And Then ... Farewell (Beginnings Series Book 22)

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Swell, so I am the Kinko’s of the post-apocalyptic world.”

  “Looks that way. At least to us Slagels.”

  “Bit ridiculous.”

  Joe turned around. “So are you. Does it really bother you, Ellen?”

  “I’m bitching, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah, but what else is new.”

  “Ha. Ha. Ha.”

  Joe’s phone rang.

  “Answer your phone, Joe.”

  “Christ Ellen.” Joe lifted his phone. “This better not be you.”

  “Joe why would I call you? Even though that’s a good idea.”

  Joe grumbled and answered the phone. “Joe Slagel.”

  “Joe … this is Mike.”

  Joe paused in copying. He knew why the phone call was coming. He was actually surprised it had taken as long. “Mike, how are you?”

  “We got hit, Joe. We got hit bad.”

  “Yeah … yeah I know. Have you been able to work out the damage?”

  “Not yet. But we know we have at least sixty injured, some really bad.”

  “How is Lars coping?” Joe asked.

  “Probably well,” Mike answered. “And that’s the reason for the call. Lars … Lars isn’t here. Lars is on his way to Beginnings.”

  “He wasn’t supposed to be.”

  “No. He wasn’t. But he is. He’s about eight hours out at least. Which means it could take us a good bit of a day to get him back if we find him right away.”

  “Is there anyone else?”

  ‘No,” Mike replied. “Some of these men need surgery. Or else they’ll die. I wouldn’t call for help, Joe. That’s not me. But I have to think of my men.”

  Joe really wanted to blast Mike. He wanted to tell him he should have thought of his men before the attack, but Joe didn’t say anything. He refrained. “Let me get things in motion. I’ll call you right back.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  Joe hung up. When he turned around he faced Ellen. She stared.

  “Mike made it back, huh?” she asked.

  Joe nodded. “What are you doing tonight, Ellen?”

  “Going home, spending some time with Frank, working out the rest of the wedding details.”

  “Any idea what Dean’s doing?”

  “I don’t know. Work maybe.”

  “Good neither of you are doing anything important.”

  “Joe,” Ellen gasped. “My wedding is important. Why? Do you want me to work?”

  “In a sense.” Joe moved to the door. “Actually, Ellen, I need you to find Dean. Both of you pack a bag and get supplies together ASAP. I’m going to find Robbie.”

  “Joe? Pack a bag?” Ellen stood. “Supplies? ASAP? What’s going on?”

  “Lodi’s down. A lot of men are down. Lars is on his way here. They need help, and I plan on getting you and Dean in the air, within an hour, before nightfall. You’re going to Lodi.” Joe walked out.

  ***

  They never bothered clearing the shelves in the old pharmacy, only the merchandise. Now the able bodied men, tossed things into the street to create a makeshift clinic.

  “Okay, I will do that,” Mike said as he spoke on the phone. “See you in a few...” he hung up.

  “Dr. Hayes?” Buzz asked.

  “Yeah, she said for us to divide the patients into sections. Minor injuries, to major.”

  “Is she going to be able to handle it alone?”

  “No, not at all, that’s why she’s not coming alone?”

  “Who’s coming with her?”

  “Dean Hayes.”

  “No … shit?” Buzz shook his head. “We’re gonna be face to face with the infamous Dean Hayes. Ain't that just the funniest shit that he’s on his way here and Lars is on his way to Beginnings?”

  “And bet me when Lars finds out Dean’s not there, Lars is going do everything in his power to make sure Dean is irritated by him.”

  “Like make a big impression.”

  Mike shrugged. “I guess you know how those scientists’ types are. So petty.”

  “Is Frank coming?”

  “No. Thank God. Robbie’s flying them in.”

  “Oh, Okay, I just wanted to talk to Frank. I guess Robbie can pass on the information, he probably knows about it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Frank. The plan.”

  Mike shook his head.

  “Frank is the one who called here to warn us about the attack. They saw it on their satellite system or something,” Buzz said. “He had me get men and put them in different places. He pretty much dictated a war plan over the phone.”

