“Stand at attention when you address me!” I barked, more testing the water than expecting compliance with my command. I soon had my answer when I saw the malevolent grins on their ugly faces. Their countenance did not show a shred of respect, only hatred. As far as they are concerned, I am guilty. In their eyes, I am no longer a human being, let alone their superior officer.
The sergeant raised his right hand and poked it through the bars while extending his middle finger.
“Address this,” he jeered before he took his nightstick in his left hand and smacked the bars for emphasis.
I returned the salute, which was a mistake. I was hot, I was angry and I was desperate to get to my family. If only I could get them to open the door and come after me, I might have a fighting chance to get away before it was too late.
His buddy didn’t say anything as he gave me the ‘what, me worry?’ smile, only it was devoid of any humor. I realized trouble was eminent. He slowly reached in his pocket and retrieved the keys.
“Okay, Major Smart Ass, you want to play? We can accommodate you there.” He said with spittle flying from his lips. I could tell he wanted to hurt me, hurt me bad.
Even though they were about to smash my face in, I experienced a moment of pity for my captors. How had these two men arrived at such a frenzied state of hatred towards me? All I was guilty of was trying to save two lives, two possibly eternal lives. Now I am a traitor to the country I have loved all my life. I pitied the Impals in their current situation, yet I felt these two men deserved a modicum of my compassion. That feeling was short lived, however, as the private unlocked and threw open the door. The sergeant charged like a raging bull, knocking me into the wall. I straightened up, ready to respond, until the private clubbed me in the gut. I doubled over as every measure of air vacated my lungs.
The two men continued their barrage with alternating blows to my head and body. I collapsed to my hands and knees. I was beaten and kicked for what seemed an eternity. I was certain the fatal blow would crush the back of my head at any moment, ending my physical life.
Just as hope was about to leave my mind, along with consciousness, I heard two popping noises closely followed by high-pitched whines. A second later, the thud of two bodies hitting the floor echoed in my cell. I slowly raised my head, my vision swimming from my pounding head. The blood and sweat pouring over my eyes blinded me. I could just make out the blurry outline of two bodies lying in a V shape in front of me.
I managed to rise to my knees and then sat back on my haunches against the cell wall. Wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt, I tried to shake the cobwebs out of my head and focus on what was in front of me. When my vision cleared, I gasped through my throbbing, broken nose.
Lying face down in front of me were the sergeant and the private. A large bullet hole centered each man’s back as their blood slowly pooled beneath them. My gaze was drawn upward with foreboding assurance of what I would see next. Standing beyond the feet of their respective body was the shimmering form of both men. They both wore mixed expressions of shock and horror on their faces. The men were now what they seemed to despise more than anything. They were Impals.
CHAPTER 2
JAILBREAK
“It’s necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live.”
~Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo
I tried to push myself off the floor to see the source of this attack, but my struggle to catch my breath left me dizzy. I fell in a heap beside my cot. I glanced up in time to see iron chains lasso the new Impals and then jerk them backwards with a violent tug through the door of my cell. Both men let out a tinny high-pitched scream making hackles stand up on the back of my neck. It was hard enough getting used to the way Impals talk; their screams were terrifying. I didn’t think I would ever get used to it.
Two shadowy figures walked up behind the Impals and pulled the chains hard. The newly minted Impals let out a blood-curdling howl.
“Doesn’t feel too good when you’re on the other side of it, does it private?” a voice growled behind the Impal who was now a former private.
“I’m shocked at your behavior, sergeant,” another voice said with sarcasm.
The sergeant’s chain tugged violently again. He let out another disturbing cry of agony.
“Don’t you know that assaulting a superior officer in a time of war can carry the death penalty?” the sarcastic man said.
“We’re not at war,” I croaked, finally regaining my breath.
“Maybe not declared,” the man said, this time his voice sounded a little more familiar. He walked in the cell door where I could see him.
“Make no mistake, this is a war, major,” he said.
My heart leapt when I saw my friend and colleague, Captain Burt Golden. He never liked the military hair cut so Burt kept his brown hair in a neat trim parted on the side. His blue eyes and square chin always reminded me of an old Alec Baldwin. We had been friends for years, having graduated West Point and then served two tours in the Middle East together. He served as my unit leader for the past two years.
Burt is a good man who can be over zealous, but he is loyal to a fault. The other man walked forward and stood beside him. He gave the Impal private’s chains another hard yank. I didn’t recognize him. His brown eyes, dark hair and olive complexion suggested he might have some Hispanic blood. He held the rank of first lieutenant; a lieutenant who was a little too familiar with an unknown superior officer.
“Geesh, you look like Hell,” he commented, staring at me and then at the bodies on the floor.
“You look like Hell, sir,” Burt reminded him with a sharp tone suggesting he quickly make amends.
“Sir, sorry, sir,” he said with a flushed face, and then reached out his hand in offering to help me up.
“What’s your name soldier?” I asked through squinted eyes.
I was not trying to intimidate him; instead I fought back the pain of my broken nose. The throbbing now returned with a vengeance, not only to my nose, but also my body from the bruising my two captors inflicted.
