State of Time: Beginnings Series Book 6 Page 2

  “Well, he doesn’t have that many to choose from so I guess we’re all in luck.” Joe said.

  “Joseph!” Andrea gasped out. “This is not a joke. When you stand before the doors of salvation wondering why you can’t get in then you’ll know.”

  “Andrea, calm down.” Joe tried to sooth her in his own way, of course. “There’s a logical explanation for all this.”

  “How?” She asked. “How can you explain Henry Kusakari disappearing before my eyes?”

  Dean calmly had the answer as he stepped to her “Menopause.”

  “What?” Andrea looked at him.

  “Christ.” Joe rolled his eyes and stepped back.

  “Yes.” Dean nodded rational. “Some woman experience hot flashes, some mood swings. A lot, more than you know of, experience seeing people disappear before their eyes. It’s the lower estrogen level causing a chemical imbalance in the brain.”

  With a hidden, but still heard laughter, Ellen held up her hand. “Excuse me.” She covered her mouth and raced from the room.

  “Dr. Hayes.” Andrea sounded offended. “Are you making a mockery of my mature woman stature because you can’t accept the Lord’s judgment?”

  “I’m not.” Dean held up his hand. “Henry is not . . .” He raised his eyes and smiled. “He’s not gone. See?” He pointed to Henry in the door.

  Andrea turned to look and then she screamed jumping back.

  Henry screamed. “What!” He spun looking quickly behind him fearful that Andrea saw a mouse. When he turned back around, Andrea had pelted herself at him and embraced him.

  “See, Andrea.” Dean walked up to behind her and patted her on the back. “Menopause. Just be prepared the next time it happens.” He smiled and brushed by her and Henry as he walked out.

  “Dean.” Henry jolted his head. “Excuse me, Andrea.” He pulled her arms from him. “Dean, wait. I have to talk to you about history.”

  Slowly Joe approached Andrea.

  “I feel so silly.” Andrea said. “Acting like that over a menopause side effect…running amuck like a fool.”

  “Don’t you worry your little menopausal head about it.” Joe laid his hand on her back. “It could be worse. You could act like Frank, Dean and Henry. Then people would really think you’re strange.”

  Andrea nodded her agreement.

  ^^^^

  Attempts at trying to work were futile. Frank sat behind his desk staring at the stack of reports at least two inches high. But he couldn’t lift one of them. His mind was cluttered, far off. His brain wrestled about wondering where he went wrong. What did he do? What could he have done? Perhaps the failure in wanting to see his brother in the ‘perfect’ light had a lot to do with the fact that they shouldn’t have been messing around with time. If disappointment was his payback, Frank was drowning in debt.

  One thing was for sure, he couldn’t work. He had to find Ellen. Surely if things were back to normal, so were they. Walking instead of taking his bike, Frank headed home. His heart nearly skipped a beat when he saw Ellen heading toward the living section. “El.” He called out.

  Ellen stopped. Pulling her coat closed, she turned around with a smile and waved.

  “Hey.” Frank trotted up to her. “Where you off to?”

  “Home. Josh picked up the kids. What are you doing?”

  Frank shrugged. “Not much. I wanted to work. I have a little headache. El, this is gonna sound dumb. Are we . . . are we O.K.?”

  Ellen hesitated in curiosity before answering. “Yeah, why? Did I forget a fight or something?”

  “No.” Frank smiled. “Another silly question. What step are we on in the twelve step plan?” Frank cringed, just in case he was wrong.

  Ellen laughed a single syllable laugh and pointed. “Now see who’s lacking in the marriage enthusiasm. Ha!” Ellen tossed her head back. “Six.”

  “Six.” Frank nodded. “Just checking.”

  “I’ve been reading while you were running around with time machine memory loss.” Ellen gave a ‘so there’ look.

  “Can we get together and work on it tonight? I know step six is memories. Can we?”

  “Sure.” Ellen nodded. “But I must warn you. If you’re gonna pull the chivalrous act and not put out, I’m not doing open mouth kissing. If you keep getting me worked up, I’m gonna have to go home and take it out on poor Henry.” Ellen giggled. “Do you suppose he likes women? I often wonder.” She noticed his far off look as he stared at her. “Frank?”

