The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Exactly.”

  George nodded. “Prepare a messenger. It’s time we sent word to Lodi.”

  ^^^^

  Dean’s home office. His desk. In a way, Ellen felt as if she were violating his space by being in there, but work had to be done and Frank or not at the house, Ellen wanted to be home. After all, she had spent too much time away as it was.

  One of the only people in the world that could make heads or tails out of Dean’s notes, Ellen sat in the chair. Dean had pretty much broken it. It was softer on one side, more than likely because Dean tended to lean on one side of the chair. A flip of a page and click of the computer keyboard was where Ellen’s eye attention was but somehow, her audio went elsewhere. She believed that ‘elsewhere’ was one of the reasons Dean’s spent so much time in that little front office of the house.

  Even with the window closed, everything said or done on the front porch could be heard. Ellen didn’t pay much attention to Billy and Frank’s cold winter evening conversation, but she swiveled her chair and opened the window slightly when she heard Billy say . . .

  “So . . . you’re drinking again, aren’t you, Uncle Frank?”

  Captured. With her pencil in her mouth, Ellen listened.

  Frank hesitated in answering, but he did. He spoke low. “Yeah, Yeah I guess I am.”

  “How much?”

  Frank didn’t respond.

  “Uncle Frank? How much? More than before, the same, less . . . what?”

  “Less,” Frank replied, “But more than I should.”

  “I see. I’m concerned about this.”

  “I know. You’re asking, right?”

  “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t care,” Billy said. “I know I’m a kid, but I know more than most kids. I see more than most kids. I know how most people handle alcohol but you’re not most people.”

  Frank let out a soft chuckle. “No, I’m not. I’m pretty . . . I’m pretty weak, Bill. I try. I do. I did try. But things . . . Things happen and I fell into the same old trap. It helps.”

  “How often is it happening?”

  “Let’s just give the same answer as before.”

  “Less than before but more than it should?” Billy asked.

  Frank nodded.

  “Can I ask . . . do you think it will get the best of you again?”

  “Oh, my God, Bill. I hope not. But . . . to be honest, I think it might.”

  “Can my Dad help? He did before, right?”

  “Yes, he did,” Frank answered. “I know your Dad can help. That’s what me and him are about. Like his situation now. I gave him a chance to help himself, and when he couldn’t, I gave him no choice and I forced help on him. When he gets better, I think your dad will give me a chance to help myself and if I can’t . . .” Frank paused. “I pray to God he doesn’t give me a choice.”

  “You guys seesaw back and forth.”

  Frank laughed. “I guess we do.”

  “So, what are you gonna do about my mom?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You live here. My dad moved you in. He divorced my mom. He has a problem that made him do crazy stuff like that. When he’s better, are you gonna put everything back to normal again for him?”

  “You mean give up your mom?” Frank asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Ellen listened and waited for the answer.

  “No.”

  Ellen was shocked. ‘No?’ Ellen was curious as to why. If Frank knew about the chip, why was he still staying?

  “No?” Billy asked. “Why? You know he has that problem.”

  “Yes he does and someone caused that problem.”

  “Ok, so how can you take advantage of it?”

  “I’m not?” Frank defended. “Yeah, I firmly believed someone fucked with your dad’s chip making him love Misha and want Josephine, divorce your mom and so forth. However, I know when the chip was messed with. I know the date it happened, but I also know your dad gave up your mom to me long before anyone even touched that chip.”

  Ellen nearly fell out of her chair when she heard the information. Dean in Containment. The anonymous letter. Joe’s being adamant about the chip being zapped. All that led Ellen to believe that Dean truly wasn’t in control when he made decision. That put Ellen in more of a ‘forgiving’ mind set. But hearing Frank speak, hearing what he said, made a big difference. Like with Dean’s chip, Ellen was shocked. Yes, Dean made a lot of decisions after the chip hypnotic suggestion. Then the choice, the most important choice, the one regarding their future was made when Dean was still in the right frame of mind. And that . . . told Ellen a lot of more than any amount of eavesdropping ever could.

