“Exactly. It’s Jordan. They have a medical situation that requires my constant monitoring and they don’t have communications, nor do they want communications, by phone set up. You have to do this.”
“That means constant now. You know that.”
“Richie.” Ellen huffed. “What else do you have to do?”
“Not be buried knee deep in Dean attitude.”
“Is he still giving problems? That’s surprising,” Ellen said.
“He won’t even eat dinner,” Richie explained. “And El . . . it’s special beef tonight. You know how the residents love special beef.”
“Where is he?” Ellen asked.
“In the sleeping quarters.”
“Thanks.” Ellen walked to the door of her office. “I’ll be back.”
“I’ll be in the dining room. If Dean isn’t eating his meal, I will. It is special beef.”
Ellen blinked a ‘that’s fine’ as she left with almost a dazed look. With her arms folded, she walked down the hall to the men’s sleeping quarters. The door was open as it had to be, and Ellen called out as she walked in. “Dean?”
“Back here.”
At first she thought ‘where’ and then she saw. Dean must have taken the unused cots from the woman’s quarters because cots were lined up like a make shift wall. She stepped to it and peered around. A snicker escaped her. “You made an office.”
“I needed privacy.” Dean sat on a chair by a small table he used for his desk. “What’s up?”
“That’s what I came to ask you. Special beef is being served Richie claimed your meal.”
“I’m not that hungry. Besides, I’m full.”
“Full?”
“My mind.”
Curious at first, Ellen walked to him with a tilted head then saw. “Oh.” She sat down on the bed. “Still working on that? I thought you saw all you could see.”
“I believe I have.” Dean faced her. “However, you can say . . .” His hand tapped on a tablet on his desk. “I’m planning a course for each plausible outcome.”
“So, depending on what the finds of my medical testing are . . .”
“I should have a viable means of treatment.”
“How’s it going?”
“Not well,” Dean said.
“The material is raw. You’re projecting from raw material. Perhaps you should wait until I get back.”
“I want to get a jump on what to do so no time is wasted if time ends up being an option.”
“And you’ve come up with . . .”
“Not a lot.”
“Well you’ve just started working.”
“I’ve been thinking and plotting for hours.”
“That difficult?” Ellen asked.
“You can say that.”
“What do you have?”
“Not much.”
“Dean? Can I see?” Ellen requested.
“I’d rather not.”
“Dean.” She reached for the table. “Let me see. Maybe I can help.”
“El.” Dean moved the tablet. “I’d really rather not.”
“Dean . . .” She pulled at the tablet. “I just . . .” She stopped. “It’s empty.”
Dean only nodded.
“Why is it empty, Dean?”
Dean exhaled. “Because if the results turn out like I fear, if that tumor has the depth and is as concealed as these black and white images convey . . . then that paper is right.”
“I don’t understand. There’s nothing here.”
“Exactly,” Dean stated. “Because there may be nothing we can do.”
^^^^
The cooler air had settled in and it seemed odd even though it was February. The weather was different. Seasons seemed to have changed. Johnny swore he felt a snowflake hit his nose and as he sat on the roof with Tigger, he wiped the drop of moisture off.
“Snow?” Tigger asked.
“I think. Odd.”
“Yeah it is,” Tigger said. “Things have really switched as far as weather gores. Fuck, I remember when I was little . . .” He paused to snicker when Johnny looked at him, “Okay, when I was younger,” he corrected. “Snow drifts were higher than me.”
“No offense, Tig,” Johnny said, “but that’s not a hard task.”
“I’ll let the midget reference slide.”
“Thanks.” Johnny shook his head. His voice held little enthusiasm. “But you’re right. The weather did change. Henry has a theory on that.”
“Who’s Henry?”
“Some eccentric guy from Beginnings. He said the reason the weather has changed is because we no longer have the industrial world polluting our air and making a mild form of a nuclear winter.”
“Hey, that’s a good theory. Is Henry smart?”
“Very.”
“You know, maybe Beginnings can . . .”
