The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The house had an odd smell to it, one Alexandra didn’t like. Not that it was stinky. Actually it was sweet but the smell wasn’t one that was around when her mother was home. Alex began to feel territorial, only she didn’t recognize that at all in her youth.

  Disgust caused her lip to curl as she watched her father set a box on the table.

  “Are you hungry yet, Alex?” Dean asked. “Misha made this wonderful . . .”

  “No.” Alex just stood there n the living room.

  “What’s wrong?” Dean asked. “Are you sick?”

  “I’m surprised you have time to be a doctor.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Misha stepped out from the kitchen. “Alex, why are you speaking to your . . .”

  “Shut up!” Alexandra snapped.

  “Alex,” Dean said, shocked. “Stop that. This isn’t you.’

  “This isn’t her home,” Alex rebutted, “Why is she acting like it is?”

  “You never said anything before,” Dean spoke.

  “You were never acting like this before. What are you doing? Why are you moving out?”

  “Alex.” Dean softened his voice and crouched before her. “Sometimes grownups make choices. Sometimes we don’t know why we change the way we feel or why we get motivated to do things. I wish I could explain, but you have to understand. You’ll be seeing a lot of Misha.”

  “What’s my mother gonna say about that?”

  “You’re mother will be fine.”

  Alex rolled her eyes.

  “Sweetheart.” Dean laid his hands on her arms. “Trust me, Mommy will be happy for me. Speaking of mommies, you may want to practice and get used to calling Misha ‘mom’.”

  Immediately Alex looked up. “Ok. All Right. I’ll do that and at the same time, I’ll practice and get used to calling you . . . dick.” Abruptly, Alex spun and raced from Dean.

  Shocked, Dean stood up.

  “Would you like me to speak to her?” Misha asked.

  “No, I will. Excuse me.” Dean walked from the room, down the hall, and to Alexandra’s door. “Alex.” He knocked.

  “Go away. I’m busy.”

  “Alex.”

  “I’m getting a mother fix. I miss my mother.”

  “Alex, look.” Dean opened the door. “What you said back . . .”

  “I am busy.” Alex sat before a television.

  “I really need to . . .”

  He was cut off, not by Alex, but by Ellen’s voice. “No, Dean,” Ellen said. “What are you doing.” Ellen then laughed.

  Quickly, Dean spun his views to the television, “Oh my God,” he whispered out. “Ellen.” Almost memorized, he walked to the television.

  “See. It’s Mommy.” Alexandra pointed. “Remember her?”

  “Oh, Alex.” Dean gasped and crouched before the set. The camera angle was on Ellen’s face.

  “Why don’t you love her, Daddy?

  “Huh?” Dean asked almost as if Alex asked an absurd question. His eyes transfixed on the set and he reached his hand to the screen.

  “Dean,” Misha called his name.

  Dean retracted his hand and tuned to see Misha standing in the door. “Misha.” Dean stood up.

  “Alex.” Misha walked into the bedroom. “Time to sleep.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, right sure.” Alexandra waved her off.

  “Why don’t we . . .” Dean led Misha to the door. “Just let her go,.”

  “But, Dean . . .”

  “Let her go.” Nearly pushing Misha from the room, Dean stepped out as well. However, not understanding why he did, and totally confused on his feeling a compulsion for it, Dean had to take another moment to peek inside that room and see the image of Ellen on the television set.

  ^^^^^

  “I have to do what?” Frank questioned Hal, Elliott and Robbie.

  Hal lifted a finger. He nodded a pause, than continued. “Defeat God.”

  “God.”

  “God,” Hal reiterated.

  “Creed,” Robbie corrected.

  “Oh.” Frank nodded, “You had me scared for a second. When is this supposed to take place?”

  “Tomorrow morning,” Hal answered. “First thing.”

  “And we’re fighting?” Frank tried for clarity. “Fist fighting, gun fighting, what?”

  “Fist, I guess.” Hal shrugged.

  Frank fluttered his lips. “No problem them.”

  “Hmm.” Hal nodded. “Yes.” Another nod and he turned away.

