The Defiant: An Unbeaten Path

by John W. Vance

  “What about Bryn and Rob?” he asked.

  “They went looking for you.”

  “I gave specific instructions that no one attempt to rescue us. I know I was very specific on that.”

  “It was a compromise.”

  Nicholas tossed the sheets off him and struggled to get up.

  “What are you doing?” Becky asked.

  With great difficulty he managed to sit up. He looked at her and replied, “I’m going to go find them.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  "Old friends pass away, new friends appear. It is just like the days. An old day passes, a new day arrives. The important thing is to make it meaningful: a meaningful friend–or a meaningful day.” – Dalai Lama

  Undisclosed Bunker Facility, Superstition Mountains, East of Apache Junction, Arizona

  Michael rose from his bed, excited to be free of the restraints and the drugs they had been giving him for pain. During the evening, he made his request and Karina had made it so. He wanted to move around and see exactly where he was.

  “Just take it easy,” Karina said nervously, her hands out ready to grab him if he fell.

  “I’ll be okay, being stuck in bed for God knows how long has made my legs feel weak,” Michael said as he took his first step off the bed. When his bare foot hit the cool laminate floor, he stopped and allowed himself to truly feel the sensation. “Why exactly did you guys have me drugged?”

  “Too long, but please believe me, it was Anatoly’s idea,” Karina replied.

  Michael was now putting all his weight on his shaky legs; he scooted several steps and stopped. Closing his eyes, he imagined his body was firmly planted to the ground. It was a mental exercise he had learned while training years ago. He took several more steps, this time steadier and faster. “I’m feeling pretty good, a bit achy and tight, but pretty good.”

  “I’m so happy to hear that,” Karina gleefully said, lightly clapping her hands.

  Michael spent the next few minutes strutting around the room. He swung his arms and stretched his back by touching his toes. “Feels good, really does.”

  Karina and Michael laughed and chatted casually. This made him feel at ease, and for the first time in a long time he forgot all the troubles from the past several weeks.

  The door opened abruptly, startling them.

  “Something funny?” Anatoly asked, stepping into the room.

  Michael froze at the sight of Anatoly. The carefree feelings he had were swept away in an instant upon his entrance.

  “We’re just celebrating Michael’s full recovery. Look, Anatoly, he’s walking around,” Karina replied.

  By her demeanor and tense response to Anatoly, Michael could tell they weren’t exactly equals and that she was wary of him.

  “Good, that means he’s ready to talk,” Anatoly said.

  Michael asked, “What would you like to know?”

  “The coordinates.”

  “Coordinates?” Michael asked. He truly didn’t know what coordinates he was asking about, but deep down Michael did know he knew something.

  Anatoly looked at Karina and asked something in Russian.

  “Please speak English,” Michael requested.

  “Listen, Michael, we need those coordinates, and you’re the only person that has them. We can play games, or we can take this further,” Anatoly threatened.

  “What’s he talking about?” Michael asked Karina.

  “Anatoly, give me a moment, this is all too much for him,” Karina stressed.

  “A moment, we’ve given him weeks. We don’t have time for this,” Anatoly exclaimed just below a scream.

  “Michael, please think. What do you remember, specifically what do you remember about your time with the CIA?”

  Michael exhaled heavily and answered, “It’s taken me a while to remember my life before. I recall being in the Army and even being in the CIA, but what I was doing on that ship is still unclear. I can remember your face, our time together before all of this. I even remember another Russian; I believe his name is Viktor. He was on that ship and he threatened to harm you if I didn’t help. He was torturing me, I remember that. So this Viktor also wants the coordinates?”

  “So you remember nothing specific?” Karina asked.

  “I’ve had a rough several weeks,” Michael joked.

  Anatoly gave Michael a scowl.

  “Are you guys CIA? Is this a CIA facility?” Michael asked.

  “Do we look CIA?” Anatoly laughed.