  Mike blinked rapidly. “Frank Slagel ordered you men on what to do and instructed a battle plan over the phone?”

  “Yeah.” Buzz nodded.

  Mike turned.

  “Where are you going Mike?”

  “Privacy.”

  “For?”

  “I’m calling Frank Slagel.”

  “You gonna thank him, Mike?”

  “Thank him?” Mike blasted. “If he were here I’d rip his fuckin head off. But for now I’m gonna do the best I can and beat his fuckin’ ear.” Mike stormed out.

  ***

  It didn’t have letterhead, but the letter was official nonetheless and faxed through crisp and clear.

  George rocked some back and forth in his chair while reading it. “And this just arrived?” he asked Callahan.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “He wants to know the extent of our training, number of forces, and weaponry.”

  “Yes, Sir. And if you recall, this information was somewhat available to other countries and to us pre plague.”

  George rubbed his chin. “He’s asking about our naval forces.”

  “Which are nowhere near what we would like them to be?”

  “Which also tells me a lot.”

  Callahan nodded. “This has nothing to do with us. To me, this is a means to prepare some sort of offensive action.”

  “Or defensive.”

  “From whom?” Callahan asked.

  “I don’t know.” George handed the sheet back to her. “But Frank Slagel does. Or at least has a hunch.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “What do you know, Frank?”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Prepare the information, but don’t send it yet. Let me see what you have before you contact him,” George said. “I’m gonna talk to Frank first.”

  ***

  The phone rang.

  Joe slammed his hand on his desk.

  “Goddamn son of a bitch bastard.” He looked at all the phones on his desk. What was he? An answering service? He had his own phone, Andrea’s, because she had a simple surgery, Dan’s while he slept, and Frank’s while he saw Ellen off. And they all rang all the time, especially Frank’s. Lifting one at a time, Joe found the culprit. His own.

  “This is Joe.”

  “I was beginning to think no one in Beginnings was going to answer a phone,” George said.

  “Afternoon, George.”

  “Joe.”

  “What bring this call?”

  “I think you know,” George said. “I’ve actually been trying to get a hold of your son.”

  “He’s busy.”

  “Obviously, he’s not answering.”

  “Can I ask what this pertains to?” Joe asked.

  “The fax he sent Callahan.”

  “Ah.”

  “What do you know about it?”

  “Probably as much as you. It’s Frank’s baby.”

  “Joe, your son said something off beat this morning, and then sends this fax. What’s going on?”

  “To be honest, George. I’m not sure. I’m also sure that Frank would be the one you’d want to talk to.”

  “You lead that side of the country.”

  “Yes, I do. But I also delegate. Consider Frank my Secretary of Defense.”

  “Have him get back to me; I want to set up a phone conference with your … Secret
ary of Defense.”

  “Will do.” Joe hung up and as he did, the office door opened and Frank walked in. “In the air.”

  “Yep.” Frank shut the door. “It’s cold as shit out there, but … the sky is clear. Hopefully they won’t run into any bad weather.”

  Joe looked at his watch. “Pretty damn impressive don’t you think. An hour and we have them off and running.”

  “Very impressive.” Frank sat down. “I see your phone sitting.”

  “Christ. And George called you. He wants to set up a phone meeting.”

  “I’ll check my schedule.”

  Joe lifted his eyes, and then titled his head in disgust when a phone rang. “Christ.” He lifted each phone. “Yours.” He handed it to Frank. “It’s been ringing off the hook.”

  “Why didn’t you answer it?”

  “I did. It was Mike. He’s called twelve times.”

  “Fuckin asshole,” Frank finally answered the phone. “Frank speaking.”

  “It’s about goddamn time.” Mike said.

  “Afternoon to you too, Chief Manis.” Frank pulled the phone from his ear, pressed the speaker button and placed it on Joe’s desk. “My dad told me you called twelve times. What’s up?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Okay.” Frank said. “Let’s see. The temperature is up. I’m pretty fuckin sure my dad’s blood pressure is up. The plane we just sent to you is up.”

