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

  “It’s funny, how you still care about that.”

  Ellen pulled the blood filled tube out of her arm. “Why not?” She placed the tube on the table. “I do it for myself. Andrea does it for her husband. Why for him, I don’t know. Of course, if you saw her husband Miguel . . .” Ellen laughed. “You would ask why too.” Ellen spoke to the woman as if she were an old friend. She did so because the woman was semi-clean, mentally aware, and definitely not sick. “All done. We have a shower over there.” Ellen pointed to the door across the room. “There are clean clothes, soap, and food. Send in that boy that you came here with, when he’s finished.”

  “I will.” The woman stood up. “It’s good to be here.”

  Ellen smiled at her. “Thank you.”

  The woman made her way from the room, still half dressed from her examination with Ellen. It didn’t even faze her when Joe walked in. She didn’t even try to cover her half-naked body. She stood there, breasts exposed.

  “Whoops, sorry!” Joe quickly turned his back.

  The woman said nothing. She just walked past him into the door marked ‘Clean up area--Please use wisely!’

  “Ellen, how’s it going? How are they?”

  “She seems fine. She needs to learn a little modesty, but she’s fine. The best one we’ve had yet. I haven’t examined the boy. He seems all right, too. Looks like these two will be moved into the community quickly. I don’t see them living in containment very long. The longest time may be training them. I wish all of them were like these two.”

  “Me, too. However, that’s why we have our program. Putting them into containment to see if they’re functional, and training them for skills here before letting them live amongst us. Still, so many come in sick, which in turn adds the hospital to their agenda, making it an even longer process.”

  “I don’t want to even talk about that. I say, send me and Andrea out with Johnny. If they’re sick, leave them. Period.” Ellen began to rummage through her box of supplies, her back to Joe.

  “Your comment is duly noted. Again.”

  “Thank you, again.”

  “Ellen.” Joe walked up behind her. He placed his arm around the front of her, pulling her close to him. “You do a very good job here, you know?” Joe tried to be complimentary, but only came across as sneaky.

  “No.” Ellen shook her head as she laughed.

  “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you.”

  “Yes, I do. You ask me all the time. I help you all the time. This time no. Quit buttering me up.”

  Joe removed his arm; his sly sweetness wasn’t working. “Please. I need someone to go to containment tonight, to work with me in the social skills class.”

  “I’m always at containment, Joe. And I can’t tonight. Tomorrow maybe. Tonight I have plans with Frank.”

  “Christ, Ellen.” Joe turned her around to face him. “Do you have to be so blunt with this? You didn’t tell Dean you’re going to talk to my son again, did you?”

  “He knows.”

  “He’s not going to be in here tomorrow whining to me again, is he?”

  “Nope.” Ellen stepped back and folded her arms. “I’ve assured him. Don’t worry about it.” She reached up and patted Joe on the shoulder.

  “I worry about it. You do live with Dean, you know.”

  “I know.” Ellen was nonchalant about her special friendship with Frank. She, unlike Frank, knew how people really saw them. But she didn’t care. Her time with Frank was separate from Dean.

  “As long as you two stay on top of things. And I don’t mean physically. I don’t want to hear Dean bitch again. You aren’t being fair to him.” Joe never approved of the situation between Ellen and Frank. He always felt that they should be together. But if they were going to be together, then be together. Not like this. Unfortunately, the relationship aspect of everyone’s life was something Joe did not rule.

  “I’ve got it in check.” Ellen’s attention drew from Joe when the teenage boy entered. “Look at you.” Ellen approached the boy. “You’re all cleaned-up and handsome.”

  Joe smiled. “He looks great, Ellen.”

  “A little thin.” Ellen ran her hand across his ribs that seemed to stick out. “What’s your name, honey?”

  “Josh.”

  Ellen’s hand dropped, along with her heart. “Josh.” She smiled at him. “How old are you?”

  Josh placed his hand in the front pocket of his new jeans. “I think I’m fifteen. I lost count.”