  “I love you.” He laid his hand on her cheek. “I really love you.”

  “Are you all right?” Ellen asked with concern. “You seem down.”

  “I am. A little.” Frank let out a breath and tried to change the subject. “God, the town’s empty. Where is every . . .” Frank hunched in surprise when the loud rattle, clank, and bangs filled the air. “What the hell?”

  “Silly.” Ellen giggled. “Did you forget it’s Friday afternoon? Hence the answer to your question, where everyone is, they are hiding from that.”

  Frank winced. “Is that . . . drums?”

  “I often ask the same question when Denny warms up.”

  Frank’s head lifted in surprise. “Denny? Andrea’s Denny is playing drums?”

  “Yeah, Frank.” Ellen said. “He plays with the band? Remember?”

  “What band?” Frank asked his enthusiasm rising.

  “The Starters. Beginnings band.”

  “Who . . .” Frank stepped backward to where the noise supposedly came from. “Who started it?”

  “Paul did when . . . hey!” Ellen yelled when she saw Frank take off. She chased him.

  Into the social hall Frank flew banging the door open on his entrance. The drums stopped. “Denny.” He gasped out. “Oh, my God.” And when he saw Paul turn around with the bass, he laughed like an excited kid. “Paul!” Frank shrieked in enthusiasm. “Shit! Good to see you!”

  Eyes going from guitar to Frank, Paul gave an odd look. “Yeah, you too, Frank.”

  But Frank still searched. His eyes shifted. Paul was there. Denny was there. And as soon as he went to ask himself the final question, he felt the grip to his arm and heard the whisper in his ear.

  “I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Glad you came. We did learn the song for you.”

  Frank felt the flutter of his stomach. And the swat to his back dropped his heart to the pit of his soul. He couldn’t breathe, especially when from behind, with a wide grin, stepped . . . Robbie.

  “No dancing, Frank. We know how you are.” Robbie gave a chuckle and took a step to the stage.

  “Robbie.” The words ached as they came from Frank and he reached out and grabbed his brother’s arm. He pulled him back. And when Robbie turned to face Frank, Frank locked a stare onto him, eyes to eyes, deeply. Releasing Robbie’s arm, Frank took a step and laid both of his huge hands on Robbie’s cheeks. He pulled him closer, looking into Robbie’s blue eyes as if he were reaching and looking into Robbie’s soul. “It’s there.” Frank whispered out.

  “Uh . . . Frank?” Robbie said with a slight smile. “You aren’t gonna kiss me, are you? I feel a romantic incestuous entanglement creeping up.”

  Frank laughed, hard and filled with emotions. “You bet.” Yanking Robbie forward, Frank kissed him on the forehead and released his little brother at the same time his kiss ended with a loud smack.

  “Thanks.” Robbie rubbed his forehead. “I have to play now.” He spoke pacifying to Frank as he walked backwards toward the stage area set up in the corner.

  “Robbie,” Frank called out. “I’m not drunk.”

  Robbie snickered with a shake of his head. “When do you get drunk?”

  With a quiet, excited, ‘yes’, Frank clenched his fist. “I’m not the town drunk.” He looked down to the tap on his arm. “El?”

  “Are you all right?” She asked.

  “Oh yeah.” He watched Robbie place on his guitar. “Couldn’t be better.”

  ^^^^

  “I want
to go home!” Trish’s complaining voice seeped into the back history room. “It’s four-forty-two and we know what’s gonna happen!”

  Over the print up of history, Henry looked at Dean. “What is she talking about?”

  “Beats me.” Dean said. “We’re lucky to get in here without an appointment. Now, go on. What is it?”

  “Ready?” Henry asked. He took a deep breath and lifted a page. “Take a look.”

  Before Dean could look down, his attention was drawn to the music, loud, upbeat, and almost a happy older rock. “What is that?”

  “Our band.” Henry said. “Courtesy of . . .” His finger pointed to the paper.

  Dean looked. “Shit.” He took off from the room.

  Sweeping up the print-out, Henry followed.

  Trish watched them dart out past her. “Thank God! As if I’m not busy enough.”

