State of Time: Beginnings Series Book 6 Page 17

  “Actually I’m working on the chip.”

  “Oh, because you’ll miss it.” Ellen still chipper started to walk down the hall toward the lab. “It is day four. Do or die. Or rather, do the rabbits die? It’s time to see if our fluffy friends have the virus and if they do, we’re good. And if that’s the case, four more days and we should be out of here.” With a smile she continued walking. She wasn’t out of the trailer very long before Dean and Henry heard her shouting with so much disgust. “Oh my God!”

  Henry jumped then raced with worry, Dean right behind him on his heels. “El . . .” Henry slid to a stop as he plowed into the mobile. “What’s wrong?”

  “Who did this?” She pointed to the window. A picture of two lesbians was pinned on the outside. “Look at this.” Ellen grunted. “And we can’t do anything about it either. It’s on the other side.”

  Dean looked, snickered ornery and walked back to the trailer to retrieve his coffee.

  “I’m gonna have to make paper clothes.” Ellen said.

  “That’ll work.” Henry commented. “And you know it was Robbie or Frank. Only those two are sick enough to think it was funny.”

  Dean with his coffee pulled Ellen from her stare of the picture. “If we can stop admiring the artwork, we’ll get started. Henry, you’re working on that microchip today. Correct?”

  “Yes.” Henry followed Dean and Ellen to the back lab. “Unless you need help with the rabbits.”

  “No, we need you on the chip. Robbie did bring that SUT back.” Dean flipped on the light switch and opened the special lab door. As soon as he did, an overwhelming sour, bad stench hit them. “Aw man.” He shook his head.

  Ellen held her nose and peered at the cages. “Gross, rabbit vomit.” She looked at the four rabbits, the ones who were fine the day before, were lying so helpless, their bodies quivering in their own regurgitation.

  Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. “Let’s get them out of this mess.” He looked at the other cages of rabbits. “These guys look fine.” He returned to the sick ones. “These ones definitely have the virus. Henry, why don’t you . . . Henry?” He saw Henry huddled in the corner, his shirt above his nose. “What is wrong with you?”

  “I can’t, Dean?” Henry’s eyes watered. “I’m really bad with smells. And . . . and animal puke.”

  Ellen giggled as she placed on her lab jacket then a single glove. “He isn’t lying, Dean. Henry is really good about some things, but stuff like this . . . no way.” Ellen opened the cage and lifted a rabbit. Gently, she set it back down, smirked, and walked to Henry. “Look Henry.” She held up her gloved hand. “Bunny throw up.” With her index finger, slightly moist with the animal’s vomit, she touched it down upon Henry’s arm. She laughed even harder when Henry just suddenly bolted out.

  “That’s really sick.” Dean removed a rabbit from a cage. “But funny. Now get over here and help me clean up these cages. Let’s see what you and I can do to save these rabbits.”

  ^^^^

  It was a chain reaction, a domino effect that Frank hated. With the oncoming winter, the cold air, the dampness of the morning caused the sniffle in his nose. The sniffle in his nose that caused a tickle in his throat which made him start to cough. Which then in turn, made Frank miserable. “Fuck.” He grunted as he made his rounds. He’d walk, spit, and then walk again.

  Before he made his final approach to perimeter seven, Frank did what he did every morning there. He bent down, searched out a heavy stick, stood back up and aimed toward the beam. A sizzling sound usually told him it was off track. So like he always did, Frank hurled the stick and waited for the sizzle or the sound of it hitting the ground. Frank got neither. Striking him as odd, Frank repeated his action, again, nothing. Was someone catching it before it hit the ground? Clenching his clipboard and pulling out his revolver, Frank made his way closer. The clipboard dropped from his hands and Frank dropped to his knees. “No.” He stared down to a face first Sarge. “No.” Rolling him over, the arrow that protruded from Sarge, broke. Hands still upon the cold skin, Frank found himself looking into a wide eyed dead stare. Adjusting the headset with a dropped heart, Frank called out. “Robbie. Dad.” He cleared his throat. “Bring a jeep to seven. Hurry.” Removing the remaining arrow from Sarge’s throat, Frank stood up, glaring out into the area beyond the perimeter, outside of Beginnings. “How did this happen?” He spoke out loud. “How?” Biting his lip in blame on himself, Frank bent back down, waiting with Sarge.