  “Actually, yeah, you could be, I at least know that.”

  “He’s lying. We need to take this further.”

  “You tried the serums, but nothing worked. If he knew, then he would have told you,” Karina reminded Anatoly of the drugs they had used on Michael to get him to speak. This was the real reason he had been lost in a fog since his arrival there.

  “You drugged me to talk?” Michael asked.

  Karina and Anatoly cross-talked.

  Michael began to feel like he was having an out-of-body experience. He wasn’t in control and needed to be. Frustrated himself by their lack of forthcoming, he exploded, “I will fully cooperate, but you need to be honest with me and start doing it now!”

  They both stopped talking and looked at him.

  “Who are you, where am I, and how do I know you?” he yelled.

  Karina spoke first. “We’re your friends.”

  “That’s not enough, I need specifics. And let me give you a 411, friends don’t drug each other,” he snapped.

  “Walk with me, Michael,” Anatoly said, his tone measured. “Let me explain everything to you.”

  Vista, CA

  Vincent sat drinking his morning coffee and looking at his bandaged foot. He had never asked why his former hosts hadn’t put a cast on it but could only guess it was because they didn’t have one. He hated to have to deal with the injury, but he still counted his blessings daily. Never had he heard of someone falling from a chopper and living, better to have his foot broken instead of something worse, like his back or, even worse, he could have lost his life.

  This morning he decided not to make his morning jaunt to the top of the avocado grove. According to his own schedule, he was just days from leaving and heading north, and if someone was going to come inside again, he didn’t want to possibly injure himself coming down to stop them. Taking a perch in the upstairs guest bedroom, he had a full view of the front drive, gate and road beyond.

  Occasionally, a car or truck would drive by, all were older model vehicles. How Roger had managed to have a later model SUV operational was a miracle but not surprising for someone of his talent. The entire situation was so odd, like a one-in-a-billion situation. He had fallen from a helicopter, been rescued and received care from one of the richest men in the United States, who then gave him two life-altering choices, either take a seat in his secure bunker, or have more than enough equipment and resources to help him on his journey back to Idaho. It was all of it that made Vincent feel his survival to this moment wasn’t pure chance but divine. God had a plan for him; he just didn’t know what it was yet.

  Vincent hadn’t practiced religion since he was a teenager. He had grown up Catholic and found the services boring, mundane and too ritualistic for his liking. While in the Marine Corps, he drifted further away from God. The experiences he had while in took him in the opposite direction as some of his comrades. Seeing such horror drove some men to embrace religion and God, but for him he looked at all of it and questioned what kind of God would allow such things to happen. When he had heard about the EMP attack, it again confirmed his newfound belief that there was no God, then the miraculous fall and rescue. He at first had tried to brush it off, but it was just all too perfect to be a coincidence. However, he was struggling to make sense of a God that allowed such barbarism then intervened in his personal survival.

  He took a large sip of the hot coffee and smiled. Soon he wouldn’t be able to enjoy his coffee like this. On the road, he’d have
to feed his addiction, and yes, for him it was an addiction. Even a day without coffee would bring on a raging migraine headache that many over-the-counter pain medicines couldn’t relieve.

  The morning clouds from the coastal marine layer hung low, blocking out the sun. Seeing an early morning blue sky in Southern California was easily a fifty-fifty proposition, unlike Idaho, where the bluebird mornings were common unless a storm system was moving in.

  His thoughts drifted to Noah. He hoped the boy hadn’t gotten into too much trouble and that his mother would take it easy on him. He also hoped the medicines he gave him would be helpful.

  A loud banging at the gate surprised him. He had been lost in thought and hadn’t seen anyone walking up.

  “Well, good morning. Who’s out there?” Vincent asked out loud. He couldn’t see who was there, but someone was, as they banged loudly on the gate again.

  “Open up!” a woman’s voice cried out.

  Vincent stood quickly, spilling his coffee. He slung his rifle and grabbed his crutches.

