The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Thanks,” Joe said. “Okay, let’s just get this thing started. Since we are all here.. . . wait.” He slammed his hand down. “We can’t start. We . . .”

  “Didn’t say the Pledge of Allegiance?” Frank suggested.

  “No, we . . .”

  “Didn’t sing the National Anthem?”

  “No, Frank . . .”

  “Didn’t praise . . .”

  “Frank!” Joe yelled. “I swear to Almighty God, open that goddamn hardheaded, idiotic brain led mouth one more time and I’m taking Danny’s staple gun and silencing your big ass. We can’t start yet because Jordan slash Texas town leader is not here.”

  Frank waved off his hand. “Doesn’t matter, Start without them. They won’t know.”

  “Yes we will.” The older man, near sixty, said as he entered.

  “I guess they will.” Frank shrugged.

  “I’m sorry.” The older gentleman ran his fingers through his tossed gray hair. “I’m sorry I’m late. The transport driver got lost.”

  Joe blinked slowly. “He got lost? How? Never mind, this is Beginnings. Have a seat.” Joe indicated. “Wait, who are you?”

  “Oh.” He paused before lowering in the chair to the right of Hal. “Will. Will Biggles.”

  Frank snickered.

  Joe looked at Frank then back to Will. “Mr.?”

  “Biggles. Will Biggles.”

  Frank snickered. Hal grumbled.

  Do-do-do-do-do.

  “Robert,” Joe warned.

  Pretty confused, Will glanced around then sat down. “Representing Jordan, Texas town.”

  “Good.” Joe adjusted in his seat. “Then we can start. Henry, ready?”

  “Yeah, Joe.” Henry held the pen.

  “Ok, in attendance . . .”

  “Hold on,” Henry interrupted. “I just want to make sure I don’t miss anything,” He laid a tape player on the table. “Go.”

  “Thank you,” Joe continued. “In attendance, myself, Joe Slagel, Council Danny Hoi and Elliott Ryder, Beginnings Security . . .” Joe grumbled. “Frank. Medical and law, Jason Godrichson, The UWA, Hal Slagel, and representing Jordan, Texas Town is William . . .”

  “No.” Will interrupted. “Not William, just Will.”

  Joe nodded. “Will Biggles.”

  Frank snickered.

  “What!” Joe slammed his hand. “What is so goddamn funny?”

  “His name,” Frank replied. “Will Biggles. Dill Pickles.”

  Everyone groaned.

  Frank continued, “No problem, everything seems kosher about him.” Frank laughed at his own humor.

  Joe just stared then learned to Hal. “Bet me somewhere, somehow, down the line, Frank just confused himself.” Joe sat up. “All right, let it go on record that Mr. Biggles, no laughing Frank, is filling in for Mr. Baydee.”

  “Correction,” Will spoke up. “I’m the new representation or so called leader.”

  “Of Jordan?” Joe asked. “When the hell did this happen?”

  “Three days ago,” Will answered. “I was elected by popular vote.”

  “Well, for crying out loud, you goddamn people live under my province. You have to let me know about power changes,” Joe said with annoyance. “Hello!”

  “Hello,” Frank whispered out.

  Joe groaned.

  Will nodded. “Sorry.”

  “Aside from me needing kept abreast of those things, History has to keep tabs. All right, put down that Mr. Baydee resigned.” He saw Will shake his head. Joe lowered his pencil and rubbed his eyes. “Mr. Baydee didn’t resign?”

  “No.”

  “He was asked to step down, perhaps?” Joe questioned.

  “No. He’s dead.”

  Joe’s pencil flew across the table. “He died!”

  “Four days ago, yes. He killed himself.”

  “What!” Joe blasted. “The leader of your community kills himself and you fail to let us know!”

  “We were embarrassed.”

  “I don’t give a shit,” Joe argued. “You need to tell us all these things, you hear me. We keep records. Now . . .” Joe calmed himself. “Is there anyone else in Texas Town who died that you need to tell us about?”

  Will paused to think. “No, just Mr. Baydee.”

  “Good.” Joe took the pencil Hal gave to him.

  Hal grinned.

