The moment George left, The Captain in society uniform--camouflaged within the crowd of soldiers in the back--held tight to his information sheet and left the auditorium as well.
CHAPTER FIVE
Beginnings, Montana
“In my personal opinion,” Robbie spoke in an upbeat explanation mode to Sgt. Luther Baily, or ‘Sarge’, as they headed toward perimeter nine. “This is the best and most viable way, not to mention high tech, to test the perimeter beams.”
“Will I be trying this?” Sarge asked.
“Not right now. You’re in training. Just watch. It takes skill.” Robbie nodded. “Trust me; it’s not as easy as it looks.” Setting down his clipboard, Robbie brought himself to a squatting position. He had a gleam in his eye, his bright white smile flashed as he looked into a metal cage. “Hey guys.” He tapped his finger on the cage. “Today is an important day.” The four squirrels inside the cage scurried about. “You now have achieved a purpose in life. This moment can be yours. Which one?” Robbie spoke to them like they were children. “Don’t be shy, which one? Tell you what. I’ll choose.”
Sarge chuckled as he watched. “Is speaking to them part of the testing ritual.”
“Oh, yeah. And now the good part. Watch carefully.” Next to Robbie was a long metal stick. A wired loop wrapped around the end. Poking the loop through the small opening of the cage, Robbie moved it around until one of the squirrels had the unfortunate timing of running through it. Quickly, Robbie pulled the lever on the handle tightening the loop around the squirmy creature’s neck. “Thank you for volunteering.” Opening the cage, Robbie pulled out the squirrel which dangled from his stick-trap. He shut the cage and stood up. A wave of the metal rod in the air caused the squirrel to swing around in a circular motion. With a count of three, Robbie released the lever hurling the rodent twenty feet ahead of him. A high animal squeal emerged followed by a sizzling sound as the squirrel, spinning full speed, whammed into the perimeter beam. “Yes. Perimeter nine working properly.” He picked up his clipboard and checked it off.
“And when will my training be complete so I can try that high tech means?” Sarge smiled.
“Now. Congrats. All trained. This is your new job for now.” Robbie bent down and picked up the cage. He handed it to Sarge. “Go on check perimeters five through eight and I’ll meet you down at Frank’s.”
“Got it.” Sarge looked at the rodents in the cage. “I have to say I’m gonna miss my night shift watching perimeter seven.”
“You did good though. Whatever it was messing with that beam, you scared it away.”
“Thank you. But if I’m needed to pull more watches ...”
“I’m sure my brother will put you on. See you in a bit.” With a swat to Sarge’s arm, Robbie tucked his clipboard under his arm then headed to Frank’s office to hand over his findings.
^^^^
“Yeah?” Frank called out in his usual manner as he sat behind his desk rocking back and forth in his chair.
“It’s me.” Robbie walked in and tossed the clipboard at Frank.
Frank caught it with a grunt to his chest. He stared at the clipboard. “You do these tests?”
“Uh . . . no Frank. You do them. You left that clipboard hanging around. I thought you may want it.” Robbie tapped his temple. “Time machine memory loss?”
“Um, yeah.” Frank looked at the clipboard then set it down.
Laughing, Robbie headed to the door. “See ya. I have to get cleaned up before I start working at containment.”
“Speaking of which . . .” He waited for Robbie to turn around. “I want to ask you something about one of the survivors, someone that’s been here for a while. The guy called Mo . . . I mean, Reverend Thomas.”
“What about him?” Robbie stepped closer to the desk.
“I haven’t seen him.”
“He’s on one of his fanatical retreats. You know that. He goes on them once a month for a few days. He’ll probably be back tonight.”
“Do you trust him?” Frank asked Robbie.
“Since when do I trust too many survivors? Trust him as in what? Is he dangerous? I don’t think. Whacked out? Yes. He’s the eccentric bible thumper. Why? Are you having a bad feeling about him?”
“You could say that. My gut says we should watch him.”
“Then we’ll watch him,” Robbie agreed. “I’ll check up on him more often.”
