The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 24

  Ashtonville, Connecticut

  Seven times? William shook his head, rolled his eyes, and glanced back down at the book he read as he sat in the easy chair of the home two doors down and across from Ellen’s. “Dean. Stop it,” he spoke through his reading.

  “Stop what?” Dean ran his fingers through his wet hair. “Dad?” He saw what his father read. “Of Mice and Men?”

  “What’s wrong with it?” William turned a page.

  “Is that the only book you read?”

  “It’s the book I love.” William calmly lifted his eyes over his reading glasses, watched Dean move about, then he looked back down to the page. “You’re pacing.”

  “I’m bored.”

  “You’re anxious.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are,” William said. “Go.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s late.”

  “Is the light on?” William asked as he turned another page.

  Dean peeked out the window.

  “You really need to look?”

  “Yes.” Dean looked.

  “Is it on?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go.” William spoke in a monotone.

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “I’ll go.”

  “Go.”

  “Thanks. ’Night.” Dean moved quickly from the living room to the foyer.

  The second William heard the front door slam he slid more comfortably and relaxed into his chair. “Thank God.” He flipped another page.

  Ellen thought about going back down to her living room and turning off the lights. But she figured, what was the use. With the tea party chair at Taylor’s bedside, Ellen set the huge unlit candle and matches on the night stand. She prepared to sit on the chair that kept her face-to-face with Taylor, but before she sat, she turned to the knock on the archway. “Dean.”

  “Hi.” He stayed in the doorway. “I, uh, hope you don’t mind me just coming up.”

  “No. Not at all. How were the tests?”

  “I’m sorry. No change.” He cleared his throat. “I’m trying.”

  “I know you are.” Ellen smiled and sat down on the little chair. She noticed Dean still standing there. “Did you want to come in?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.”

  “I’m not feeling comfortable in that house yet. I don’t know why.”

  “Pull up a chair. I’m just sitting.”

  “Thanks.” Dean walked over to the table set and grabbed a tea party chair. He pulled it to the other side of Taylor’s bed and sat down. “Taylor’s sleeping pretty soundly.”

  “She’s worn out.”

  Dean tilted his head in question to Ellen. “Worn out?”

  “Henry was playing Barbie dolls with her.”

  Dean let out a single chuckle and a shake of his head. “Did he have the Barbie dolls complain about President Hadley?”

  “As a matter of fact ...” Ellen smiled. “No. He stuck to bickering about Ken.”

  Dean reached up and laid his hand on Taylor’s little one. His fingers lifted and touched hers. “You know, children’s hands amaze me.”

  “Why is that?” Ellen asked softly.

  “Well, look at them.” Dean lifted Taylor’s index finger. “Tiny. Delicate. So small. Yet ... they use them so well.”

  Ellen, listening to Dean, brought her fingers to the same hand of Taylor’s that Dean held.

  “Look at these.” Dean shook his head once in wonder. “I know I couldn’t work with hands this small.” There was a smiling moment as both Dean and Ellen leaned into Taylor. Dean’s eyes caught Ellen’s in that smile and connected in a quiet stare. He lifted his index finger and ran it softly over the back of her hand. Catching himself, he retracted his hand and cleared his throat in nervousness as he sat back. “So, um ... what’s with the candle?”

  “Oh.” Ellen looked at the large blueberry candle. “Being prepared. Joe says it won’t be long before the power goes out.”

  “That is the fourth time I heard that today. Now how does Joe ...” The hum of a power surge interrupted Dean’s sentence. It slowed down to a low tone and then there was total blackness. Dean chuckled once. “ ... know.”

  The sizzle of the ignited match announced the flame that lit Ellen’s face. She smiled at Dean then lit the candle.

  DAY SEVEN

  Thursday, June 4th

  Ashtonville, Connecticut

  Markings of death, Carl called them. It was the only way they could keep track as they went about cleaning up what they could of Ashtonville. Everyone paired off and checked homes for bodies as Henry did with Miguel. After placing the body of a woman in the back of the truck, Henry stepped away, lowered his face mask, and walked up to the woman’s little blue frame house. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a small can of spray paint, and across the closed front door he sprayed a huge letter ‘X’. House finished; empty, complete. Solemnly Henry walked back to the truck where Miguel waited to drive on.

  For some reason, for the first time he could recall, Dean experienced the cold scientist inside him disappear as he watched Ellen in the makeshift lab at Doc Breyer’s clinic. Dean felt it; he felt the shock of it ricochet through him as he watched Ellen turn to the lab counter. It was like it happened in slow motion. Her arms went down, her head dropped then she buried her face in her hands.

  “No.” Her words were muffled and sad through her fingers. “No, Dean. Yesterday she smiled. Today ...”

  “Ellen.” Dean rushed from his equipment to her side. “It’s just the fever.”

  “Why is it rising again?”

  “She’s building an immunity to the fever reducer we’re using. That’s all. We’ll try another.” He moved closer to her trying his best to speak in a reassuring voice. “Listen to me. The virus is still in remission. It hasn’t progressed. That is good. Ok?”

  “But ...”

