Joe caught her attention. “Ellen. Will you?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Joe could see Ellen was preoccupied, but she was thinking about it. That was good. And another good thing was, they finished their conversation at that point, because Henry walked into the lab. “Henry.”
“Hi, Joe. They said you were here. Why are you here? And why can’t I see through the windows of Henry-World.”
“They uh ...” Joe pointed. “They were fixing it up. Come take a look.”
Seeing no harm in that, Henry moved to the back lab. He was like the new kid. The one who joined the game so late into it, he was clueless about the rules. He should have paid attention to the rules, deep within him he knew them. But had he paid attention, and had he seen something in the fact that Ellen, Dean, and Joe all hit the floor when Ellen yelled ‘duck!’. Henry would have too. And if he’d done so he would have spared himself the nausea, over-turned stomach, and vomiting that hit him at the same time every internal portion of that one rabbit exploded outward and landed all over him.
<><><><>
Slow, very slow, George typed. And he only used two fingers to do so. He never was much of the typist, nor did he want to be. Looking over his work for errors—ones that he would fix by hand—George found his latest letter to one of his division heads acceptable. Capitalizing a letter that he missed, George reread it one more time.
August 14
Dear Captain Richards,
All seems to be going as planned in the Garfield Take-over. Coordination of our attacks are in motion. Please be advised that it appears back-up from your division’s army will not be necessary at this time. You may continue with Operation Clean Sweep in your region and any other training maneuvers of your men you deem necessary for future needs.
Sincerely,
President George P. Hadly
George folded the letter neat, creasing the seams tightly. On the smooth side of the letter he addressed it to ‘Captain James Richards, League of Caceres Society States, Lexington Region’. After flipping over the letter, he reached for the very tiny ladle he had sitting in the heating wax. Adding a small dot, he grabbed his presidential seal and stamped the letter closed. He stood up with his letter and left his office. His ‘Pony Express’ equivalent would be leaving at first light, and George wanted to be sure he had that letter in his hand.
<><><><>
If their voices weren’t loud enough, Frank and Robbie sounded even louder, echoing as they walked through the front tunnel to the gate area. Danny tried to block them out as he walked behind them wishing they would have brought the jeep, so much shorter the argument would have lasted.
“Frank, I am not a babysitter,” Robbie complained.
“You are today. And so am I.”
“Anyone else can sit out here with Danny when he attaches that thing. I was out here an hour ago when they ran the lines.”
“And you’ll be out here now.”
“This sucks. Why can’t I be at the other sites when they’re running the lines.”
“Cause I want you here with me.” Frank was adamant.
Robbie grunted loudly. “I have other things I can be doing, Frank. I still have to be at Containment in an hour.”
“Robbie, quit being a baby.”
“A baby? Fuck you.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh my God.” Danny laughed. “This is too funny. Have you guys always fought like this? I bet Joe really considered an orphanage as a second home for you two when you were growing up.” Danny hid the smile when both brothers stopped cold and spun to look at him. “Maybe not.”
“He couldn’t have Danny,” Robbie said. “I didn’t grow up with Frank too much. He was older than me. Much older than me.”
“I am not.”
“You are too,” Robbie snapped. “You’re fuckin old, Frank.”
“I can kick your ass, Robbie.”
“Only because I let you.”
“Yeah right.”
“I’m telling you, bro,” Robbie spoke arrogant as they neared the front gate. “Look in the mirror. Old. Grey hair, probably hiding the fact that you can no longer get it up.”
“Oh fuck you, Robbie.”
“Getting a little on edge about it, Frank? I hear that old guys sometimes get defensive when faced with ...” Robbie stopped walking. “Shit.”
Frank lowered his microphone to his headset. “Down the front gate. Now.” He spun to Danny. “Run back and get the jeep.” He tossed him the keys. “Hurry.”
Danny set down his tracking system equipment. “Right away, Frank.” He stepped back, turned and took off running.
Waiting to hear the buzz that the gate was down, Frank rushed through with Robbie at his side.