  ^^^^

  No one more than Hal enjoyed the sound of music flowing through the town of New Bowman. He especially loved it when he did his late evening rounds. A song or two emanating from the church, sailing through the empty night streets sent a message of peace, hope and love. There was a feeling of recognizing the fact that there was a lot to be grateful for and it gave the town a ‘Sgt. Elliott Ryder’ moment to bask in.

  There was something about the way Elliott Ryder sang. Strong, emotional, no matter what the subject matter of the tune, Elliott made it moving.

  Except on that particular moment, on that particular night.

  Not that Elliott wasn’t singing well nor was Elliott withholding in his talents. He belted out and played the piano well. The old ivories were pitter-pattering like no one’s business. Even though his choice in Christian music was valiant, his rewording of the old classic church songs left a lot to be desired.

  ‘Onward Christian Soldiers Marching Off to War.’ transposed into ‘The UWA Soldiers Will Not be the Societies Whores’ gave Hal the clear message that there was one of three reasons Elliot was doing a late night rehearsal in the church.

  Reason one was not too farfetched. Fr. O’Brien had threatened Elliott that if he didn’t stop making mistakes during Sunday Services, he would start whacking Elliott on the knuckles with a ruler. Fr. O’Brien would do that too, especially if he was in his everyday intoxicated state.

  Reason two, Elliott was unnerved. He had a keen ability to not to be alone in his unnerved state. Something strong was on his mind. He was restless, couldn’t sleep, and figured if he was bothered everyone else in Bowman should be as well.

  And reason three, the final and to Hal, the most logical reason. Elliott did not want to ask or seem weak, so he projected an intentional call to Hal for guidance, comfort, advice, and all around good guy friendship.

  Hal couldn’t let him down and if by some chance reason three wasn’t what Elliott was doing, surely Hal could help with the other two. He could not only encourage Elliott to play better at services, but he could give Elliott something to think about other than what was on his mind. Surely Elliott would think it a bonus that Hal popped in to pay a visit.

  The newest rendition of ‘Rock of Ages’ turned into ‘Rock the Stages’ ended and Hal clapped in a slow, get attention manner.

  He walked up the aisle. “I truly applaud your efforts, Elliott. Your voice is brilliant and emotionally driven.”

  Elliott chuckled. “I suck.”

  “You suck. Hmm.” Hal nodded. “Well, I was trying to be polite, but since you said that.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Hal genuflected at the front of the aisle and took the first pew. “Are you too wrapped up in rewriting ‘Hail Holy Queen’ into ‘Quails Fully Seen’ or can you have a seat with me.”

  Elliot chuckled. “I’ll have a seat.”

  “Swell.” Hal smiled and patted the pew.

  Elliott was hesitant. He saw the look on Hal’s face. He slid into the pew.

  “No, genuflecting of respect.”

  “I did it already,” Elliott said.

  “I didn’t hear Amazing Grace.”

  “I did that too.”

  Hal nodded and folded his hands. “Did you speak to Fr. O’Brien yet about practicing th
is late?”

  “Yes, that too.”

  “Well.” Hal exhaled. “Since we’ve established you are the Mountain Dew man tonight, I guess there’s no point in asking you if you spilled your guts to Ellen about the picture story.”

  Elliott looked at Hal. “If I’m the Mountain Dew man, then on that one . . . I just turned into Caffeine Free Diet Coke.”

  “Ah, you went flat.”

  Elliott chuckled. “Captain, may I ask why are you so engrossed in this now?”

  “The picture thing?” Hal shrugged. “Perhaps because it strikes me odd that you never told her. I would have expected you two discussed this in great detail during one of your little . . . chats.”

  “No.” Elliott shook his head “At first it was embarrassing to tell her, then it became too late.”

  “Too late?”

  “Yes, if I told her too far after I had known her then she’s going to think there is more to the story then I’m telling. She may even think me a freak or pervert.”

  “I have news for you, Elliott. She already thinks you’re a freak and a pervert.”

