The Myriad Resistance

by John D. Mimms

  “Such as?” the host asked, bubbling over with rehearsed fascination.

  “Nailing an iron horseshoe to a door was said to repel evil spirits or later, to bring good luck. Surrounding a cemetery with an iron fence was believed to contain the souls of the dead. People used to go so far as burying an iron knife under the entrance to one’s home, which was alleged to keep witches from entering.”

  “That’s the most stupid thing I ever heard!” the girl shouted. “Where’s your proof?”

  “My proof is that iron shackles are used to restrain these things when no other material known to man will work. Where’s your proof honey?” the Southern IRS man said, as if talking to a three-year old child.

  The debate was over because neither ICE person offered a response outside of shouting platitudes. Danny reached up and switched off the radio as the ICE girl called Foghorn Leghorn an ignorant hillbilly.

  “I wanted all of you to hear that so you will know what else is going on out there,” Danny said, turning down the volume. “We are not alone, however our comrades aren’t well organized, in any case …” he continued, “That was not the important thing.”

  “What is the important thing?” Derek asked.

  “This is the third time they have played this debate this morning; I guess the government is trying to get a lot of mileage out of it. The important thing is that it goes on for another several minutes of back and forth. Then, near the end, the girl announces a ‘Save the Impals’ rally on the day after tomorrow. It’s in Lunnington.”

  “Just a short drive away,” Andrews said.

  “Yep. The day after tomorrow we are picking up another load of Impals down near Lynchburg,” Danny said. “Lunnington is gonna be crawling with police and military. We will pass straight through there, and then come back with about fifteen plus Impals in tow.”

  CHAPTER 16

  THE VOICE FROM THE GRAVE

  “The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?”

  ~Edgar Allan Poe

  “I thought we were done with pickups?” Andrews said as anger flared in his red cheeks. “We’re barely going to have enough room as it is on the boats with the ones we have!”

  Danny shrugged like it was no big deal and rage begin to bloom on Andrews’s face.

  “Is there not another route?” I said, trying to break the tension.

  Danny shook his head.

  “No, not unless you want to go down a fifteen-mile logging road and it hasn’t been used in years … I doubt if it’s even passable.”

  “We could take one of the SUV’s down it tomorrow and check it out,” Derek offered.

  “We need all hands on deck to move the Impals. We can’t afford to get a vehicle out there and get it stuck!” Andrews spat, still glaring at Danny.

  “That’s true,” Danny agreed. “We have some help coming. When it’s time to move all the Impals out, our two vehicles aren’t enough. Not to move them in one trip anyway.”

  “Who’s coming to help?” I asked.

  “Well, I would be a little more secretive and tell you that you will find out when they get here. This is too important not to plan ahead,” he said and then continued, “this is not to go past this room … understood?”

  We all leaned in a little closer, as if our bodies would be able to contain the secret Danny was about to impart.

  “Cecil, you remember …” Danny started then stopped abruptly when a voice boomed from the doorway.

  “You boys aren’t scheming without me?” Burt said as he walked toward the table.

  He was in pretty good shape for someone who had recently been shot. He just showered and wore a clean pair of jeans, hiking boots, and Harley-Davidson T-shirt. Aside from the white makeshift sling holding the arm, a person would have no idea of his recent brush with death.

  “You look pretty damn good,” I remarked. “Dr. Acosta did a good job with you.”

  “Sally has taken good care of me,” he said with a wink.

  “The doc left this morning,” Danny said. “We’re only going to be here another couple of weeks. He returned to his practice before he raised suspicion. He’s not on the government shit list like we are.”

  He smiled and motioned for Burt to sit. “Sorry, Burt. You should have been invited too. I thought you were out of commission,” Danny said reaching over and shaking Burt’s hand.

  “So, what I think Danny is trying to say is don’t get sick, don’t break your leg, and don’t get shot, or you’re screwed,” Burt said.

  Everybody laughed, even Andrews.

  “Where’s Charlotte?” Andrews asked.

  A black cloud descended over Danny’s face. “She is not feeling well,” he said. “She won’t be joining us on this. I’m sorry.”

  All of us had the same question burning our tongue, yet Danny’s tone was clear. Questions were not welcome on the subject.

  “What were you saying when we were so rudely interrupted?” I asked, elbowing Burt in the ribs. I immediately realized my mistake. It was too late because he howled in pain.

  “Sorry!” I exclaimed.

  Everybody glared at me as if I was the most stupid person on the planet. At that moment, I felt like it. Burt huffed and puffed, closed his eyes and insinuated my mother was canine along with a few other choice expletives. After several long and arduous moments, the pain finally subsided.

  “Don’t ever do that again,” he muttered. There was no malice in his tone, yet he meant what he said.

  “Sorry,” I muttered again as we all leaned back in to listen to Danny, all except Burt; he wasn’t moving again for a while.

  After all the interruptions, Danny finally told us that a friend of his was bringing a truck. It was not just any truck; it was an eighteen-wheeler.

  “We could almost fit the whole lot in there,” Derek said. “We might not even need the SUV’s.”

