The Inner Struggle: Beginnings Series Book 7 (12 page)

“This isn’t fuckin K-Mart, Dean. The doors don’t open for you. Man.”

Of all people to see him do that, Dean turned his head back to see a blurry Frank. He gave a half smile, hoped he wasn’t bleeding, and left containment.

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“This isn’t good, Dean.” Ellen’s hands trembled as she placed the small bandage on his head. “It could have been worse.”

“I know.” Dean closed his eyes as he sat on that chair in her kitchen.

“I put a closure on this. You don’t need stitches.”

“El.” He reached up and grabbed her hand. “I didn’t come here to be bandaged. I came here for support. I’m getting worse.”

Ellen let out a breath. “There has to be something we can do.”

“There’s nothing we can do.” He watched her kneel down before him. “El.” He laid his hand on her face.” What am I gonna do? How am I supposed to take care of my kids if my sight goes?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. I’ll help you, Dean. I’ll be there.”

“I know.” He looked softly in her eyes. “I can’t ask on you to be there all the time. That’s too much.”

“Would you do the same for me?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Then why would you think it’s asking too much? I want to be there for you. I want to help you.”

“I know you do. Do you know what makes this situation really frightening? How am I supposed to help this community? We have Robbie and his men out there who saw the plague. It’s coming, El. It’s coming and we’re nowhere near beating it. With my sight going, we’re in a race against time. There’s a clock ticking here. It’s moving fast. I’m scared.”

Ellen closed her eyes. “I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

Dean felt her head lower and press tightly to his gut. Her hands gripped his legs. “I am too.” His hand stroked her hair.

“What the fuck is this shit?” Frank bellowed into the kitchen seeing Ellen before Dean. “El, what the hell are you doing?”

Ellen raised her head, looking at Dean. “I’m uh, I was bandaging him Frank.”

“Where? And my dad is sending containment people here for home therapy. Where the fuck is Henry? I bet he snuck. . .” He felt Ellen brush by him with an ‘excuse me’. He watched her run into the living room. With his thumb pointed back, he faced Dean. “Was she crying?” He saw the demeanor on Dean’s face. “Is everything all right?”

Dean stood up, ran his hand down his face then straightened his hair over the bandage. “Yeah. Excuse me.” He moved by Frank.

Frank stood there, watching Dean leave and wondering if he should care that Dean was upset too. Deciding on ‘no’, he went into the living room and readied himself for what he thought was going to end up being an adult version of Romper Room.

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“All right ladies, let’s go,” Robbie shouted to his men. “It’s ten minutes after twelve and it’s time to go home.” There was a small amounting of cheering then the men began to excitedly toss everything into the awaiting trucks. Smiling, Robbie yelled for Greg. “Greg!” He saw him lying down by the tree. “Let’s go. Nap time is over. Move.” He stepped back, watching Greg slowly get up. Robbie lifted his arm, waving Greg close, and hurrying him. Then Robbie watched Greg sway, his bigger body stumbled, his knees buckled, and Greg fell face first back down to the grass. “Greg!” Robbie raced to him sliding down in the grass as he reached Greg’s toppled body. “Greg.” Robbie shook him and received no answer. “Greg.” Almost frightened, Robbie braced Greg’s arms to roll him over. Upon the grip of Greg’s skin, Robbie knew. The burning he felt, the hot dry feeling. Seeing Greg’s face confirmed it. It was so pale and splotched, with dark circles formed under his eyes. Robbie’s breath escaped. He tried to control it, a hyperventilation that sneaked up on him as he viewed his friend. Squinting his eyes, he looked back to his men who were packing up. He thought of how to do it. There was no easy way but he had to tell them, for sure now, they couldn’t go back home.

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Usually Joe never showed if anything bothered him but this did. Sitting in Frank’s living room, the cigarette burning more than he smoked it, he was silent. Occasionally he’d lift his eyes to a pacing Frank to tell him to stop, but other than that he listened.

“I need samples, Joe.” Dean pleaded. “I have to go out there. I have to find out if this is our virus. Because I’ll tell you, the incubation period is definitely longer.”

