The Inner Struggle: Beginnings Series Book 7 (37 page)

Ellen stepped away. “We’ll hide him in the back of the Jeep when we get closer to home.”

“Good idea.”

Robbie heard this. “Hide?” His words sounded foggy. “Hide?”

Ellen smiled. “Get him strapped in, Dean. I’ll go grab the stuff.”

Dean agreed and watched Ellen go up over the hill. He held his hand on Robbie’s chest to steady him up right in the seat then he hurried to the driver’s side of the open vehicle. “The belts aren’t real good, Robbie. You’re going to have to try to keep yourself up.”

Robbie snickered even in illness. “Not a problem.”

Shaking his head, Dean bent down, reaching around Robbie’s waist for the belt. “Such a Slagel.”

“Dean.”

“No smart comment, Robbie. I’m finding the belt.”

Robbie coughed, his body shook. “Dean.”

Feeling Robbie fuss in the seat, Dean backed up. “What is it?” He asked then saw Robbie reach for the revolver between the two front seats. “Robbie what . . .”

“Ellen.” Robbie’s weak and unsteady arm held out the weapon.

Afraid to turn around but having to, Dean’s head--like a clock--turned back. “Shit!” His eyes widened and his body went numb when he saw the line of them--more than he could count at that moment--standing before him, weapons high… SUTs. Then he heard it, the pumping of chambers coming from the weapons raised and aimed towards them. “Shit!” With a pounding heart and a stolen chance, Dean leaped his small body outward toward Robbie, slamming into him and knocking them both to the ground in a roll. The second their bodies bounced, a gunshot rang out.

Dean climbed from Robbie pulling him closer to the Jeep’s protection. He heard more shots, the oddity of one in the distance. Lowering his head, Dean looked under the jeep, a blur. He couldn’t see or focus enough to know what was going on. But he did know one thing, the firing stopped.

The unexpected kick from the firing of the weapon sent Ellen back and she landed on her backside. Still holding the weapon, she held it up to the wall--fourteen strong--of SUTs that had turned from Robbie and Dean and now headed her way. It frightened her more than she thought it would. She remembered her last encounter with two of the SUTS when she was beyond the wall of her home. Even though they were programmed to think one way, they still were male. The thought of what fourteen of them would do to her made her depress the trigger on the M-16, only to panic when she found out the clip was jammed. “No.” She tossed the weapon and brought herself to her feet in a sloppy stumble.

Down the grade? No. They blocked her. Behind her to the town? Ellen shifted her views. Two more. Doing the only thing she could do, she shot herself sideways and began to run. As fast as her legs could carry her, she ran toward the road below which look more like an overgrown field. Though there was nowhere to hide, it gave her hope that if she could keep ahead of them somehow Dean could follow in the Jeep and get her. “Dean!” She screamed as she ran, the SUTs running behind her. “Help me!”

Dean’s hand slammed on the metal of the Jeep as he felt his way around it. How could he find her? How could he help her when he couldn’t even see where she was? The more she called, the more her voice went through him with a pain that was worse than if had he taken a bullet.

With the mouth piece of his radio lowered below his bottom lip and sunglasses shielding his eyes, Johnny peered out the windshield of the chopper into the sunny day in front of them. “The town’s up ahead. We came in west, Dad. I’m not seeing them!” He spoke loud over the chopper noise.

“They have to be out here!” Frank, standing in a ready mode, looked out the windshield also.

“Wait! Over the trees. The Jeep.”

“Dean and Robbie. Where’s Ellen!” He watched them stumble to jeep and Dean look up.

“Dad, ahead.”

“Fuck!” With a tight closed fist and horror filled eyes, Frank pounded his hand into the door of the chopper when he saw the line of men chasing after a running Ellen. “Get me in front of them!”

“Dad, they’re all moving.”

Not paying attention to his son, Frank hurried his big body into the back of the chopper and picked up his weapon as he hit the door. He lifted his mouth piece to speak to Johnny and in one motion, he flung open the side door, adjusted himself to the blast of wind, raised his weapon in an aiming motion, and braced himself in the doorway of the chopper. “See me, Ellen, see me.”

