The Myriad Resistance

by John D. Mimms

  The plan was that once Danny and I were away, everyone would return to their respective bases. Except for Derek, who would wait on the Hampton Roads side of the bridge for us? It seemed it would only be me slipping out now.

  Soon, the patrol boat moved on, mimicking the same course as its predecessors. It wasn’t until then I realized that I was sitting in the dark again. My boat still moved toward the bridge/tunnel. I leaned forward and peered into the water; it was as dark and murky as ever.

  Looking up, I saw a dark shape looming above me, a short distance away. My blood ran cold with my initial reaction. I thought it was another tanker about to plow into me. When I recognized the large pilings underneath, I knew it was a long pier. It was the long fishing pier on the northwest side of the island marking the beginning of Thimble Shoals Channel. The bridge disappeared in front of me as the road dipped under the water, giving way to the beginning of over a mile of tunnel. A couple of flashing red lights marked the end of the pier, warning off any approaching ships. The pier extended out at least a couple of hundred yards from the rocky shores of the man-made island.

  As we pulled even with the end of the pier, Danny’s head popped up over the side of the boat. He more came through the edge of the boat than climbed over it. He then sat down across from me with a grin on his face that said, “Well, haven’t we just had the shittiest luck?” I think that assessment is the understatement of the century. After several seconds of uncomfortable silence, I asked, “Are you okay?”

  He regarded at me with a serene expression and then the corners of his mouth began to slowly turn up. His answer shocked me.

  “I am terrific,” he said with sincerity. “I don’t think I have ever felt better in my whole life.”

  “Are you okay?” I asked, tapping my finger on my forehead.

  Almost on cue, a loud metallic scraping echoed underneath the pier. The crumpled remains of Danny’s boat banged about on the rocks in the swell of the surf. Even in the shadow of the pier, it was still recognizable from the ambient walkway lighting above. He stared at the twisted hunk of metal with his former arm protruding from it. A frown washed over his face and he turned back to face me.

  “I don’t know why everyone is so worried about dying,” he said in a matter–of-fact tone. “There’s nothing to it.”

  I was incredulous. Aside from taxes, dying was the largest concern of mortal man. Of course, Danny was not mortal anymore. I glanced back over at the wrecked boat as it made contact again with the rocks again.

  “What’s better?” Danny asked. “That,” he said pointing at his boat, the arm flapping against the side. “Or this?” he said, taking his same arm and moving it back and forth through the side of the boat.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “I don’t have an ounce of pain anywhere in me right now and I have never had so much energy. I feel invincible,” he said.

  I suspect he was right, unless he came up against iron or … the Tesla Gate.

  “So what are you going to do?” I asked.

  The question sounded vague, yet Danny understood my meaning.

  “As soon as we get them safely on the boat, I’m retiring from running the Impal Underground Railroad. I’m going with them.”

  “So what’s the plan now?” I asked.

  “I left the tarp lying beside the tunnel down there. They are supposed to drop their batteries before going in … then I’m going to lug them up here.”

  “You can see the tunnel?” I asked.

  “Not really, but you can tell where it is. There’s a rock pile over the top that makes it kinda stick out.”

  I paused for a moment, trying to recover from my shock and absorb everything Danny was telling me.

  “So … how are you going to get the batteries up here?” I asked. “Won’t the tarp be kinda heavy? The water has to weigh a ton.”

  “Well …” Danny said. “I have that figured out; at least I think I do.” He flexed his biceps like a bodybuilder showing off his physique. “I feel a lot stronger now. I haven’t put it to the test quite yet. I think between the two of us we can handle it.”

  I’m pretty sure my face turned white. I couldn’t believe Danny wanted me to go down there with him and help him hoist up a tarp full of batteries. I was a decent swimmer, not a strong one. I hadn’t participated in a breath holding contest since I was a kid. I think even back then my personal best time was a little over a minute. I didn’t see how I could be of any assistance unless I was, well … unless I was like Danny. I had no desire to ‘give up the ghost’ just yet. Besides, I need to get back to my family. Danny read my apprehension and gave a hearty laugh in the metallic Impal timbre. As always, I shivered.

  “Relax, Cecil,” he said. “With my plan you won’t even have to get wet!”

  A few moments later, our momentum and the current brought us to an abrupt halt on the rocky shore of the island. To our right, the fishing pier towered about twenty-feet overhead. I could barely make out the rooftop to a brick building beyond it. I recognized the building as the sole restaurant and visitor center on the vast expanse of the Chesapeake Bridge-Tunnel. There was open ocean to our left. In the distance, was the other end of the tunnel where the road snaked out from the water like a sea serpent. The bridge continued a little over a mile away. I was thankful the rain stopped. It made visibility a lot better, but the counterpoint to that was the wind had picked up. The rear of our boat bobbed up and down like a seesaw, as the bow remained lodged on the rocky shore. A cool wind began to blow over the surface of the water, chilling me to the bone in my soaked clothing. I wished more than anything that I was back with Barbara, lying together in some secluded mountain lodge in front of a roaring fireplace. Maybe it would be possible now that this was almost over. It’s funny how discomfort and longing can manifest naivety in an otherwise rational mind.

