The Inner Struggle: Beginnings Series Book 7

THE INNER STRUGGLE

Beginnings Book 7

By

JACQUELINE DRUGA

The Inner Struggle

Beginnings Book 7

By Jacqueline Druga

Copyright 20
13 by Jacqueline Druga

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Thank you so very much to Cindy P for all your help with this book.

First and foremost … thank you. If you have made it this far into the series, I owe you a great deal of gratitude. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

I also know if you are this far in the series, then there are things you love, like, hate, and want to change. I get feedback from many readers and I listen and welcome it, good and bad. But I hope the things you love are what keep you coming back.

As you are probably are well aware, Beginnings is a long series. Over twenty books are already written and being tweaked and changed now. It has gone and does go through many changes, including introduction of new characters that add dimension and new storylines. The only way for me to keep the series alive and entertaining is through growth and change. Ending storylines and starting new ones.

Beginnings is my soul, my baby, the reason for my writing. While I do write other stuff, I always go back to Beginnings, it is like coming home.

When I got to Book Nine in the series, there were characters I wanted to add, changes I wanted to make and storylines I wished I never wrote. If only I could go back … A ha! I could. The series had not yet been widely available. So, I wrote what I wanted and after penning Book Nine, The Freedom Fight (Which is my favorite in the entire series) I went back into the series and started axing and changing. But, I stopped on Book Six. I had every intention of getting to books seven and eight. But I forgot, or at least I thought I did. Then I remembered how big of a job it was. When I sent Inner Struggle to the proofreader, I was shocked at all the stuff in there that shouldn’t have been. Sort of like gristle left on a good steak. Ug! Trim the fat. It was a task.

I did and of course, I added some things.

The series, in my opinion, does change for the better as it goes on. The characters change with circumstances and there are new ones that I absolutely love. Including, The Captain.

I hope each and every Beginnings book has and continues to bring out every emotion you can experience. I hope you laugh, cry, get angry, scared and hey, even at times, you get so irritated with me, you want to call me on the phone and yell. That’s cool. That’s fine. I love it. As long as I make you feel … as long as I can entertain you most of the time, I am very happy.

Again, thank you and welcome to my world of Beginnings. I love having you here.

Jacqueline

So that with our strength we may fight . . .

We may conquer . . .

We may go on . . .

We may face . . . our inner struggles

“Son of a bitch!” Joe Slagel made a growling face, curling his top lip in such utter disgust as he marched across center town in Beginnings. He stopped to pull the radio closer to his mouth. “Did you spot him?”

A hiss of the radio and John Matoose came over. “Yeah, Joe. Team Three said they saw him moving fast by the back gate.”

“He’s not on his way back out is he? Keep that perimeter up, you hear me? This is a potentially dangerous situation which I have to get under control.”

“Gotcha’ Joe. What do you need from me?” John asked. “I can grab the tranquilizer gun and head to the back gate.”

“No, the son of a bitch is strong and big too. I don’t want to take a chance of making things worse. Just stay put down at the command center and I’ll have Team Three keep him in their focus while waiting on Team Four, then both can bring him in.” Joe switched channels as he kept moving. “Dan, come in.”

“Yes, Joe.”

“Get your team up to the back gate. When you got him, secure him. Secure him good. Radio me an all clear when it happens. This could possibly turn into a code eight and we don’t need general population getting worried or scared about it. Get back to me.” With a slam of the radio to his hand, Joe stormed towards the social hall. He moved quickly. In fact Joe prided himself on moving faster than most of the men half his age. His hands shook as he reached for the handle of the social hall. One drink, that’s all Joe wanted was one drink. His blood pressure was up and with all of the commotion that erupted, he himself had to stay calm or else how would he keep the security staff from panicking. Calm. Joe took a deep breath as he walked into the empty social hall and grabbed a cigarette from the front pocket of his white button down shirt. He stuck it in his mouth and lit it as he walked behind the bar. He gave a firm pat to ‘Sam’, the bartender mannequin, as he poured himself a shot of moonshine.

As he downed it, Joe wished at that moment he was ‘Sam’. Not a care in the world, not a worry. What Joe wouldn’t give for a peaceful uneventful strand of time in Beginnings but he knew that wasn’t going to happen, especially on this day. They hadn’t heard from Robbie, who was out making another raid on a SUT camp. They almost lost Ellen and the baby and now . . . and now this. This unexpected tribulation was not something Joe wanted to deal with but had to, and he had his security staff full force trying with diligence to get it under control.

With a rattle, he laid down his glass on the bar and headed back out of the social hall. He felt thirty percent better and more able to cope with the battle that he and his security teams were now dealing with.