  Something in Ellen clicked when she saw the boy. “Well, Josh. Joe here is going to leave and I’m gonna check you out.” She led Josh to the examining table and waited for Joe to go.

  After she had finished her examination, the boy seemingly healthy, she made her way back into Joe’s office.

  “Joe?”

  “Come in, Ellen. How’s the kid?” Joe sat with his feet propped up on his desk, smoking a cigarette and drinking a cup of coffee.

  “He’s great.” Ellen was smiling. “I like this one, Joe. I don’t want him to go to containment. I want to take him home with Dean and me.”

  “Nope.” Joe answered matter-of-factly.

  “Why? Please? There’s something about him.”

  “I’ll tell you what it is.” Joe put his feet on the floor. “His name and his age.”

  “Maybe. But, please?” Ellen pleaded with her blue eyes.

  “I’ll think about it. Let me check him out to make sure he’s not a psycho in a small-framed body. I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Joe.” Ellen ran to the seated Joe and kissed him. She raced excitedly to the door.

  “Ellen. I want you to think about it too. Ok?”

  “I will.” She walked from the building to her Jeep that was parked on the side. Ellen got in and began to head to town. She made her way to the main street that ran through the heart of the complex. When she reached the street, she slowed down to a crawl, catching a glance of Jenny as she entertained a group of youngsters in the school yard. So many of the survivors they had found were children, she thought, some born after the plague, some before. She caught her daughter’s attention and waved to her. She began to reflect as she looked at her child’s happy face. This was a child born into a world without hatred, a world without war. How lucky her daughter and all the other children younger than five were to have never known the world that had existed before them, a world that in one split second could be taken from them all on the whim of a madman. Ellen remembered that world, and she remembered when that world brought her the heartache and pain that made her believe her life could never go on. But life did indeed go on. Ellen smiled as she began to drive home. There across the street from her was the proof.

  THE SEARCHER

  He walked alone, the way he preferred it to be. The April wind began to pick up just a bit, adding even more of a chill to the air. It was time, he knew, as the sky grew darker to stop for the night for the sake of safety. He followed the road, all survivors did, and it was time to pull away from it. The wooded areas now were denser; it was easier to find a spot, a safe spot, to camp out for the night. Not that he feared anything; he actually feared nothing, except for failure in his mission that he for so long now had determined to complete.

  Fifty feet or so into the woods he set his gear down. He opened up his sleeping roll and sat his tired body down upon it. His legs ached at the joints; he’d walked more today than he had in a while. Determination led him; his gut instincts told him it couldn’t take much longer.

  A small fire was first on his mind then he would hunt down something to fill his stomach that ached with hunger pangs. After building the fire, he took a moment to reflect, staring into the amber flames that blazed only a few feet from him. Reaching into his knapsack, he pulled out a string and twined his long brown hair behind him into a ponytail. His beard itched a bit; he scratched it, trying to muster up the energy to hunt. Not really a difficult task, but a tedious one when you’d rather just sleep.<
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  He began to get that feeling again; it happened to him every time he stopped moving, and it happened now. That feeling of desperation, of knowing what he had to do, must do, and the reasons that drove him. He wondered if he should just give up at times. But he knew, deep in his heart, that would never be an option. It was time to remind himself; he reminded himself nightly. Reaching into the pocket of his shirt, he pulled out that remembrance, the folded sheet of paper, now tattered and turning yellow. Slowly he unfolded it and read it, not once, but several times. The words on that paper handwritten in blue ink were forever scribbled in his heart. The simple note that read ‘Went to Ashtonville 5/30. Love, Dad’. He breathed deeply savoring his feelings. Folding the note, he closed his eyes tightly as he replaced it in his pocket. Tomorrow would be another day for him, his mission would continue. He knew he could never stop because Robbie Slagel would never stop. He just didn’t have it in him.

  CAIN

  Book 2

  CHAPTER ONE

  April 28th

  Beginnings, Montana

  Bringing his deep raspy voice to a whisper’s level was never an easy task for Frank Slagel, nor was keeping his towering body hidden just beneath the small grade in the secured back gate region of his community. But he did both, and not without a look of irritation on a face that had hardened and sculptured a look of ‘mean’ after years of living in a world that had gone bad.