  Danny reached up and started messing with the now slack rope tied to the front of my boat. Either the Impals stopped and were waiting for instructions or they were now passing into the tunnel.

  After a few frustrating moments, Danny turned to me.

  “Can you help me out here?” he asked in a sheepish tone. “First day with the new fingers,” he said, wiggling the fingers on both his hands.

  I scooted forward as Danny moved out of the way. There was not much room to maneuver in the tight proximity of my little boat and my left side brushed against him. I didn’t think my skin could be any more chilled than it already was, but the frigid touch of an Impal was more intense than any cold. Our brief meeting almost took my breath away until Danny moved off, giving me plenty of room to work.

  After a few quick tugs, I loosened the rope. Danny sprang forward and took it from me. He stood over me in the boat holding the end of the rope in both hands and scanned the pier above us. After a quick inspection, he turned to me.

  “Take this end of the rope and go up there,” he said, holding the rope out to me. With the other hand, he pointed to the nearest railing on the pier.

  I took the rope and peered up the slope. My heart skipped a beat when I considered having to make a twenty-foot climb on slippery pier pilings. Then I noticed how the rock shore sloped gently upward until the island and the pier met. It should be an easy climb, although it would require sure footing, unless I wanted to assist Danny down under the waves.

  “I’m going to take the other end down here and weave it through the grommet holes of the tarp. We should be able to hoist it up using the railing up there like a makeshift block and tackle,” Danny said.

  I was doubtful. No matter how tight he bound the tarp together, we would still have the issue of water collecting inside and it would increase the weight of our load.

  “What about the water weight?” I asked.

  Danny held out his hand.

  “Give me your knife,” he said.

  I pulled out my small pocketknife, and handed it to him. He took it and then asked me to open the blade for him. It seemed that tasks requiring
nimble fingers were quite a challenge for Impals, at least new ones. I pulled out the longest one and handed it back to him. He reached over and grabbed my tarp, which dangled over the back of the boat, and began to slice chunks out of it. As soon as he carved out five or six substantial pieces, he handed them to me. I stared at him blankly. He held out his hands, palms up.

  “Unless you want to burn the hide off your hands when we start pulling the tarp up, I would suggest wrapping your hands with these.”

  He stood up, and then made a few upward poking motions with the knife. “Don’t worry; I’m going to turn our tarp into one big ugly black colander.”

  Without another word, he stepped through the side of the boat and disappeared beneath the churning waves.

  CHAPTER 26

  THE PIER AND THE PULLEY

  “Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.”

  ~J. M. Barrie

  I sat in the boat for a long time, unable to move. I was in a compounded state of shock that started when I saw Danny crushed by the tanker. I didn’t notice the metallic clang anymore. Still, his crumpled boat bounced about between the pier pilings like a ghoulish pinball. The shock increased when Danny showed up in his luminescent form like it was just another day at the office. However, I think what shocked me the most was he didn’t seem to mind one bit. In fact, it might be accurate to say he relished it. I tried to put myself in his shoes and found the task impossible.

  I would think I would be shaken up and a little stunned. This was true of the Impals I have witnessed leave their fleshy existence. The one commonality Danny and I did not share was that I had a family. They waited on me to return safely tonight. Danny did not, unless you counted a hostile ex-wife.

  Danny was tough as nails and he didn’t ascend to the rank of colonel being otherwise. I knew him to possess little fear of death. When we served in a few war zones overseas, he portrayed a calm and collected exterior. I guess that trait made it easier for him to embrace his current situation. I found myself pitying him for what happened and admiring his resolve in the same instant. He was indeed a hero and humanitarian in life and in death.

  I knew it was going to take more than a few minutes of pondering to come to grips with the mortal loss of Danny and his curious rebirth. I pushed it to the back of my mind. Focusing on the task, I grasped the rope tight, wrapping it around my hand for purchase. I then stuffed the strips of tarp into my pocket. I felt like a man attempting a net-less tightrope walk as I gingerly stepped out of the boat and onto the wet and slippery shore.

  After almost teetering backwards a couple of time, I completed my climb on hands and knees, clinging to the rocks for dear life. The wind whipped through my hair, making it impossible to hear anything. I guess that’s why I didn’t hear Danny at first when he resurfaced.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when I reached the entrance to the pier, then turned around and screwed up eyes as I gazed into the darkness below. Danny brought three Impals up with him. They all apparently carried batteries on their person because I could not see any of them. Only their dark, moving silhouettes were visible. I did recognize Danny because he was the one giving orders.

  Danny and another Impal grabbed my boat. They pushed the small craft away from the rocky shore then turned it on its side, swamping it with water. The other two Impals made their way through the choppy water under the pier. They did the same thing with what was left of Danny’s boat. The small mass of crushed metal would also be his crypt. I didn’t fault Danny for sending the other two out to deal with it. I don’t care how tough you are, I don’t think anyone wants to be his own undertaker.

  Danny scuttled both of the boats to make sure there was no evidence we were here. This was a smart idea. If our boats were discovered in the morning drifting near the bridge it would throw up a red flag, especially if one of the boats contained the corpse of a Myriad Resistance member. In that case, the evacuation boats waiting on the other side of the island wouldn’t make it out of United States waters.