“Sam, sir, Lieutenant Sam Andrews,” he responded withdrawing his hand and standing at attention.
“Will Sam, do?” I asked, holding out my hand.
“Yes sir!” he said with enthusiasm then took my hand and helped me to my feet.
I forgot about my nose as the rest of my body screamed in agony when he helped me up. The private and the sergeant did quite a number on me and, for a moment, I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to walk.
“Thank you, Sam,” I said as I steadied myself against the cell door.
He nodded and then reinforced his grip on the private’s chain. I winced as my hand accidentally touched the Impal shoulder of the sergeant. The cold sent chills down my back for more reasons than one. In my limited experience with Impals, this was the first time I ever touched one. The best way I can describe the experience is like touching thick frozen air. The sergeant Impal shifted in his restraints, causing my hand to sink further into his form. It was the damnedest feeling, like putting my hand in a hot fudge sundae as warmth began to envelop my fingers the further they penetrated. I jerked back involuntarily and without thinking wiped my hand on my shirt, even though there was anything to wipe off. If my touch bothered the sergeant, he didn’t show it. He continued to stare with a vacant expression at his lifeless body on the floor.
“Sam, put the sergeant’s body on the cot in this cell and then put the private’s a couple of cells down. Cover them up like they are asleep,” Burt ordered.
“What about the blood, sir?” he asked.
“We’ll worry about that once the bodies are in place. Give Major Garrison the chain in the meantime.”
He thrust the chain in my hand and sprang into action. As he worked, I observed my two jailors. The two Impals were a stark contrast from their flesh-and-blood selves. They were quiet, still and docile, not a single shred of violence was evident on their shock
ed, shimmering faces.
“Where are we going, Burt?” I asked.
He regarded me with satisfaction.
“Somewhere we can do some good, my friend … somewhere we can do some good.”
Sam pulled the body of the private out of the cell then down the hallway. I watched the trail of blood smearing across the floor then turned and whispered to Burt.
“Was it necessary to kill them?” I asked.
Burt was shocked. “They were about to kill you, Cecil. I really don’t think we had much choice.”
I knew he was right; they were going to kill me. My aching and throbbing body was a testament to the fact. I decided not to give voice to my question of why they hadn’t restrained the men and locked them in a cell. The world was not a cut-and-dried, black-and-white place anymore … not that it had ever been. I am sure he made the best decision possible under the circumstances.
“Where are we going?” I whispered again.
He glanced at the Impals before responding. “Let’s just say that there are several in the military who feel the same way as we do. We are going to join up with a group not far from here,” he said in a serious tone.
“We’re rebelling against the government?” I said, probably a little too loud because I heard my echo coming from the other end of the hall.
“In a manner of speaking,” he said. “Nothing as foolish as starting a war. However, we will fight and kill if necessary to reach our objective.”
“What is the objective?” I asked. It had been three weeks since Burt and I last talked. My trip to Arizona to visit my grandfather in an Impal relocation camp took most of my time as of late. Not to mention my inexplicable obsession with the plight of Thomas and Seth Pendleton.
“To save Impals,” he said in a tone suggesting it should be as obvious as the swollen nose on my face.
“How are we doing that exactly?” I asked. I honestly had no idea. I knew there to be several supporters in the military who are afraid to speak out.
“You’ll see,” he said with a wink.
“What about my family?” I asked.
“Way ahead of you Cecil, way ahead of you,” he said patting my shoulder. I winced from the pain. I wasn’t sure there was a safe place to touch on my body at the moment.
A couple of minutes later, Sam had the bodies of both men tucked away, so to speak. He mopped up the blood with spare bed sheets and hot water from the nearby restroom. I was both impressed and disturbed by his efficiency. It almost seemed as if he were a pro at this. He finally took the chain back from me and they pulled both Impals out of the cell and closed the cell door. The two-chained souls offered no resistance; the shock seemed to have them paralyzed. I still marveled at the ability of Impals to pass through almost anything, except iron. Iron was their Achilles heel.
“So what do we do with them?” Sam asked.
“You take Major Garrison to the truck and hide him in the back while I take these two to the tarmac,” Burt said.
I stopped in place, almost tripping over my own feet. Ice shot through my veins making me feel as cold as any Impal. For a moment, I thought I must have misunderstood Burt. Take them to the tarmac? It wasn’t because I recently smashed my nose on its hard surface. What troubled me is the thing waiting on the other side of it.
“You’re going to put them in the Tesla Gate … into the Shredder?” I asked, horrified.
This got an immediate reaction from the two Impals. Their faces snapped towards me in unison, terror frozen on their frigid features. They didn’t utter a sound. Their mouths moved without forming words like a beached fish gasping for breath.
“Well what the hell else are we going to do with them?” Burt asked impatiently as he began dragging his Impal towards the door. “We can’t take them with us!”
“Why not?” I asked, keeping a calm and even tone.
Burt stopped and turned to me. He was as speechless as his captives.
“You said you were saving Impals, well these two are Impals without a doubt. Isn’t it kind of hypocritical to put them in the Shredder?” I said.
“They tried to kill you!” Sam blurted.
Burt shot him a scathing glance, causing Andrews to amend his statement.