Johnny laughed. “I know where you’re going with this. It’s not an option.”
Tigger wanted to tell Johnny it was more of an option than he knew, but he couldn’t. Under advisement from Lars, no one, neither Mike nor Tigger, could mention the rider that went to Beginnings seeking help for Johnny. It was bad enough that Johnny was sick, but how much worse would it be if a plea for help was made and Johnny found out no one answered. Tigger merely responded, “I understand.”
Johnny nodded.
“Johnny it sucks what’s going on with you. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. You kind of think . . . you kind of think, hey, I survived the plague, I’m invincible. You know?”
“I know.” Tigger did know. “I was naive enough to think that too. Imagine my reality check when my mother was killed. I would have never thought it. Ever. She was tough.”
“She had to be, to be with Mike,” Johnny said. “You know, she looks . . . she reminds me so much of . . .” He shook his head.
“What?” Tigger asked.
“Nothing. It’s painful.”
“I know that.” Tigger stated in complete agreement.
“I was just a kid when the plague hit. Even then I thought I sympathized. Now, eight years after the fact, I sympathize more. I understand what they went through. I understand the torment they faced with the fact that they knew they were dying. I understand even more now, the choice my mother made.”
“But even through all that death, Johnny, people held hope. You have to hold hope.”
Johnny sort of chuckled at that. “Hope.”
“Johnny, God. He works in . . .”
“Mysterious ways?” Johnny asked. “Tig, you really believe there’s a God?”
“Yes. You don’t.”
“No. I used to. I don’t think there’s a God. I don’t think that anymore. Not after all the death, after all the suffering, and after all I went through.”
“Do you pray?”
Johnny laughed.
“There you have it,” Tigger stated. “You have to have faith. You need to pray.”
“He didn’t answer my prayers when the plague hit.”
“You could look at it this way . . .” Tigger shrugged. “There’s less people now. Maybe all the prayers just got mumbled together and He had a hard time hearing. But now, maybe he can hear you. Maybe God just needs to hear from you.”
Johnny shook his head. “No.”
“Why?”
“Because if I did believe there was a God, if I did pray . . . I don’t even think God Himself could pull through on the one prayer I have.” Johnny lowered his head.
^^^^
Hal’s senses were kicking in. Maybe it was that late afternoon nap he sneaked in after mentally exhausting himself in a search for Ellen that wasn’t even necessary. Hal actually kept secret the fact that Ellen was never really lost. How could he face his men knowing that the sole reason he conducted a huge search and worried was based on what his brother Frank had said, so Hal covered. He said Dean had a mental breakdown and he had to go assist in Beginnings to retrieve her. That was when he took his nap.
El
len did return to Bowman, all was fine, and he brought Ellen back. It was turning out to be a decent evening.
Dinner with his father was good, Robbie was in an odd quiet mode, and Hal spent quality time with his dad until Frank radioed.
Hal answered the call and met his brother at Region Nine.
The air was cooler, not too cool, but Hal felt it on the back of his neck. He coughed every so often when Frank would blow cigarette smoke in his face. That didn’t bother Hal much. The whiff of Whiskey he caught from Frank did.
“What do you think?” Frank asked, shining the flashlight on the small section of fence that seemed lifted.
“You’ve been drinking.”
“I have. What do you think about this? I don’t think killer baby.”
“Was the fence live?”
“Up until I had it shut down.”
“Is Mechanics looking into it? “Hal asked.
“Yep, Henry’s on it. Tracking picked up nothing.”
“Savage.”
“You think?” Frank questioned. “Not SUTs?”
“No, Society soldiers are too far away. My scouts are following them. Savages. They’re smart enough to find a non-conducting instrument to break this fence.”
“It could be.”
“Back to your drinking.”
“Hal . . .”
“Frank,” Hal stopped him. “I fully understand your need to drink right now but can you not have that drink when you are on duty.”
“I didn’t. I was done. They called me during my one drink. I’m fine.”