“Where does he go for these retreats?” Frank asked.
“The mountains. Why all the questions about him?”
“Well in my memory…you know.” Frank shrugged. “He was bad, Robbie. He was really bad. He banded together a group of men that were nothing but trouble. I actually killed him myself.”
Robbie whistled. “No wonder you’re worried about him. Any chance that the change in time changed Rev. Thomas.”
“Like I said, I haven’t seen him since things changed. But . . . I’m going to say no. Even if it seems like it, I have to keep in mind what he did in my time frame. Even as a precaution, I can’t forget. I don’t want a repeat of history.”
“I understand. Sort of like sticking with the theory that those who can’t remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”
“Whoa.” Frank looked up impressed. “That is pretty good. Where did you hear that?”
“You’re kidding right?” Robbie smiled. “You’re not?”
Frank shook his head. “Who said it? Dad?”
“No, way. I wrote it myself.” Robbie rubbed his temple. “Here’s another to leave you with. Those who live by the sword, die by the sword.”
“You should write those down.”
“I might.” Robbie grinned and walked to the door. “But, I’m off. And I’m on that Rev. Thomas issue.”
“Thanks.” Frank replied. When the door to his office closed and Robbie was gone, Frank lifted the clipboard to review the perimeter tests. But before he did, he wanted to write down Robbie’s quotes. He was proud that his little brother was creatively philosophical and Frank wanted to eventually share that wisdom with others.
^^^^
Pictures? Dean couldn’t believe it. Who would have ever thought that having Robbie Slagel around from the beginning would signify a history made up of not only paper and words, but of photographs as well? And there were lots of them. They were a dropped off as surprise gift from Robbie. He was passing them on to him, Fran, and Henry. Extras that were not put in the history books. Dean would have to make an appointment to see those. But Robbie left enough. Many different ones including the ground breaking days and early days of Beginnings. For the generations to come, for those who would never know them, a glimpse of what the founding fathers of their land looked like. Robbie’s idea. Dean couldn’t comprehend how not one of them thought to do that at all in his remembrance of the early days of Beginnings.
Dean took another moment to stare at the photograph of him and Ellen. He had no idea when the picture was actually taken. Early on, not only did he and Ellen look younger, Ellen was very pregnant. They embraced in a semi kiss. Smiles from both of them seemingly stopped their lips from touching. How happy they looked. And Dean didn’t even know what caused that moment. It was a memory Dean would only have through the eyes of a camera’s lens.
Running his index finger over it once more, Dean set it up on his desk. He checked over his notes and blood work, clinic work he had let slide over the past few days during the rippling of time. He thought he was finally catching up, but Dean knew once they went full swing into the virus he would fall behind again. “O.K., let’s see.” Dean spoke out loud looking at his notes. “Let’s play psychic. Which one of you is going to give me the most trouble while I’m stuck in the mobile?”
“Talking to yourself again?” Andrea called out from the door of his lab.
“Andrea.” Dean stood straight up. “What are you doing here? It’s Saturday.”
“I’m welcoming another addition to the land of Beginnings.” Her eyes caught it as she moved
to his desk. “What’s this?” She walked over and lifted the picture. “Now here’s something that hasn’t been on this desk for quite some time.” She smiled at it and set it back down. “The anniversary is coming up. Is that the reason for the picture?”
Dean’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
Andrea chuckled. “Let me let you in on a little secret Dean. If you want to pretend it didn’t happen, pulling out a wedding picture is not . . .” Andrea felt the whoosh of air as Dean snatched up the picture and flew out of the lab. “My.” She gasped out. “Don’t want my opinion ... Fine.” She threw her hands up in the air in her march from the lab. “Fine.”
^^^^
“O.K. boys . . .” Ellen handed a bucket and rag to Denny and Josh. They stood in the hallway of containment. “Baseboards need done today, especially in the skills room. We have that session in there this afternoon and the people will be on the floor. Survivors or not, I don’t want them thinking we live like pigs. Got it?”
Denny made a wincing face. “Why?”
