The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Read online

  “Lube?”

  “Lube.” Dean reached for the glove compartment, opened it, and pulled out two masks and a jar of menthol chest rub. “Place it all around your nostrils before you put on the mask.”

  “Ah, the Joe trick.”

  Dean paused as he dipped his fingers into the salve. “Joe trick.”

  “Yeah, he said he used to use this when he went to autopsies.” Ellen shrugged and took the jar from Dean.

  After they had ‘lubed’, the facial masks strapped to them, they left the truck and approached the hospital. What little lawn there was had became a shrine of dead who never made it into the health care facility.

  Maggot-ridden, decomposed bodies spread out across the grass, some on cots, some not. Dean and Ellen made their way through the maze of hopeless victims, along with carcasses of rats and other animals who had come to their remains in desperate search of food.

  Ellen opened the main door to an even more horrific scene. What lay ahead in the hospital, visually, was far worse than what had lain across the lawn. What had happened to the world impacted her right then and there. Men, woman, and children, all who came in dire need of help, arrived only to find their final resting place. Reality. Ellen wasn’t alone in her loss. Ashtonville wasn’t the only town hit by the plague.

  “Dean, let’s just get what we need and get out as quickly as we can,” she said.

  “I’m with you,” Led by the beam of his flashlight, Dean scooted by Ellen. “I’ll go to the desk and see if there’s a directory.”

  Ellen stared straight ahead, trying not to look at any one corpse.

  “Ellen, I found one.”

  Ellen turned, but as she did, she bumped into a cart. Catching herself mid-fall, she looked down, and the wide-open blue eyes of the tiny little girl who laid there stared at her. “Oh, God.” She dropped her flashlight and ran from the hospital.

  “Ellen!” Dean chased her until they reached the truck.

  Ellen jumped in and shut the door. She took off her mask and folded her arms close to her body.

  “Ellen.” Dean boarded the truck, and took off his mask. “Are you all right?”

  “I was until I saw her.”

  “Who?”

  “That little girl, that small girl, she could have been my daughter. Oh God, Dean, I tried so hard to keep that vision from my mind. That vision of my daughter. It all just came storming back.”

  “I’m sorry. We’ll get out of here.”

  “No, Dean, you go, I’ll just wait here. You need your equipment.”

  “Ellen, I’ll make do with what I have. Besides, I’m sure in time I’ll be able to go back out and find it.” He started the truck. “I’m sorry I did this to you. We should have just left this city after we got what we needed from the warehouse.”

  “I’m sorry I broke like that.”

  Dean reached over and placed his hand upon her knee. “You’re human. We’re all allowed to break sometimes.

  She put her hand over his.

  Cleveland, OH

  The huge department store warehouse sat on the city’s river bank. Miguel had remembered it. He had driven his truck there hundreds of times. It was the perfect place to stockpile the jeans and outer-wear. They had done well already. The truck was nearly a third filled, packed to its capacity. Miguel knew how to pack it.

  “Jenny?” Andrea ran a switchblade across a box, and opened the flaps. “We have to find smaller sizes. Or else everyone’s going to be walking around with their pants around their ankles.”

  “You’re right. We haven’t had much luck in that.” Jenny chuckled. “Oh well . . . poor Ellen and Dean.”

  Andrea laughed a deep chesty laugh. She thought the same thought but had dared not speak it. “If we don’t find any they are gonna have to . . .”

  Their laughter ceased when the loud shrill of a man’s scream was heard from the next room.

  Jenny turned quickly. “What was that? Was that Miguel?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he tripped or something. Let’s go see.” As they made their way to the door, they froze as three gunshots rang out, followed by a loud “thump”. The flashlight dropped and its beam spun around.

  “Andrea?” Jenny backed up

  Andrea wrapped her arms around Jenny and led her to a corner while peering around the dark room. “My gun’s over there. Damn it!”

  “Should we get it?”

  “No.” Andrea tugged Jenny back when the clomping of footsteps echoed in the room.