  “Open up!” the woman again cried out.

  Vincent opened the front door slightly and peered out. The last thing he wanted was to walk into an ambush.

  “Please, open up!” the woman yelled, her voice now sounding distressed.

  “Who are you?” Vincent hollered back.

  “Bridgette!”

  “Who?”

  No reply came back for a few seconds; then the woman said, “Nunea!”

  Vincent wasn’t expecting her but could only imagine it had something to do with Noah and the medicine. He stepped outside the house and hobbled over to the stairs then stopped. The thought entered his mind that she might try to rob him again or do something stupid. “What do you want?”

  Seconds again passed without a reply; she then answered, “I need your help.”

  “You’re not going to shoot at me or something, are you?”

  “No, please. My husband, he’s taken a turn for the worse.”

  Vincent cleared the stairs and started for the gate. The strong aroma of sage brush hit him; it was a smell that reminded him instantly of life at Camp Pendleton. The idea that she might do something wasn’t far from his mind, but what possibly could she want now, he told himself as he stopped ten feet from the gate and placed his right hand on the back strap of his pistol holstered on his tactical vest. “What’s up?”

  “You said you knew first aid. I need your help.”

  “Why should I help you anymore? You stuck a pistol in my face and threatened to shoot me and, oh, that was just yesterday,” Vincent mocked. A desire not to help her rose in his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. He was a Marine and considered himself a good person. He thought about the inner conversation he had just had minutes before, and maybe his new mission in life, maybe his reason for living was so he could help others.

  “I’m sorry, but you don’t know what we’ve gone through. Can you help or not?” she begged.

  “Where was he shot?” Vincent asked, remembering what Noah had told him.

  “In his stomach, but it’s festering.”

  Vincent couldn’t imagine she was setting him up, but he wasn’t about to go blindly. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll be right back.” He hobbled off.

  Like he promised, he returned a few minutes later but behind the wheel of the SUV. He unlocked the gate and pushed the heavy gate open.

  She stood just on the other side, waiting patiently. However, she wasn’t the woman he had encountered yesterday. She looked tired, stressed and her clothes were stained with blood.

  He was bringing everything with him. Yes, it was risky, but leaving it behind unattended was even riskier. Just as he was getting in, he said, “Get in.”

  Bridgette quickly got in. She watched as Vincent awkwardly got back in the cab. He tossed his crutches and rifle in the backseat and slammed the door. Before he engaged the transmission, he looked at her and said, “No funny business, you understand?”

  “Listen, I’m sorry about yesterday. I’m desperate, please understand,” she answered, her tone conciliatory.

  “Fair enough,” he said as he put the vehicle into gear and sped off.

  Wellsville, Utah

  Becky could tell by the look on Nicholas’ face that he wasn’t listening to the doctor’s recommendations.

  And she was right; Nicholas looked past the doctor towards the window and the trees beyond that.

  No one had any reports on Bryn and Rob, and this unnerved Nicholas. He was already filled with guilt over Proctor; now he was faced with possibly losing two others in his group. He and Becky had sat up talking last night about the entire situation, and she now agreed that the idea of having a democracy was just plain silly. It sounded practical before they left, but that was their pre-apocalypse mindset. Few people had ever lived in such situations and thought that a simple vote could make everything all right. But the vast majority of people lacked real experience of combat and warlike situations. What was best was one person making the tough calls. Nicholas mainly faulted himself. He had some combat experience, but it had been over two decades before, and in many ways he had become soft. He’d allowed himself to be talked out of what he knew was the right call. The consensus he and Becky had come to last night was that he would be in total control. They’d keep their little democracy but only for decisions that were considered minor.

  “Mr. McNeil, are you listening to me?” the doctor asked. She could clearly see he wasn’t focused on her.

  “Um, yeah. You recommend I take it easy.”