  “Oh yes we will,” Andrews said. We were all puzzled until he pointed out the simple fact that should have been obvious to everyone. “How the hell do you plan on getting an eighteen wheeler in here?” he asked.

  “We’ll have to take them out one carload at a time,” Burt said through gritted teeth. He was still in pain.

  “To where?” I asked. A narrow highway ran past the mine road with not much room to pull over, especially not for a large truck.

  “There’s a place up the road big enough,” Danny said. Judging by the direction he pointed, it could have been where Steff and I turned around.

  “How secluded is it?” Derek asked.

  “The nearest house is about two miles. We’ll start loading at dusk so we’ll have cover of darkness and can spot headlights coming,” Danny said. “We are expected at our rendezvous point about midnight, so if we don’t experience any delays, we should make it.”

  I could think of plenty of delays, all the way from being caught and arrested to engine trouble. So many things had to go right, I doubt any of us would be getting much sleep until this is over and two weeks was a long time to go without sleep.

  The meeting broke a few minutes later and everyone headed for the door.

  “Hold on a second you two,” Danny said, holding his hand up to Burt and me. “I need to discuss something with you.”

  When the room was clear, Danny turned his chair to face us.

  “One thing I didn’t share in the meeting is the news report on the president. I was listening to it when you and Steff pulled up earlier,” he said. “I think it would have been a little too awkward with Andrews sitting there.”

  I very much agreed. “Are they admitting he is dead?” I asked.

  “Yes, and you’re not going to like the reason they are giving.”

  Somehow, I knew what he was going to say. It was my biggest fear since the president’s spirit landed in my lap.

  “I will skip the bloody details, which are all made up crap anyway. They are saying he was attacked by
a group of Impals in the Oval Office,” Danny said.

  I couldn’t do anything other than shake my head. I expected something like this although not quite this blatant and ridiculous.

  “And where are they saying his spirit is?” Burt asked.

  “That’s the part that would make me bust a gut laughing,” Danny said. “If it wasn’t so damn scary.”

  Danny stretched his arms out on the table in front of him and began to tap his fingers in a nervous drumming. He took a deep breath. A strange mixture of amusement, sadness, and disgust swam in his eyes.

  “They said the president had no Impal. They said the damned demons knew better than to try and impersonate such a good, decent and God-fearing man.”

  Little did we know that our meeting with the president was going to give my father’s regime another gallon of gasoline to throw on their righteous fire. Regime … that’s what I should call it now, there was little doubt that my father was in total control. He would probably be sitting with his feet propped up on the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office right now if it wouldn’t appear too obvious. This was the slickest coup d’état in the history of the world. It was accomplished in a little less than two months with not a single shot fired. At least not a public shot.

  “When’s the funeral?” I asked.

  “Tomorrow … full honors and all that jazz,” Danny said.

  “No lying in state under the Capitol Rotunda?” Burt asked.

  “No, I’m sure they want to get their rock filled casket buried as soon as possible. You know, in case someone wants to peek under the lid,” Danny said trying to force a smile.

  “What about his wife and children?” I asked.

  Danny shrugged. “Who knows? I imagine they’re being fed some line of crap like the rest of us.”

  The next week passed without incident. The Impal pickup in Lynchburg was cancelled because it was too risky. Danny reassigned the task to the North Carolina camp. We didn’t hear anything until about three days later, but their mission was a success.

  In the time leading up to our mission, we lived on pins and needles. We feared more bounty hunters would stumble across us, or even worse, the military. Perhaps people would show up searching for the two dead bounty hunters. Aside from the hillbillies with a still who were now frightened away, our small camp was quiet.

  Besides pins and needles, we also lived on what seemed to be an unlimited supply of potted meat and Spam. We received no more treats and no one was allowed to venture out of the camp. I wasn’t certain if it was due to security concerns or if Danny ran out of cash.

  Our limited menu choices didn’t help my relationship with Steff. I felt as if we made some progress the day we travelled to Martian Burgers. Since then, she had not said two words to me. She became more introverted and sullen, refusing to interact with Barbara and Abbs. Her social decline worried me more than any bounty hunters. I had no idea how to deal with her and neither did Barbara. The only person she would speak to was Derek and that was only because he always seemed to be the one on duty when she tried to go on one of her walks. Nobody was to be alone after what happened to Burt.

  The Impals of the two rednecks who shot Burt had a change in spirit in more ways than one. They were provided up close and personal proof that Impals are not Pythos. They wanted to become a contributing member to our camp. After much discussion and deliberation, Danny allowed them to leave their small alcove in the mine. Lincoln promised to take full responsibility for their supervision and of Sergeant Beeson. He was the man who beat me. I almost forgot about him until his name was brought up in the rednecks’ parole discussions.

  The past two weeks seemed as far away as two decades to me, especially now that the soreness from my beating was nearly gone. My nose was healed enough I could almost breathe normally again. I found that I thoroughly enjoyed the smell of the surrounding pines as the subtle hints of autumn air blew through them. It was the first scent I was able to enjoy since my face met the tarmac.