  Both boats disappeared beneath the waves before I could set up my position on the pier. Danny and his Impal companion, introduced as Horace Wexler, joined me on the pier. The other two took up position below. I still couldn’t see the other two. Horace was a middle-aged man from the 1940s. He wore a pinstripe Oxford suit with a red and gold necktie tied in a perfect Winsor knot. This made him seem completely out of place in the middle of the ocean. I couldn’t imagine anywhere he wouldn’t be out of place except for the newsroom of the Daily Planet.

  If Impals came back in whatever clothing they were most fond of or comfortable wearing in life, I couldn’t imagine that anyone would be comfortable in a suit, especially not for eternity. Because, aside from my dress uniform, I could count on one hand the number of times I have worn a suit in my life.

  The process of hauling the batteries to the surface was both arduous and fascinating. There was no way that just Danny and I could have completed the task. We barely pulled them up with four. It was slow going at first with all the Impals. It took a tremendous amount of concentration to pull the rope without it passing through their hands. Fifteen minutes later, we had the tarp sitting on the rocks a few feet from the water’s edge. After letting the water drain through the ‘colander’ holes Danny poked in the bottom, we easily pulled it up and over the railing of the pier. After a brief rest for me, the two Impals below climbed up to meet us. They grabbed the rope and began to pull the tarp across the large asphalt parking lot of the visitor center. They then turned and headed towards the exit ramp from the bridge.

  I froze when I noticed a solitary car in the parking lot. A light was on inside the visitor center, casting a narrow beam through the window facing the parking lot. We would have to go past the window. I motioned for everyone to stop then crept forward and peered inside. A heavyset African American woman had her back to the window as she ran a rather noisy vacuum cleaner. A pair of wires dangled from her ears as she sang to the music coming through her earbuds. I watched her for a moment. When I was satisfied she wouldn’t turn around any time soon, I motioned everyone forward. She could not hear a bomb go off between her loud music and vacuum cleaner. I kept my eye on her as they moved past, unsure of exactly what I would do if she turned around and spotted us.

  A minute later, we passed the visitor center and headed for the exit ramp. As we passed the little white sedan, which I assumed belonged to the vacuuming woman, a bumper sticker in the back window caught my eye.

  “I Brake for Impals!” it proclaimed in red letters on a white background.

  Beside the slogan was the smiling face of Casper the Friendly Ghost. His innocent image made me chuckle at first, then it made me think of Seth. A pain of guilt shot through me because I was unable to stop that atrocity, my laughter soon faded. Were he and his father still around or were they shredded out of existence? I wasn’t sure if I would ever know.

  I did feel a small degree of encouragement in the fact that there were people who stood up for the right thing, even when it might not be popular. Yet, she could just be a fan of the cartoon. It was hard to believe the best in people anymore after all I have witnessed. I guess it was still possible. The Army fatigue clad colonel running ahead of me was proof.

  We soon reached the bridge, then took an immediate left toward the tunnel. The two lane north and southbound lanes merged to form a single two-lane stretch through the tunnel. A few minutes later we headed down a steep incline; the entrance to the mile-long passage under the Chesapeake Bay. The lighting was minimal since the bridge was closed to traffic today. It reminded me of the entrance to the haunted house at the state fair. An ever-increasing ethereal glow added to the eeriness as we descended further. A moment later, we were drowned in a blinding light as a horde of Impals approached us from the depth of the tunnel.

  I squinted as I stared in amazement at the massive assembly of spirits. This was the first time I had seen them all together and that, coupled with the clo
se quarters, made it appear as if there were thousands. Danny and my Impal companions spread the tarp out in front of them and as they passed, they each picked up a couple of batteries.

  I watched as they formed two lines, one on each side of the tarp, as they picked them up. The expression on some of their faces was troubling to say the least. Fear, shock and confusion seemed to be the most common among them. There were many who showed stoic resolve as they scooped up their ration and marched toward the mouth of the tunnel. I felt a cold hand tugging at my arm. I looked down to see Chester, his batteries already in hand.

  “I told you I’d do it!” he said proudly.

  “You did great, Chester. I’m going to miss you,” I said, patting his glacial head.

  The truth was, I did not get a chance to know Chester very well. After all, he was only with us a couple of days. I guess I revered him as much as I did Danny. I couldn’t imagine what he endured for almost a century and then bounced back with so much resilience. I couldn’t imagine being an Impal either. It was beyond my comprehension right now and that’s the way I wanted it to be … for a long time.

  Chester strode forward and then I turned to face Mrs. Fiddler and her daughter.

  “Thank you, Mr. Garrison,” she said and gave me a peck on the cheek. I felt cold on my waist as her daughter wrapped her arms around me.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, then turned and followed her mother.

  Tesla shook my hand and thanked me. There were few pleasantries exchanged between us. He was a proud man with a quiet demeanor. He studied his hands with intense curiosity. It was as if he had never seen them before. “You know, Mr. Garrison,” he began. “Our virtues and our failings are inseparable, like force and matter. When they separate, man is no more.”