  Henry and Dean ran top speed out of History, almost to the beat of the music, following it to where it came from. Quickly through the social hall door they blasted, both skidding to a stop beside Frank.

  “Oh, my God.” Dean looked up to Robbie singing and playing on the stage. “It worked. We did it.”

  Frank grinned. “We did it.” Arms folded Frank watched with pride to his brother play.

  “Frank?” Henry stepped closer. “Is it me or does Robbie look different.”

  “Yeah.” Dean agreed. “There’s something different about him.”

  “You’re right.” Frank said. “Look at his eyes.”

  Watching Robbie, so happy, play his guitar, Frank saw it and so did Dean and Henry. No matter how rugged the edges were on his young handsome face, no matter how many scars of war Robbie had, the gleam of his bright blue eyes showed the ageless innocence of Robbie. It was an innocence that wasn’t there when Robbie showed up in Beginnings a year before in the history when Robbie was married to Ellen. It was back. Or rather, never lost. And Frank knew he didn’t just have Robbie back in his life, he had his little brother.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Frank.” Joe snapped to get his attention in the crowded and loud social hall. “Are you listening?”

  “Yeah.” Frank nodded, took a drink, and gave a motion of his head to the playing band. “Pretty good.”

  “Not to Robbie’s band. To me. And thank God they’re almost done.” Joe sipped his whiskey. “I couldn’t take any more than two hours of this shit.”

  “Dad!” Frank gasped out. “Such lack of support.”

  “And you.” Joe pointed. “You’re acting like you never heard them.”

  “I haven’t.” Frank saw Joe gaze up. “I mean. I have. But, what I’m trying to say is . . . have any of us really listened to the band. I mean really . . .”

  “Frank. Enough.” Joe rubbed his temple. “Do you have a problem with it?”

  “The band? No. I like them.”

  “Not the band.” Joe slammed his hand on the bar. “Robbie going to Cleveland to check out the cryo-lab at the same time Ellen will be in quarantine following the future trip.”

  “Yeah, a little. I’d like to spend some time reminiscing with Robbie.”

  “What the hell is the matter with you?” Joe asked. “I could care less what you and your brother have to talk about. I’m talking about running security and your family.”

  “What about it?”

  “Will you have a problem with it? Will it be too much?”

  “Dad, please.” Frank scoffed. “I’m Frank.”

  “Unfortunately,” Joe grumbled. He then sighed in relief when the silence of the finishing band hit. “Thank God. Frank, let me ask you something now that I don’t have to shout over the band.” He waited until he not only had Frank’s attention but comprehension that he was about to be asked a question. “You guys came through the machine today.” Joe spoke in a low voice. “Why? You obviously had to change something back. I can steal the history disks, but tell me.”

  “You can’t yell,” Frank said. When he saw Joe lift his hand in a promise, Frank leaned down toward the bar. “When we came back from the past trip . . . everything was gone. Beginnings was gone.”

  “Gone?” Joe stated in such disbelief.

  “Nuclear war.” Frank made a mouth blast sound. “There was even this odd purple cloud. We figured it had to do with the call Dean made to himself concerning the plague. So we had to come back and stop Dean.”

  “And how exactly did you get back to stop Dean?” Joe asked.

  “Jason sent us.”

  “Uh-huh.” Joe nodded. “A nuclear war. A purple cloud. No more Beginnings yet Jason was here.”

  “Dad, it was the oddest thing.” Frank looked up when Robbie approached. “I guess, you know, some things are meant to be.”

  Robbie reached between his father and Frank and grabbed Frank’s half empty glass. He downed it. “Hey, Frank. Ready?”

  “Yep.” Frank stood straight. “See ya Dad.”

  “Frank,” Joe called to him. “Just tell me this. It was screwed up. Did you fix it?”

  “No.” Frank shook his head. “We made it better.” With a smile he walked from the social hall with Robbie.

  Robbie snickered. “Man, what has gotten into you? I swear you’ve been hanging around Dean too much. All calm.”

  “A lot has happened.” Frank stopped walking.

  “Frank?” Robbie looked at him. “Is something bothering you? Everything’s all right. Right?”