  Joe flicked his cigarette, blowing out the smoke loudly as he paced around the scene at perimeter seven. “All right. The arrow hit him from behind, so seeing the way his body fell; the attack definitely came from beyond the perimeter. Out there.” Joe pointed.

  Robbie’s foot moved about the leaves. “There was a struggle, check this out,” He indicated. “Sarge ran from there. Whoever he got, he tackled and they rolled. See the shifting of the leaves?”

  Joe nodded his head. “So there was more than one. A group maybe like we thought.” He bent down picking up an arrow. “Savages? Who else uses arrows?”

  Robbie threw his hands up. “They’re the only ones I’ve seen but I don’t think it was.”

  “It had to be. Do a sweep of the region to check.” Joe stared, shaking his head at the arrow. “How in Christ’s name did it happen though? How did the arrow sail through the beam? That’s a pretty lucky shot if you ask me.”

  Frank raised his head. “The beam wasn’t on.”

  “What?!” Joe marched closer to him. “Why was this beam not on?”

  “We . . .” Frank closed his eyes. “We were trying to catch whoever it was doing this. The beam was down when Sarge was up here. It went back on at four, like clockwork. It gave him access to run out if he saw someone. No one knew I had him up here. I’m to blame, it was my idea. If the beam would have been on, the arrow wouldn’t have made it through. It was my fault.”

  “You’re goddamn right this is your fault, Frank.” Joe threw the arrow down. “That was a stupid move. Stupid. Do you have any idea what kind of danger you put this community in? Do you!” Joe’s voice raised in such a scolding manner. “Sarge went down, and so was that perimeter. They could have come in here. They could have done damage. You’re lucky, Frank. Goddamn lucky that did not happen. Savages? You know what they are capable of! Your job is to protect not play undercover agent. And the worst part is, we had to lose a life in order for you to see that.”

  Robbie stepped in. “Dad, come on. Frank was just thinking . . .”

  “No Robbie!” Joe held up his hand. “Frank wasn’t thinking. That was the problem. He never thinks. Now a good man lies dead because of that.” Joe began to storm off. “We’re just lucky a whole lot more didn’t join him.”

  Robbie approached his silent brother. “Come on Frank. I’ll help you load up Sarge.”

  “Thanks.” Frank moved to Sarge’s legs. “And thanks for trying with dad.”

  “You were thinking right.” Robbie grunted as he lifted Sarge’s upper body. He helped carry the body to the jeep. “And Dad’s wrong.” With a thump, they placed Sarge’s huge body in the jeep. “It wasn’t savages. If it was, they would have come in. No, Frank. I think you and I ought to closely examine what happened here last night. Really examine it. Because I believe the whole truth isn’t laying in that broken arrow. There’s more to it. We just have to find it.”

  With a closed mouth, and not feeling like saying more, Frank climbed into the jeep with Robbie.

  ^^^^

  Ellen stopped to shake the pain in her only useful hand then returned to picking up the needle. “I didn’t learn to do this Dean to be a Vet.” She tried to insert the intravenous into the rabbit.

  Dean walked over to her. “Want me to do it?”

  “Yeah.” Ellen handed it to him. “It’s hard enough without being crippled.” She stood above Dean, watching him, when she saw Henry return. “Hey Henry? Feeling better?”

  “I’m mad at you El.” Henry poked
her lightly in the arm.

  “No you aren’t.” She waved her hand at him. “It was funny.”

  “I threw up.”

  “Henry, you always throw up.” Ellen smiled and watched Dean. “Really, how in the world would you ever handle having to take care of a child?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Henry neared her.

  Ellen fixed the tubing on the bunny IV. “Good job Dean, do the next one.” She handed him a needle. She glanced to Henry. “I mean, tell him Dean. Kids do gross things.”

  “Unfortunately.” Dean maneuvered the needle.

  “Terrible things,” Ellen continued. “The older they get, the worse the diapers get. Not to mention newborn baby boys. They pee on you. And gack, you think you’re bad, Henry. Babies throw up all the time. Ask Frank. He was playing with Brian, doing that lifting thing in the air, and his mouth found out the hard way that even when excited, babies gack with great aim.”