  “What?” Frank laughed the looked at Robbie. That was it. Something was up because Robbie looked too nervous. What was going on? “Robbie?”

  “Yeah, Frank?” Robbie was still picking webbing out of his hair.

  “Is there a reason to worry about me fighting God?”

  “No. No.” Robbie shook his head gain.

  Frank looked at them. “Quit blocking your thoughts, all of you. What’s going on? What don’t I know? What do you mean about this guy being the Incredible Hulk? Come on, he can’t be that much.”

  There was a silence that Elliott didn’t like and knew could be detrimental “You want the truth, Frank?” Elliott asked.

  “Yes, please. It seems my brothers are lacking confidence in me.”

  “They’re pissed,” Elliott responded.

  Hal and Robbie immediately turned around.

  “Pissed?” Frank questioned.

  “Pissed. They are pissed that you are the one that got chosen to save us all.”

  Robbie’s face lit up brightly. “Yeah, Frank, it’s all for one. What the fuck?”

  “You were the first one down.” Hal pointed. “I tangled with the man. I did very well.”

  “He kicked ass,” Robbie stated, “until they blasted him.”

  “He was not all that.”

  Robbie snapped his fingers. “Bet me, Ha, that they picked Frank because he went down first.”

  “Great. Just great.” Hal tossed his hands in the air. “Frank fights the pansy and gets all the credit. Why is that? Bet me Frank can’t do as good as job as me.”

  “Or me,” Robbie said.

  “Hey!” Frank interjected. “Maybe there’s a reason you guys can’t fight him. Maybe I’m the only one who can beat him.”

  Hal laughed. “Frank, please, he’s just a man.”

  All expression dropped from Frank’s face. “Who thought that?’

  “Thought what?” Robbie asked.

  “I heard it,” Frank spoke. “After Hal said, ‘he’s just a man’, someone thought, ‘who grows eight feet tall and gets wide.”

  “Me,” Elliott confessed, “but that’s not what I thought. My thoughts were, ‘ he’s just a man who throws great heat balls and yet cries’.”

  “Oh, Ok.” Frank accepted that then tugged on his ear. “So.” He clapped his hands together. “Anyone nervous about this?”

  Hal shook his head. “No.”

  “Not me.” Robbie shrugged.

  “Why would we be?” Elliott asked. “You’re Frank.”

  “I am.”

  Hal rolled his eyes.

  “Ok,” Frank said. “So we have time. Should we practice, fight a little, get into shape?”

  Blocking out thoughts of ‘how can you practice for God’, Hal shook his head. “No need.”

  “What do we do then?” Frank asked. “Just hangout?”

  Elliott grinned. “How about this?” The guitar brought for him was in the corner of the room. Elliott walked to it and picked it up. “Open that window, Frank.” When Frank did, Elliott looked at the curious faces of Hal and Robbie. “This fits the occasion. Plus, we never finished.”

  “If you are going to play, just play,” Hal said. “I not . . .”

  Elliott struck a chord.

  Frank released an excited ‘oh, yeah.”

  Robbie laughed,.

  Hal shrugged with a why not, then nodded.

  Elliott began to sing, “Stopped into a church. I passed alon
g the way . . . I got down on my knees.”

  “Got down on my knees.” The brothers sang.

  “And began to pray . . .”

  “And began to pray . . .”

  Ellen chuckled with a point to the window when she heard them blast into the chorus of ‘California Dreamin’. “How fitting, Joe.’

  “I think the message is something else,” Joe stated as he moved to stand by the window with Ellen.

  “What’s that?’

  “We are so outnumbered, thousands to one. Literally,” Joe explained. “Tomorrow Frank is to face a man and we don’t know what he’s capable of. Their lives hang in the balance and to be honest, win or lose, all of our lives could hang in the balance. So . . . what do my three goofy sons and Elliott do?”

  “Sing bad seventies songs?’

  Joe smiled. “Absolutely. Those songs say something totally different than the words. They say . . . hey, we aren’t afraid, not one bit.”

  “Should they be, Joe?”