“You blew me off two weeks ago. You both disappeared with Johnny to shoot pool. I didn’t say anything to Joe, but next time you’ll go back to school with . . . Jenny Matoose.”
Josh whined loudly, “We look really dumb.”
“Yeah,” Denny added. “Can’t we just play with Mike the dog?”
“You can play with Mike after you clean my baseboards, now hurry. It’s not that much.” Hearing the buzzing of the containment door, Ellen looked up to see Dean. She smiled. “Hi.”
“Hi, El.” He hurried to her a little out of breath and kissed her on the cheek. “Do you have a minute?”
“Dean? You have this weird look on your face. Are you all right?”
“I think. I’m not sure. We’ll find out. Come here.” Grabbing her arm, Dean pulled Ellen to the office.
On his hands and knees, fingers barely wanting to touch the soap, Josh shook his head. “And they say we’re the weird ones. He can’t even speak a whole sentence.”
“Yeah,” Denny agreed. “Some doctor he is…and we’re the ones scrubbing the floors.”
Inside her office, Ellen watched Dean close the door. “What is going on?”
Dean just handed her the picture.
Ellen shrieked. “Oh my God, look how huge I was.”
“El, when . . . when was that taken?” Dean asked as he ran his hand through his hair.
From the picture, to Dean with seriousness, Ellen looked. Then she handed the picture to Dean. “I’m busy.” She moved toward the door.
“Ellen, wait.” Dean grabbed her arm. “When?”
“I told you I’m busy.”
“Why won’t you answer me?” Dean asked.
“Because that has to be the most dick question you have ever asked me.” Ellen, with attitude, tried to open the door.
After thinking, ‘dick question?’ Dean hurriedly reached out and shut the door. “I’m very serious.”
“And so am I.” Ellen’s eyes were wide as she talked to him. “You should know.”
“I don’t know.”
“Dick.” Ellen grabbed for the door.
“El. Please.” Dean dove in front of her. “Why are you making this into a game? Just tell me.”
“If you don’t know, I’m not telling you,” Ellen said sharply. “And there is no reason on the face of this earth that you shouldn’t know when that picture was taken.”
“Oh yeah? Try this. Frank screwed up time, El. He screwed it up big time.” Dean tossed his hands in the air. “So much is different that I feel like an idiot hanging around people. I thought, I thought my life was pretty much untouched. My personal life. Well, with the exception of that one kid. Um . . .”
“Joey.”
“Yes.” Dean snapped his finger. “Thanks. But I’m finding out it may not be all the same.” He slowed down his words. “I need to know. Were we married?”
With a bit of irritation and disbelief, Ellen answered him. “Yes.”
“Oh my God.” Dean stepped back.
“Why are you acting like this is a shock?”
“Because it is.” Dean looked up, so lost. “In my memory, in my non-Frank fucked up time frame, you never loved me enough to marry me. And that was all I ever wanted…to have a life with you. And now . . . now I found out I had it and this . . .” Dean held up the picture. “…is all the memory I’ll ever have. Do you know how bad that sucks?”
Ellen slowly took a step to him. “You’re serious.” She watched him nod. “We knew it.” She said. “We knew it by how odd you were when you came back three days ago.”
“Well, the Dean that you remember three days ago, I don’t know. See, we came back yesterday trying to fix the first screw up Frank did.” He saw how confused Ellen looked. “Never mind. Long story. How did it happen? Did Robbie convince you to marry me?”
“What?” Ellen asked with a laugh. “Why would Robbie have anything to do with it?” She waited and only received a silent look. “Another long story?”
“Yep.”
“O.K., tell you what. How about tonight we exchange long stories? I may never be able to give you the actual memory, but I sure can fill in the blanks.”
“Thank you.” Dean placed his hands on her arms and kissed her. “Oh, wait. It’s Saturday. Don’t you do that twelve step thing with Frank?”
“Screw Frank. He blew me off last night. He wanted to have an emergency step six session and he never showed up. He was at the social hall watching Robbie sing. Not like he hasn’t done that before.”