“Can you get a clear shot?”

Frank twisted his head and aimed again watching Ellen zig-zag about in her run from the SUTs. “Ellen move,” he beckoned.

It was more than the helicopter noise that captured Ellen’s attention. She could actually feel his approach, feel it within her, stirring that extra charge of energy that gave her the push to keep going. Raising her eyes up in her stride, she could see the chopper hovering and then she saw him . . . Frank.

The reasoning came back and the fright left her. She would be fine. Seeing Frank aim forward told her she had to get away from his shot. As soon as this realization hit her and she shifted her run, so did something else. A gunshot, and then a burning seared into the side of her thigh. Ellen dropped hard to the ground and slammed her knees against the concrete buried beneath the high grass.

“Ellen!” Frank cried out seeing her fall into a disappearance and watching the SUTs move closer and faster. “Bring me in full speed from the side! Now, John!”

“Dad, what are you doing?”

Frank harnessed his weapon over his shoulder and behind him. He grabbed the rope that was secure and dropped it out of the door.

“Dad!”

“Full speed and steady, John. It’s our only chance. Now!”

Johnny looked back as he turned the helicopter in a tilt, picking up the speed and watching his father. Johnny smiled. “I know what you’re doing.” He spoke in the radio. “I’m bringing you in.”

“Your aim better be good.” Frank grabbed onto the rope and began to lower himself down.

“I’m the best.”

Frank laughed as he hurried to the rope’s edge, placing his foot loosely in the loop. “Prove it!” With whipping wind crashing into his face, sharp and hard like particles of sand being thrown full speed at him, Frank kept his eyes open as he held on to the rope with one hand. He was totally within Johnny’s control as his body sailed with speed holding onto that rope toward Ellen.

The helicopter noise and the tromping of feet all prompted Ellen to ignore whatever pain she felt and get back on to her feet. Grunting and giving it everything she had, she stood and lost her balance only for a second before she saw the SUTs almost within reach of her. Turning and hoping that she could out run them more, her corner peripheral vision saw them stop to aim at her. “No!” She called out as she heard the most paralyzing of sounds, the simultaneous pumping of chambers in a long line of automatic weapons. She couldn’t move any faster. She just had to keep running because she didn’t want to see it coming. And she didn’t.

Slam!

Every ounce of her breath escaped her when she felt the wall of a body slam into hers, the grip of a safe haven arm, and the rise of her body from the ground to safety, all within the hold of Frank. Even the rush of the air that blasted her in her face couldn’t make her inhale enough to set her breathing straight. So tightly she felt him hold onto her and instinctively she clung back, her arms around his neck and her legs up and around his waist. She began to shake. Her whole body trembled as she held on to Frank with the life he had just saved and they flew backwards on that rope from the SUTs that stood stunned below.

Frank bit his bottom lip and pressed her face close to hers as he held onto the rope. “Johnny.” He called out. “Slow down and bring me out a little further. I’m dropping off and finishing this thing.”

“Got it, Dad. Be ready.”

“El,” Frank spoke to her, “hold on. Don’t let go of me.”

She shook her head unable to speak.

Something at that moment made Frank laugh. Maybe it was the relief he felt from having Ellen in his arms, but he also knew it was not over yet. “Ready, El?” The chopper slowed down and Frank released his foot. He held on to Ellen with all his strength and slid down to the very end of the rope. “It’ll be a jolt.” Frank watched the ground below as he readied to release his fingers. “Ready and . . . now.”

Ten feet from the grounds surface was as close as they could dangle. The moment he released his hold on the rope, Frank held Ellen with both arms and loosened his legs as they landed hard to the ground in a stumble and rolled a good twenty feet before they stopped.

Frank could hear Ellen’s heavy, frightened breathing, as he tried to get up from her. His back ached from rolling so hard on his weapon. “I have to get up.” He pulled from her arms. “Stay put!” Rolling onto his knees and standing in a run, Frank prayed his weapon wouldn’t fail him as he lifted it high in an aim to the barrage of SUTs that stormed his way.