  “She does not.”

  “Elliott, I’m joking.” Hal patted Elliot on the leg. “She may think you are an obsessed stalker and that this friendship you have developed has all been part of some sick demented scheme.”

  Elliott opened his mouth to respond, paused then spoke, “Aside from rambling on my dignity right now, is there a reason you are here?”

  “Isn’t it enough to think I stopped by to bask in your musical talent?”

  Elliott just looked at Hal.

  “No, you’re right. That’s not why I stopped by. I figured something is on your mind. What is on your mind?”

  “”Nothing you want to concern yourself with.”

  “Is it about your health?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. Ok, as I was saying, I thought you could use a little mental diversion.”

  “Good or bad.”

  “Depends.” Hal shrugged. “To some, the weak, the fearful, it is bad. To us . . .” He smiled. “It’s all good.”

  Curiously, Elliott glanced, “Go on.”

  “Three things. One, there’s movement of two big Savage camps.”

  “Our way?”

  “You bet.”

  “Yes.” Elliott clenched his fist.

  “Some good old fashion cowboy and Indian battles are ahead. Second, eastern scouts report addition of more front line camps.”

  “How many?”

  “Nine.”

  Elliot whistled. “That brings the grand total to twenty-five.”

  “Pretty much covering north to south.”

  “A few more to add to our spring strategy.”

  Hal grinned. “A few. And last . . . remember that little game my brothers and I were playing with the Society.”

  “How can I forget?”

  “Well, if you did, the Society left a little reminder. Our western scouts report approximately one hundred and seventy Society soldiers on our soil. Our soil, Elliott.”

  “Left behind.”

  “Seems Mr. Hadley wanted to . . . cheat,” Hal said.

  “Bastard.”

  “Isn’t he? Anyhow, that the figure is not all that much of a threat. Hell, Frank, Robbie, and myself took more than that out.”

  “So you don’t think they’re gonna strike?”

  “Good Heavens, Elliot. No, that would be considered an act of war, and right now Hadley isn’t in the state of mind to move on an act of war. In fact, they are branching out. Breaking up.”

  “Spy camps?”

  “That’s what I think. A hundred and seventy two.” Hal nodded. “The way I figure is, they were left behind and forgotten, and if that’s the case . . .”

  “They’ll be ours.” Elliott finished the thought.

  “Exactly, and if not . . .”

  “We . . . kill them?”

  Hal smiled. “Small hits. Small teams. It could be a training exercise.”

  “It’ll be interesting.”

  “To say the least. Interesting all around, I might add. Ah . . .” Hal exhaled and leaned back. “Looks as if winter won’t be dull after all.”

  ^^^^

  Three or four was how many drinks Frank figured he had at the Social Hall that night. It wasn’t many, he knew, but more than he wanted to drink. He debated on having another one and moved in favor of that drink when he thought to himself, ‘three or four, who’s counting?’

  “You know that makes five if you drink that,” Ellen spoke softly as she approached him where he stood at the bar.

  The whiskey stopped pouring. “El,” he whispered and looked over his shoulder. His facial expression screamed embarrassed, maybe even humbled. “El.”

  “I didn’t see you drink three of them. Henry counted those for me. You said you were coming here to throw darts. Did you get a chance to play?”

  “Um, no, there’s a wait.”

  “I figured that. I kinda was hoping you were gonna be home with me tonight.”

  “I haven’t been gone long. Have I?”

  “No, but I missed you.”

  Frank closed his eyes. His fingers unconsciously fiddled with the glass.

  “Can you not drink that? I mean, if you feel you need to, that’s fine. I just have something I have to show you.”

  “Even if you didn’t have something to show me, I won’t drink it.” He slid the glass almost forceful to Dan from Security. He grabbed Dan’s hand. “Here. Next time don’t fuckin force it on me.”

  “What are you . . .” Dan saw Ellen. “Sorry, Frank. I was just uh . . .” Dan fumbled for words.

  “Don’t do it again,” Frank ordered, then winked. He let out the slow nervous breath he held and turned to face Ellen. “I’m all yours.”

