The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 34

  “Look what I found.” Dean said the day before.

  “A camera?” Ellen asked.

  “A digital camera. I’ll use it until the power supply runs out.”

  “What are you gonna take pictures of?”

  Dean snapped a shot of her.

  Ellen squealed in shock.

  Dean laughed. He leaned into her and kissed her, running his hand down her face.

  Pause.

  “God, you’re beautiful.” He smiled, and then kissed her again.

  Ellen closed her eyes coming out of that memory, flashing to the slow, tender lovemaking. Dean apologized to her, apologized for enjoying being with her.

  “Don’t apologize, I’m enjoying this too,” Ellen said.

  “I’m meaning more than a physical level.”

  “I know what you mean,” Ellen told him. “I feel the same way. I’m enjoying this too.”

  “What’s going on here, El?” Dean asked. “It feels more than us trying to have a baby. Maybe it’s my imagination, but you’re responding emotionally.”

  “I know.” She whispered.

  “And it’s going beyond the confines of our being intimate at night.”

  “I know.”

  “Maybe … you know … maybe it’s something that should be more than just us trying to conceive. What do you think?”

  Ellen didn’t hesitate. She stared into his eyes and answered, “I think you’re right.”

  God! Did she say that? Intimacy before conversation is like a truth serum. Ellen knew it. The fact remained, it didn’t matter how she felt and the closer she drew to home, to Frank, the more she guilt she felt.

  She had to face the fact that she couldn’t be any more to Dean than a person with whom she was trying to conceive, and even that would probably have to end. But first she had to face Dean, wake him, and get them moving, so she could eventually face Frank.

  Ashtonville, CT

  William walked proudly across the yard holding his tin bucket as he headed toward the cow. “This way, boys.”

  Johnny and Denny followed closely behind. They knew this was the day that they would receive their first lesson on how to milk a cow.

  “Listen up.” William sat on the small stool next to the cow. “Now, when you do this, I don’t expect you to fill the bucket, not yet. You’re just not going to be strong enough. Denny, are you paying attention?’

  “Yes, sir.” Denny snickered.

  “All right, first.” William reached his hands under the cow. “Watch. With a firm but not too hard grip, grab a hold . . . “ William stopped.

  “William.” Johnny moved closer. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, I just ….” William released the udder and grabbed his left arm.

  “William?” Johnny placed his hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  William tried to speak but couldn’t. He grabbed tightly to his chest and fell from the stool.

  Johnny turned sharply to Denny. “Go get Aunt Maggie, quick! Tell her William is sick.” Johnny knelt down to William, who was still conscious. “Hold on, William, you’ll be all right.”

  “Johnny, run to my house.” William gasped for breath. “Up, uh, on the table in the dining room is my black bag, get it.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “Now, John.” William rolled on to his side holding tightly to his chest.

  Johnny stood then dashed across the lawn, nearly bumping into Maggie as he rounded the corner. “William needs his bag.”

  Maggie flinched when she saw William on the ground. “Oh, Will.” She raced to his side. “What is it?”

  “My heart, can’t breathe.”

  “What can I do? Tell me.”

  “Nitro in bag.” He gasped. “Won’t make it home, get me inside.”

  Maggie looked up; they were only a few feet from the house where the cow grazed. “Do you think we can make it in there?”

  William turned his head. “I’ll try.”

  “I have the bag.” Johnny ran and slid as he made his approach to them. “Here.”

  Maggie opened the bag and scurried for the pills. Once she found them she placed one in William’s mouth under his tongue. After a few moments, they slowly made their way into the house. She laid William’s weakened body on the couch then searched the house for a blanket. When she returned William had slipped into unconsciousness.

  ***

  Andrea jumped from her side of the truck and raced home to see the children. She dropped her bag at the door and called out, “hello?” There was no answer. It was still early, but the kids had to be awake. “Hello?”

  “Andrea?” Denny stood at the front door.

  “Denny.” Relieved, Andrea turned; she ran to him and embraced him, picking him up from his feet. “I missed you. Where are Maggie and Katie?” She set him down.