Robbie immediately bent down to the body of a man. He lay there, back bandaged and wearing only blood stained underwear. “He’s alive, Frank.”
“That bandage looks fresh. Lift it.”
Robbie untied the thick string that wrapped around the man’s torso to hold the cloth bandage. As he peeked under the bandage, his eyes raised to Frank. “Bullet wound.”
“Shotgun?”
“Nah, rifle. Looks like he was shot from a distance. No burns.” Robbie tuned the man toward his back. “And it didn’t go through. Unless whoever bandaged him got it out. It’s still in there.”
Frank took a deep breath, slowly through his nostrils, he heard the sound of the coming jeep. “All right. Let’s get him inside.” Bending down to help Robbie lift the thin man, Frank paused to grab Robbie’s cell phone which was hooked next to Robbie’s radio.
“What are you doing, Frank, we have to get him into the clinic.”
Frank ignored him and kept dialing, he held his finger up to Robbie as he listened to the phone get answered. “Hey, Dean. It’s me. You alone?”
“Uh ... no.”
“Then don’t let on that it’s me. Listen, how fast can you run one of those tests to see if someone has the virus.”
“It’s only a matter of minutes.”
“Good. Meet me at Receiving ASAP and bring what you need.”
“I’m on my way.”
Frank hung up the phone and handed it back to Robbie. “He waited how long till we found him, he’s gonna have to wait a few more minutes for help.”
“Good thinking, Frank.” Robbie secured under the man’s head then lifted the man with Frank and carried him to the jeep. Then just to be on the safe side, made sure Danny went nowhere near him.
<><><><>
Joe sat alone in Andrea’s office, waiting for answers to come from all angles and they weren’t coming fast enough. How long had he waited, an hour, two? Though he kept doing his business about Beginnings along with everyone else, he kept checking back. And now he sat, a result of his last check in with the clinic when he was told it would only be a matter of minutes. So uncomfortably, wanting that cigarette he couldn’t have in there, Joe waited.
It wasn’t the person he expected to give him answers, but she would do. “Andrea.”
“Hello, Joe.” Andrea walked in and sat down across form Joe as he sat in her chair.
“Where’s Dean?”
“He had to get home.” She slumped some.
“You look beat.”
“I am. I’m hoping to catch me a nap before my meeting tonight.”
“You do that. So what can you tell me about our newest arrival.”
Andrea slightly rolled her eyes at Joe’s lack of concern and opened up the chart. “John is ...”
“Hold it.” Joe stopped her. “John?”
“John Doe. John is approximately twenty-eight years old, Caucasian as you know. In good health. No signs of infection, illness. Nor, according to Dean, of our future virus either. Dean’s pretty confident that he isn’t carrying it either. He isn’t in your typical Survivor shape. Body’s toned, clean, nails are even trimmed. His underwear are newer, homemade.” Andrea raised her eyebrow. “He has a single gunshot wound to t
he upper thoracic region. We have him stabilized and the bullet is still in him. It is embedded in near the third thoracic vertebra. Fluid is engulfing it and right now, his state is too fragile to operate and remove the bullet. We’re hoping in another day or two we can go in.”
“Does this mean when he wakes up and if he’s well he’ll be crippled.”
“Not necessarily. We don’t know. He’s still unconscious, he lost a lot of blood. The wound was cleaned and dressed when he got to Beginnings. So that’s good sign, less chance of infection in or around the spinal region.”
Slipping back in thought into Andrea’s chair, Joe sprang back up when Frank walked in. “Frank, got something for me?”
“Not much.”
“So I take it because the tracking wasn’t up in the front gate, we never got a signal that he was there?” Joe questioned.
“We would have. The way Danny designed the system is that, they kind of all overlap. There’s a very little window that someone could slip through if one of the trackers were down. But ... They weren’t up. None of them. We had them powered down while we ran the other lines.” Frank stepped farther into the office. “Robbie and I canvassed the entire front gate perimeter out for about three miles and circling in and around. Nothing. No blood, no foot prints. It’s obvious that this guy was in no shape to get here on his own. And no one carried him here. We did find some hoof prints in the mud we think are a clue.”