  “What? What’s so funny?”“

  ”Nothing.” Hal said.

  Do-do-do-do-do.

  “Robert.”

  “Sorry, Dad.”

  Joe exhaled. “All right, let’s start. Who wants to begin?”

  Frank raised his hands, staring at his notepad. “I think the Jewish guy should go first.”

  Hal leaned to Joe, “You know, Father, a lot of problems can be eliminated if we just exclude him from the meetings.”

  Joe waved Hal off. “Frank . . .”

  Softly Hal sang out, “Mistake.”

  Joe ignored Hal. “Frank, what Jewish guy?”

  “Him.” Frank pointed to Will. “Dill Pickles.”

  “Well,” Hal sat back. “I guess he confused himself sooner than we thought.”

  “Biggles,” Will corrected.

  “Whatever,” Frank shrugged.

  “Frank.” Joe stayed relatively reasonable. “His name is not Dill Pickles. It’s Will Biggles. Where do you get he’s Jewish?”

  “His name, Pickles. Kosher . . . Jewish,” Frank answered nonchalantly.

  Silently, Hal did a dramatic chuckle and wheezed out an ‘ah, yes, I saw that one coming’.

  “Hal,” Joe warned.

  Do-do-do-do-do.

  “Robert.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Frank.” Joe focused on him. “His last name is Biggles. That is not a Jewish name.”

  “Yeah, but Dad, just because his last name isn’t a type of name, doesn’t mean the person isn’t that nationality.”

  “True.” Joe nodded. “But you said he was Jewish.”

  “Yes, I did, because of his name.”

  “But his name is not Pickles. It’s Biggles. Biggles is not Jewish, therefore you have no basis for calling the man Jewish.”

  “What if he is?”

  Joe looked at Hal. “I’m killing him.”

  “I mean . . .” Frank continued. “You can’t tell by a person’s name. Look at Ryder. His name is German or something like that and he looks Hispanic.”

  “True,” Joe said.

  “And Danny Hoi,” Frank explained. “We assumed, for how long, that he was Chinese when actually he’s Polish.”

  Elliott fluttered out a laugh.

  Hal lifted his hand. “I can’t.” He shook his head.

  “Sit,” Joe ordered. “Frank, why would you even think Danny is Polish?”

  Frank pointed to Danny.

  “You told him?” Joe asked then grumbled when Danny nodded. “Asshole.” He returned to Frank. “So we can end this nationality conversation? Biggles is not Jewish.”

  “Actually, I am,” Will said.

  “Ha!” Frank shouted loud. “I know it! Ha!”

  Whining, Joe placed his face in his hands.

  Hal patted his father on the back. “Odds are in your favor that you’ll win the argument on Danny not being Polish.”

  “He said he is,” Frank said calmly and ‘know it all’ like.

  Joe slid his hands down his face, dragging his eyes. “Goddamn it Frank. Danny is not Polish.’

  “Dad. he said.”

  Joe blasted, “I don’t care what . . .”

  Do-do-do-do-do.

  “Robert!” Joe screamed. “Knock it the hell off.”

  “Dad!” Frank hurried to Robbie’s defense. “You can’t yell at him about his arm. That’s like so wrong. He can’t help that he makes noise when he moves it. It’s a disability.”

  Joe close his eyes. “Oh my God. Why? Why? Why?”

  Frank shrugged. “Asked Danny. He did it.”

  Everyone at the table moa
ned.

  Will spoke up, “Perhaps a calming moment is needed. Perhaps we should all join in a prayer.”

  Joe glanced at him. “Perhaps not.”

  “Perhaps!” Frank lifted a finger. “Perhaps, ‘perhaps’, should be my new word. It has class. Perhaps it will be.”

  “Dear God,” Hal gasped. “He’s a mental patient and a six year old trapped in an aging mutant body.”

  “Fuck you, Hal.”

  “Boys.”

  “Fuck you, Frank.”

  “Boys!” Joe tried harder. “Enough.”

  Do-do-do-do-do.

  Joe tossed his hands up. “I quit.” His head dropped down to the table’s surface. “I . . . quit.”

