On Borrowed Time: Beginnings Series Book 26 Read online

  ON BORROWED TIME

  Beginnings Book 26

  Jacqueline Druga

  On Borrowed Time

  By Jacqueline Druga

  Copyright 2016 by Jacqueline Druga

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Thank you to Kira R for all your help. A lot of time and effort went into this from you guys and I appreciate it.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Crack.

  Hal’s hard right fist sailed into the side of Robbie’s face. “You son of a bitch!” He dove on his brother, revving up, to hit him again.

  He did.

  The brothers battled with emotions. The younger two of the Slagels, bringing for the first time in their lives, a physical confrontation.

  “You can’t face the truth, Hal!” Robbie argued back, defending himself both physically and verbally.

  What brought his brothers to that point? What the fuck was happening, Frank thought?

  He watched Hal prepare for the third blow. Frank, with a blasting “Hey”, jumped into the mix up, reaching for his brothers trying to break them up.

  Robbie swung at Hal. Hal swung at Robbie. Frank got hit.

  “What the fuck?” Frank blasted, reeling from a blow he didn’t deserve, nor for the first time, didn’t see coming. Perhaps it was because it was it was his brothers and he hadn’t a fear of danger.

  Flailing fists and shouting voices, furniture crashing about. It was mayhem until a short, high pitched, whistle, brought an immediate halt and silence to the room.

  It was followed by a slam of the side office door and a scolding, fatherly, “Enough!”

  Quiet.

  No movement.

  Robbie lifted himself straight. Then hung his head low.

  Hal and Frank were both facing Robbie. Neither moved.

  The only sound was the clicking shoes against the hard floor.

  Slowly Hal turned around.

  Hal’s breath escaped him. “Oh, my God.”

  Frank looked. “Fuck.”

  Robbie shook his head. “Fuck is right.”

  Joe approached the three of them. “Are you happy? Satisfied. Had enough goddamn it? Look at you three, killing each other. Over what?”

  Frank fluttered out. “Actually, over you going to hell, I was just in the middle trying to break it up. This is really fucked up.”

  Joe nodded. “Yeah, it is. So this is your reaction, Frank?”

  Was it a trick question? Frank bit his lip. He looked to Robbie. Before he answered, he had to know. “Do you see him?”

  Robbie nodded.

  To Hal, “Hal?” Frank asked. “Do you see him?”

  Slowly, in shock, Hal nodded. “Yes, Frank, I see him.”

  “Fuck.” Frank turned to Joe. “Is it true?”

  “Yes, Frank,” Joe answered. “It’s true.”

  “Fuck. You know what this means don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Joe said.

  “Hal?” Frank asked. “You know what this mean, right?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Fuck.” Frank backed up. “It’s true.” He plopped down in defeat into his high back leather office chair. “Fuck.” He shook his head. “We have the brain flu.”

  It took a moment, just a split moment, and Joe, Robbie, and Hal all looked at Frank.

  Frank had taken a bite of his nails, and after spitting out the particle peered up over his fingers.

  “Did you just spit on the floor?” Hal asked.

  “It’s my office.”

  “You’re foul.”

  “What?” Frank defended. “Like we don’t have bigger things to worry about.”

  “I’d say,” Hal glanced up to Joe.

  “Fuckin brain flu.” Frank shook his head.

  “Frank.” Joe called his name.

  Frank didn’t answer.

  “Frank,” again, Joe called.

  Nothing.

  “Frank! Goddamn it!”

  Frank tugged his ear.

  “Frank?” Robbie quizzed, “Why aren’t you answering him?”

  “Because I don’t want to give in to the brain flu.”

  Joe tried, he tried to remain calm. “You don’t have the brain flu Frank.”

  “I see you.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have the brain flu.”

  “Oh my God.” Frank closed his eyes. “I’m talking to the symptom.”

  “I’m not a symptom, you asshole!” Joe yelled. “You don’t have the brain flu.”

  “I’m talking to you!”

  “Yes.” Joe said.

  “Hal, did Elvis talk to Dad?” Frank asked.

  “Yes, but . . .”

  “Did he have the brain flu?”

  “They say he . . .”

  “Robbie.” Frank turned to him. “Did Dan see Dad?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Did he have the brain flu?”

  “I believe twice.”

  “Robert,” Joe warned. “Enough.”

  ‘He has a point.”

  “He doesn’t have the brain flu!” Joe blasted.

  “How do you know?” Frank blasted back.

  “Because do the patients with brain flu complain of this?” Joe reached out and lightly smacked Frank in the side of the head.

  “Ow.” Frank rubbed his head. “No. But there’s always new symptoms.”

  “You goddamn moron!” Joe leaned into the desk. “You don’t have the brain flu, know how I know?”

  “How.”

  “You made up the brain flu!”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did. To cover for the fact that Roy fixed the ALS3 and you didn’t want your brother to know.”

  Robbie added. “And I helped, because Dan suddenly showed up with visions of Dad.”

  Hal looked at Robbie. “And he claimed he saw you with him. So you did know.”

  Joe held up his hand. “In defense of your brother, I told him not to say anything.”