  Henry cringed, he cringed loudly and with a turn of his body. “Aw that’s . . .” He paused when he saw Frank’s head peeping in slightly through the other window. He made eye contact. “That’s sick.” Henry then saw Frank motion to the radio and point to the trailer. Henry nodded to him. “I’ll be right back, El.”

  Ellen looked up. “You aren’t throwing up again, are you?”

  “No, I have to um . . . I want to get a drink. My stomach feels funny.”

  Ellen saw him dart out, she returned to watching Dean as he moved to the next rabbit. “He’s puking again. Bet me. The Frank story threw him over the edge. Hey, Dean? Do you think any of this will work on the rabbits?”

  “Doubtful.” Dean said. “I’m trying variations of what I tried in the future. All trial and error.” Dean set down the needle he was attempting to insert in a rabbit. “This can really get impossible.” Through the corner of his eye, he saw Henry return. Dean’s voice conveyed the shock of Henry’s pale appearance. “Henry?”

  Ellen turned around. “Henry, you’re white as a ghost. You threw up again.”

  “No.” Henry said with a slight crack to his voice. “El . . . El, Frank needs to speak to you. He’s over at the bedroom window of the trailer.”

  “Something’s happened.” Ellen said. “What?”

  “Just go talk to him,” Henry instructed and handed her the radio.

  Ellen took it and after looking concerned at Henry, walked from the special lab.

  “Henry? What’s happened?” Dean asked.

  Waiting until he knew Ellen was out of ear shot, Henry let out a long breath, faced Dean with solace, and began break the news that Frank had just handed to him.

  The window in Ellen’s bedroom of the trailer was no bigger than two feet, and the little blind pulled all the way up, limited more of the window’s view, but there was enough there for Ellen to see Frank. Hands gripping the metal edges of the window, Ellen’s head was down.

  “El,” Frank spoke, his voice coming through the radio she had dropped on the floor. “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head then bent down to pick up the radio. “How . . . how bad . . . how bad did he suffer Frank?”

  “The arrow went right through the neck. Jason said the brain stem was severed. He probably died within a minute.”

  “Oh, God.” Ellen’s eyes closed and she put one hand on the glass. “This isn’t fair. We didn’t bring him to Beginnings to die.”

  “I know.”

  Eyes still shut; Ellen shook her head slowly back and forth. “For six years, Frank. Six years he lived alone out there, surviving. This isn’t right, this just isn’t right. I really liked him.”

  “I know you did. And I’m sorry.” Saddened Frank spoke. “I’m really sorry. Are you all right?”

  “No!” Ellen’s answer emotionally burst out then her voice softened. “No.”

  “I wish I could come in there with you.” Frank reached up to the window. He laid his hand over where Ellen’s was, wishing he could touch her. “El, I wish I could be in there to help you with this. I know you’re hurt. If I could . . .” Frank’s eyes moved from his view of Ellen. “Dean,” he said when he saw Dean walk into the bedroom.

  Hands in the front pockets of his pants, shoulder hunched, Dean apprehensively walked further in the room. His eyes connected with Frank’s and then he moved directly behind Ellen. His hand lifted and hesitated before he laid it on her shoulder at the same time he laid his lips to the back of Ellen’s head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to her.

  Ellen’s shoulder’s bounced first, then her head dropped further and she began to cry. Her body turned without thinking and she moved into Dean.

  Frank watched. His heart dropped. It was innocent and without malice, the comfort Dean gave Ellen. Frank knew that. But it still bothered him. Slowly he removed his hand that lay upon the glass pane. He looked at the empty spot at the window that moments before showed him Ellen’s hand. Then after rolling his fingers in a painful, frustrating clench of a fist, Frank looked once more at an embracing Dean and Ellen, then turned and walked away.

