The Myriad Resistance

by John D. Mimms

  A lump started to form in my throat. I have heard that quote before, but never in this context. The world was never in this context before. Force and matter, soul and body, virtue and failings, right and wrong … never have they been on such prominent display in the course of human history as they were right now. Tesla gave a faint smile then turned and walked up the tunnel. I regretted I would not have the opportunity to know the man better.

  Last, and certainly not least, Lincoln, Powhatan and the president, met me. I turned and walked in quiet conversation with the three men until we exited back into the cool night air. There were no profound expressions about the meaning of it all and no quotes to be passed down to posterity. It was just four men talking. We could have been taking an evening stroll around a park. I think deep down that is where each of us wished we could be. As we neared the tunnel exit, something on the wall caught my eye. I am not certain if anyone else noticed, but it lifted my heart. Someone had spray painted the Myriad symbol inside the tunnel.

  “Tell your beautiful wife and daughters I said goodbye,” Lincoln said.

  “I will. Thank you, Mr. President.”

  At least I would get to go back to my family; these men would probably not see their families again in this lifetime. Lifetime … I am not sure if that is the appropriate term to use. It is all I know to call it in my limited experience. So much of man’s knowledge and understanding has been turned upside down in the last couple of months. I’m sure a good portion of the dictionary will be rewritten when and if this is all over. Of course, it depends on who controls the dictionaries. Soon, we emerged back into the drizzling, cool night air. We then turned left and headed for the other side of the island.

  A surge of panic shot through me when it seemed as if my biggest worry was realized … the boats were not here. After several moments, the faint ultraviolet light beaming through the wispy clouds revealed the dark outline of two boats. They were anchored a few yards off the steep rocky edge of the shore. All lights were extinguished in order to avoid detection from the shore patrol. I could see a couple of obscure forms moving about on the decks of both boats.

  As my eyes became accustomed, I could see the boats were identical. Each was about two stories high above the main deck and half a football field from bow to stern. They resembled small versions of the QE2. There might be enough room for all the Impals to fit on board both ships. As horrifying as it sounds, maybe it was a blessing in disguise that the North Carolina group did not make it. There was no way we would have enough room for twenty more, let alone one hundred twenty.

  I have always believed things happen for a reason, regardless of how terrible or unfair the reason seems to be. I said a silent prayer of thanks for getting us this far. I also said one for the group who did not make it.

  “Hello, I’m Edgar Andrews!” a man called from the deck in a raspy voice as he tried to whisper his shout. “Where is Sam?”

  The man must be Sam Andrews’s brother, the one who owned the ships. I swallowed hard when I remembered about my last view of Andrews, shackled in the back seat of one of the SUV’s. Danny stepped forward and answered.

  “We needed Sam to get everybody safely back to base. I and Cecil Garrison came in a couple of small boats. My name is Danny Bradley. Thank you for meeting us!” he said in a strong, metallic voice.

  The figure moved closer and leaned over the railing as if he was trying to get a better look at us. The others on deck froze in place and stared at Danny. As the clouds parted and the surreal moonlight shown on the boat, my heart jumped into my throat. The man was the spitting image of his brother, enough so I thought somehow it was him for several seconds. He wore a flannel shirt with rolled up sleeves and dark colored work trousers. Staring at Danny with incredulity, he opened his mouth to speak. “You … you’re an Impal?” he half asked and half stated.

  I stepped in and answered since I was the only non-Impal in the group. “He wasn’t when this mission started tonight; we had an accident on the way out. Does his being an Impal now make a difference?”

  Edgar Andrews turned his head to me and stared long enough to make me uncomfortable. Finally, he shook his head. “No, just took me by surprise … that’s all,” he said.

  Edgar scanned the entire shoreline choked with Impals and then turned back to me.

  “Did you bring extra batteries?” he asked.

  I shook my head and explained that the batteries were lost in the accident. All that were left was what all the Impals now carried. Even in the dim lighting, I could tell he was upset.

  He shook his head, and then turned to talk with some of the other people on deck. My stomach sank into my shoes. Did we come all this way to be turned away for want of extra batteries? What was I going to do with all these Impals? I was confident I could sneak past the guards at the entrance to the bridge. Especially since they were concerned with not letting people on the bridge, they wouldn’t be paying as much attention to the bridge itself.

  In any case, I knew several places where I could slip off the side and onto the beach before I got to the checkpoint. There was no way I could get this many Impals out. Not if their batteries started wearing out.

  Edgar turned around and strode back to the railing. “Very well, then. It’s going to be sunrise soon,” he said glancing over his shoulder at the faint line of orange light on the eastern horizon. “They won’t be as noticeable in the daylight. If we get stopped …” he said then trailed off.

