wait. So for the time being, she enjoyed the royal treatment.

  ^^^^^

  Four hours. It took that ‘Stew’ fella four hours to complete the test Lars had given him and Michael kept checking back the entire time. He felt like the kid in the back seat going on vacation, but instead of ‘are we there yet?’, Michael kept asking, ‘Is he done yet?’

  Then Lars, of course, acted like the annoyed parent, even resorting to telling Michael that if he asked one more time, he was taking off his belt and hitting Michael. Then again, Michael attributed Lars’s irritation to the fact that the prediction that the stranger would bail out of the test in five minutes was some three hours plus . . . wrong.

  Michael knew he was in luck, arriving just moments after the completion of the test. Figuring it couldn't take Lars much longer, Michael decided to wait.

  Bad move.

  Another hour had passed.

  Michael even debated on leaving, but chose not to because he was damned if he was going to miss the ending of it all.

  The results.

  Lars looked pretty disgusted when he returned from the back room and dropped the test on the counter before Johnny. “Seventy five different blood tests. Basic lab equipment history and definition. Disease and illness symptoms and diagnosis. All that and . . . . and every single answer was . . .”

  Michael peered up, waiting for Lars to get over the dramatic pause.

  Lars did with an exhale. “Correct.”

  Johnny jumped up, “Yes. See, I told you.”

  “Correct?” Michael asked. “He got every answer right?”

  Lars nodded. “Correct.”

  “Holy shit.” Michael shook Johnny’s hand. “Stew, very good. I have to admit, I doubted you. Lars . . .” Michael turned to Lars. “Does this prove he knows this shit?”

  “Gee, Michael, I don’t know. What do you think?” Lars asked with sarcasm. “Yes, it does. Someone taught you well.”

  “I would hope so,” Johnny responded. “I studied every day, twelve hours a day, on the spot and hands on.”

  “He must really know his business,” Lars commented.

  “He’s the best,” Johnny added.

  Michael quickly looked at Lars, knowing that the labeling of someone else being ‘the best’ wouldn’t sit well.

  Lars nodded with a slight hum, “I’m sure. Who trained you?”

  “Dean Hayes,” Johnny answered.

  Loudly, Michael cleared his throat to hold back a choke.

  “Dean Hayes?” Lars asked. “Dean Hayes??”

  “Yes.” Johnny nodded.

  Michael quickly closed his eyes with a cringe.

  “Let’s get this straight.” Lars lifted a hand. “Short, little man, younger. Well, he’s not young anymore. Dean Hayes. In the military prior to the world’s ending?”

  All Michael could do was wish the answer to Lars’s question was no.

  “Yes,” Johnny answered then quickly looked at Michael when he heard a groan. Snickering, he returned to Lars. “Do you know Dean?”

  “Know him?” Lars asked with edge. “Know him? I hate the little fucker.”

  After a cough, Johnny laughed in shock. “You hate him?”

  Michael stepped forward. “Please, tell me he’s dead.”

  “No.” Johnny shook his head. “He’s alive and well, I guess.”

  Lars growled, “It figures. It fucking figures. I hate him. Dean Hayes is alive and well and living in Beginnings. Well, Michael you know where I’m going.”

  “No, you aren’t. Not yet,” Michael stated.

  Johnny was confused. “What is going on?”

  “Lars here, doesn’t like him much.”

  Lars released a scoff. “That is an understatement. I hate him. Let me tell you something, Stew.”

  With a groan, Michael’s head went back. “Here we go again.”

  After flipping off Michael, Lars continued. “I was considered top in my field as well. I was the World Health Organization’s top guy. I had a strong reputation, not to mention I wrote romance no
vels. Anyhow, at a viral convention in D.C., I had the pleasure of meeting the little shit. He was getting all this hoopla and I wanted to see who they were talking about. Keep in mind, Dr. Hayes had to be about twenty-four at the time. Well, knowing I was well respected and many of young hopefuls looked up to me . . .” He paused when Johnny snickered. “What is so funny?”

  “Reputation or not,” Johnny answered. “Dean has to look up to you.” Johnny turned his head to Michael. “Dean’s not much over five feet tall.”

  Lars smiled brightly. “I like that. Cute. So anyway, I approach Dr. Hayes. I introduce myself as Lars Rayburn and you know what he says? Do you? He says . . . Hello, excuse me, and then walks away.”

  “How rude, “Johnny stated.

  “Exactly.”

  Wincing, Michael shook his head “Don’t encourage this.”

  Lars continued, “I am bound and determined to prove once and for all that he had something to do with the virus that ended this world. Maybe not the terrorist attack, but the virus itself. I know he had to. My theory is that’s why he survived.”

  “He’s immune,” Johnny replied. “Like the rest of us. We all have this mutated strand of DNA, some stronger than others, but it’s there. Dean spent years working on finding the common immunity factor.”

  “Why?” Michael asked. “The world was over.”

  “He’s anal,” Lars answered. “Did you view his mutated DNA, Stew?”

  “To be very honest, I read the sequence through the computer program.”

  Lars waved out his hand. “Could have been somebody else. He didn’t die because he gave himself the antidote.” He saw Johnny shake his head. “Why?”

  “Dean worked really hard to find a cure for the virus. I was there with him when the world ended. I was just a kid, but I remember he would have died before he let Ellen’s daughter die.” Johnny’s voice softened, “But Taylor did die and he vowed from that day forward that she would never lose another child to the virus, because it’s still in the air. Some babies born were immune and they were dying so Dean cured the virus. It took him years to do so, but he did.”

  “Who’s Ellen?” Michael asked.

  “His wife. They got married after the plague. They have . . . .” He bopped his head back and forth counting. “His actual number of children, or the ones my . . . the ones Frank fathered behind Dean’s back, is a count still up in the air.”