  “Mr. McNeil, you have been shot. Fortunately the bullet traveled clean through; however, you could still open yourself up for infection. Your number seven and eight ribs on your right side are bruised and you sustained a concussion.”

  “Got it.”

  Becky thought about asking Nicholas to take the doctor’s words more seriously, but she knew him and it was a waste of breath.

  The doctor frowned, and her irritation with his lack of respect for her was apparent. “Here is some Advil, some cephalexin to prevent infection, and if the pain is more than the Advil can handle, here’s some hydrocodone.”

  Becky took the three bottles and tossed them in a small satchel.

  Still ignoring the doctor, Nicholas turned and asked Becky, “Where’s Abby?”

  “Out front with Colin and the others.”

  “And Katherine?”

  “She’s out there too. I forgot to mention she wants to hold a funeral here in two days.”

  Nicholas nodded.

  “The nurse will check you out,” the doctor said and exited the room.

  As soon as the door to his room closed, Nicholas exclaimed, “Thank God. Can we get the hell out of here?”

  “Be grateful, these people have been generous and very nice.”

  He thought for a second and agreed, “Don’t get me wrong, this has been a miracle. I could never have imagined a town would still function and operate almost like nothing had happened here.”

  Becky stayed with Nicholas as he went through the procedural checking out from the clinic. After a few jokes and some heavy exhaling from Nicholas, as the process took longer than he wanted, they found themselves outside.

  When Nicholas saw Colin and the group, he jumped out of the wheelchair and headed towards them. “Colin, we need to have a few words.”

  Colin didn’t have to guess what it was about. “Yes, boss.”

  Nicholas opened his arms and said, “C’mon here, buddy.”

  Colin looked at him strangely, not expecting a warm reunion. He embraced Nicholas and said, “Glad you’re okay.”

  “And please, stop calling me boss. I’ve already asked you before to stop that. Please, enough.”

  “It’s a Southern thing.”

  “Well, we’re not in the South, nor are we anywhere close to the Mason-Dixon Line.”

  “Roger that, I’ll stop.”

  “Did you do as I asked?” Nicholas queried.

&nbs
p; “Yep, we’re to see him as soon as you’re ready,” Colin answered, referring to the mayor of Wellsville.

  “Good,” Nicholas said as he went for his watch but couldn’t find it. He turned to Becky and asked, “Where’s my watch?”

  She held up the shimmering gold piece and replied, “Right here.” She walked over and handed it to him. “It was one of the first things I checked on after I saw you yesterday.”

  Nicholas took the timepiece in his hand and stared at it. This watch meant a lot to him. It very well could be the last item he’d have from his brother, Michael. His mind raced to where he might be and if he was okay; then he remembered it was Michael McNeil he was worried about and that he shouldn’t be. From his earliest recollections, Michael was a tough and able person. He had been a great older brother and always looked out for him when he was a child. He had been hard on Nicholas but had good reason. Nicholas respected and loved his brother and wished he could be there with him as they went through this struggle. Unsure of where he was or if he’d see him again, this watch represented Michael and their brotherly love. It was one of the few prized possessions he had.

  “I forgot to mention, the mayor wants to see you too, so it wasn’t too hard to get this meeting,” Colin informed Nicholas.

  “Good, let’s not keep the mayor waiting,” Nicholas said, putting his attention back on where he was. He pocketed the watch and climbed into the Suburban.

  Undisclosed Bunker Facility, Superstition Mountains, East of Apache Junction, Arizona

  Michael looked around the room. It was just like his hospital room and the seemingly endless hallways, stark white with no windows. He longed to see the sun and to breathe fresh air.

  Anatoly didn’t share anything significant along their way to this new room. He did tell Michael he was in a bunker in the Arizona Mountains and that he had never been there before but knew about its existence. He opened up that they were not CIA but that Michael definitely was and had joined their cause against Viktor. However, what he didn’t discuss was what the end game was. And finally, what were the coordinates for?