“You can’t go out there,” Joe told him. “I can’t risk it and you know it.”

“I’ll wear a bio suit. Tell him, El.”

“He can do that, Joe, but . . .” She stopped for a second when she heard Frank step harshly and huff. “But, we also can drop a box in and have Marty do the same. He’s the unit medic, right Frank. Frank?”

“Huh?” Frank folded his arms. “Um yeah, El.”

“There,” Ellen nodded. “Dean trained him. Have him do it if you don’t want to take chance of one of us getting exposed.”

Joe finished his cigarette. “That’s not a bad idea. We dropped some supplies off to them. Dean, what else can you think off that we can drop the next time in a few days?”

“We haven’t any idea what their symptoms are so we can’t treat them yet. Hopefully, by the next drop, we’ll know that,” Dean spoke. “Anything we send out cannot come back. I’m going to prepare documentation for Robbie to keep track of the progress of the illness. Also, did you send gloves out to those men? They have to have gloves, Joe, because those who are not symptomatic by tomorrow probably weren’t exposed the first time around. But . . . they are now.”

Henry listened to Dean ramble, but he had a hard time staying with Dean because he kept looking at Frank. Frank looked disturbed, probably upset about Robbie. He kept walking then sitting, and then walking, all while holding his arms close and seemingly wiping a chill from himself. “El,” Henry moved to her whispering, “is Frank O.K.?”

“I don’t know Henry. Upset maybe?”

“He doesn’t look good. Maybe he’s sick.”

“I’ll ask him.” Ellen walked to Frank who had just sat down again. “Frank?”

Frank jumped a little and turned his head to her. “Yeah?”

“Are you all right?”

“Fine.” He ran his hand down his face then brought his hands together in a wringing fashion.

“Frank, you don’t look all right.”

“I’m fine.”

“Frank.” She laid her hand on his. “You’re shaking.”

“I said I’m fine!” He pulled from her and stood up. “I’m upset about Robbie. I need a drink.”

“Frank.” Ellen started to follow him, glancing at the faces whose attention was grasped by Frank’s outburst. “Frank.” She went into the kitchen as he pulled his bottle down from the top cabinet. “Frank, stop it.”

“Stop what?” He grabbed for a glass.

“You don’t need to drink.”

“Drop it, El.”

“No, Frank.”

“Drop it, El.” Frank’s voice raised some more as he poured his moonshine.

“Give me that.”

“Drop it El!” Frank downed it. “Just . . . drop it. O.K.?” He poured another shots worth.

“No I will not drop it. This is ridiculous. I worry about you.”

“Don’t.”

Ellen fluttered her lips. “I wish to God it was that easy. I wish I didn’t have to worry about you. But like it or not Frank, I love you and I care. I’m worried. You drink all the time now, especially when things are rough or don’t go your way.”

“Oh, so you see me so much you can make this conclusion? Well I’m sick of you saying something every time you see me with a drink in my hand.”

“I’m sick of seeing you drink,” Ellen came back. “I think . . .” She saw Frank turn his back to her. “No Frank, listen.” She spun him to face her. “I think you many have a problem.”

Frank laughed an ignoring laugh at her, turning away again.

“Fine.” She released his arm. “Be that way. But if you don’t do something now it’s gonna catch up to you and for the first time in your life, Frank, you won’t be able to control something.”

“Since when does one drink mean a problem?”

“That may be true, but when was the last time you had just one drink?” Tired of waiting for an answer and staring at his back, Ellen tossed her hands in the air. “I’m done. You know where I am.” She backed up and then turned, walking out.

“El.” Frank turned around and she was gone. He stared down at the glass, the moonshine still settling in there. He brought it to his lips then lowered it. He closed his eyes in thought, clenched the glass, and heard Ellen’s not-so-subtle words racing in his mind. Though they may have been words that held a scariness to them, they were words Frank argued with in his head. Then as he went to place his glass down Frank stopped, finished off what was in there, set the glass on the counter, and went out to rejoin the meeting.