  “Absolutely not,” Joe said firmly. “Absolutely not. This time tomorrow, Ellen, you’ll almost be home.”

  ^^^^^

  “I’m going home,” Johnny said as he threw the last of his things in a bag. “If they kill me, they kill me. I have to try.”

  Lars raised his eyebrows. “See, Michael, what did I tell you?”

  Michael exhaled. “Johnny, after what happened yesterday, it’s not a good idea. Can’t you see they aren’t ready for you?”

  “Will they ever be?” Johnny asked. “I don’t think so, Michael. It isn’t like I’m gonna go straight to the gate and ask to be let in. I’ll wait. I just can’t wait it out here.”

  “Why?” Michael asked.

  Johnny only glanced up.

  “Look.” Michael laid his hand on Johnny’s bag. You think you’re the only one in Lodi with a past? Do you think you’re the first one to do something wrong? Do you think you’re the first to be judged and treated differently because of it? No. You aren’t. Almost half of my men were in the same position as you. Half wanted to leave because others judged them and ignored them. Well, those others have no room to talk. We have murderers, Society soldiers, former savages, you name it. They are all rehabilitated and living again. They changed and so can you.’

  “See, that’s what I don’t get,” Johnny said with sadness. “Change? I am who I was. I want to know when the fuck I changed into some monster that did that to his family. Michael, I look back and can’t believe I did the things I did. When I think of when I did them, I did them without thought …” Johnny spoke,. “I was callous and that’s not me. I swear. What happened to make me do that? Huh? What?” In a frustrated sweep of his hand, Johnny knocked his bag from the bed.

  “Maybe . . .” Lars interjected. “You need to let some of this stuff off of your chest. You’re burying it, Johnny. That won’t help. Release it. Release the guilt.”

  “That will never happen because it makes no sense. It isn’t logical why I behaved that way. It’s like a dream, a bad dream. The things I did . . . “ Johnny breathed out. “They’ll never forgive me, no matter how much remorse or guilt I have. They won’t forgive me because I can’t forgive myself.”

  “We’ll forgive you at least,” Michael said. “Why don’t you tell us why you can’t go home?”

  “Aside from being a traitor?” Johnny questioned. “No way. You’ll kick me out.”

  “Try me,” Michael rebutted. “Both of us. Johnny, there is nothing you can say that will make me want to change my mind or kick you out.”

  “I shot my father,” Johnny stated as he sat with Lars and Michael at the table. “Twice.”

  Lars looked at Michael. “Twice he says.”

  “Well . . .” Johnny held up his hand. “Technically, only once. The second time I sabotaged a gun to fire a real bullet at him during a war game. It hit his throat. He couldn’t talk for a while. Then . . . I shot my pap, which was an accident. I was aiming for Uncle Hal. Uncle Hal, now . . .I didn’t remember him at all for awhile until I got here and saw you, Michael. You look like Uncle Hal.”

  Lars whispered to Michael, “Run. If he shot his father, imagine what he did to Uncle Hal.”

  “Shh.” Michael waved Lars away. “Go on.”

  “I tried to kill Uncle Hal three times.”

  Quickly Michael looked at Lars when he snickered.

  “Sorry.” Lars held up his hand. “Go on, Johnny.”

  Johnny continued, “Three times, yeah. Then I tried to set him up for a murder, which didn’t work. He did beat the hell out of me though, I’ll give him that. Scared me. I remember being scared of Hal but I wouldn’t show it.”

  “Of course not.” Lars shook his head

  Michael slammed his hand on the table. “Will you knock it off? Sorry, Johnny.”

  “Well, Judge Grace, I shot her,” Johnny rambled. “I set up my step mother to look like she was insane I drugged her. I drugged her long lost brother Richie too with this drug that made him mentally challenged. And Uncle Robbie, I blew him up. Well, just his arm was blown off. And then . . .”

  “Stop.” Michael held up his hand.

  “You’re kicking me out,” Johnny said.

