The Defiant: An Unbeaten Path

by John W. Vance

  Karina stepped beside him and said, “I’m so sorry, my sweet.” She looked at the condition of the house and surmised the same thing as Michael.

  Anatoly brushed by with two security men and proceeded down the driveway and into the house through the garage.

  Michael and Karina followed Anatoly and found the same inside.

  “Nicholas, it’s Michael!” Michael cried out, his voice echoing off the still walls.

  The house had been ransacked, the kitchen taking the brunt of the invasion.

  A member of the security team came into the kitchen and said, “The house is clear. No one is here.”

  “Any bodies?” Michael asked.

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, they’re gone, not surprising,” Michael said as he paced around, looking at the terrible condition of the house.

  “The next question is, where are they?” Karina said.

  “They could be anywhere,” Anatoly exclaimed.

  “He wouldn’t have taken his family just anywhere; Nic isn’t like that,” Michael said.

  “Your memory seems fine when it pertains to your brother.” Anatoly smirked.

  “My memory is fine now, but anything over the past year seems foggy, so it makes sense that I know who my brother is and what he might have done,” Michael countered.

  “Then you should know where they went,” Anatoly said.

  Francis walked in with an armful of framed photos and set them on the counter. “Maybe one of these might help tell us where they might have gone.”

  “Pictures of family?” Anatoly asked.

  Michael looked at the stack of frames and the sight gave him a name. “Uncle Jim, I would bet my last dollar they went to Becky’s uncle Jim’s house in Montana. It makes sense for Nicholas to take his family somewhere they’d have a chance to survive.”

  “But how would he get there?” Karina asked.

  “That’s a good question.”

  “Hence why they could be anywhere in between here and Montana,” Anatoly said, again inserting his negativity.

  “Or they could already be in Montana. We should go,” Michael asserted.

  “Michael, I need you to think hard before we go. We’re here; we need to take time to search the house. You need to think very, very hard about why you think Nicholas has the coordinates and just how you gave them to him,” Karina said.

  “She’s right,” Anatoly added.

  Michael looked at them both. He wanted to argue for leaving now, but her point was valid. “Okay, let me start in his office,” Michael said and left the kitchen on his way to Nicholas’ office.

  Vista, CA

  “You two can sleep in the upstairs master bedroom,” Vincent suggested.

  After the altercation, Bridgette asked and Vincent immediately agreed to her and Noah coming to stay at the compound. Several times she referred to it as his place or house, but when he mentioned the property, he called it the compound. Even though Roger had given him the house and land, he just didn’t feel right calling it his.

  “Goodnight, mister,” Noah said.

  Just then Vincent remembered he had never formally introduced himself. “Just call me Gunner.”

  “That’s a cool name,” Noah replied.

  “I think so too. How about dinner?”

  “Upstairs, you,” Bridgette ordered. She turned and quickly said, “Good night.” She rushed up the stairs behind Noah and disappeared.

  “I guess that means no on the dinner,” Vincent joked. He could feel his foot throbbing. Without a doubt the incident today didn’t help. With no one to entertain, he went about his nightly ritual of securing the house before making dinner.

  The sun had set, leaving only darkness. Vincent lit candles throughout the house and in the kitchen ran a few LED lanterns to help illuminate while he prepared dinner.

  “Smells good,” Bridgette said from the doorway of the kitchen.

  Vincent’s attention was on stirring the refried beans he had cooking in a saucepan. “I didn’t hear you. I thought you were down for the night.”

  “I thought so too, but the aroma of those beans got to me.”

  “You like ole Mexican food?” Vincent joked.

  “I live in Southern California, of course I do,” she said and walked further into the kitchen. She took a seat on a bar stool next to the kitchen island.

  “It’s a nice house you have here. I looked around and saw some kids’ rooms.”

  Vincent scooped out some beans and put them on a plastic plate and tossed on two warmed corn tortillas. He spun around and placed it in front of her. “What’s the equivalent of bon appétit in Spanish?” he asked, not wanting to get into the house or why he was there.

  She laughed and replied, “Not sure, but I’m so hungry.”

  Vincent scooped a plate for himself and set it across from her. He was happy to see her approachable and wanted to take advantage, so he grabbed a bottle of wine and brought it back. “Some vino?”

  “Sure,” she answered and dipped her tortilla in the beans.

  Vincent found two glasses, pulled the cork and poured the wine. He set the bottle down and picked up his glass to toast. Ever since a young age he had seen his parents toast and recognize someone or something over a drink. So in honor of that tradition, he offered his glass but didn’t know what to say.

  She looked oddly at him but picked up her glass too. She saw him hesitate, so as to not have him hanging, she said, “To you, thank you.”

  “Oh, not necessary.”

  “I have to apologize for my conduct earlier. To say I’m going through a lot doesn’t seem to say enough.”

  Their glasses were still in the air; neither had taken a drink.

  “I was going to toast to having a drink. It’s been a while since I had someone to toast with,” he joked and took a large drink.

  She did the same and said, “That’s pretty good.”