  ^^^^

  Former Quantico Marine Headquarters

  “No.” George spoke calmly as he paced a little while on the phone in his office. “No. If you even think he saw you, that was the thing to do . . .” He paused to listen. “I know but sometimes we have to kill people we like. That’s life.” George smiled and was proud at his comforting advice. “Now. Our plan of action has to be to stall or destroy any progress they make without bringing suspicion, so incorporate some help, especially that lunatic. He’ll work.” George nodded. “Good. And what’s going on with this Forrest Caceres thing . . . you’re shitting me? Why is everyone so hyped? Never mind, don’t answer that. We’re talking about the people of Beginnings. The same ones that have a goddamn picnic every October just get back to me. Thanks.” George hung up the phone. Not a second after the receiver met the base, George heard a pair of combat boots hitting against the floor. The stride was audible and it carried a heaviness as it drew closer.

  A hard double knock was struck against his door.

  “Come in,” George called out.

  “Sir.” Sgt. Doyle walked inside and immediately closed the door. “Sorry to bother you. We have a problem.”

  “When don’t we?” George sat down behind his desk. “What’s wrong?”

  “The holding camp down near Frederickson was raided. Twenty-two guards down and not a single prisoner waiting on enhancement remains.”

  George sprang up. “What the hell happened? Savages?”

  Sgt. Doyle’s heavy hand came pummeling to George’s desk with a ‘slam’. He lifted, released his fingers, and dropped from his huge hand a red bandana. The tube note rolled out. “Remember Hemsley said he thought it was a trade mark. He was right. We think they’re headed south. Without waiting, sir, I put the order out to find them. I sent out what scout troops I could to canvass the entire southern region. They aren’t a large group. They won’t be easy to find. But we’ll find them. We at least believe this was the last hit.”

  “And why do we believe that?” George asked.

  “Along with arrogance, there is a sense of sincerity in that note.” Sgt. Doyle pointed to it. “You may want to read it.”

  Unrolling the message, George rested his right hand on the bandana as he read the words on the paper that the Captain had written . . .

  We could not leave without saying goodbye. Without taking full blame for what we have done. The Society’s plan to rebuild this country, start it again and protect it from foreign influence are insightful and not without valor. However, the means in which you wish to incorporate this plan is most definitely without heart. Of that we cannot be a part. We are few in your world of many. Because of that we must disappear for a time. But we’ll return somewhere around the period where you’ve reached ‘out of sight, out of mind’. Until then . . . we bid farewell.

  Sgt. Doyle watched George stare at the note. “Sir? What do you make of it?”

  George swi
ped up the bandana in an angry grip. “What do I make of it? With everything else that’s going on . . .” He crumbled the note and tossed it. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Beginnings, Montana

  Robbie struggled, but his laughing didn’t help. Bending down, he braced Mike the dog under the arms and lifted him to his feet. Feeling that he had him in an upright position, Robbie would start to release. “Now Mike, stand.” As soon as Robbie stepped away, Mike fell down to his hands and knees again. “No.” Robbie grabbed him again. Reaching down for him, Mike snarled and barked, not at Robbie, but at Frank who was walking into the skills room. “Mike, no! Shit . . . Frank put away the gun.” Shaking his head, Robbie pulled Mike from the grip he had on Frank’s pant legs.

  “Do something with him Robbie,” Frank said. “I can’t be coming in here getting attacked by that mutt.”

  “Sorry.” Robbie looked around. He saw Diane. “Diane.” Pulling Mike by the collar, he brought him to her. “See what you can do with the speech thing today. Any luck yesterday?”

  “No. But he did give me his paw to shake.” Diane smiled and took the leash that was attached Mike’s collar. “You know, Ellen is going to have a fit if she finds out you’re doing this. She worked really hard on teaching him new tricks.”

  “Yeah,” Robbie sulked. “But my dad told me yesterday, after Mike snapped at him, that enough was enough. He becomes a viable person or he goes. See what you can do with him, I have to talk to my brother.” Robbie, running his hand over his head, moved to Frank. “What’s up?”

  “I talked to John Matoose. He said he was in bed last night between those hours.”

  “Confirmed. I spoke to Jenny. She said John was sick in bed.”

  “Shit. All right. We still have another option at hand. Walk with me.” Frank began to leave the skills room.

  “What’s the other option?” Robbie asked.

  “Mo . . . I mean Reverend Thomas. Check this out. Henry said he was up by the mobile last night watching them. Just watching them for two nights in a row.”