  “No.” Michael shook his head. “I just don’t need to hear anymore to know . . . sorry, son. I don’t believe you are ever getting back home.” He turned to Lars. “Go on, Lars. Say something sarcastic.”

  “Johnny? How long were you connected to George?” Lars asked.

  Michael hurried a view Lars’s way. “How’s that sarcastic?”

  “It’s not. Answer the question,” Lars stated.

  “Since the plague. Eight years. He was like a father to me.”

  “How long did he try to get you to work for him?”

  “Since I was sixteen,” Johnny replied.

  “You’re a big kid. When did your father and pap start utilizing that size and strength?”

  “Same age. Why?”

  “Did you ever turn George down to do something unethical.”

  “Oh, sure. Lots of times, early on,” Johnny answered. “I didn’t want to hurt my family. See, that’s where I am confused. What changed?”

  “That’s what I’m getting at. One more question. When did doing the vile acts start being something natural and something you’d do without thought and with ease?”

  “Everything bad I did, I did within a year or so, no longer.”

  Lars nodded. “Thanks, Johnny.” He stood up. “Oh, can you just hold off running away? There’s something I need to do.” He walked to the door. “Michael, Johnny. Goodnight.”

  “Just like that?” Michael asked then before he knew it, Lars was gone. “Lars?” He hurried to race out and catch up. “Lars.” He called down the walk.

  Lars stopped.

  Michael trotted to him. “That was weird. You just up and left.”

  “I’m sorry. When my thoughts get going, I have to follow them. Apologize to Mr. Slagel for me and tell him I won’t need him at the clinic in the morning. In fact Michael, I would like you to work that boy hard all day. Get his adrenalin pumping. Work up a sweat. Don’t tell him that was my order. Just send him to me when you’re finished.”

  Michael scratched his head. “I’m lost. Why?”

  “Don’t worry about the why. I still have some things to hash through but do this for me, Michael. That boy says he doesn’t know what happened, I think, I think might,” Lars said brightly. “And it is my hope to prove you wrong.”

  “Wrong?” Michael scoffed. “About what?”

  “You said he’s never going home. If I am correct . . “ Lars raised an eyebrow. “He’s actually carrying his own ticket to Beginnings’ front door.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  January 29th

  The door opened and Billy ran down the hall, like a man on a mission. His feet pattered with every little fast step he took. He lifted his hand in a wave to the two Drune guards that stood before Creed’s door.

  Roger looked at t
he other Drune, Craig. “Cute kid.”

  “He’s been running all morning.”

  “It must be nice.” Roger smiled.

  Billy ran nonstop down the stairwell some more. He waved to the two guards he passed, then darted between the two that watched Joe and Ellen’s room. “Hey,” he announced as he ran in and closed the door.

  “Catch your breath,” Joe told him then crouched before Billy.

  Bent over with his hands on his knees, Billy took a few deep breaths. “Caught.”

  “Go on,” Joe said. “What do you have?”

  “No one touched any food this morning. The plates are still full outside the door.”

  “Good. They took no chances of food tampering.”

  Ellen walked to the pair. “Joe, I can’t believe you’re using my son as your spy.”

  “Ellen, please. He’s the only one trusted. Go on, Bill, what else?”

  “There’s a charge to kill order on Uncle Hal, Robbie, and also Elliott if they do anything to interfere during the fight. I heard Creed say let them feel freedom and give them enough rope to hang themselves sort of thing.”

  “Makes sense.” Joe nodded.

  “He’s definitely got something up his sleeve, Pap. He didn’t say, but he does. Why else would he have the order on Uncle Hal, Robbie and Elliott?”

  “They wouldn’t interfere unless they saw something not fair.”

  “Joe,” Ellen spoke with concern. “If Creed has something planned, we have to help Frank.”

  “Yeah, we do.” Joe stood up, rubbing his chin. “But we have to find out exactly what it is. Once we have that, then we can try to figure out how we’ll help Frank.”

  “Any ideas on how to find out?” Ellen asked.

  “Short of asking . . .” Joe’s eyes shifted back down to Billy.

  Roger and Craig looked up at the bang of the stairwell door.