The Myriad Resistance

by John D. Mimms

  “And Abraham Lincoln?” I finished for him.

  He stared in astonishment as I took one end of the boat and he grasped the opposite end facing me. He walked backwards as we carried the boat to the water. I was afraid that he was so distracted, he might trip and bring the boat down on top of him. He managed to remain sure-footed until we got to the water’s edge.

  “I take it you don’t have any celebrities in your group?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Yeah, we have one. Not the same caliber as the president or of Lincoln.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Why, the very creator of the Shredder himself … Nikola Tesla.”

  CHAPTER 23

  TERROR

  “No mercy, no power but its own controls it. Panting and snorting like a mad battle steed that has lost its rider, the masterless ocean overruns the globe.”

  ~Herman Melville

  My heart jolted as if I received an electrical shock. Not because I believed Nikola Tesla was the creator of the Godforsaken invention, which now bore his name. I knew better. I was one of the few people around who had knowledge of the origins of the Tesla Gate. The reason this excited me was Nikola Tesla was one of my heroes growing up. This was unusual since every American schoolkid was taught since kindergarten that Thomas Edison was the greatest inventor who ever lived. I felt I knew better. While Edison was a shrewd businessman, Tesla was much more selfless.

  “Can I meet Lincoln?” the New Jersey man asked.

  I heard someone clear their throat and I turned to see Danny watching us, his arms folded and one eyebrow raised. After several long moments, he shrugged.

  “I suppose it will be okay, Tony,” he said, addressing the New Jersey man. “Be cautious and discreet about it,” he continued, turning his attention back to me.

  I knew it was now or never so, I belted out the question eating away at me.

  “Can I meet Tesla?”

  Danny motioned with his thumb over his shoulder. “Make it quick. There will be another patrol along in a few minutes.”

  We helped cover the boats with the black tarp and then used dark colored duct tape to adhere a few limbs and branches to it. This gave it an extra layer of camouflage. If I didn’t know there were a couple of boats there, I would have thought it was an old brush pile.

  Danny tied a long rope to a small metal loop on the front of each boat. He took the loose end of the massive coil and stuck it up under the tarp where it would be out of sight until ready to use it. A shiver ran down my spine. I knew it was the towline extending dozens of feet under the water to the Impals. They would be leading us across the dark surface of the bay like some ghoulish kite.

  Tony and I turned and began walking briskly toward the trucks. I shook my head when I realized how much we sounded like a couple of pleading children who wanted to visit the candy store.

  “Oh, well,” I thought to myself. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

  How many people can say they have met Abraham Lincoln, Chief Powhatan, the current President and Nikola Tesla all in less than a week’s time? Probably not much more than those who knew the origins of the Tesla Gates.

  We went to the New Jersey truck first since it was the farthest from the water and the most concealed. The next patrol boat passed a few minutes later and we waited on the far side until it passed.

  Tony went to the rear of the truck and lifted the door a few feet. I could see the legs of several Impals milling about.

  “Mr. Tesla!” Tony called. “Mr. Tesla, there is someone who wants to meet you!”

  A few moments later, I saw a pair of shimmering wingtips walking towards us. When they reached the opening, the owner of these shoes knelt down and peered under the low hanging door. I recognized the dark hair parted in the middle and the long sharp nose above an immaculately groomed moustache. It was a young Nikola Tesla. I was glad Impals appeared as they did at a prime point in their lives. I saw photos of Tesla taken a short time before his death and he was almost unrecognizable as his younger self.

  “Yes?” he said, looking from me to Tony. He didn’t have as much of an Eastern European accent as I expected. It was there, faint and in the background. On first impression, most people might presume him to be from Canada.

  Tony stepped back a few steps and held both hands out to me like a game-show host presenting a prize.

  Tesla focused his gaze on me and raised his eyebrows with great expectation.

  I felt like an eight-year-old kid meeting his baseball hero for the first time. All I could do was stand there like a deer in headlights. Finally, Tesla broke the ice. “Hello Mr.…” he said, addressing me.