“You’ll find out through the long stories . . . he hasn’t.” Dean, knowing he was leaving Ellen puzzled, walked do the door. “The lab?”
“You got it. Oh, and Dean?” Ellen waited until he turned around. “December 12th. That was when the picture was taken.”
Giving a peaceful smile and a thank you nod, Dean walked out.
^^^^
Former Quantico Marine Headquarters
George ran his hand across the bridge of his nose so hard that he could have wiped away the top layer of skin. “All of them?” He gazed angry eyes at Sgt. Hemsley.
“All of them. I . . . I don’t know how I dodged their bullets. Grace of God I guess.” He tried to follow George who was leaving. “I stayed in the woods after the radio and watched to see . . .”
“I don’t care!” George blasted spinning with an angry point to the frightened sergeant. “I could care less how many bullets missed you. Thirty two of my men were wiped out by a camp of goddamn low life, living in tent survivors turned defectors?”
“The ones living in the camp, from what I observed, weren’t our defectors.”
“Great.” George threw out his hand as he barged again to this door. “Get this man from my office and out of . . .”
“The ones who aided them were.” Sgt. Hemsley cried out in a last ditch attempt.
“What?” George stopped cold. “How do you know?”
“I recognized the one.” Sgt. Hemsley caught his scared breath. “I recognized him.”
“How?” George asked. “How in God’s name can you remember a defector when not even the camp master does?”
“Because his ethnicity never matched his name. It always struck me as odd. He’s Latino and his name is Elliott Ryder. And he is leading this pack. I can tell you. They all are wearing bandanas as a statement. His was the only one that was red.”
“It’s probably not a goddamn statement. It’s probably because they’re bald.” George’s attention was however caught. Calmer he stepped back into his office. “Aside from being a visual racist, how do you remember him?”
“I was part of the sweep that happened upon their town. It was a very friendly sweep of a small town on the border of Texas and Mexico. I recall because I thought they had picked up Elliott from Mexico. When in fact . . .”
“Oh my God.” Steward’s words seeped discovery. “They were all remarkably together pre-plague. Hold on.” He raced to the door. “Ambassador
Lyons did that sweep, but none of us have gotten to question him because he’s been ill this past week.”
George tossed his hands in the air as he returned to behind his desk. He sat down with a sarcastic tone. “Oh, yes, now everyone remembers. A week ago no one knew anything. Now I have a name.” Tapping his fingers on the desk surface in an impatient manner, George looked up when Jeremy Lyons walked in. He looked pale from his bout with tuberculosis, but George didn’t care. He wanted answers. “Sit.” George pointed to the chair and waited. “Did Steward tell you?”
“Not much. He just said you needed to speak to me about a sweep I did.”
“Two weeks ago, I’m guessing. You did a friendly sweep of a small town bordering Mexico and Texas. What can you tell me about these survivors you picked up?”
Proudly, Jeremy smiled. “Excellent grouping. Friendly, smart. Fantastic backgrounds. They’re shining quickly for us, aren’t they?”
“Oh, yeah, they’re shining.” George stated. “They defected last week and have been nothing but a pain in the ass. Death toll now, thirty five.”
“Oh.” The smiled dropped from Jeremy’s face. “I expected great things from them.”
“Let’s just hope you’re wrong,” George said. “Tell me about this fantastic background.”
“They were all together pre-plague, all servicemen stationed in Hawaii together. They survived because some doctor tried an experimental vaccine on them. Not everyone who was given it lived. From what they told me, about ten percent of the ones given the vaccine in the early stages lived.”
“Hawaii.” George leaned back. “The almost cure.” He noticed the questioning looks. “During the plague, Dr. Hayes got a half ass recipe for a vaccine some doctor had success with. Dean always said that the vaccine could have worked if given early enough and the person was not only strong, but had some sort of genetic link to the immunity. Taylor.”
“Taylor? Who’s he?” Jeremy asked.
State of Time: Beginnings Series Book 6 Page 5