  “No buts.” Dean pulled her hands from her face and leaned in close to her as he lowered his voice to a passionate whisper. “You said you trusted me. Trust me, Ellen. We’re not out of options yet. Don’t give up on me.”

  Listening to his words and feeling his strong grip on her hand, Ellen slipped her fingers in between his. Closing her eyes, she clenched on to not only his fingers but to his words of hope as well.

  Highway 25 - Outskirts, Ashtonville, CT

  Frank’s motorcycle sputtered its last bit of gas; he rode it until it stopped on its own. Catching his foot on the uneven ground and nearly tripping as he hopped from the cycle when it fell sideways, Frank stared down the road ahead of him. The surroundings looked familiar. The red brick house with the huge wooden front porch, which sat far off the road to his left, was a welcome sign. He knew where he was. He had seen that house many times. “I know it’s not that far now, I can hoof it.” Frank picked up his backpack, tossed it over his shoulder, and began to walk the road first at a snail’s pace, then with a trot. He was tired, he was hungry, and he was only five miles from home.

  Ashtonville, Connecticut

  Joe and William unloaded gas cans on Elks Drive. Joe stopped what he was doing to watch Ellen and Dean slowly walk back toward Ellen’s home. The worry, the concern on Joe’s face; the same expression William too would have on his face if he were in Joe’s shoes. In a way William was in his own worrisome situation. Taylor’s fate rested upon his son. It was a heavy responsibility for Dean but one William was confident he could handle.

  “I know my son,” William spoke as he approached Joe from behind, laying a hand on Joe’s back. “This is only a minor setback. He will get this.”

  Joe let out a grateful breath. Glad to hear those words from William, he gave an appreciative smile to him then continued in his work.

  Frank didn’t stop running. Once he made it to the outskirts of Ashtonville, he picked up speed and headed directly to his street. It was empty, vacant, but Frank didn’t
focus on that. He focused on his house not that far down the road. Up the lawn to his porch, dropping his belongings as he charged, he bolted straight through the front door. “Hello!” he called out. “Kelly! Johnny!” Frank didn’t have to go any farther than the entrance hall. The house was not only quiet, it was dark. All the blinds had been drawn and there was a sour smell of death that lingered and seeped into Frank telling him what he didn’t want to know. The door was still open; Frank turned and walked back out. He saw his things right where he left them on the lawn; he had to get them and go back into the house. Moving slowly off his porch Frank picked up his bags. He wasn’t listening for noises of life in Ashtonville. But he heard it and in a form he didn’t expect: Undeniably and very clearly, his father’s voice called out.

  “Jesus Christ, Henry!” Joe yelled.

  Frank smiled and looked toward the direction from which the voice echoed. Frank sped in that direction through the yards of the houses in between. Frank emerged two streets over; his things dropped from his hands and he couldn’t move. He breathed heavily when he saw his father.

  Joe shook his head in disgust, staring at the smashed front end of the pickup truck. Henry stood by the hood, hands in pockets looking around as if nothing was wrong.

  “Not a goddamn car on the road.” Joe griped. “How in the hell did you wreck?”

  “Very easily, Joe. I was looking through the music and when I looked up, there was a tree.”

  Joe stood up straight and scratched his head. He was getting ready to say something rude when he saw Frank trotting toward him. “Oh, my God.” Joe gasped, his heart pounding in his chest. “Frank.” He took off running toward his son.

  Henry was lost. “Frank? Who’s Frank?”

  “Frank!” Joe shrieked in excitement, grabbing hold of his much bigger son and clinging to him as Frank clung back.

  A moan of excitement and enthusiasm rolled from Frank’s chest. “Yes! I knew you were alive. I just knew it.”

  After kissing Frank on the cheek, Joe stepped back. “And ... guess who else.”

  “Dad! Dad!” Johnny raced up the street.

  The muscles in Frank’s neck tensed as he clenched his jaws and fists. He grinned widely, bending his knees then taking off toward Johnny. He swept his son up into his arms. Body against body he held Johnny tight, not wanting to let go of the reality of holding him. He closed his eyes in gratitude.

  “Good to have you back.” Joe stepped closer to the two, laying his hand on Frank’s shoulder.

  Frank opened his eyes. “Dad, what about my ...”

  “I’m … I’m sorry, Frank.” Joe slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  Frank closed his eyes again and held Johnny even tighter.

  Dean undid the tourniquet from Taylor’s arm then removed the tube of blood he had filled. “I need a temperature, El.” He set the tube on the night stand and lifted the clipboard.

  Ellen inserted the aural thermometer into Taylor’s ear. After the beep, she removed it and spoke with disappointment. “102.”

  “It hasn’t risen.” Dean wrote down the results. “That’s good.”

  “But it’s still higher than yesterday.” Ellen placed the thermometer on the nightstand at the same time her name was called.

  Joe spoke calmly and softly yet seriously. “Ellen.”

  Slowly Ellen turned away from the bed to see Joe standing in the doorway. And then … she saw Frank. Every ounce of air escaped her, her insides dropped and her knees buckled the moment she laid eyes on him. She cried out and raced for him. Her hands clenched tightly as Frank gripped Ellen, wrapped his huge arms around her, and lifted her from her feet in an embrace.