<><><><>

The smell of it burned Robbie Slagel’s nose so badly he could have sworn it was starting to bleed. He ran the back of his forefinger against his nostrils to check as he stepped away from the death scene he and his men stood before. The partially decomposing bodies that baked in the hot sun was the minimal of what made Robbie’s stomach turn. He walked his tall body further from the scene and ran his fingers through his blonde hair. Knowing he had to contact Beginnings, Robbie signaled his men to fall in and further themselves away from the bodies he and his men happened upon in the middle of a raid against the SUTs--he thought. A raid that turned out to be against something that wasn’t created by science--like the SUTs. A raid against something the cold hard world they lived in now created, savages. How victorious the savages must have felt in their defeat of a SUT troop. They hung their bodies as if they were trophies. But Robbie knew the savages weren’t the winners at all. They were actually the losers and they could very well be on their way--even though dead--to making Robbie and his men the losers as well.

Robbie moved even more away from the camp of death. He didn’t want to look back and he didn’t have to. What he stumbled upon was a frightening foreboding of what he would see again if he, and Beginnings, failed in their mission to stop the virus that some of the savages themselves had died from.

He found a spot on the grass, plopped down, and readied himself to call home. He stopped mid attempt and placed the phone to his lips. How was he going to do it? How was he going to call home and tell them about this? Robbie’s job, along with his men, was to stop those who could bring the new plague to Beginnings. After what Robbie just witnessed, he had the frightening realization that he and his men may have just become those Beginnings was trying to stop.

<><><><>

Dr. Dean Hayes peered through the heavy plastic of the infant incubator to the tiny newborn who slept inside. The baby boy took deep breaths, his abundance of black hair laid softly across his forehead. A tiny intravenous was in his splinted arm which was raised above his head. He was so small, yet every feature seemed perfect. Dean laid down the chart he held on the cart next to the incubator. He lifted the legs of his baggy Levis and squatted down closer to the infant’s level and looked at the closed eyes and the puttering little mouth. He placed his hands in the protective gloves and brought them into the incubator. He gently ran his hand down the head of the baby to his back. He lifted the fragile looking arm examining and making sure that the needle for the IV was placed correctly. Then Dean just stared some more.

With a subtle clearing of her throat and folded arms, Dr. Andrea Winters approached Dean from behind. “Precious, isn’t he?”

First Dean raised his eyes in the plastic, looked at Andrea and then removed his hands and stood up. He ran his fingers through his hair and rested his hand behind his neck. “Honestly?” Dean tilted his head. “This has got to be the cutest kid I have ever seen born in Beginnings and that is saying a lot coming from me.”

“He looks a lot like his father, I mean biological father, don’t you think?” Andrea smiled as she bent down some looking in the incubator.

Dean raised his eyebrows a few times. “Uh, let’s not touch that one shall we.”

“How are you with that?” Andrea asked.

“Let’s just say the reality of it is starting to hit me right now that everything has settled and I really don’t want to talk about that. I want to talk about him.” Dean handed her the chart. “What do you think?”

“Early as we thought. Eight or nine weeks is my guess. He still has the downing hair.” Andrea opened the chart. “As you know, four pounds seven ounces. Went into respiratory distress about an hour ago. He’s stabilized now. Which is consistent with premature births. Seeing the trauma that this little one suffered, the fact that his APGAR readings were low, and he wasn’t breathing when he was born, he’s doing well. His weight will drop.” Andrea nodded as she talked. “Chancing a smart comment, he’s jaundiced right now. His bilirubin reading is way up. We’re gonna put him under the lights.”

With a closed mouth and lowered head, Dean raised his eyes. “You’ve dealt with this for many years in the old world. Your professional opinion, because I’m too close to it, Andrea.”

“Professional opinion?” Andrea breathed heavily through her nostrils then a smile hit her face. “He is going to be just fine. He has a little bit of a fight, but look at his mother. He comes from tough genes.”

“Thanks, Andrea. Speaking of his mother.” Dean looked at his watch. “I promised Ellen I wouldn’t be gone too long. I just wanted to check on him.”

“How is she doing?”

“Amazingly well,” Dean smiled.

“Good. And good job today.”

He let out a quick relief breath. “Scary job. I’ll talk to you later.” Dean backed up.

“Oh Dean, one thing?” Andrea stopped him. “Right now he doesn’t have a name, first or last. What should we call him, chart him under?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I’ll get back to you on that one, Andrea.” Lifting his hand in a wave, Dean turned and left the nursery. He placed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and slowed down to look at the other two babies in there. So big they looked next to Ellen’s son. Of course in every instance that Ellen gave birth, every baby always would have looked bigger. Dean guessed the exception to that was Joey. Then again, Joey’s birth was not something Dean would ever know about, courtesy of that little--rather big--ripple in time.