  Frank spoke up. “So Robbie’s had the brain flu?”

  “No!” Joe barked. “There is no brain flu. It was a means to cover up.”

  “Cover up what?” Frank asked. “Dad, if I don’t have the brain flu, how come I see you.”

  “Because I’m here, Frank. I’m here.”

  “You’re alive.”

  Joe nodded.

  “You came back. Like Jesus.”

  “No!” Joe screamed. “I’m not dead.”

  “Were you ever?”

  “Good God,” Hal said. “Some people bring out the best in others, you father, bring out the short bus child in Frank.”

  “Hal,” Joe warned.

  “What? I’m making a logical observation.”

  “I watched Frank for a while, he’s been very intelligent.”

  Frank grinned.

  Hal held out his hand. “And look at him now. Listen to him now. You suck the intelligence from him.”

  “Uh!” Frank gasped. “I can’t believe you told Dad he sucked.”

  “Can we stop?” Hal stood. “Frank, listen to me. Listen to Dad. Even though I have suspected for a while, I’m in total shock. Aren’t you? Our father whom we mourned and grieved is alive and well and standing in your office.”

  Frank shifted his eyes. “I kinda knew.”

  Joe asked. “What do you mean, you kind of knew? If you knew? Why the brain flu act.”

  “It wasn’t an act. It was just in case, you know, I had the bra
in flu.”

  “How did you ‘kind of’ know, Frank?”

  Frank looked at Robbie. “I read his mind.”

  Robbie winced. “Aw, Frank, you suck.”

  “Hold on, I thought you were just like Andrea, seeing his ghost in all. But when we went to the cemetery and dug up the grave. I knew.”

  Hal nodded. “Me, too. I didn’t need the evidence either.”

  Robbie exhaled. “So what do we do? Now that your sons know.”

  Joe shook his head. “Nothing right now. We’ll discuss possibilities and what can be done. . In the morning.” Joe looked at his watch. “It’s getting late. How about this? How about letting me enjoy time with you guys, talking to you out of the invisible suit. Let’s just hang out. Tomorrow . . . tomorrow we’ll deal with this.”

  Robbie suggested, “The trailer?”

  “Works for me.” Joe said. “Hal, you’re joining us, right?”

  “Absolutely.” Hal followed Joe to the door.

  Robbie snapped his finger. “Shit, Frank, did you have a date with Ellen?”

  “Fuck. I did.” Frank swished his mouth from side to side.

  “She called me to tell you she was with Dean,” Robbie said.

  Frank shrugged. “That works. Right now, I need to spend time with my father.”

  Joe smiled. He genuinely smiled and reached for the door. “Hey, Frank, grab that bottle in your bottom desk drawer, not sure if I have enough whiskey in the trailer.”

  Frank nodded, reached, and stopped. “What bottle?”

  Joe grumbled.

  “Ok, Ok.” Frank opened the drawer as his father and brothers waited by the door. “One more thing, Dad?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Does this mean Bob the Dummy is not possessed?”

  On that, Joe, Hal and a snickering Robbie walked out and closed the door.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Frank, bottle in hand, left right behind them.

  <><><><>

  It was over.

  What was meant to be a teacher student experience turned into something that Jenny still couldn’t comprehend?

  Hours. Hours was she out there in that field. On her knees on her back, stomach, back to her knees, over and over again.

  But would anyone believe her?

  He left, or rather, it left and Jenny stayed still. Waiting until she felt his presence was gone.

  Lying on her back, she called out, “Christopher?”

  Nothing.

  Silence.

  She turned her head to the right. “Christopher.” And that’s when she saw it.

  Her phone.

  Jenny knew she couldn’t move. Her legs were weak, almost numb. She needed help. With a slight shift of her body, she extended her hand and grabbed her phone.

  Not wanting to think about what or who to call, Jenny simply hit redial and called the last person she had spoken to. At that moment, she hadn’t a clue who it was, nor did she care. She just needed help.

  <><><><>

  “Not too bad of a date.” Ellen held up her shot glass, it was filled the same as Dean’s.

  “No, it’s a great date.” They clicked shot glasses.

  Ellen brought her shot to her lips the same as Dean.

  “Look, is that Robbie?” Dean said.

  “Where?”

  When Ellen turned, he quickly dumped the shot back in the bottle. “No, sorry.” He brought the empty glass down with a gasp.

  “Dean. You did it again,” Ellen said. “You drank your shot before me. You need to learn how this works.”

  “Sorry. Next time.” Dean smiled.

  “I like this place.”

  “I like it too. Now.” Dean spoke of Hoi-Hoi on the Range. A place he went to and only got in trouble.

  They had dinner at the mess hall, a late dinner, actually left overs claiming to the cook they were working so late.

  Then off to the coffee shop and finally to the Hoi-Hoi on the Range for the drinks.

  A lot of things went through Dean’s mind as they sat there, laughing, talking about the kids and their life.

  How did they get to that point? How did he and Ellen get to the point where they weren’t married? He thought for sure the back and forth was over, and then, stupidly while his chip was screwed up he divorced Ellen.