“Can they be ours?” Joe asked.
“Nope. We have about eight horses here, Dad, and to the best of my memory, they never leave our walls.”
“Horses.” Joe folded his hands on the desk. “Savages?”
“Highly. Highly doubtful,” Frank said. “Savages come in packs. This was one horse, or at least we believe it to be. The man’s wound was dressed and cleaned. Savages let their people die.”
“Well where did he come from then.” Joe wondered in question to Frank.
“I think a better question would be, who brought him here.” Frank began to explain his reasoning. “My first instinct was The Society, which that was quickly ruled out when Dean said he didn’t have the virus. I thought for sure this was one of the ways they were gonna hit us with it. So that was out. He’s not a Savage. He’s too clean, his hair is short and he was wearing underwear. They were clean and in good shape. We know the Savages didn’t drop him off, like I said before, one of their own, they let die ... too much of a burden. They’d kill and rape the man before they would even consider bringing him here. Rule out a Survivor out there that brought him in.”
“Why’s that?” Joe asked.
“If a Survivor brought him here, then the Survivor would have stayed.”
“Then who the hell brought him here.”
“Don’t know.” Frank raised his hands. “That to me is as big of a mystery as who this guy is. Because his arrival tells me, whoever dropped him off didn’t know him and they knew we could help him more than they could. And it appears to me, Dad, we have one more group of people out there. And I don’t like it one bit. Because the bad part is, they obviously know about us, but we haven’t a clue about them.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Plastered with a hug and a jump into his arms, Dean was grateful for Alexandra’s greeting when he came home. “Hey, honey.” He kissed his daughter holding her, then bending down to Brian in a reaching grunt to kiss him. “Where’s Billy and Joey?”
“Mommy’s says they’re being Frank and Dean.”
“Really.” Dean chuckled. “Playing a game are they?”
“No. Fighting over my Barbie.”
“Where’s Mommy?” Dean looked into the dining room. “Is she in the kitchen? I see she’s putting dinner on the table.”
“Daddy.” Alexandra placed both her hands firm to Dean’s cheeks. “Don’t go near Mommy.”
“Why?” Dean smiled.
“She’s gonna yell at you.”
“No she’s not. How do you know?”
“She’s been practicing yelling at you for a while. Saying your name, saying loud things.”
“Maybe she got it all out of her system by ...” Dean cringed when he heard Ellen’s loud sharp calling of his name. He kissed his daughter setting her down. “Go upstairs, Alex.” Putting on a smile, Dean looked up to see Ellen standing in the dining room. “Hey, El.”
“You’re so late.”
“I know.” He walked to the table. “Dinner smells good.”
“You know I have this meeting tonight. I want to do my hair.”
“El, I had that John Doe to deal with. Remember?”
“Oh yeah. And I’m still pissed at you about that.”
“Why?”
“You didn’t let me know. Acting all secretive, leaving me with the bunny guts to clean up,”
“Sorry.” Dean reached to the large bowl of salad on the table. “Did you stop at Distribution. This lettuce looks fresh.”
“Dean. Quit picking. You wouldn’t be so hungry if you were on time.”
“Ellen.”
“And another thing. Do you know you left a load of laundry in the washer. It started to stink, Dean.”
“I’ll wash it again.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point, Ellen.” Dean started walking to the living room.
“The point is you can’t leave a load of laundry in the washer. You have to finish the ... where are you going?”
“We’re trying this again.” Dean walked out the front door, paused and walked back in. “Hey, El, I’m home.”
“You have to finish a load of laundry that you start Dean. I’d finish it if you would ...” She saw him hold his hand up to her again. “What now?”
“We’ll try this again.” Again, Dean walked out the door, waited and walked back in. “Hey, El, I’m home.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m trying to have a nice greeting when I come home. The last thing I want to hear is bitching when I walk into my own house.”