  “One street over. We heard the truck. Andrea, Maggie needs you, something’s wrong with William, he’s sick.”

  Andrea didn’t hesitate. She raced into the street, calling the attention of Miguel and Jenny as they unloaded their belongings. “Miguel, Jenny, come with me, something’s wrong with William.”

  The three of them followed Denny. When they arrived, Andrea was the first to enter. She immediately saw William lying on the couch. “William.”

  Maggie stood above him crying. “Andrea, I didn’t know what to do. He’s been slipping in and out.”

  Andrea knelt on the floor, “When?” she asked. “When did he get like this?”

  “Just a few minutes ago.”

  “William,” Andrea spoke his name with a stern passion. “Are you in pain, William?” As she spoke, hands feeling his wrist, she noticed William’s black bag on the coffee table. She reached in and retrieved the stethoscope. She placed it on and listened to his chest. “His breathing is shallow, and his heartbeat weak. William? William, can you hear me, it’s me, Andrea. William?”

  William’s eyes fluttered as they opened slightly, “Some. Some pain.”

  “You’re responding, that’s good.” Andrea said, lowering the stethoscope. Her head then cocked at the sound of a truck and air brakes. “Jenny! Go get whoever that is; hurry! Maybe it’s Dean… William?” she spoke soft. “Dean may be here.”

  “Dean?” William coughed. “Not, Dean.” In his weakness, he joked, “He might kill me.” Just as he chuckled, he coughed again, released a whispered, “Dean,” and his head slumped to the side.

  “Sweet Jesus,” Andrea whipped the stethoscope from neck, and pulled William to the floor.

  “What’s happening?” Maggie asked.

  “He’s in cardiac arrest.” Andrea widened the opening of William’s bag and searched quickly.

  “Do something,” Maggie beckoned.

  “I am.” Andrea pulled out a vial and syringe, immediately filling the syringe. Extending William’s arm, Andrea’s injected the fluid into his vein. She tilted back his head, breathed into him, and then began resuscitation. After four cycles, she checked for a pulse again. Nothing. She continued.

  Joe barged into the home after Jenny had summoned him. “Son of a bitch.” He dropped to the floor. “Where we at, Andrea.”

  Hand on his chest, Andrea counted out loud. “Fourteen and fifteen and …” a shift of her body, she delivered a breath. Exhaling, she sighed. “Nothing.” Her hand grabbed the syringe, filled it and as she reached for the arm, Joe stopped her.

  “Have you gone directly in?”

  “No.”

  “Try it.”

  Andrea found the placement using her fingers, and brought the needle into the area. She injected.

  Joe joined her in the cycles. Joe on compressions, Andrea on breathes.

  Again they stopped, they checked. Nothing.

  “We need a deliberator.” Andrea said exasperated.

  “Can we send Miguel to the clinic?

  “Not enough time.” Andrea answered.

  Joe suggested. “Cardiac thump?”

  “Can you?” And
rea asked.

  Joe nodded.

  Andrea showed the placement, and Joe, fist high above William, delivered a drop of his hand with a powerful thump to William’s chest.

  Andrea listed. “Nothing.”

  “Let’s keep trying.” Joe cupped his hands over William’s chest.

  Fifteen minutes had passed, and still William had not returned to them.

  Andrea, with sweat forming on her brow, was the first to stop. “I’m sorry, William.” She placed her head to his forehead, and began to sob.

  Joe laid his strong hand on her arched back. “You did all you could.”

  “I didn’t do enough.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you did. Come here.” He lifted her to her feet. “With what we had, you did the best anyone could have done.”

  Andrea buried herself in Joe’s arms. “With so few of us left, why did we have to lose one more?”

  “I don’t know.” Joe looked back William. “Andrea, you go with Maggie. I’ll take care of him.”

  Maggie took hold of Andrea, and she, Andrea, Jenny, and the children left the house.