  She belonged to Frank.

  Well, she always belonged to Frank. But she always belonged to him, too.

  It was probably about the third time she thanked him for going out with her that he realized he was just a substitute. He was doing everything that Frank would have done.

  Dean wanted to make the night different. Special.

  Yeah, Frank could take her for food, coffee, and without a doubt, drinks, but what was it that made Dean and Ellen’s relationship unique.

  And he knew. Just about the time she wanted to do another shot, Ellen was starting to get good and tipsy. She held her liquor much better than he did, probably years of practice with Frank and then inadvertent inherited, even if not by blood, Slagel gene.

  It was then he blurted out, “Let’s go.”

  Ellen squinted her eyes, a little shocked at the sudden request for departure. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “But you want to go home.”

  “No, I didn’t say that. I said let’s go. This, this is fun, El. But this is a Frank and you thing. It’s not a Dean and Ellen thing.”

  “Dean.” She snickered out his name. “A typical Dean and Ellen thing is medical and often demented.”

  Dean raised his eyebrows a few times.

  “You have something in mind?”

  “Yeah, and I promise it’ll be fun. You up for it?”

  “Absolutely.” She poured one more drink and stood at the same time as Dean. “I’ll follow you.”

  Dean reached out his hand. “How about we walk together.”

  Ellen giggled.

  Elliott heard it.

  The giggle from Ellen and he knew she was drunk. A part of him grew antsy, almost angry that Dean got her drunk and now was taking her from the bar. A part of him was angry because Ellen never saw him sitting there. Of course, Elliott, did try to stay out of view.

  He was anxious to hear from the Captain. It was hours ago the Captain left on his quest for the truth in regards to his father. Elliott supposed the reason he hadn’t heard was because the Captain found the truth and it wasn’t what he wanted to learn.

  Probably sulking in the disappointment of believing his father could be alive.

  Just about ready to have a small drink, his phone rang, startling him. He lifted it and answered. “Sgt. Ryder.”

  It was surprising, rarely did he hear from Andrea.

  “We have a situation, Sgt. Ryder; Hal’s not answering his phone.”

  “He’s out of range for a spell.”

  “Are you in Bowman?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Then you need to handle something, quietly and ASAP.”

  Elliott hadn’t a clue what Andrea’s request would be. Never did he expect it to shock him like it did. Assuring her he was on it, right away, and with minimal release of knowledge, Elliott disconnected the call, and still in a bit of a shock, left Hoi-Hoi on the Range.

  <><><><>

  “Oh my God, Dean this is so cool.” Ellen gushed when she walked into the special back room of the Bowman Hospital.

  Actually, the bottom floor, back room.

  The morgue.

  Dean smiled; he knew he was making Ellen happy when he wheeled the cart out with two covered bins perched upon it.

  “I knew you’d be happy about this.” Dean said. “But keep in mind, this is the unofficial autopsy.”

  “When are we doing the official?”

  “Tomorrow, with Blue. I mean, we’ve both gave a glance.”

  Ellen lifted the one covering. “I don’t think we need to search for a cause of death.”

  “El.”

  “Ingested? Is that what y
ou put down?”

  Dean shook his head.

  Ellen sniffed. “Smells like a barbeque.”

  “Actually, what I could determine at first glance is that the victim was gutted and cooked. Also, seasoned.”

  “Seasoned as in . . .”

  “Seasoned.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You could see it on the remained flesh.”

  “Do you have any idea what seasoning it was?”

  “I took a sample, looks basic. Salt. Pepper. Ginger root.”

  “I have to try that.”

  Dean chuckled. “I don’t think I can ever eat that combination without thinking of this.”

  “So, why exactly is there an autopsy if we know the cause of death and the seasoning used?” she asked.

  Fist on the table, Dean leaned in with teacher mode. “El, come on. You’re disappointing me that you even have to ask. I mean, bite marks alone will give us an indication of the size of the predator. And you know they suspect something from the future, right? Saliva alone will give us the DNA breakdown to determine direct descend of man or Marcus.”

  “Or LEP.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Because we both know Marcus has that control.”

  Sadly, Dean nodded. “And I’ve been unable to isolate it enough to fix it.”

  “If we don’t, Marcus will simply cease to exist.”

  “I know. Maybe this will help too . . .” Dean uncovered the next bin.

  “Oh, intestines. Untouched. I guess whatever it was isn’t a big fan of chitins.”

  “El, God. Can you be more insensitive?”

  “Probably.”

  A simple buzz of the door intercom drew their attention.

  Ellen looked curiously at Dean. “Does someone know we’re here?”

  “Only whoever saw us coming down here.” Dean walked to the door, pressing the red button. “Yes?”

  “Dr. Hayes”. Hating to disturb your work,” Elliott said. “We have an urgent situation that calls for your response here in Bowman.”

  “Hold on,” Dean said.

  Ellen quickly covered the bins and pushed the cart back toward the cooler. She opened the door at the same time Dean opened the outer door.

  Elliott stood there.

  “What’s up? What’s going on?” Dean asked, taking off his gloves.