“Your own house? I live here too, Dean.”
Dean stopped in his walk by her. “Yes, Ellen. This I know.”
“Oh my God. Look at you being all mean to me.”
“I am not being mean to you.”
“Yes you are. You made that face.”
“What face?” Dean headed to the kitchen.
“This face, Dean ... look at me ... Dean, this face ... Dean ...”
“Ellen.” He spun to her. “All right, make the face.” He watched her give a mean stare. “Oh I did not make that face.”
“You did, Dean. And you’re acting all resentful that I live here.”
“Where in the world are you getting that?”
“Because you aren’t in this house ten seconds and you’re yelling at me an making faces at me.”
Dean, frustrated, ran his hand harshly down his face. “Ellen.” He stepped to her, laid his hands on her cheeks and kissed her. “Please. Just ... please no bitching.” He kissed her again. “Go get ready for your meeting, I’ll finish getting dinner on the table and I’ll feed the kids.”
“OK.” Ellen moved back from him. “But it’s late, I don’t have time to do the dishes.”
“You don’t have to do the dishes, El.”
“Well they have to be done.” She walked to the steps. “I don’t want to come home and find them in the sink again Dean. Do you know how ...”
“El.”
“What?” She paused in her walk upstairs.
“Can you send the boys down?”
“Do I have to do everything, Dean, damn it.” Ellen stomped the rest of the way up.
Dean closed one eye and winced, giving a silent apology to Joey and Billy for their receipt of Ellen’s extremely loud ‘Boys! Dinner!’. Heading to the kitchen, Dean could hear Ellen above him complaining while she got ready. It reminded him so much of years earlier when they used to live together before. And at that instance, with those vivid memories, Dean wondered
briefly why he really wanted it all back.
<><><><>
Like a ten-year-old child who did not know what to do with himself, that was how Henry looked to Frank. Slumping in the chair, Nick resting conformably in the creases of Henry’s joined legs. And Frank watched Henry while he picked up the house, baffled at how much of a mess could be created in the short time since he picked up the kids. “Henry.”
Henry lifted Nick’s arm, letting it drop, lifted it again. “He really doesn’t do anything, does he, Frank.”
“He’s a baby, Henry.”
“Yeah but after ten minutes there isn’t much you can do with him. He only makes that one face.” At that point Henry proceeded to imitate it and looked oddly at Frank when he laughed loudly. “What?”
“God that baby and you look so much alike. Even the hair.”
“If he were a girl, Frank, I could do his hair. Put a little ponytail in it like I do for Alex. I should have had daughter.”
“Either way, Henry.” Frank walked over and sat on the couch. “At this point in the kid’s life, they’d still be a baby and they still wouldn’t do anything.”
“They’re so boring.”
“They’re babies.”
“There’s nothing more I can do with him but stare. How long do you suppose one can stare at a baby without getting completely bored.”
“Henry, give me him.” Frank reached out and took Nick, cradling the baby against his own chest. “What are you doing here?”
“Visiting Nick.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be working with Danny?”
“Oh no Frank. Besides the fact that we need a brain break. I saw the flowers in the kitchen.”
“Why are you changing the subject?” Frank asked.
“Are they for Ellen.”
Frank hesitated. “Yes. Robbie picked them for me to give her when she comes over tonight. Bitched about it, but picked them.”
“That’s really nice.” Henry sadly let his fingers fiddle with the fabric on the arm of the chair.
“Henry ...”
“Do you realize that it will be a year tomorrow that you started packing up to go get Ellen from Colorado?” Henry spoke slow, like in a daze. “A year, Frank, only a year. So much has happened in that year, hasn’t it? Doesn’t it seem longer. I mean, how has George built everything up so fast? I’ve been thinking about that you know. I was thinking that when we released that first group and took them to Colorado, they must have released their people in New Mexico and they had to have spread out fast.”
Blink of an Eye: Beginnings Series Book 8 Page 55