Though the SUTs kept moving, Frank did not. With his feet planted firmly, weapon high and a view of their heads in the grass that was not quite grown enough to hide them, Frank began to fire. His sharp shooter marksmanship did not fail him.

Never did he flinch in his mission, or become unraveled. Even though there was only one of him, Frank had the upper hand. As he fired his shots--wasting not a single one--it became Frank’s real life video game just like the zombie one that he loved. because the SUTs, in a sense, were like zombies. With each shot he fired, he watched them drop, one at a time, lifeless into the field in which they ran. One at a time until there were no more.

There was no more running sounds. No more shuffling of heavy boots through the high weeds. Only distant chopper noises and Frank lowered his weapon. He spun around letting the excitement of what had happened finally hit him when he knew it was over. “Ellen!” He called out into the weeds, weapon dangling and his body moving emotionally drained in his search for her.

Ellen lifted herself to a stand and screamed with enthusiasm when she saw him coming toward her. In a limp she ran. Then ignoring the pain, she charged forth to Frank, leaping herself at him and plowing her weight at him with such a force, she knocked them both off their feet and backwards into the grass. Still unable to form words and exhaling only sounds brought on by her accelerated adrenaline, Ellen clung to Frank as she lay on top of him on the ground.

Frank laughed, his chest bouncing her body as he did. He slid his hands from her back to her face, grasping it, lifting it, and staring at. So widely he grinned as he looked into her eyes, breathing so heavily in a synchronized inhalation rhythm with hers. He huffed, and so did his words. “How’s . . . how’s your leg?”

Ellen’s out-of-breath words matched his. “Fi . . . fine. Just . . . just a scratch.”

“Any pain?”

“Not much.”

“Sure?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He smiled again, held her tightly with one arm, and rolled them together, placing Ellen on her back. His body weighed pressed to her, but not completely. His large hand ran across her face, feeling it in a moment of silence. Biting his bottom lip with a grin, Frank took three slow breaths through his nostrils to put his breathing back in sync. Then gripping her face more, he parted his lips, still smiling and lowered them to Ellen.

“Don’t kiss her!” Dean’s voice shot out stopping them just before they touched. “Don’t!” He ran to them.

“Fuck!” Frank looked at him. “Why not?”

“Because if you do Frank . . .” Dean caught his breath. “Then you’ll be stuck in quarantine with us for the whole time.”

“Oh yeah?” Frank smiled. “Good. Thanks Dean.” He moved to kiss Ellen again.

“Frank!” Dean yelled again, stopping them. “Beginnings cannot afford to have you out of commission for that long. Not now, not with the SUTs so close.”

A soft frustration growl rumbled from Frank’s throat. He closed his eyes and lifted his body some from Ellen. “So close.” He shuddered then whined. Sliding back, he brought himself to his knees and held his hand to Ellen. “Can I at least hold her?”

“You can hold her,” Dean held his hair back, “but don’t kiss her!”

Standing up, Frank lifted Ellen to her feet, letting his eyes shift to the blood that poured down her leg. “You get into more trouble than any woman I have ever met.”

“And you’re always around to pull me out of it.” Ellen gripped his hand tighter. “Thank you, Frank Slagel . . . again.”

“You’re welcome, Ellen . . .” Frank grinned because he knew what her last name still was “Slagel.” He gave a ‘ha’ laugh. “Again.” With his words, he felt her arms go around him and he return the embrace, lifting her from her feet as he did. Holding Ellen, he could hear the stopping of the helicopter engines as it landed. “Now that the excitement is over with.” Frank pulled back and his whole demeanor changed. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?” He scolded at her and Dean. “Sneaking out? Going against the rules. Didn’t it ever occur to you that . . .” He stopped talking when he heard what sounded like singing, badly, but weak. Releasing Ellen’s hand, his views followed that voice that sang a hero song. Past Dean, sitting in the jeep, he saw his brother. So ill, looking so unlike himself. “Oh my God!” Frank began to run to him and he was blocked by Dean. “Let me get to him.”