  ^^^^^

  Had Jess Boyens been a hemorrhoid sufferer he surely would have been in agony. Then again, he didn’t need to have varicosity conditions of the lower region to feel the pain of one extremely bumpy ride, well, at least the last portion of the ride from Georgia to Florida.

  Jess truly believed with all the so-called progress the Society made in rebuilding, surely they would have included road conditions in there. But as the private in the Jeep explained, interstate travel was pretty much minimal. Most states were self sufficient in what they did and the only cross communication-as far as with soldiers went-was with transfer of workers. Other than that, they kept to themselves and did the jobs dictated to that state. Railways were used most often and a pseudo metro road was built as a quick direct connection. Jess supposed the two-hour smooth section of road was the extent of the ‘big’ metro line.

  Jess was almost there. The humidity picked up tremendously. As if the weather everywhere wasn’t warm enough for the time of year, Florida was a painful reminder of the sinus problems Jess thought he had lost multitudes of years earlier.

  After seeing the remnants of a once highway sign, Jess checked out his watch. It couldn’t be too much longer. He was there to be a part of the southern division, to conduct a search for Johnny, and to get to know and work closer, per George, with James.

  James, by no choice of his own and actually by default because Bertha moved up, was named commander of the southern region. What exactly James’s ranking was within the Society, Jess didn’t know at first,. After numerous insisting comebacks from James that he was a general, Jess found out that James was actually a Level C-9 Sergeant, he highest ranking a soldier could receive within the Society. He was up there in ranking with Bertha and the former Society, now defector, Doyle.

  The southern Division ran from South Carolina down to Florida. Headquarters were recently moved and relocated to St. Augustine. Officially, to the Society, the move was reportedly done for ‘safety’ purposes for staff and records. It was kept a small distance away from any military training or engineering, just in case there was hostile defector aggressions.

  Just in case.

  That was the reason given to the Society and approved.

  However, James openly admitted that he chose St. Augustine because it was a really cool city.

  Jess had to admit that it looked it. He took in the recently refurnished older town.

  There was no activity at all on the streets. Then again, only the residencies were there. Most men were working or training at that particular hour of the day so it would only go to figure no one would be around.

  James was to be waiting somewhere in St. Augustine for Jess. He was not going out into the field at all.

  While driving, Jess had the weirdest thought.

  ‘What? Am I in Beginnings?’ It struck Jess the second he felt the Jeep slow down for a lone soldier standing in the street with a stop sign. Jess shifted his eyes to the driver.

  “Why are we stopping?” Jess asked.

  The soldier pointed to the stop sign. “Signal.”

  “It’s a sign.”

  “We have traffic laws in St. Augustine.”

  After a few seconds, the soldier turned the sign to ‘go’

  Jess chuckled then his head cocked up. “Is that gun fire I hear?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought there wasn’t any training in St. Augustine.”

  “Well, for today, commander has special training. He is overseeing a special secret vital emergency training session with his close staff. It’s supposed to be very important but he’s having it here because he wants to be close-by when you arrive.”

  “Understandable. Where is the training?”

  “On the beach.”

  A single sniff told Jess the beach wasn’t that far. In fact he could see it in the distance. The salt air was a predominant smell that hadn’t crossed his nostrils in so long. He felt them moving closer and then Jess felt them stop again, this time before a three-man Society soldier barricade.

  “What now?” Jess asked the driver.

  “This is where I let you off. I’m not authorized to be anywhere near or to witness the special vital secret training session.”

  “Why is that?” Jess questioned.

  Almost as if it were a dumb thing to ask, the driver let out a slight huff. “It’s a special vital secret training session.”

  “Of course.” Jess began to get from the Jeep. He acknowledged the salute he received from the three guard soldiers. Reaching into the Jeep for his gear, the driver stopped him.

  “I’ll take your bags to your quarters.”

  “Thank you.” Jess placed on sunglasses. “Have a good day.” Widening the eyes that the driver couldn’t see, Jess walked toward where he heard the gunshots.

  He wondered what kind of training it could be. Precision shooting, perhaps. Seeing how the shots were in no particular order, nor was there any rhyme or reason, something on an increasing skill level had to be what was going on.