He walked down the corridor at a quicker pace to Ellen’s room. He didn’t mean to be gone so long. He probably wasn’t, but he got caught up with the baby. He needed the moment to do so, to take in all that had happened and all that he learned in the past few hours. “Sorry,” he spoke softly as he walked into Ellen’s room.

Ellen grunted some as she lifted her body to sit more. She gave a subtle smile to him. “That’s all right. You weren’t gone long. How is he?”

Dean nodded. “Good. Cute, El. Really cute. I’ll wheel you down in a little bit. I just want you in bed for a few more hours. Deal?”

“Deal. You aren’t lying to me are you, Dean? He really is fine. Right?” She pulled her dark blonde hair from her face then rested her head back against her raised pillows.

“Really fine. His breathing is back on track. But you know El, you’re a nurse, that all this was to be expected. He was really early.” He reached for his chair that he had sat in before going to check on Ellen’s newborn son.

“Dean.” She extended out her hand. “You don’t have to stay with me. You don’t. I don’t want to put that on you. You probably have other things you’d rather be doing now.”

“Yeah I do. Sitting.” He plopped in the chair and scooted it as close to the bed as he could get it. “Sitting with you.” He grabbed her hand, cupped the other one over it and brought it to his lips and gently kissed her. “I thought I was going to lose you today.” He brought his face closer to hers. “You couldn’t imagine what was going through my mind. I was scared, El, really scared. And now that the excitement of everything is over.” He blinked several times. “I’ll tell you, it’s hitting me.”

“I’m sorry Dean, I am really sorry for all that’s happened. I mean everything. The baby, Frank, us ...”

“Sorry? Ellen, where is this coming from?”

“Everywhere. I guess maybe, really facing death can do that.”

“Sometimes.”

“Dean, tell me something. Maybe it was all that was going on … but the baby. Does he look …”

Before Ellen could finish, Dena answered. “Yes.”

With an exhale, Ellen plopped her head back deeper into the pillow. “I don’t understand how …” She paused when saw through the corner of her eye, Dean lower his head and, with his free hand, he roughly rubbed his eyes. “Dean?”

“Huh?” He slid his hand down his face. His eyes had become bloodshot.

“Are you all right?”

“Tired.”

“You know what you promised me in the lab this morning don’t you? You promised me you would talk to me about what was going on with you.”

“Now’s not a good time El. Later, please?”

“I want to know. I’m in this with you.”

“I’m glad.” His fingers squeezed around her hand. “But I’d rather wait until things calm down some so we aren’t interrupted.”

“I’ll wait, but don’t think you’re getting out of it.” She pointed with her head. “There is something I need to know right now and I’m a little nervous about it. It might not be a good time to bring this up, but I need to know. Did you change your mind about what we decided on?”

His fingers traced a small circle on her hand as he stared down at it with a solemn face then, as he raised his eyes to Ellen, Dean smiled. “No. I didn’t change my mind.” He watched Ellen smile in relief. “You and I have been talking about this for over a month. Aside from the fact with all that’s going on with me, I need to do this with you. I want to do this with you.” He brought his lips closer to her cheek and kissed her. “I need to do this with you.”

<><><><>

Joe had listened to it intently on the radio. The news that everything was under control brought a sense of relief to him, even though his security team had informed him it was more of a struggle than originally anticipated.

He tossed his finished cigarette from his hand and slowed down as he approached his office at the utility buildings. He could see three of the security guys out front, one of which was Dan, and none of the three looked good. “What the hell happened to you three?” Joe cased them over. Even Dan’s long hair which was always pulled back neatly into a ponytail, had dangling strands.

“It was tough Joe. Really tough.” Dan shook his head and ran the back of his hand across his mouth which bled some. “Four men were injured in the pursuit, unintentionally, but injured.”

“You knew what we were dealing with,” Joe told him. “Is he in there?” Joe seriously motioned his head to the door.

“And secured, Joe. I’ll go in with you.”

“Nah, I can handle it.” Joe reached for the door.

“I’d rather be in there with you, Joe. He’s agitated and not very happy with being captured. It might not be safe.”

“Well, I can handle him, but if you want to amuse yourself, come on in.” Joe opened the door wider and waltzed into his office with dramatic flair and intimidation. He was greeted by the noise of continuous banging of wood against the linoleum. It was accompanied with muffled grunts of a struggle. Joe snickered some, gained his composure, and walked further into the office. “Frank, calm down.”

One long deep growl came from Frank Slagel as he raised his mean dark eyes and peered at his father. He grunted again, unable to speak from the gag placed over his mouth. His big shoulders tossed back in forth as he tried to free himself from the chair in which he was tied.