  He looked at the bottle and said, “It’s Silver Oak Cabernet from Napa Valley, is that good?”

  “Yes, it is, nice choice. You have good taste.”

  “Hmm, I’m not much of a wine person. If it was Boone’s Farm, I’d be happy. Anything to take the edge off.”

  They exchanged small talk over the meal while pouring glass after glass of wine until they had finished the bottle. He went, got another and opened it.

  After pouring another glass full, he said, “I thought about those bikers afterwards, and I have to admit I was too slow in dealing with them.”

  “I thought about it too. I want to make it known that I’m not some cold-blooded killer. When Noah told me what they did to him, I became enraged.”

  “What happened? Where did he go?”

  “He snuck out to go get the damn cat he’d seen at the Taylor house. He saw that old tabby when we were there weeks ago; he felt bad for the old fleabag and wanted to bring it home. Without going into too much detail, they were scavengers and found him there. That kid who was pinned under the side car tried to sexually assault him, but Noah fought back and ran. God knows how that little guy was able to escape, but he did. He took a shortcut across a field, but they saw him from the road and followed him to our place. I have no doubt in my mind that if they had caught him, he’d be dead.”

  “I’m sorry that happened to him.”

  “I tell him over and over again to stop taking off. This time I think he learned his lesson.”

  “I’m not normally that guy that doesn’t take care of business,” Vincent said but was interrupted.

  “No shit, I saw you race over, foot broken, and with one shot take them both down. No need to explain anything, trust me,” she declared, wanting to defend him.

  “Yeah, but I acted too slowly. I guess I was never expecting to see women and children acting like that. However, I should have known, I was held up the other day by a woman,” he then added with a laugh.

  “You see, I was just trying to train you.”

  “Cheers to that,” he said and h
eld his glass high.

  She could feel the alcohol and welcomed it.

  As he poured another glass, he said, “I like wine, but I love beer. Too bad they didn’t have any.”

  She raised an eyebrow and asked him, “Whose house is this?”

  Vincent gulped hard, thought about his answer, then wondered why he wouldn’t be honest. What did he have to prove? he thought. “This isn’t my house, although technically it is now since they gifted it to me before they left.”

  “Who would gift you a house like this?” she asked, a tone of doubt in her voice.

  “They did, but how can you live so close to someone and not know your neighbors?”

  “Don’t divert; whose house is this?”

  “Roger Puller and his family.”

  “So this is the famous Puller compound?” she asked, taking another drink.

  “So you know them?”

  “Know of them, they kept to themselves, very private people. Some say he was strange, very eccentric; you know, the crazy-billionaire type?”

  “Actually, I don’t. I’m just a Marine from Idaho.”

  “A Marine like from Camp Pendleton?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why aren’t you there?”

  “I’ll tell you the short version. My helicopter crashed not far from here. Roger and his family saved me; they brought me here and patched me up. After several days they took off and left me the keys to the place.”

  “You still didn’t explain why you’re still here and not back on base.”

  “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” he asked then took a large drink. “My parents are in Idaho and they’re getting up in age. If I went back, I’d probably never get a chance to check on them. I plan on going back one day, but not just yet. My plan is to head north very soon.”

  She finished her glass and pushed it towards him for a refill. “I hope you know I wasn’t serious about not wanting to live. I’m just emotional and that came out. My parents are older too and live in Oklahoma. Before Ron got hurt, our plan was to go there, but well, you know what happened. I’m looking at finding a way there, just not sure how that will happen without a car.”

  Knowing that she’d probably never make it to Oklahoma tugged at Vincent’s heartstrings. They were two people with similar objectives, but only one had the means to accomplish it. He felt bad for her, but could he really give up on his parents to help a widow and her child?

  She tipped the glass back again and emptied it with one large drink. A dribble of wine ran down her chin, making her laugh. “I think I might have had too much.”

  “One more for the night,” Vincent insisted as he went to refill her glass.

  “Nope, that’s enough for little old me. I’m not much of a drinker and that was past my limit. Thank you for everything, Gunner, much appreciated.” She stood and upon her first step staggered a bit. Catching herself, she chuckled, “See, a bit too much.”

  “Have a good night, Bridgette.”

  She stumbled out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

  He was going to call it a night but looked at the half-full bottle and said, “Why not?” He filled his glass and walked into the living room. Finding the large leather cushion chair, he took a seat. The yellow glow from the candles cast flickering shadows across the room. He started to question his plan for Idaho. He knew what his father would tell him to do. In fact, his father would be disappointed in him as a man if he left her and Noah. Thoughts once again came up about the crash and why he survived it. It was a nagging question for him. Why did he live while the others died? He had heard of survivor’s guilt and knew it was a symptom of PTSD but would never consider what he had as PTSD; that was for everyone else.