  It turned out to be three weeks instead of the promised two before we were able to carry out our plan. Danny and Andrews stayed in touch with Andrews’s brother. In less than three days before our anticipated Impal extraction, the plan was finalized. Danny was the only one who knew all the disturbing details, which he did not share with us until the last minute. Andrews was still grouchy, but he was at least tolerable for the past few weeks. Either his alcoholic withdrawals passed or he found the hillbillies’ still. I didn’t care which it was as long as I didn’t have to shoot him. I still found it hard to believe that Danny ordered me to do it if the need arose. I guess I did see his point. Andrews could be a huge risk if his temper got the best of him.

  Danny, Burt, Andrews and I were all having lunch together in the mess two days before our mission when our monotony was shattered like a broken window. Taylor came bursting through the door with a tall slender man, one of the few people in the camp I did not know. Both men’s faces contorted with pure horror and their skin was ashen white. They both panted with their hands on their knees.

  “Get … shovels … come,” Taylor managed in between labored breaths.

  “Someone is buried alive on the south ridge!” the other man shouted with a wheeze, and then he leaned back against the doorframe for support.

  “Who?” Danny asked.

  Taylor shrugged and shook his head as he continued to gasp. “Dunno, heard a voice under the ground, it was …” he said then trailed off.

  “It was in an overgrown cemetery,” the other man finished for him. “It was coming from one of the old graves.”

  “Burt, you stay here!” Danny ordered.

  Burt protested until Danny reminded him of his injury. We couldn’t afford for him to get hurt worse because we needed him. My injured friend reluctantly agreed. “Fine, at least I don’t have to run up the hill!” he snapped.

  “Andrews and Derek, you stay here as well,” Danny ordered.

  Before they could protest, Danny explained.

  “We only have four shovels anyway. We need to leave a couple of people here guarding the camp. We can’t all go gallivanting off through the woods.”

  A feeling of fascinated horror rushed through me as I bolted out the door. This was a mystery, to be sure, one right out of the pages of an Edgar Allan Poe tale. We each grabbed a shovel and a gun then followed Taylor and the other man. Danny referred to him as Travis. It ended up being a very long run-walk through the woods and up the steep southern ridge of the valley. After twenty minutes of trudging uphill, jumping roots, fallen trees and ducking under low hanging limbs, we were all exhausted.

  When we finally cleared the hill, we found ourselves on an old trail. It was like a slow healing scar in the forest. The ancient trail was still passable, but it seemed as if the woods could reclaim it at any second.

  “What were you guys doing up here?” I asked as I wiped sweat off my forehead.

  “Patrol,” Taylor said. “Trying to make sure we don’t have any more uninvited hillbillies.”

  We were in such dense foliage and so far from the camp, someone could light all the cabins and mess hall on fire and we wouldn’t be able to see them. As we sank deeper into hopeless vegetation, we stumbled on a wrought-iron fence about waist high. It was intertwined with vines and brambles making it almost indiscernible as a man-made structure.

  Peering over the fence, I could see a number of objects. On first glance, I thought they were large rocks. After further scrutiny, I saw names and dates etched on their weathered surfaces. They were gravestones. As the rectangular boundary of iron fencing took form, I could see at least twelve gravestones in this small overgrown area no larger than an economy sized house.

  “Shhhh … listen!” Taylor whispered.

  We all froze like statues, not daring to breathe as we listened. At first, there was nothing other than the sound of the breeze blowing through the trees, the distant sound of an airplane and the faint rumble of traffic on the highway a good distance away. Th
en, as we were about to start breathing again … we heard it.

  A faint muffled noise could be heard coming from somewhere inside the overgrown cemetery. It was indiscernible as a voice at first, more like a dull rumbling in the ground. As we listened, our eyes widened in unison. I could barely make out a faint pleading for help. It sounded as if it was coming from a hazy dream. My heart sank when I recognized it as the diminished cry of a terrified child.

  “Jesus!” Danny said as he vaulted over the fence, and then cursed as he found himself entangled in a web of briars. He used his shovel to hack himself loose then began to crawl on his hands and knees, listening for the source of the small voice.

  Taylor and Travis climbed over a deadfall of branches as they went to the other side of the small plot. I was about to climb in behind Danny when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. With one leg draped over the small fence, I slowly turned my head toward the movement. I knew what it was even before my eyes confirmed it. A very large snake was making its way through the undergrowth of the cemetery, slithering on a direct path to me.

  Every hair on my body stood up like hackles, my breathing became slow and shallow. My heart beat against my ribs like a caged bird when I saw the distinctive markings on the serpent. The triangular head and the distinguishing feature on the end of its tail left no doubt. It was a timber rattlesnake.

  My voice came out in a hoarse rasp.

  “Danny, don’t move!”

  He wasn’t in any immediate danger. He was several feet away and the snake was moving towards me. Nevertheless, it seemed the right thing to say at the moment.

  Danny turned and saw the movement in the brush. Before he could get up, I brought my shovel down hard behind the snake’s head, severing it from the rest of its slimy body. My skin crawled as I watched its jaws snapping and its body twisting like a demonic worm. I brought my leg down and looked around, searching for more unwanted visitors.