  “Funny. Yeah, you can make jokes. No one attacked your town, and no one made your men fight a half assed organized battle.”

  Frank stood up. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard exactly what I said. I leave. I come back to find out my town’s been attacked, and you, from some phone half way across the country are telling my men what to do. You weren’t here, how can you even begin to assess the situation and put my men’s lives on the line.”

  “Look, Pal …”

  “Pal?” Mike snapped.

  “Yeah, fuckin’, Pal. I didn’t put your men on the line, you did when you guilted them into staying back with you.”

  “I guilted my men? What the hell kind of piss-ant comment is that?”

  “How many of your men Manis were going to leave and come to Beginnings? All of them, until you decided you weren’t going. So out of some sort of fuckin’ chivalrous guilt, they stayed behind. The reason? You weren’t going. You were staying put to defend what was yours. You stay to defend. They stay to defend. Push comes to shove … where were you? All hell broke loose and the great defender of righteous and honor was fuckin’ gone.”

  Joe winced.

  Frank continued. “What do you expect? Did you expect the Society not to show up on your door steps? Did you think Hadley was pissing around with his threats? Hadley doesn’t make idle threats. If you want to play with the big boys in a game of fuckin war you better be prepared to be a big boy in game of war. And be ready to fight.”

  “Who in the hell do you think you are …”

  “No, you listen and let me finish. You called me to chew me out; you will hear what I have to say. You stayed behind to fight. Your men stayed behind to do just that. Yet, you didn’t have a defensive plan or offensive plan in motion. Not one. What? Did you fuckin think, ding-ding-ding, the fuckin’ Society would ring your door bell, say ‘hey we’re here’, you’d grab your fuckin hunting rifles, break out a living room window, perch yourself ready and defend your homestead? That isn’t the way it fuckin’ works. The Society doesn’t give warnings. The Society isn’t nice. You’re fuckin lucky they didn’t just gas your town and end it, because that’s what I would have done. I wouldn’t have pissed around with hand to hand combat, take a chance on losing my men over a town of 200 when one good blast would shake you out of your trees. And that’s exactly what happened. Because your men didn’t have a clue what to do when the time came. You preached to them about staying behind, fighting for what’s theirs and you didn’t tell them how. Well, I did. I tried. They tried. And the only one who failed here was you, because you never prepared. You thought about yourself and not them. Don’t pass judgment on me for helping your men do exactly what they stayed behind to do. Now …” Frank exhaled. “You can speak.”

  Click.

  “That’s what I thought.” Frank shut his phone and sat down. He looked at Joe. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Joe shook his head. “At least he listened to your whole speech.”

  “Yes he did. It was some good stuff.”

  Joe nodded. “Yes, it was.”

  “That’s the writer in me. Fuck, I think I will write that down.” He stood grabbed his phone, and walked out.

  Joe lifted his hands. “And then he leaves.”

  ***

  They knew the route they had to take and the Lodi pilgrimage was well aware that a straight shot under normal conditions would put them in the provinces of Beginnings in one whole day.

  For the most part the over grown roads were not a hindrance or a problem. They moved freely, only stopping for rest at that one point. Once Lars joined up everyone was more secure about pushing forward, even with Johnny under the weather.

  He started to perk up some after sleeping a good three hours. He had some tea, and walked about. Lars assured everyone it was only Johnny overdoing it.

  Tigger worried the most. After all, Johnny wasn’t permitted in Beginnings or in New Bowman; both places were the location of the medical facilities. But Lars gave comfort in the fact that once he arrived; he would get the supplies he needed and take care of Johnny himself.

  Just about the end portion of Illinois, heading into Wisconsin, they hit a cold front that brought early spring snow. Almost as if it were winter’s last hurrah.

  The snow brought them to a turtle’s pace, but they trudged on.