  We stood silent for several moments, neither of us certain of what to say. Finally, Danny interrupted. “I understand your concern, Edgar, and I appreciate the sacrifice you are making to do what is right. Once we are in International Waters, it shouldn’t make a difference.”

  Edgar shrugged and threw a rope ladder over the side of the boat and motioned for the other ship to do the same. He then made a gesture in our general direction to say, come on. Danny immediately took charge and split the Impals into two equal groups then assigned each to a ship. A few minutes later, lines of Impals treaded water towards their designated transport. As I stood over them on the slope, they reminded me of a colony of ants returning to their respective anthill after a hard day’s work. Several waved at me before entering the water and several more did so from the deck of the ship. Danny was the last to leave.

  “God bless you and your family, Cecil,” Danny said as he gave me a bone-chilling hug.

  “Take care, colonel,” I said. “I appreciate your leadership … we all owe you our lives.”

  It seemed like an odd thing to say under the circumstances. Danny took my meaning and bowed his head in acknowledgement. Without another word, he strode into the water and quickly traversed the distance between the shore and the boat. Once on deck, he gave me a final salute and then disappeared into the throng. I stood alone on the small island as the boats began to move away. I felt more alone than I did in my small boat right after Danny died. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be back with my family. Glancing at the orange crescent of the sun rising to the east, I turned and jogged out of the parking lot. I turned left on the bridge, towards the shore. I hoped my friends still waited on me.

  CHAPTER 27

  THE RETURN TO BASE

  “I have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect—in terror.”

  ~Edgar Allan Poe

  I had not done conditioning work in a while. It showed on my jaunt across the bridge. I guess I was no more than a mile along when I started to get a stitch in my side and my breathing turned to gasps. I paused for a moment to rest. I squinted back to the southeast to see if I could see the boats in the distance. The rising sun made it difficult to tell. I think I could see them far on the horizon. I didn’t see any other boats in their vicinity, which was a good thing.

  After a minute of rest, I turned and continued my run, trying to keep my head down and my breathing steady to avoid another cramp. After what seemed like a marathon run, the bridge finally made land. I passed over
the tan beach extending for miles in each direction. I slowed down and began to consider my possibilities. I was still about twenty-five feet above the beach, a little too far to jump even into the soft sand.

  Traveling a little further, I passed some beachfront condos. They were taller than the bridge, but too far away to reach. As I rounded a corner, about a half mile from the toll plaza, my already hammering heart almost burst out of my chest. A military blockade was set up a couple hundred yards from me; I hadn’t expected it until the other side of the toll plaza. I immediately crouched down by the concrete guardrail. If any of the four soldiers manning the blockade turned around, they would have seen me. I was fortunate they continued to face forward … at least for a while.

  My mind raced as I tried to figure out a way out of this, then it hit me in the face, literally. A large green leaf blew across my cheek and stuck to my face, clinging to me like glue with the moisture of last night’s rain. I realized there was a large tree next to the bridge. There were several of them growing along both sides of the bridge with several varieties and sizes. I peered over the side and saw I was still at least twenty feet off the ground. I could also see another tree, a few feet away from me, boasted several good size branches. They should support my weight all the way to the bottom, or at least until I got low enough to where I could jump.

  I swung my leg over the guardrail, watching the soldiers. They did not move. I reached out and grabbed a limb. Before I could get it in my grasp, the unthinkable happened. I heard a vehicle approaching from behind and then the sudden squalling of brakes. The soldiers heard it too and wheeled about with their weapons drawn. I was exposed. I was visible and they saw me.

  “Hey you, stop!” one of them shouted and began to run in my direction with his weapon trained on me.

  I knew if I didn’t stop, the top of this tree along with my body would be riddled with bullets in a few seconds. I did the only thing I could do, the only option open to me … I jumped. As I flew through the air turned to leap, I glanced over my shoulder to see who had driven up; I saw the car with the Casper bumper sticker a few feet away. The visitor center janitor stared right at me with her eyes and her mouth as round as the tunnel. She leaned forward, her face inches from her windshield.

  I think I actually laughed as I took the leap from the bridge. I’m not sure if I was laughing at the absurdity of the situation, or the woman’s comical expression. Perhaps it was because I considered I was going to die from a fall and become a forest running Impal. Would my father show up for my Shredder party? I knew he would consider me no different from anyone else. I would be just another demon trying to deceive the living.