  ***

  The conversation didn’t go as well as expected, or rather as well as Ellen hoped. She sprang it on Dean when they stopped for fireworks. Literally, as she picked up ‘snaps’ she fired it at Dean. “We can’t do it anymore. I still want to have the baby, but it won’t work with you. Oh, hey, should we get snakes?”

  “What? You’re joking.”

  Ellen looked at him and shook her head.

  “Why? I don’t understand.” Dean asked her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I thought things were going well.” Dean said.

  “Dean …”

  “No, El. What? One day we’re close, the next we’re not. What about our little talk?”

  “Dean, you agreed …”

  “I know what I agreed to. I know what you agreed to. I also know what we’ve been like all week. El, come on.”

  “Dean, I’m sorry.” Ellen softened her voice. “Please understand this.”

  “I can’t. You gave no indication last night. Actually, I probably would accept this better if you didn’t respond to me the way you do. And you responded, El, boy do you respond. What? You don’t like me.”

  “Dean, stop it. You couldn’t have gotten that attached to me after twice.”

  Dean chuckled in sarcasm. “You’re right. I got attached to you beforehand. I’m sorry, El, I like you. I really like you. I did from the moment I met you.”

  “I like you, too, Dean.”

  “Then why are you stopping this? We didn’t even give it a chance. Give me one reason. One good reason and I’ll accept this.”

  “Frank.”

  That was all it took, that one word. Ellen even tried to explain the reason. How she felt funny, felt as if she were doing wrong, even though she wanted the baby, she by all rights should have waited on Frank.

  Dean accepted it, but that didn’t mean he liked it. His attitude the rest of the way home proved it.

  Both were quiet. The mid-afternoon sun began to beat brightly down when Ellen and Dean pulled into Ashtonville. Hitting Ellen’s street brought the first conversation between the two for over a hundred miles.

  “We’re the last ones back,” Ellen said quietly, box of fireworks on her lap.

  “I see that.” Dean put the truck in gear and opened the door.

  “Are we still working together?” Ellen asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Can we wait until tomorrow to do more air samples?”

  “Why? So you can spend time with Frank?” Dean stepped out.

  Ellen sighed in frustration then she too stepped from the truck. When she did, she saw Andrea approaching, and she waved. “Hey, Andrea. We brought back fireworks.”

  Dean mumbled. “Fireworks is right.”

  “Shh.” Ellen snapped. “Shut up.”

  “You shut up.”

  Ellen ignored his comeback and motioned her head at Andrea. “What’s wrong with Andrea?”

  Dean looked.

  Andrea drew closer, directly towards Dean. “Dean.”

  Dean looked into her eyes. “Something’s wrong. What happened?”

  Andrea took a deep breath, looked at Ellen then back at Dean. “Dean, your father had a heart attack. I’m sorry, he didn’t make it.”

  “No.” Dean looked at his house.

  Ellen reached her hand for him, but Dean took off to his home.

  “Dad,” Dean apprehensively walked in. Joe and George stood waiting in the living room.

  Joe placed his hands on Dean’s arms. “I’m sorry, son, he’s upstairs.”

  Dean took the steps two at a time. When he reached the top, he took a deep breath before entering his father’s bedroom. He opened the door, and there lay his father motionless on the bed. A blanket covered him, and he looked as if he were sleeping. With trembling hands, he reached to him. As his fingers touched down upon his cold skin, the reality of his father’s death hit and he dropped to the floor at the bedside.

  Joe knocked once before walking in. “Dean?”

  “When, Joe?” Dean looked up at him.

  “This morning. Dean, I want you to know, we did all we could. Andrea worked . . .”

  “I know, I believe that.” He looked at his father. “What do we do now?”

  “We have to bury him. I have a spot on the hill ready. He’ll be buried next to Ellen’s children, and my grandchildren. It’s a peaceful, beautiful spot. He’d like it. We’ll say a few words.”

  “I would like to do it myself, Joe.”

  “That’s fine.” Joe squatted in front of him. “Let me help you move him. Then I’ll leave you alone with him. It’s not far, you can walk back.”