  “Oh, my God.” Frank spoke deeply, pressing his face to hers.

  “Right now, you are the person I needed to see most in this world.” Ellen cried through her words.

  Frank set her down on her feet not breaking the contact of their bodies. He pulled back only a little so he could look at her. His large hands ran across her face feeling every inch of her then he softly kissed her. With a smile he kissed her again. His lips moved quickly with excitement and pulled at hers with gratitude. Laughing at how unbelievable it was, he pulled away from the kiss and kept his hands firmly on her face.

  Joe didn’t want to do it, but before anything else was said or done, he had to step in. “I hate to steal him, Ellen, but I ... I really need to sit down and talk with Frank.”

  Ellen pulled Frank’s hands from her face and held them. Her face dropped and she looked at Joe. “I understand.” She turned back to Frank. “Go with your father.”

  Frank stepped back as Joe pulled his arm. He paused, leaned forward and kissed Ellen again. “I love you.” He took a shivering breath. “I’ll be back. Then you are never getting rid of me. Never.” He moved backwards. “I love you.” He didn’t let go of Ellen’s hand until their fingers slipped apart as he moved toward the door.

  Ellen smiled. Frank had returned. She exhaled with a quiver and wiped her hand across her face.

  Dean had done nothing as he witnessed the reunion. His hands didn’t work. His body didn’t move. He was just speechless. He looked at Ellen who watched the empty door. When Ellen turned around with vastly improved spirits, Dean realized that he was staring at her and nervously returned to his work with Taylor.

  Frank was uplifted when they first had a seat in Joe’s dining room, but that soon ended. Joe hated the thought of telling Frank the hardest and most painful news that Joe had to deliver in his life. It wasn’t the news that Frank’s wife and other children had died; Joe somehow knew Frank would have prepared himself for that. But there was no preparing for the news of how they died. After a lot of thought and debate on if he really should, Joe delivered the truth before Frank found it out from someone else.

  “Frank,” Joe whispered. “There was no way to stop it. Her mind was made up. I’m very, very sorry.”

  Holding the note, Frank spread his fingers wide and closed them around the paper, crumpling Kelly’s suicide note within his palm. “How could she do this? How could she kill my kids?” His head dropped to the table. The horrible reality of what he had never expected to face hit Frank. He buried his head in his arms as a single sob escaped him.

  DAY SEVEN - EVENING

  Ashtonville, Connecticut

  George spread the third map on Joe’s dining room table. “Now let me show you this before you take this over to William. This here ...” His hand smoothed over the map. “This is a closer look at the farming region.”

  “This whole section is farming?” Joe whistled.

  “Yes. A lot for the groundbreakers to farm at first, but as the community grows, well, it will come in handy.”

  “Completely surrounded by mountains?”

  “Valley setting. Perfectly secluded and protected setting. Some mountains had to be cut out as you can see.”

  Joe listened and nodded. “Question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “You were here … when?”

  “Garfield?” George cleared his throat. “Never.”

  “So this could very well be a fairy tale.”

  “A very expensive fairy tale. The government paid yearly fees to maintain the land.”

  Joe chuckled. “No offense, but you never know. Someone in the government could have set this whole thing up as a way to pull funds into a hefty retirement account for himself. You know how gullible the government is when it comes to funds. Those rumors of the ten thousand dollar hammers started somewhere.”

  George tilted his head. “True. That’s why I want a team of us to go out there first. See it as a reality.”

  Joe nodded in agreement. “Check it out. See what it needs. Scout the route.”

  “Create an exact plan of action.”

  “We’re gonna have to form teams to go out for the stockpiles.”

  “Can’t do that without seeing what we need.”

  “We should set up a trip soon.”

  “I agree,”
George said. “Let me show you the expansion area.”

  “You mean the supposed … expansion area.” Joe chucked, as did George. He reached for cigarette and in doing so, he saw Frank, damp from showering, step into the dining room.

  “Dad.” Frank sounded groggy, his face red. “I’m uh ... Johnny’s settled. I uh ... I’m going to El’s. I’ll be back.”

  “I think you need to do that. Spend some time with your friend.” Joe walked to Frank, laid a firm hand on his arm and listened to the saddened breath come from his son. “But for Johnny’s sake, you should be back before he wakes up. Explaining to him …” Joe dropped his voice, “why you spent the night with Ellen, now is not a good time. Not with his mother just dying.”

  “I know. I understand. I thought of that. The Ellen-me thing …put it this way. The truth can wait. He’s too young, and the situation is too screwed up to explain.”

  “Good.”

  “I’ll be back.” Frank didn’t say any more. He just turned and sluggishly walked out of the house.

  Joe stood there for a moment watching, even after Frank was gone. He took a few seconds to recall his meeting mindset then Joe went back to speaking and viewing maps with George.

  Dean hid his smile as he stood across from Ellen in Taylor’s room. “Close your eyes, Ellen.”

  Ellen shook her head and reluctantly, without verbally responding, allowed him to cover her eyes with his hand.

  “Ready?” From behind his back, Dean pulled out the aural thermometer. He lifted his hand at the same time he held the digital display in Ellen’s view.