  Glad the darkness of the night kept him hidden, he crouched down behind the grade next to Dan, one of his security men. Though dressed in military garb, Dan was a complete contrast to Frank who, with the exception of his goatee, kept up his military appearance from his attire to his buzzed black hair.

  “What do ya’ got?” Frank asked, giving a yank to Dan’s long ponytail.

  Dan motioned his head to the perimeter fence. “He’s been out there for a while. Been calling out. Now’s he trying to break in.”

  “Did you say anything?”

  “No.”

  “No? Why?”

  “I was waiting for you.”

  Frank grumbled and pulled his revolver from his shoulder harness. He checked his clip, grabbed the unlit spotlight and stood. The flick of the spotlight beam surprised the thin man who was kneeling before the perimeter, apparently digging. “Back away from the fence!” Frank called out strongly as he stepped toward him.

  Straggly, tattered, and clothes too big, the man stood up. “I want in.”

  “We have a front gate for that. About four miles east. Go there.”

  “I did.” The man responded. “No one’s there.”

  “Well, that oughta tell you something. Try in the morning.”

  “I want in now. Why can’t I get in . . .”

  “Back away from the fence . . . now.” Frank gave what he felt was fair, hard warning. “Now.” He stared for a moment at the man, shut off the spotlight and turned around. A few steps into his walk, a sizzle sound rang out as the man sailed a large stone through the electric perimeter. It made it through the beams, into the Beginnings area and landed with a deadened ‘thump’ at the base of Frank’s neck.

  Frank stopped cold. Then, with an angry glare upon his face, he shifted back the chamber on his revolver and spun around shining the spotlight on the man. He lifted an aim. “You were warned.”

  The man scoffed, holding a second stone in his hand. “What are ya gonna do? Shoot me?”

  Bang.

  The man dropped to the ground. Frank calmly returned his gun to his harness, shut off the spotlight, turned and walked away.

  ***

  “Welcome to Beginnings. I’m Joe Slagel.” Wearing his typical white button down shirt, Joe stood behind a table, hands in pockets facing the small group of people that had gathered in the large recreation style room. To look at Joe, one not only saw his wisdom and leadership, one also saw how crass and gruff he could be before he even opened his mouth. It was a standard thing to him, a welcome introduction to the newcomers they had selectively let in. “You are in a place called containment. You’re here because you asked to come in. We don’t open our doors freely, and we don’t open our doors easily.” He looked at the worn faces of the twelve people in the room. One woman, nine men, and two children. All of them looked frightened. “Containment is your first step. Here you prove you remember how to be civilized. In here you learn that skill all over again. We take caution in who we let in. We worked too hard to build this place. In Beginnings, we have plenty of food, houses, a safe environment, medical care. Out there . . . . well, you know what’s out there.” Joe paced some as he spoke. “Our rules . . . they’re pretty simple. If you want it, you have to work for it. Everyone pulls their weight. We have no crime, therefore we have no prisons. Blunt and simple, you screw up . . . you’re out.” Just as Joe prepared to slip into a gentler speech, he saw Dr. Dean Hayes.

  Dean’s small, thin frame leaned against the doorway of the skills room. Making eye contact with Joe, Dean lifted his hands some in a silent question mode.

  “Christ.” Joe mumbled and shifted his eyes not far from him to where George Hadly sat. He gave a quick twitch of his head to the stout older man, then motioned to the awaiting newcomers. “George, can you take over?”

  George looked amused, almost hiding his smile as he stood up slowly. “Sure.” He exchanged spots in the skills room with Joe, hesitating in the continuing introduction as he watched Joe walk to Dean.

  Joe knew why Dean was there and his cringing was hard to hide the closer he moved to him. He tried to smile, but even under easy circumstances, that was a chore for Joe. “Dean.” Joe laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder moving him more to the hallway. “What can I do for you?”

  “It’s Thursday.”

  “That it is.”