  “Major,” I said, finally coming to my senses. In all fairness, Tony threw me off by his uncouth introduction. I was cautious to not let the Impals know my true name. “Cecil Major,” I said. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Tesla.”

  “Call me Nikola,” He said, passing through the bottom of the truck and then through the back bumper until he was a few feet in front of me.

  He made no move to extend his hand in greeting and so I followed his lead. I read one time that Tesla was somewhat quirky about physical contact. No one was sure if it was because he was a germaphobe or very shy. Judging by his demeanor and his soft-spoken personality, he definitely wasn’t an outgoing person.

  “I didn’t create the Gates you know,” he said. “I find it an insult of the highest degree that they named the accursed things after me.”

  I happened to glance at Tony who was standing behind Tesla, silently forming words with his mouth.

  “He does this all the time,” Tony mouthed.

  “I know you didn’t,” I said. “I talked to the scientists who worked on the project. It wrongly bares your name because the electrical current in the center of the Gate resembles one of your famous coils.”

  He didn’t seem very reassured.

  “I want you to promise me something, Mr. Garrison,” he said with deep earnestness.

  “Anything,” I said.

  “If I am not remembered for anything else, please make sure the world doesn’t remember me for these horrid Gates,” he pleaded.

  I sensed the conversation would not go much beyond his personal concerns about his legacy and that was all right. I understood his concerns and I sympathized. I hoped history did not remember the name Garrison in the same vein as Stalin or Hitler.

  “I give you my word,” I promised. “It was a great pleasure to meet you, Nikola.”

  “Are we still going in the water?” Tesla asked, turning to Tony. It was as if he flicked a switch, no pun intended, and gone from one concern to another.

  “Yes, Nikola … we have gone over this. It will be a short time though and then you’ll be hopping a boat for your native land,” Tony said with obvious impatience. He used the same tone, which I have sometimes heard caregivers speak to the elderly. A tone insinuating they were a child and a bother.

  “I’m not from the English Channel, you prat!” Tesla snapped. “I am from Croatia; there’s a huge difference!”

  “Now, Nikola there’s no need to get all riled up,” Tony said with condescension. “You’re going back to Europe anyway.”

  I didn’t appreciate Tony’s attitude so I jumped in.

  “Mr. Tesla, I will be in one of the boats tonight. It won’t take long at all,” I said, pointing out towards the water. “See, there is the bridge right there.”

  The Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel resembled an enormous glowing serpent moving in and out of the water. Due to its massive size and lighting, it appeared much closer than it was.

  Tesla frowned and stared at the bridge. He then turned back to me and said two simple words in a quiet voice. “Very well.”

  He cut his eyes back at Tony, and then passed through the now closed door, disappearing inside.

  “He’s been like this since he heard about the plan,” Tony snorted. “What a chickenshit.”

  In an instant, I felt rage rear its ugl
y head at Tony’s ignorance. “How would you like to walk beside him tonight?” I asked, turning to face him.

  He stared at me in disbelief, his jaw hanging open. I didn’t care that I promised to introduce him to Lincoln. I’m sure the former president wouldn’t want to meet someone with his attitude. Was I being too harsh, too sensitive? Perhaps. However, right now social graces were the last thing on my mind. My stomach was still in knots about the upcoming mission, which was now minutes away. I walked off and left Tony standing there and got back in the vehicle with Danny and the others.

  We sat and watched two more patrols pass by before we put our plan into motion. We combined the Pennsylvania group and half of the New Jersey group and then the remainder of the New Jersey group with ours. We agreed it would take too long to get two groups out before another patrol passed. Therefore, Danny would take a boat and go with them. I would wait for the next patrol. As planned, each group brought several crates of batteries and a couple were handed to each Impal before they exited their respective vehicle. The rest got piled into the boats, leaving barely enough room for a man to fit on his hands and knees. As I considered the heap of Duracells and Rayovacs, I wondered if law-enforcement wasn’t monitoring purchases.