  “Good.” Ellen smiled then peeked around Frank to look at Dan. “So Dan was making you drink, huh?”

  “Fuckin immature drinking games.” Frank fluttered his lips and took Ellen’s arm. “I don’t know why I listen to them.”

  “Me either.” She followed his lead from the Social Hall.

  Once outside, Frank stopped. He released Ellen’s arm and stepped back. “I’m sorry.” His voice dropped. “I am . . . I am so sorry.”

  “First, tell me what you are apologizing for.”

  Frank swallowed predominantly. “For breaking promises. For being . . . weak. For . . .” He stopped speaking when Ellen lifted her hand to halt him.

  With her eyes closed and one arm across her waist, she shook her head. “You are not weak. I firmly believe you can stop again, but you have to want to stop. Making you feel bad is not why I’m here.”

  “You didn’t come to find me drinking?”

  “No.” Ellen responded. “I missed you. I did. I got the kids in bed, finished working, and you left. Plus, something’s been on my mind and I have to share it.”

  “Is it what you want to show me?” Frank asked.

  Ellen nodded.

  “What is it?”

  With a wave of her hand, Ellen led the way.

  After the buzz of the Security door to the cryo-lab, Ellen stepped inside and hit the lights. “In here.”

  As if he was shocked where he was taken, like he didn’t notice which way they headed, Frank stopped with a squeak of his boots to the floor. He looked left to right. “The cryo-lab?”

  “Yeah, Frank.” Ellen chuckled and walked across the lab. “Follow me.”

  “It’s not some freaky experiment you screwed up, is it? I don’t know how I can help you but I’ll try.” He went the way Ellen did.

  “No, it’s not my experiment.”

  “Fuck.” Frank stopped.

  “What?”

  He gave a nod of his head to the door Ellen opened. “Something happened, didn’t it? Fuck.”

  Ellen took a deep breath. “You can say that.” She opened the door and stepped inside. She walked to the freezer case and punched in her code. “It seems Dean’s been busy.
He did something behind my back.”

  “Fuckin Dean.”

  “Yes, but the question is when.”

  “Maybe while you were gone,” Frank suggested.

  “I’m speaking more figurative as in ‘when’ time wise.”

  “While you were gone.”

  “No, Frank,” Ellen said in frustration. “As in what month . . .” She saw him getting ready to repeat his earlier comment. “Forget it. You’ll see.” She turned the key and lifted the lid. “I was clueless. I had no idea he did this. To pull this off he obviously did it when I was gone but he needed more time. He needed time to figure it out, to do it, and so forth.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  “I think Dean’s been messing with our fate big time. In fact, I know he has. I think he used the time machine. It’s the only way that he could get to this point.” Ellen cleared away the frosted LCB display.

  Frank looked and shook his head. “I’m lost. I see blinking lights. What am I looking at? What does this mean?”

  “I means, in a nutshell . . .” Ellen looked up at Frank. “Brian wakes up in about twelve days.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  February 2nd

  It was fast and musical in an electronic way. Whatever it would be called, Ellen heard the ‘do-do-do-do-do’ noise before she even entered Robbie’s room. Slowing down at his door, Ellen watched Robbie as he sat up in bed.

  He’d raise his arm.

  Do-do-do-do-do

  Lower it.

  Do-do-do-do-do.

  Chuckling and wondering if maybe Frank was right all along, she knocked once on the archway and stepped inside. “Are you busy?”

  “Hey, El.” Robbie waved.

  Do-do-do-do-do.

  “Ok.” Ellen lifted her hand. She clenched a folder tightly to her chest. “Tell me it’s not my imagination.”

  “What’s not your imagination?”

  “Don’t think I’m being a ‘Frank’ but is your arm making the Bionic Man noise.”

  “Yeah.” Robbie grinned.

  “Dean did that?’

  “No, Danny. See.” Robbie showed Ellen his fingers. In between the middle and index finger was a flat black button. “All I do I press my fingers together and . . .”