Like a two year old, George Hadley had a temper tantrum in his office of the compound. He tossed plans and maps about. Papers flew every which way. It was not what he wanted. His scientists had failed him. In an attempt to create a strain of the new virus that would walk right into Beginnings, they failed. Two more hours, that was all the virus needed to hold off. Two more hours and those infected would have started the chain of infection that would lead to the downfall of Beginnings. George knew they were nowhere near the cure but with the time he had to use to build his second plan of attack, Beginnings could very well beat his best offensive. Perhaps George should not have put so much stock or hope in Robbie and his men bringing in the virus to Beginnings. George should have known better. Joe Slagel had a horseshoe when it came to luck. If it was the last thing he did, he would snatch up that horseshoe, leaving Beginnings defenseless, and hopefully, with a deadly virus as well.

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“Wait.” Robbie called out leaning toward Marty who was taking blood. “You know better.”

“I know I have to get this done.” Marty knelt over a man, a survivor they had picked up. “Dr. Dean needs this blood to check.”

“That’s not why I stopped you. Did you see what you were about to do?” Robbie asked.

“Yes, I was getting ready to fill a tube of blood.”

“No, you were getting ready to rub your eyes.”

“The sweat is dripping in them Robbie.”

“Yeah well if you rub your eyes something else will get into them too. This is a highly contagious virus. You heard, Dean. Your eyes are an open door way for it.”

Marty took a moment to catch his breath before he continued on. “Thanks.”

“Sorry, I yelled.” Robbie stood up, holding a clipboard. He looked at his watch knowing that in a few hours he would have to have everything ready for Beginnings when they came to make a drop and pick up supplies. He didn’t know why he had to document everything . He spoke to Dean on a daily basis. Maybe Dean needed it as something to have on file and maybe just bury if Robbie could help to contain the virus outside of the walls.

Could this virus be it? Could this really be the one that started it all in the future? When Dean and Ellen made that future trip, it was made prior to finding the communication center and since they found the communication center, maybe with Robbie going out, he sped things a little. Robbie hoped in a way that in the other future, the virus had made its way in through them, because if that was the case, staying outside of Beginnings just changed the future.

Robbie walked from Marty and the other man that lay next to him. He moved to Greg who lay on the ground, two blankets covering him. “Hey, Greg.” Robbie squatted down next to him.

“Robbie.” Greg shivered, fighting the fever.

“How are you?”

“Not bad. This thing is not bad.” He looked at Robbie with glossy eyes. “I’ll beat this.”

Robbie watched him shake, a big man such as Greg trembling beneath the blankets for warmth that surrounded him but he did not feel. “How’s the headache?”

“Make, make, making me sick to my stomach.”

Robbie stared at Greg, paler than he had seen since the original plague back in Ashtonville. Only this one was different. With the old plague, Greg would have been dead already. The suffering of that plague was fast, furious and deadly. But this one, it moved slowly, taking its time in devouring the body in such a torturous way.

Slowly and with a silent nod, Robbie left Greg to rest. He had that report to finish for Dean and it wouldn’t be too long until they arrived to pick it up. The only thing was it really did seem like a long time, because the hours seemed to drag on. Sitting, writing, and taking care of the ill. That’s all there was to do, that and wait.

ROBBIE’S REPORT

Date: JULY 5

Patients Name
: GREG HENSON

Date of first symptoms: July 2nd Time of Onset: 12:15 p.m.

Body Temp: 103 Headache: Yes Mild Swollen Glands: Yes

Appearance of skin: Pale Touch of skin: Dry, hot

Is patient conscious? Yes Is patient alert? Yes

Any discoloring of skin? Some Describe: Lt purple under eyes

Blistering of skin? No Body cavity bleeding: No

Convulsions: No Nausea: Some Congestion: None

Vomiting: No Dizziness: No Can patient talk: yes

NOTES
:

Dean, As you can see Greg and the other two are running neck and neck with the symptoms. I don’t know what else to do but sit and watch them. How long will they be sick? Will they get better? Or will they only get worse? You have to let us know. As for now, for the rest of us, it’s day three and counting.

Think of us. Robbie