  As everybody pitched in to get Danny’s group ready, we ran into our first problem. A young boy started to scream and grasp at a woman’s leg beside him as they began their slow march toward the water. Judging by the woman’s bewildered reaction, I did not believe her to be his mother or even a relative of the child. In any case, she bent down and picked him to comfort him. Like a fool, I believed it would be the last of our worries. That was until a middle-aged man, wearing Colonial gentleman’s clothing, began to mutter something as he walked away from the group. I moved to confront him.

  “Sir, you need to keep moving with the others,” I said.

  His eyes bulged with terror. “I can’t,” he whispered. “My wife died at sea … the water terrifies me!” he hissed in his tinny voice. I felt sorry for the man. Nevertheless, we could not allow any dissension tonight; it was not safe.

  “Sir, I can tell you from firsthand experience, the Tesla Gates are far more terrifying than a little bit of salt water. If you stay here you will be tossed into one, it’s only a matter of time.”

  “I-I can’t,” he stammered and tried to walk back toward the Pennsylvania truck.

  Before I could reiterate my position, I saw a flash out of the corner of my eye. The terrified man toppled face first onto the pavement. If he had not been an Impal he would probably require several stitches and dentures. As it were, his body rested half in and half out of the pavement. As he tried to get up, I saw the flash again as something came down across his back, sending him further into the blacktop. I wheeled around to see Andrews standing there with an iron bar clutched in his hands. Pure maniacal rage blazed on his face.

  “Shut the hell up and get your ass in line, you selfish prick!” Andrews bellowed.

  He moved to raise the bar as the man pushed himself to his knees. Before he could bring it down again, I moved to intercept. I grabbed his arm in one fluid motion, knocking the bar free and sending him sprawling onto his butt. Danny was concerned about this and discussed it with me on the day of the president’s funeral.

  “Put him down if he gets out of line,” Danny told me. He knew the violence of which Andrews was capable. He beat the Commander in Chief with an iron pipe … possibly the same one he wielded now.

  Andrews turned his rage at me and was about to get up when Derek knocked him forward and pinned him from behind. He kicked, struggled, and cursed. Derek was heavier and he did not budge.

  Before the beaten Impal could get back on his feet, another Impal, a tall slender man with a handle bar moustache, came over and placed iron restraints on the man’s wrists. The restraints hooked to a long chain and the mustached Impal took the other end. With calm composure, he walked back to the front of the group. This man, who could have stepped right out of a speakeasy in the 1920s was the leader of this group. All the Impal leaders were briefed on drastic measures if the need should arrive. I saw Danny watching from the water’s edge, standing beside his loaded boat with folded arms. I was about to walk over to him when I realized the fire had only just begun and it was about to spread.

  A woman a few yards away began to whimper, a man wearing blue jeans and cowboy boots shouting with anger followed this.

  “I’m not going in there!” he yelled, pointing towards the water. “I’d rather face this gate thing than to go in there!”

  A rumble of discontent started to move through the crowd.

  “If we don’t go, they’ll beat us!” one woman shouted. “They don’t seem to be any better than the others! Who are we to trust?”

  Again, a wave of grumbling and agreements washed through the crowd.

  I don’t think I could have hated anyone more than I did Andrews, except for maybe my father. Sam Andrews made an already tense situation boil over and now it was going to be hell to get things back in order. I cleared my voice and took in a deep lungful of salty, humid air.

  “Ladies and Gentleman!” I shouted.

  The crowd quieted a bit, but the murmuring persisted.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen!” I repeated.

  This time they fell into a hushed silence.

  I glanced at Danny, who had not moved an inch since this all started. He watched patiently. I then glanced to the north for the patrol boats. There was no sign of one yet. I was certain that any minute I would spot one. It was about time.

  “I have seen these Shredders and, believe me when I tell you; they are the last thing you want to face. It would be the last thing you ever face.”