  His father had been a large part of his life, and one lesson he had drilled into his head was that everything that happens in life has a meaning and not to find a negative meaning but a positive one. He had taken that lesson throughout his life and had been applying it to the crash. There was a reason he survived that crash and it probably wasn’t to go home and check on his parents, it was to be helpful to those in need. He then thought of Bridgette and Noah and saw that fate had placed in front of him two people who needed help, so if that was fate’s wish, he’d fulfill it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “There is no education like adversity.” – Benjamin Disraeli

  Wellsville, Utah

  When Nicholas and the others received word that Bryn would survive her wounds, they rejoiced; however, that joy was quickly dashed when the word that followed told of Brock’s death. Needless to say, it made for a difficult and tenuous night.

  Nicholas didn’t know what Brock’s death would mean to Bryn or his group, but he was sure it wasn’t good. He tried to reassure himself that Rob’s and Brock’s deaths equaled out, but deep down he knew that wouldn’t be the case.

  Almost in an instant the town’s hospitality had ceased. The picnic that had been scheduled was canceled, and the evening was spent listening to howls and protest outside their house. Nicholas ordered they double up on watch for the night just to make sure no one tried anything stupid.

  The new day did not bring new opportunities; in fact, it had proven to be tough for the group. When Nicholas and Sophie went to the hospital to visit Bryn, the security posted there refused them access. When he tried to go see Chad at the city offices, he too refused to meet with him and had his security escort him away. The trouble for Bryn went directly to Chad’s opening speech to Nicholas. In that speech, Chad mentioned the town’s survival rested upon the rule of law, and it was obvious to Nicholas that rule of law was in full swing.

  Nicholas couldn’t just sit and wait. He had to find out what they should be expecting, plus he needed to get Rob’s body, which no one seemed to know about.

  Nicholas and Sophie returned to the city offices, and this time were not taking no for an answer. They walked in and decided to camp out until he returned.

  “Mr. McNeil, the mayor does not wish to see you right now. As you can imagine, he’s mourning his son,” Sally informed.

  “Tell Chad that I offer my condolences, but what is going on with my people is highly inappropriate,” Nicholas countered.

  “Mr. McNeil, he is not available, but maybe I can have you meet with someone from the council,” Sally said, offering a solution.

  Nicholas thought about the alternative and decided to take it; he figured that at least he’d be talking with someone that might be able to influence the circumstances for Bryn.

  Sally walked them down to the conference room and told them to wait.

  Seconds later a man walked in that Nicholas remembered meeting the other day.

  “Tom Fielding, how can I help you?” he asked. Tom was middle-aged with premature graying hair and sported a small belly that jutted out. He stood just shy of six foot and at one time was the local star high school football player.

  “Thanks for meeting with us,” Nicholas said, standing and offering his hand. Nicholas was determined to play whatever political or congenial thing he had to in order to save Bryn.

  “Not a problem, but you can imagine we have a lot we’re dealing with, but I’m not sure how I can help.”

  “I’m Nicholas McNeil…”

  “I know who you are, I remember you from the other day, but I don’t know who this is,” Tom said while looking at Sophie.

  “Sophie, I’m Bryn’s sister.”

  “Yes, your sister, Bryn. She’s in a bit of trouble,” Tom blurted out.

  “That’s why I want to meet with Chad and sort this out. Bryn is a good person, and this entire thing is being blown out of proportion,” Nicholas declared.

  Tom scrunched his face and asked, “You do know who Brock was?”

  “Yes, I’m aware, but the thing was a mistake. She was only acting to defend herself from someone she didn’t know. The world out there is not like it is in here.”

  Tom leaned on the table and placed both his elbows down. He exh
aled heavily and said, “I don’t know what I can do for you. The wheels of justice are moving forward. We are only able to function as a town if we have rules and laws.”

  Nicholas had to stop himself from jumping on Tom’s comment about rules and laws. If he ever took the time to step out from the protective bubble they were living in, they’d see that while they have a set of laws, there’s another when you’re struggling to survive.

  “I’m sorry, did Sally offer you guys something to drink?” Tom asked as he pivoted and showed the typical Wellsville hospitality.

  “No, we don’t want something to drink, we want to see our friend, and we want Rob’s body released to us so we may bury him,” Nicholas snapped.

  Tom smiled and said, “No need to get upset, and I would highly suggest not barking at someone who might be able to help you.”

  “So you can help us?” Sophie asked enthusiastically.

  “I can’t make any guarantees, but Bryn will need legal representation, and there I can be of assistance,” Tom said, showing his large white teeth as he smiled.

  “Legal representation for what?”

  “We run a tight ship around here, and the process has to go through its course.”

  Nicholas had heard enough. “This is complete bullshit. I want to see her and talk with her, now!”

  “Now, now, please calm down. You getting upset won’t make that any easier. Once they have talked with her.”

  “Oh, you mean interrogate!” Nicholas barked, interrupting Tom.

  “Mr. McNeil, we don’t interrogate people here. We just need to ask her a few questions.”

  Nicholas turned to Sophie and said, “This is unbelievable, this is truly unfucking believable.” He then looked back at Tom and asked, “Doesn’t she get to speak with an attorney or something, a phone call? Wait, hold on, I’m acting like this is some legitimate process. This is total bullshit. Bryn did nothing wrong; she defended herself, nothing more.”