  “Yeah. But . . . aside from no longer being the town drunk, some things changed. Feel like talking for a while?”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “It is.” Frank nodded. “I need you to have an open mind.”

  “You got it.” Robbie gave a twitch to his head and started to walk. “Let’s go.”

  Frank was ready for the laughter, ready for the ridicule because he was ready to talk. There was a lot Frank needed to find out, to know, and he had to hear it, especially from his brother’s mouth.

  ^^^^

  Former Quantico Marine Headquarters

  “It’s a grab and go.” Steward explained as he took a seat across from George in the office. “Whoever is sneaking in here hasn’t a clue what they want. They hit one of our buildings, grab what they can and go.” Steward shrugged. “Last night’s little invasion and tonight’s don’t match up. I mean the information they got on both nights isn’t even vaguely similar.”

  George nodded his comprehension. “I realize that. But just running in and grabbing can be detrimental to us as well.”

  “How?” Steward asked. “You are talking forty-two men. Forty-two.”

  “I know that doesn’t seem like a lot. And in comparison to us, it isn’t. But just as we build, they could too. And they knowing what we have isn’t favorable to us.”

  “I understand your concerns about that,” Steward said and prepared to say more when a knock was at the door.

  George looked up. “Must be Doyle. Come in,” He called out.

  Sgt. Doyle stepped in. “Sirs.” He greeted George and Steward. “Scout report.” He held up a small sheet of paper.

  “And? George asked.

  “All indications are there that these men are our defectors. Whether or not they are the ones that came in and stole information remains to be seen.” Sgt. Doyle explained. “Scouts report forty-four men all of prime age and in good shape. They apparently have a makeshift camp set up. No long term signs. They are definitely temporary there.”

  George leaned back in his chair. “They could have picked up two more men out there. Seeing that they’re so close, let’s not take a chance.”

  Sgt. Doyle nodded. “I agree. I’d like a dawn hit. Four eight man squads led by Sgt. Hemsley. I’ll notify the scouts to stay put and do nothing.”

  George nodded.

  Steward stood up slowly. “I’ll notify the surgical crew to prepare for immediate removal with this batch. They can be in limbo until implantation.”

  “No,” George said, causing Steward to stop. “No.”
<
br />   Steward looked in surprise. “No? You worry about these men. Through your concerns, do we want to lose another scout master or records man at their hands when they try to escape again?”

  “Absolutely not,” George said. “And I made mention to take no chances. And we won’t. No gas, Sgt. Doyle. No cyborg enhancement. At dawn, sneak attack, heavy fire. As Steward keeps reiterating, they’re only forty-some men.” George gave a nonchalant attitude. “So just wipe them out.”

  ^^^^

  Lee-Curtis Mansion

  Arlington National Cemetery

  The hand sharpened pencil tapped upon the tattered scrap paper he wrote upon. At the oak kitchen table in the former historical tourist attraction, Elliott Ryder sat by a dimly lit lantern. The small flame flickered a dance in his dark Hispanic eyes that shifted to the battery powered radio. He stared for a moment at what he had written, then reached over and shut off the hissing transmission. Fingertips cold, Elliott huffed on his hands before he grabbed his paper and the lantern. A man in his thirties, thin and fit, began his journey to deliver the news.

  A few specks of illumination were in the house. Most came from the fireplaces with small burning fires to keep the men warm while they slept. Most of the men rested but a few engaged in conversation.

  From the basement level he walked up, shivering from the cold and shuddering from the eerie feeling of being in the icon of the civil war. He didn’t like it there. It was damp and ghostly. Of course, being set in the middle of a cemetery aided in that. To Elliott, it was spookier than the entire dead country. Not to mention there was just something weird about it. But he understood why they went there just that morning. Elliott himself preferred the ‘wait and stay’ in the White house. Gathering up information there was easy, plus Washington D.C., for some reason, had power so the White house was warm. But everyone was together again with all information that could be retrieved and the society solders moved frequently through the overgrown capitol preparing it for something. Moving about for supplies had to be done through the sewer system or former subway. It was a tedious task, not to mention dangerous, with the society growing everywhere. It was time to move to safer, higher ground. And they did . . . literally... on top of a hill in the most famous cemetery.