  They cowered more the louder the footsteps drew.

  “Andrea? Jenny?” Miguel called out.

  Andrea jumped up and raced to him. “Miguel, what happened? Are you ok?”

  Miguel dropped his rifle and fell to his knees. Blood poured from his right shoulder. “I had to. I had to.”

  “Had to what?” Andrea reached for him. “You’re bleeding. Were you shot?”

  Miguel just shook his head. His body trembled. “I was in the other room. This man. This madman lunged for me. I tried to fight him off. He kept trying to stab me. He got me.” Miguel covered his wound. “It knocked me down. When I saw him coming again, I reached for the gun . . .”

  Jenny lifted a sweatshirt which they had stacked in the pile. She placed it on Miguel’s wound. “He just came after you?”

  “I tried to talk to him, I did. He attacked me. He said he’d kill me.” Miguel’s head hung low. “I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t want to do. There’s not that many left of us. Why lose one more?”

  Andrea covered her mouth as she watched the giant man weakly give in to the trauma that just happened. “This is what Joe was talking about and has been warning us about.” She spoke softly to them both. “No wonder he’s so of afraid picking up other survivors. The plague was not prejudiced. It even let the bad ones live.”

  London, KY

  It was like many of the small towns Frank and Jonas had gone through during the past few days with little visual confirmation of the plague days, unlike in the big cities, where traffic congestion was heavy. They saw no signs of any aid stations or attempts to make one like they had in Ashtonville.

  Jonas spread the map, adjusting it against the windshield. “This food warehouse can’t be too hard to spot.”

  “What street’s it on?” Frank asked as he slowed the truck down.

  “Birmingham.” Jonas folded the map. “My guess it’s going to be on the outskirts.”

  “I’m going to say . . . what’s this?” Frank slowed the truck even more, causing the air brakes to sound off.

  “Looks like someone is camping.” Jonas peered out the window at a tent perched all alone in the small park in the center of town. “Wanna check it out?”

  “Why not?” Frank threw the truck in park and stepped out. “Hello!” he called out walking around the hood of the rig and waiting for Jonas. They stepped into the park, Frank leading the way. “Hello!” Frank called again, slowing down and looking into the parked car not far from the tent. “Must be wandering around.” He walked closer to the tent and heard an odd sound coming from it. It sounded to Frank as if it were a sick cat, growling some in pain. “What in the . . .” He flung open the flap to the tent and immediately turned his head to the side at the smell. As Frank released the flap, Jonas stopped him. “Wait.” Closing his eyes briefly, he covered his mouth then poked his head in the tent. A man lay on a sleeping bag, an old man, maybe seventy, lying peacefully as if he were sleeping. Early signs of decomposition, as if he just died days earlier. But the man was not what made Jonas go into the tent.

  “Hold this.” He handed Frank out his rifle. “God. No.” He stepped further into the tent and emerged holding a baby no older than a year. The child quivered and shook and its pale features showed the signs of his imminent death. “Frank.” Jonas raised his sad eyes to Frank as he cradled the whimpering child.

  Frank closed his eyes tighter.

  “The old man must have been caring for him. We have to help him, Frank.”

/>   “How?”

  “Food.” Holding the baby closer to him, Jonas rushed over to the truck with Frank.

  Frank immediately jumped inside coming out with a blanket, a jug of water, and some food. “Let’s take him over here.” Frank pointed to an area of grass and he handed Jonas the blanket, covering the baby.

  Both of them rushed and fumbled helplessly as they tried to get the small boy to ingest something. His reflexes would not work, he wouldn’t swallow, and he spit forth anything that came near his mouth. Unresponsive, shivering, dying.

  “Frank.” Jonas spoke in a panic as he rocked the child.

  “You think we can make it home with him? Maybe William can help him.”

  “How long will it take us?” Jonas asked.

  “Nine, ten hours. We have to try, it’s our only hope.”