“Okay.” Hal nodded. “Are you going to add more Security up here?”
“An extra guy.”
“Your reserves?”
“No, I have my men.”
“I thought you cut back for winter.”
“I did. I’m fine.” Frank shrugged.
“If you need men, let me know, especially for perimeters. We can pull Elliott in to help while Robbie’s out.”
“Robbie can do perimeter checks.” Frank snickered. “He doesn’t need to lift anything heavy for that.”
“For the next three days.”
Frank huffed out. “Fuckin Andrea. Did she change the rules again?”
“What?” Hal was confused. “Robbie won’t be doing perimeters because he won’t be around.”
“Is he going to Bowman?”
Hal just stared in awe. “You don’t know.”
“Know what?”
“You don’t.” Hal blinked slowly. “Wow. I thought you were handling this rather well.”
“Of course I’m handling it well, Hal.” Frank stood up all the way. “It’s a fuckin perimeter. What do you expect me to do? Be upset?”
“Yes, but not about this. “Hal pointed to the perimeter. “Oh boy. Okay.” Hal cleared his throat. “Robbie is not going to be here, Frank. Neither . . . neither is Ellen.”
“Where are they going? Jordan?” Frank was confused
“No.” Hal shook his head and spoke cautiously. “He’s taking her . . . he’s taking her to Lodi.”
No verbal response came from Frank at all. Actually it was a sequence of physical movements. His jaw clenched up, twitching for a moment while the vein in his neck bulged. Staring straight at Hal, Frank flicked off the flashlight, gave a simple, single nod of ‘thanks’ to Hal, slammed the flashlight in his hand, and stormed away.
Frank planned to present himself relatively calm when walking into the house despite the fact that his blood was boiling. But calm was best. After all, there was a chance that a mistake was made and Hal was wrong.
Deep breath taken, Frank opened the door to the house.
He felt fine.
Then he spotted Ellen.
On the couch, papers sprawled out on the coffee table, Ellen looked up with a slight smile. “Hey,” she said.
Emotionally frozen, Frank couldn’t respond. He swallowed hard, took off his leather jacket, and put it on the coat tree.
“Frank? You Okay?”
Frank’s mouth opened slightly. He took off his shoulder harness and draped it on the dining room chair. His eyes still focused on Ellen as he removed his revolver.
“Funny. Ha. Ha. Ha. You’re shooting me.”
What? Is she fuckin nuts? Frank shook his head in response and in sarcasm. He flicked the safety on and carried his revolver to the kitchen.
“Okay,” Ellen spoke to herself. “He’s not talking to me.” She heard the cabinets in the kitchen open and close. She knew at least one of them was to put the revolver away, up high. Another had to be for a plate. What was the third one for? Setting down her pen, she stood up and with a searching look, walked into the kitchen. She stopped, folded her arms, and leaned against the archway as she watched Frank.
The shot of booze went into his mouth then he poured another.
Ellen closed her eyes until the slam of the bottle made her jump. “Why?” she asked. “Why are you drinking so fervently?”
Frank just glanced over his shoulder.
“All right. Maybe fervently is too big of a word. How about . . .”
“Don’t,” Frank graveled. “Don’t even begin to fuckin insult me.”
“You looked at me as if you didn’t know . . .”
“I know exactly what I’m doing.” He picked up the bottle and poured another shot’s worth into his glass. He set down the bottle and looked at the glass.
“I see that. So why don’t you go ahead and drink that.”
“Why don’t you tell me where you’re going tomorrow?”
After a single nod, Ellen calmly answered. “Jordan.” Arms still folded, she turned. The immediate heavy crash and splash made Ellen stop and turn again. Frank stood, arms still extended from sailing his glass into the kitchen wall. “Careful, Frank, of any hard emotions,” She shifted her eyes to the spilled whiskey. “You just threw away part of your courage.”
“Fuck you.”
“No!” Ellen said strong. “Fuck you.” Near storming mode, she went into the living room.
“Where do you get off getting pissed at me when you’re the one lying!” Frank followed her.