  They were without a doubt truly a pilgrimage, the new westward expansion. No communication with Lodi or Beginnings. It was a trip they made completely on their own. Traveling through nature’s fury, surviving off of what was brought, hoping for the best, and believing the best was the destination they sought.

  ***

  If there was one thing Hal hated, it was the way the weather changed at a constant rate. It started out rather warm, and as the clouds moved in the temperature dropped. He kept peering to the sky hoping that Robbie overshot the clouds and hit ‘free and clear’ all the way to Lodi.

  He felt as if he had been neglecting his own town, having spent so much time in Beginning as of late. A draining feeling was coming over him and he could only deduct it was the events of the past few days.

  News from the future, about the war, his father, and then the battle with Lodi. It churned something in Hal. A reality that was unnerving. It was one thing to envision, to plot and plan; it was another live through it. All the talk of war came true, even if only for one battle, it was true, and very real.

  The radio transmission, the gun fire, Frank’s barking out orders was far too reminiscent of his old world days in the service and in combat.

  A part of it made him smile. A part of it left him searching. Searching for something, what that was, he didn’t know.

  He gave Elliott the rest of the day off, and unexpectedly, Elliott took it gratefully. Bowman was peaceful, as it always was in the early afternoon of a Friday. It was as if everyone saved up their ‘free’ time for Friday nights. Soon the streets would be buzzing with the weekend dwellers of Beginnings, Jordan, Doyle Camp, and more than likely, Creedville.

  That worried Hal. It was only two days earlier when the invisible predators wreaked havoc on the mess hall. Since Frank fired upon one, all had been quiet, but that didn’t calm the alarm in Hal. He stayed alert and his watch tower guards goggled with heat sensors.

  He walked the streets, hands behind his back in a slow, watching strut. His hands start to chill and Hal placed on his gloves. It was when he was securing the snap, he stopped at the Unique Boutique and saw the gloves in the window. Hal had never shopped there for a personal purchase, but he couldn’t help but feel
drawn to the gloves.

  ‘Custom made’ the sign read, ‘come in and get fitted.’

  Nothing was better than fitted gloves, except for these. Why did Ben have them? Was it a sign? Hal didn’t know.

  The gloves were about as patriotic as could be. Red white and blue, an American Flag, eagle, all with a haze of water color.

  Ding-Ding.

  Hal turned his head.

  “Window shopping? Need a cart?” Ben asked.

  “These gloves are fantastic.” Hal said.

  “Todd designed them.”

  “Can I ask why?”

  “Patriotism.”

  “I love them.”

  “I do, too.”

  “How much are they?” Hal asked.

  “Two dollars.”

  “Can I get a bulk discount?”

  “On how many?”

  “Every one of my men.”

  “Can I ask where you are getting the money?”

  “I’ll make my men pay for them. I think ….” Hal placed his hands behind his back. “I would like you to remove these from the window. I would like to make these part of the UWA uniform.”

  “Seriously?”

  Hal nodded.

  Ben’s hand shot to his heart and he fanned his eyes. “A Ben from Fabrics design incorporated into an official uniform. I am … I am … touched.” He gasped. “Captain, I could kiss you.” He stepped to Hal.

  Hal stepped back and extended his hand and with a smile said. “Remove them?”

  “Aye-Aye sir.” Ben sloppily saluted, stepped back and ran like a girl into his shop.

  Hal winced and muttered ‘aye-aye?’ he shook his head. He watched as Ben snatched the gloves from the window and Hal smiled. As he began to walk forward he heard the tinkering of keys. Melodic and smooth, and another smile graced Hal. How long had it been since he heard Elliott play.

  He listened in his walk until he heard … drums? Striking him as quirky, Hal followed the sounds which he knew would take him to the basement of the church … Elliott’s practice room.

  The song was half over when Hal arrived, and Hal didn’t bother knocking, he just stepped right in.

  The room was warm in contrast to the outside weather, and not as he expected, Elliott was alone. He didn’t sing as he usually did, instead his arms flailed about hitting buttons, shaking his head in obvious error, and when the song finished, Hal clapped.