  I paused and took a breath. The fear, resentment and distrust I saw on several faces was enough to shake my resolve, nevertheless, I pressed on.

  “These things are nicknamed the Shredder because some believe it shreds the soul, wiping you out of existence.”

  “You can’t destroy the soul!” one man shouted. “God would not allow it!”

  The crowd erupted again into a sea of shouts, screams and lamentations. Some remained calm, in fact, the great majority did. Unfortunately, the noisy dissenters drowned out the silent majority.

  In the end, we shackled five people; the man Andrews attacked, three women and a teenage boy. Two more Impals in the group stepped forward to volunteer as leaders. Carrying the chains of five people, and the rope attached to the boat, was a little much for one person to handle.

  Danny positioned his boat in the surf to where it would easily glide out once all the Impals passed. Just as everyone lined up, another patrol boat appeared in the distance; we had less than ten minutes to launch.

  I stood watching the group depart as I kept one eye on the approaching boat. My heart sank as the Impals began to enter the water. The three leaders dropped their batteries to provide a guiding light to the others in the murky darkness. Their tinny screams echoed along the shoreline. Others, who showed resolve until they entered the surf, joined the shrieks of these souls. They now all formed an eerie chorus. They continued to scream even as they disappeared under the waves with the rest of the group. The water made their cries of terror sound like panicked whale song, fading the deeper they descended. After a few moments, there was no sound other than the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore.

  Danny positioned himself under the tarp. A minute later, his small boat was slowly skimming the surface of the Chesapeake Bay, towed by an army of spirits under the waves.

  CHAPTER 24

  HIT AND RUN

  “The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.”

  ~Mark Twain

  I felt as if a cold clammy hand reached inside me and grasped my stomach, kneading it like a ball of dough. I wanted to be sick, I was ashamed and, worst of all, I wanted to turn and run. It would be so easy, the keys in the ignition and all I had to do was jump in and go. No one would ma
ke a serious attempt to stop me. I could be back with my family.

  For the mission’s sake, I didn’t follow through. We retreated to the vehicles once again as another patrol boat approached. My personal anxiety faded as I watched with bated breath while the boat passed. The searchlights scanned the water’s edge while two enormous lights on the port side panned across the surface of the bay. My heart jumped into my throat when I saw one light freeze as if locked onto something. It remained focused on a distant point in the water for several seconds before resuming its sweeps. I could have sworn I saw a small pile of brush in the light. I couldn’t be certain, not at this distance. If it was Danny, his tarp and duct taped branches were enough to disguise his boat. I felt a little better … just a little. As the patrol boat passed out of sight, my stomach knotted like a nest of snakes; it was now my turn.

  The remaining Impals, batteries in hand, exited their respective trucks. We lined them up as straight as possible. This task was left to Burt, one of the men from New Jersey, a teenage boy from Pennsylvania, and me. Derek took a pair of restraints and locked Andrews in the back of one of our SUVs. I knew there was going to be hell to pay with his temperamental ass later.

  There were a few panicked individuals in my group, but it was not as bad as Danny’s bunch. We only restrained three of them. That wasn’t too bad considering I had close to two-hundred in my small army. Still, several were uncomfortable with the situation.

  I crammed myself into the boat, almost in a fetal position because over half of the interior was filled with cases of batteries. I considered throwing a few boxes out before I reminded myself of their purpose. We were not only supplying the Impals with batteries for this mission, but also for their trip to Guernsey Island. In the horrifying chance that their boat was stopped, at least on the surface they would be able to appear as fleshers. Well, the ones in modern clothing would in any case.

  Before getting into the boat, I handed the end of the line to Lincoln, who would be walking alongside the president. Chester Henry, the boy we were afraid would be traumatized beyond repair, volunteered to take a couple of restraint chains. He talked in low, inaudible tones to the Impals he would be guiding. After a few minutes, they seemed to calm a little. Maybe it would be enough to get things under way without dissension. This only turned out to be wishful thinking.