“Because you had your chance.” Ellen spun around. “You had your chance to argue and to talk earlier and you refused.”
“Because of the subject.”
“You still . . . had your chance to voice an opinion. I brought the subject up. You shut me off.” Ellen moved to the couch.
“And you’re still going? You’re still going to Lodi?”
Calmly, Ellen answered, “Yes. I have good reason.”
Loudly, almost frightening, Frank blasted back. “There is no reason good enough!”
“Bullshit, Frank! Bullshit. Your son . . .”
“I don’t wanna hear it!”
Out of breath, Ellen gasped emotionally. “You see? You don’t deserve to know.”
“I don’t wanna know.”
“Fine.”
“Look at you.” Frank said. “So smug. So like Dean. What the fuck, El?”
“Why are you so angry with me?”
“How can you ask that?” Frank’s voice peeped as it squeaked out his anger. “If you do this, if you go, then you are committing the ultimate betrayal of me.”
“Then I guess . . . I guess I am betraying you then.”
“I thought you loved me.”
“I do!” Ellen screamed. “I love you with all my heart. That is why I am doing this, Frank. So you have no regrets. So . . .”
“Stop.” Frank waved his hands about. “Don’t say another word. Don’t give me your reason.”
“You need to hear the reason.”
“I need to hear you are not going.”
“Well I am! I am! My God, Frank. This is your son. Your family.”
“No!” Frank belted. “No. You are my family. The kids that live in this house are my family. My dad. Robbie. Hal. Family! Outside of Beginnings and Bowman . . .” Frank shook his head and moved to the door. “I have no family.” After a viol
ent fling open of the door, Frank stormed out.
^^^^
Party at James’s house? After the announcement, the mere thought of it sent Jess into an anger filled tizzy. The audacity of the James imposter. What Jess wanted to do was pull out his gun, say ‘fuck you’ for even trying to be a Slagel, and put a bullet in his head.
But Jess couldn’t.
For the sake of Beginnings, for the Slagels, Jess had to be the inside man, so he went to the party. It was all men, of course, and James was being the cordial and funny host. Trying not to show his dismay, Jess found a chair and sat, using the excuse of being tired as his reasoning for not having any fun.
The truth was, Jess was angry. It was as if someone was trying to pull off being a member of his own family, a horrible charade of some kind. What made it worse was the fact that James had a picture of the Slagel clan. It perched on a small table just outside the kitchen.
It looked to of been taken when they were all very young, but from the distance, he couldn’t tell. After glancing over and trying to acquire some sort of Dean bionic vision, Jess decided to take a closer look, if for nothing else, the nostalgia of it would make him smile.
Jess walked to the table with is drink in his hand. He seemed unnoticed as he did so. He chuckled as he lifted the picture and saw Robbie. Robbie hair was tossed about and dirty, so was his face. The stories were so true of how Robbie never bathed.
“My family.” James laid a hand on Jess’s back.
The words ‘yeah sure’ fought to stay inside of Jess and they did.
James exhaled. “Yep.” A long stare flowed from him. It was such a strong stare that Jess felt it.
Quickly Jess shifted his eyes to James. There was a look in James’s eyes that confused Jess. A wanting, needing and overwhelming miss glossed over him as he stared upon the image of the Slagel clan. Immediately Jess wondered if he was wrong. Was he wrong about James? Because in Jess’s opinion, no imposter could drum up a look so sincere.
James reached around Jess and took the picture. “If you don’t mind, I’m kind of sensitive about people touching this. It’s a classic, Robbie, this one here.” James pointed. “Got himself in trouble. Me and my other brothers had to pull him out of my neighbor’s sewer system. It took two hours.” James chuckled. “He was a mess and smelled really bad too. We didn’t want him to get in trouble so we blamed it on his bad bathing habits. Funny part is . . . We got away with that story. I don’t think my dad ever found out. I need another drink.” Setting down the frame, James flashed a smile then walked away.
The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20 Page 346