  Dean looked up and nodded. He reached his hand out, and as Joe helped him to stand, he noticed Ellen in the doorway.

  “Dean?” She stepped in. “I’m so sorry.”

  Dean turned his head from her and looked away. “Ellen, Joe and I are going to take my father up to Murphy’s Hill now.”

  “Dean.” She approached him, but Joe stopped her with a slight shake of his head. “Dean,” Ellen whispered compassionately, “if you need me.”

  “I’ll let you know.” Dean only nodded.

  Ellen backed from the room. “You know where I am.”

  Dean waited in the silence of the room, staring down at his father. He closed his eyes in a silent, brief prayer, then covered his father with the remaining blanket and looked to Joe for help in moving him.

  ***

  Nightfall did not bring the Fourth of July festivities as planned. Though a table set in the center of the street, it was not to celebrate but to mourn the loss of a man they had come to love, a man they had all looked up to. The only one missing was Dean. It had been several hours since Joe had returned, yet Dean remained on the hill.

  They would talk of what they had found then they would talk of William. They would talk of what needed to be done, but they always ended the conversation with William. It was the first post-plague casualty, a death not one of them had expected nor was ready for.

  Andrea noticed Ellen staring out. She placed her hand over Ellen’s. “When he gets back, talk to him.” In the corner of her eye she saw Dean walking slowly down the street. “Look, here he comes.”

  Ellen and everyone else looked.

  Dean saw the group of them then turned and went into his home.

  Ellen stared down to her cup. “I think he’d rather be alone.”

  “You don’t know that. But you owe it to him to find out if that’s what he wants.”

  “You’re right. I’ll wait a little bit and head down there.”

  “Good.” Andrea patted Ellen’s hand and rejoined the conversation.

  George gulped down the rest of his beverage. “Ok, so are we in agreement? Rest for a few days. Then four of us take two trucks out at the end of the week.”

  “Which two trucks, though?” Joe played with a ballpo
int pen. “And which four?”

  “Definitely me and you,” George answered, “and two more men. Miguel is out since he’s injured. So, we’ll unload, get everything put away, get our farmers situated, then you and I will head back.”

  Joe agreed. “That’s really not a bad idea. Leave two men there to organize things, and come back for the last two trucks, that will save on time. It’s July now, let’s see.” Joe thought for a moment. “We’re talking, everyone back here by August to get ready for the final move.”

  “It would also add time by leaving two men out there to help John and Henry, time to get another truck full of food. Frank and Jonas brought back two. The more food we have the less chance of running out too soon.”

  “Excuse me?” Andrea knocked on the table. “You’re talking men, men, men. What exactly are we women supposed to do? Just sit here and wait six weeks until you get back?”

  “Well.” Joe bobbed his head back and forth. “Yes. Andrea, listen, you won’t be alone; there’ll be someone here with you. I would rather have you four women back here instead of traipsing back and forth. The trips are exhausting. Besides, the kids need you guys. They need a woman’s care.”

  Andrea folded her arms. “I think it’s sexist. You’re just lucky, Joe Slagel, that my body is too tired and sore to put up a fight with you right now.”

  “See.” Joe waved her off. “We’re doing it for you. Andrea, the world died six weeks ago, can we bury the women’s lib thing with it too? Let chivalry reign for a while again.”

  “Chivalry, my batoona.” Andrea snapped, “Ellen, has this man always been such a male chauvinist?”

  Frank shook his head. “Come on, Johnny, I think this thing may get a little heated for you.” Frank grabbed Johnny’s arm and stood. He laid his hand on Ellen’s back and whispered, “Goodnight.”

  Ellen gazed up with a solemn smile then answered Andrea. “As long as I’ve known him.”

  Joe laughed at the comment, and others laughed at Andrea’s dismay. But it was short lived. The laughter at the table broke into sudden silence when Dean approached. His hair wet from showering, he walked with one hand in his front pocket of his Levi’s jeans, a white tee shirt hanging over. He said nothing as he walked by the table, not a smile, not a motion. He just walked by, stopping only at the edge of the table where Ellen was seated.