  “Where’s Ellen?” Dean raised his eyebrows, then in frustration ran his fingers through his dark blond hair in dire need of a cut. “Last I knew, Joe . . .” He said, pointing to George. “Ellen wasn’t sixty with grey hair. I thought you guys were doing this class together.”

  “She’s not here.”

  Wanting to say ‘no shit’, Dean refrained and just blinked long instead. “O.K.,” he spoke calm. “I have to get to the clinic. I have an emergency. Where is she? I have Denny with the twins, but that can’t be for long. He does stupid things with them.”

  “Do you need me to go over?” Joe asked.

  “I’d like for Ellen to be there.”

  With a slow deep breath through his nostrils, Joe tossed his hands up.

  Dean shook his head. “I have to go.” He stepped back. “I . . . I appreciate you going over as soon as you can.”

  “You got it.” Joe watched Dean turn and walk away. He hesitated then called out. “Dean, did you check Frank’s?”

  His immediate stop caused a high squeak as Dean’s canvass high-tops slid against the linoleum. Slowly, he turned around. “No. And . . . and I’m not. I’m just going to hope she’s somewhere else.”

  Dean’s return to a hastened exit made Joe whistle softly at the very focused doctor’s chosen blindness. Figuring he said all that he could, Joe turned and went back into the skills room to help finish class.

  ***

  No sooner did Frank open the front door to his home, the motion blur of a little blond haired woman sped by him. “Whoa.” He extended his long reach halting Ellen just as she made it to the front porch. “Wait. Where are you going?”

  “Frank . . .” Ellen seemed agitated. “I have to go.”

  “No-no.” He pulled her back in, leading her into the house. “You said tonight . . .”

  “You’ve been gone.”

  “I had something to take care of.”

  “I’m sorry.” Ellen tried to get by him.

  “El.” Frank stopped her again. “Come on.” He had a certain amount of pleading to him. “I thought we were going to be together tonight.”

  “I thought so, too.” Ellen peered up to him sincere. “But I waited. And I can’t be . . . I have to be home,
Frank. And this, this is not my home.” With another attempt to leave through the open door, Ellen was stopped. “Frank.”

  “El. Give me an hour.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Then just . . . just a half an hour. Please.” Like he had always done, he looked right into her. “Please.”

  Ellen closed her eyes briefly and exhaled. She said nothing, walked to the door and closed it.

  Behind her, Frank grinned.

  Ozark Mountains, Missouri

  A sharp crack of a twig awakened Robbie Slagel from a not-too-deep sleep. He sat straight up, and in the same motion, grabbed from beneath his sleeping bag a long hunting knife. Holding it with a firm grip, he waved it slowly in front of his tall, thin body. His long blond hair dangled in his face, mixing with his thick beard. He removed his hair from his eyes, peering around his campsite. Nothing. It had to have been an animal. Being careful was something Robbie couldn’t overdo. He had his close calls before. And every single time a sound awakened him, it played vividly the memory of the first time he had to take a life in order to preserve his own.

  It was so long before, Robbie couldn’t remember the year. His body, achy and tired, had just settled in for the night. The group of people he happened upon, had set up camp and he joined them. That particular group were what Robbie referred to as Wanderers. They traveled the land, scavenging it for their survival. They were dirty, mean, and nasty. But they were company to him none-the-less, and every so often he needed that. It was a time when Robbie trusted people more. Rather, trusted people at all. Robbie’s trust was something he should not have given them, but he did.

  The crack, the cracking of the twig just above his head. It was a sound he’d never forget. With that, all he remembered was his sleeping bag being zippered closed, and the painful blows delivered to his unsuspecting body. Were they feet? Were they branches? Robbie didn’t know. He managed to grab his hunting knife, still strapped to his thigh, and rip it with intense rage straight through his sleeping bag. The rest still remained a blur. Blood rushing to his head, heart racing, fighting with instincts. His knife spearing out, slicing flesh. When it was over, three men lay in a bloody pool. Robbie, frightened and shaken, gathered his belongings and ran. He ran until daybreak.