  “Then we have to try.”

  “Take him to the truck, I’ll be right there.” With haste, Frank gathered the gear, took it to the truck, and dumped it inside. He climbed in the driver’s seat murmuring, “Please let this kid make it.” Frank started the truck and recklessly tossed it in gear.

  “Frank .”

  “Fuck, Jonas, how many? How many like him are out here?”

  “Frank ...”

  “He could be my kid, El’s kid. How many survived the plague and can’t live past it.” He shook his head. “We have to get him . . .”

  “Frank.” Jonas spoke stronger. “Stop the truck.”

  “Jonas, we don’t have . . .”

  “Stop the truck, Frank.” Jonas felt the vehicle stop moving. He raised his eyes to Frank and shook his head as he covered the child with the rest of the blanket.

  Frank’s heart dropped and so did his head as he laid it against the steering wheel in heartbreak over their vain attempt to help.

  It was near a small flower patch, near a park, that Frank and Jonas buried the child, giving him what so many other children who died during the plague may not have gotten and certainly deserved. They named the child Jude after the saint of hope. They symbolized the child in their minds as every other child who may not have had someone to hold them at the end, to want to help them. And like every other child that was not strong enough to survive the world that they were lost to, Frank and Jonas mourned him, shed tears for him, and they prayed for him.

  WEDNESDAY, JULY 1

  Interstate 95

  Dean poked the small fire in a camping area they had found somewhere in Virginia. They had made the sixth of the seven warehouse stops just a few hours earlier and decided to put the Fairfax stop ahead of the seventh which was located in Baltimore, a place closer to Ashtonville.

  Dean moved back from the heat of the fire and sat on his open sleeping bag. He grabbed a package of peanut butter crackers and began to nibble when he saw Ellen appear just over the crest. “Ellen, I was starting to worry about you, you were gone a while.”

  Wearing a long shirt, her hair wet, Ellen put her dirty clothes in a bag, sat, and began to comb her hair. “I wanted to take a shower.”

  “It had to be cold.”

  “It was, but it was so hot today, it felt good.”

  “We’re running out of room in the truck.”

  “I know. I’m glad we decided to stop at Fairfax first. That way if we run out of room, we have the homeopathy supplies.”

  Dean offered a cracker to Ellen.

  She shook her head and placed down the comb. “I think I’ll get some sleep.” She climbed under her sleeping bag and lay on her side facing Dean. “Don’t forget to put out the fire.”

  “I won’t.” Dean rested his arms across his knees then rested his chin on top of his arms and stared at Ellen.

  “I thought you gave that staring thing up.”

  “What?” Dean laughed. “Sorry. I just …. I don’t know, can’t believe you’re going to sleep.”

  “I’m tired.”

  “Yeah, but … I thought we could talk.”

  “About.”

  Dean paused. Then, after clearing his throat he said, “The baby.”

  Eyes closed, Ellen asked, “What baby are …” she opened her eyes and lifted up some. “The baby.”

  Dean nodded.

  “Have you been thinking about it?” She asked.

  “I want you to go to Montana.”

  “You’re bartering your sperm again.”

  “It’s not bartering,” Dean said. “I want you to go.”

  “I’m not gonna go to Montana to have sex.”

  “Well …” Dean leaned forward some, “I don’t think having sex with you is possible in Ashtonville.”

  “Why not?” Ellen asked.

  Dean only looked.

  “Are you worried again about Frank?”

  “I worry about Frank’s reaction to the pregnancy. I mean, he’s gonna change his mind.”

  Ellen shook her head. “He lost his chance.”

  “You have a lifetime with him.”

  “I still can. I want a baby.”

  “I’m worried.”

  Ellen lifted more. “Why?”

  “I’m worried about us getting attached. I know what you say, but I know what I feel. What I get from you.”

  After a moment of silence and a stare, Ellen nodded slowly. “Then that’s a chance I’ll have to take. And why are we talking so seriously about this. Unless ….”