  Jess moved across the old style street to the boardwalk. Figuring he’d take a peek from the boardwalk onto the beach before embarking, Jess was shocked at what he saw.

  Six men.

  He assumed they were Society soldiers, only because he knew they were there. Obviously it wasn’t because they were in uniform, because the men were not.

  A special vital secret training session.

  One word came to Jess mind.

  Hadley.

  Not a single man out there wore a shirt. All of them wore bathing suits. One man laid semi-seated on a chaise lounge of sorts. Three men appeared to be boogie boarding and the last man was on the beach building a pretty impressive sand sculpture that from a distance looked a lot like Satan.

  Jess walked down the steps to the beach. He chuckled. What he was witnessing reminded him more of what Frank and Robbie would call a special vital secret training session.

  Just as he had that thought, he heard gunshots, three of them and then a voice.

  “Jules,” someone shouted. “Your turn.”

  “Sorry.” Wet and holding a boogie board, the man from the water ran only a short distance up the shore, lifted a rifle, fired it twice in the air, and then headed back to the water.

  “Jess? That you?”

  From watching the short board surfer, Jess turned to watch the man get out of the chaise lounge. Jess took off his sunglasses and placed them in his pocket as he walked to the man. “I’m Jess Boyens.”

  He laughed an ornery chuckle that showed his pleasure and he extended his hand. “James. Most people call me Jim. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Jess shook hands. His head turned slightly to the side as he took in the sight of James. He was not at all what he expected, not at all. James was the same height as Jess, about six one. His hair was short, spiked, and darker blonde, almost borderline brown. It was splashed with gray especially around the temples, which was odd for his age of early thirties. He had a pair of blue eyes that sparkled in a manner Jess swore he had seen before. James had a bulk about him, not too heavy, not too thin. His face, oddly enough, was not even worn. “James.”

  “James. Jim.” He shrugged. “Whatever. I’ve got a chair for you.” James pointed. “Want a beer?”

&nb
sp; “Um, uh . . . sure. Why not” Jess laughed. “So this is special secret training.”

  “Correction.” James held up a finger. “Special vital secret training.” He winked. “Have a seat.”

  “Thanks.” Jess straddled the chair to sit.

  “Why don’t you take off your clothes and join us.”

  Jess hesitated. He laughed thinking to himself at that moment if James knew he was gay he wouldn’t have said that and that in turn made James’s invitation even funnier to Jess. “Nah,” Jess said. “I’m fine.” He took the beer. “Thanks. This will hit the spot.” He felt the bottle. “Cold.”

  “Ice cold.” James pointed to the cooler and sat back down on the lounge chair. “You’re not gonna tell on us are you?”

  “Who me? No,” Jess said.

  “Because this is, kind of, sort of, for you.”

  “I appreciate it. It was a long trip.”

  “We figured as much,” James said. “That’s why we thought putting you to work right away would be dumb. I mean, how much are you going to absorb if you’re wiped out?”

  “That’s true.” Jess took a drink from his beer and gasped in enjoyment. “Plus, you guys need a work day off too every once and a while.”

  “Yes, we do.” James grabbed his beer from the sand.

  “It’s not like you do this all the time,” Jess stated. “Right?”

  With hesitation, James halted just as his beer closed in on his lips. “Nah.” He smiled. “Not at all.” He took a drink.

  That was it. That was all it took. The look, the glance, the ornery grin James flashed as his mouth readied to take a drink. For as insane as the notion was, Jess knew the instant he saw James there was a familiarity about him and that look cinched it. There was definitely something about James that pulled at Jess. The only problem was Jess had no idea why that was.

  ^^^^^

  It was a tour to end all tours. It was explained as such to those in attendance at the Council meeting that the tour was needed because Mr. Biggles hadn’t been in Beginnings at all and it would give him an idea of how things were run when they had the actual meeting. Plus it would give Andrea the time she needed to set up the refreshments. Of course, the tour never really extended past the main street area of town and to the warehouses. The real reason for the tour was to cool things down and get everyone in a frame of mind before they started. The opening fiasco had set a tone too out of control.