“They tried to kill you, sir,” Sam said.
“So are we any different? Can we summarily pass judgment on them as those in our government have? Are we going to help some Impals and then decide to condemn others?”
“But … they are a liability,” Burt said. “They’ll turn us in the first chance they get.”
It was obvious he did not put a lot of effort into his plan. Dealing with collateral damage was an afterthought.
“Why would they? If they turned us in, we would go to jail and they would go to the Shredder.”
Burt frowned with embarrassment when he considered my logic. They wouldn’t do anything to turn us in because the consequences would be far worse for them. The sergeant Impal emphasized this point.
“That’s right, we won’t say nothin’,” he said with pitiful desperation. “We’ll do whatever you want!”
“You’re damn right you will!” Burt responded, giving the chain a hard yank.
I was glad the Sergeant spoke up, thus allowing Burt to save face.
“Can all three of us fit in the truck?” I asked.
“I think so. I don’t know how the hell we’re going to explain them when we get searched at the checkpoint,” Burt said.
“Leave it to me,” I said as I limped across the hall and opened a supply cabinet. I found two flashlights and I unscrewed the end on each and slid the D batteries into the palm of my hand.
A little trick I learned in my conversations with Thomas Pendleton. He told me how he had gotten his son, Seth, and other Impals out in public without being noticed.
Not bothering to screw the caps back on, I tossed the flashlights back into the cabinet and slammed the door. I walked back to the sergeant and private then held out one hand to each of them.
“Here,” I said.
They both sheepishly stretched out their right hand, palm up. I deposited two batteries in each man’s hand and watched the silvery Impal shimmer vanish. Even though they were not, the two men appeared as flesh and blood as the rest of us.
“I’ll be damned,” said Burt.
“Incredible,” Sam said. “So, they’re solid now?” He asked, poking the private in the arm. He jerked it back as if he reached into a nest of angry snakes.
“That is freaky!” he exclaimed.
“They are not solid, they just appear that way,” I said.
“I hope it will be enough,” Burt said. “Just pray the guards don’t start literally poking around.”
Burt turned to the Impals.
“Okay, tough guys, if I take these chains off are you going to behave yourself?” he asked.
Both of them agreed. I have never seen such sincerity in my life. As the chains dropped to the ground, I noticed the two Impals still clutched the batteries in their hand.
“Put them in your pocket,” I suggested. “It will be more comfortable and less conspicuous.”
They agreed and shoved the batteries in their pants pocket. In death, the two men still wore their military fatigues. Most Impals wore clothing and it was usually a favorite or comfortable garment or outfit from their life. I guess these two were the most comfortable and happy in the military. Considering the thrashing I received, I suspected they were in it for the wrong reasons.
“What are your names, soldiers?” I asked.
“Staff Sergeant Tim Beeson, sir!” he said, showing me considerably more respect than he did a short time earlier.
“Private First Class, Jack Readnour, sir!” the Private said with the same submissive enthusiasm.
“Well Tim and Jack … even though you beat me pretty good and tried to kill me, I’m going to try and get the two of you out of here. I wouldn’t know how to apply a court-martial to these circumstances so we are going to let it slide
for now, understand?”
“Yes,” they responded in unison.
“The slightest slip-up from either of you and we will leave you back here on this base’s front porch, all trussed up in iron chains and gift wrapped for the Shredder … agreed?”
“Yes, sir,” they said with much more enthusiasm.
“All right, let’s go,” I said to everyone.
Sam collected the chains and coiled them up under my old cot, then closed and locked both cell doors.
Before we left, Burt grabbed a black Sharpie off the desk down the hall. He proceeded to draw something on the concrete wall directly across from my cell.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my impatience growing.
He didn’t answer until he finished. He then stepped back with a satisfied expression on his face. At first, it seemed Burt had drawn a large thick letter ‘S’ on the wall, until I moved a little closer. Burt continued the ‘S’ with two parallel dotted lines, connecting each tip of the ‘S’ making it appear like the number ‘8’. While the ‘S’ part was colored in, the connecting area was devoid of color except for the narrow dotted lines.
“What is that … an eight or an ‘S’?” I asked.
“Neither,” Burt said with a grin. He then turned and walked towards the door.
I glanced at the symbol one last time then turned to follow him.
“What the Hell is it then?” I said.
“A screw you to the government!” he called as he and Andrews reached the door.
Burt and Sam slipped out the door first and made sure the coast was clear. When they gave the signal, I followed with the Impals close behind me.
It was sunset. The orange glow over the distant tree line gave a surreal quality to the evening. The night began to descend with its eerie ultraviolet radiance … another by-product of the cosmic storm.
I was both surprised and relived to see no one else was around. The jail was in the far corner of the base and there was never anyone in it. I was probably the first person to do time in over a year. Now outside, I could hear the cries of the Impals now unfettered by my prison wall. I turned and watched as they marched to the Tesla Gate. My guts twisted with anger and remorse. They were not in pain; they were beyond physical pain. Sheer horror struck them at the sight of the Shredder. Who wouldn’t be terrified? I couldn’t imagine the concept of dying forever.
The Myriad Resistance Page 2