  Dean gave a small smile.

  “You’ll do it.”

  Dean exhaled.

  “Really? Can I ask why?”

  “Yep.” Dean nodded once. “The sex.”

  Ellen blinked several times. “The sex.”

  “No,” he chuckled. “The child. You said the father will be able to be a part of the child’s life. I want that. I really want that, and to be honest, in this world right now, if I don’t take this opportunity I may never get that. Besides,” He inched forward and leaned to her with a whisper. “I think you’re pretty cute.”

  “Ditto.”

  Dean smiled, Ellen returned it.

  “So,” He sighed out. “When do you want to start? Montana?”

  “There you go with the Montana thing.” Ellen scooted over and patted the sleeping bag. “We’re alone. And …” she winked. “I’m a sure thing.” She saw the look of debate on his face. “No?”

  “Not no. Yes, I mean ….” He cleared his throat. “How?”

  Ellen sat up. “How what? You don’t know how?”

  Dean grinned at her. “No, that’s not it.” He scratched his head closing one eye. “How should we?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Technical or ….”

  "Oh," Ellen sang the word. “I know what you mean. Either like we want to or like we’re trying to have a baby.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Dean?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Uh … I think if we’re going to do this … we should make it worth our while.” She winked.

  “I couldn’t agree more.” With an ornery smile, without hesitation Dean slipped his hand to her neck, drew Ellen toward him, and began to kiss her.

  Dean looked back one more time at Ellen who lay sleeping on her side in the bag. He had just finished pulling on his jeans, and he paced slowly, with his hand behind his neck watching her. He wanted so much just to lay with her, sleep next to her. But after they had finished and they slipped into conversation as if nothing transpired between them, Ellen fell fast asleep. She fell asleep without giving permission to Dean to stay close to her. And knowing Ellen as he was beginning to, that was not a boundary he was going to cross without having her tell him it was all right.

  Feeling the night air chill against his bare chest and the tiredness from the day behind them, Dean knew it was time to sleep. He doused the remaining fire with the nearby bucket of water and he walked to his sleeping bag, sliding it just a little closer to Ellen’s. Before he lay down, he stood over her watching her for another moment. Squatting down over her quietly, Dean ran his fingers though his hair as
he brought his face close to hers. With two fingers he touched so softly her face and he brought his lips to her cheek. His kiss stirred her some, but not enough to wake her. As Ellen rolled onto her other side, Dean half smiled, mouthed the word ‘goodnight’ and serenely walked back over to his sleeping bag.

  SATURDAY, JULY 4

  Northern Outskirts of Philadelphia

  Ellen’s eyes twitched in REM. Her lips moved slightly, reflecting her inner thoughts. She slept, head against the interior window of the truck’s cab, rain pouring down outside.

  “All these years,” Frank blasted her in the dream.

  “Just let me explain.”

  “How can you explain? All these years and you couldn’t wait. You couldn’t give me time so we could have the baby.”

  Ellen jolted awake. Swiping her hand across her face, she cleared not only her hair, but the sleepiness from her head. Her heart raced, she breathed heavily. After sitting up, she turned and looked to her left. Dean slept soundly in the other seat.

  She could still hear Frank’s words in the dream and fear hit her, perhaps because they were heading home, and she would have to face Frank, face him knowing what had occurred between her and Dean. Surely it was a breach of trust. In thought, Ellen tried; she tried to justify her action of sleeping with Dean. Justify them as wanting to conceive. But it was more. It had to be.

  The two times they had been together were more than two people trying to conceive. It was pure. It was good. And in Ellen’s heart, it was now wrong.

  Her thoughts traveled to the previous night. After lovemaking they laid there. Dean caressed her while they laughed and spoke, and they kissed. A lot. Before, during, and after they kissed as they had all day, when he stopped to kiss her several times, and she did the same.

  What was going on?

  Being with Dean held a certain security. Something about being with him made Ellen feel wanted.