  I didn’t die. Instead, I yelled and cursed as my body bounced from limb to limb. Finally, I managed to grab hold of a medium-sized bough about eight feet off the ground. I held on for a brief moment until I heard the soldier’s shouts above. I let go of the limb as if it was on fire and bolted full speed through the woods. It did not take long to realize that I was not in the woods, instead I was in a heavily forested neighborhood. This was much worse. The obstacle course of fences, toys, swing sets, clotheslines and the occasional backyard dog kept me on my toes for the next several minutes. Just when I felt my lungs would explode and my legs collapse, I emerged from between two houses onto a busy four-lane highway.

  On my mad dash through suburbia, I did something I was not proud of. I grabbed a red Washington Redskins jersey off one of the clotheslines. Under normal circumstances, I would not have done anything so despicable. Today was anything other than normal circumstances. Moreover, I knew the soldiers saw me so I needed to change my appearance. I slipped the jersey on over my head and was pleased to see that it hung down around mid-thigh, making a change of pants unnecessary.

  A large red bandana hung next to the jersey and I grabbed it by accident. I was glad I did. The jersey would not be a sufficient disguise; I would also need something to cover my head. ‘Dew rags’ were what we once called bandanas tied on one’s head, giving the wearer the fashionable appearance of a pirate. I had not worn one since I was in college and was not sure I remembered how to tie it. After a couple of failed attempts, it came back to me. I was soon walking down the street in my dark-red jersey and a serviceable, red dew rag bandana on my head. I felt like a gang member and hoped I wasn’t in one of those neighborhoods.

  No one bothered me and I was thankful to see no police or military anywhere. Either they hadn’t called my incident in or I gave them the slip by heading in a direction they did not expect. I didn’t know what direction I headed. My flight or fight instinct told me to run the hell away … screw the direction.

  It took me a few minutes to get my bearings on the street. Once I did, it seemed I caught my first break today. I was less than a mile from the twenty-four hour grocery store where I was supposed to meet everybody. We all agreed it would probably be the most inconspicuous place for a vehicle to park for a long period. Several minutes later, I arrived in the parking lot and spotted the SUV parked next to a shopping cart return. Burt was in the driver’s seat, fidgeting nervously.

  I approached with caution and knocked on the passenger side door. Burt jumped as if he were in an ejection seat. He bumped his injured arm and let out a cry of pain. He turned in panic. When he saw me, relief flooded across his face.

  “Cecil! Boy am I glad to see you!” he said as I opened the door and slid inside.

  His smile drooped into a frown as he looked beyond me, and then in the rear-view mirrors.

  “Where’s Danny?” he asked.

  There was no way to sugarcoat it so I told him the whole story from the tanker to boarding the cruise ships. After I finished, he sat quietly for a while, drumming the fingers of his good hand on the steering wheel. He finally took a deep breath and turned to me.

  “He was a good man; he will be missed,” he said with misty eyes. Then with an attempt to break the fog of heavy emotion; he turned and started the vehicle. He then switched the radio to a reasonable level. A song was playing I did not recognize.

  “They’re playing music on the radio now?” I asked.

  Burt shook his head as if snapped out of a trance.

  “What … oh … yeah, at least in touristy areas like Virginia Beach,” he said. “There will be more propaganda on later, you can count on it.”

  Burt moved his arm in the sling with a wince. He turned his head and faced out the window. I could see his grimace of pain in the mirror.

  “Why don’t you let me drive, partner,” I said. “I’ve got two good wings.”

  The truth was I felt as if I had been clubbed on my arms and torso with a baseball bat. I also suffered several burning cuts and scratches all over my body. Adrenaline deadened my nerves as I jumped from the bridge and ran the neighborhood steeplechase. Now that it was over, my body was starting to erupt into a crescendo of raw nerves. At least I could move both of my arms relatively pain free, for now anyway.

  Burt didn’t give me the argument I expected and I was glad. I didn’t want to waste time arguing, I wanted to get back to my family. We had been gone over twelve hours now and I am sure they were worried sick about me. We exchanged seats and I buckled up, shifted into gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

  “Oh, I almost forgot!” Burt said, reaching into the back seat and retrieving a brown paper bag with the grocery store’s logo on it. “I took the liberty of getting you breakfast. I know it’s not breakfast food, but it is the best I could do without a microwave handy.”

  “Thanks, it’s great!” I said as I peaked in the bag while we waited at a traffic light. I was hungry, hungrier than I realized before he mentioned food. However, when I peaked in the bag, I almost lost my appetite. He bought me a tuna sandwich, a bag of potato chips and a bottle of water. Under normal circumstances, I would consider it a fine meal. Burt knew of my affinity for what we called ‘gas station’ food. There was just one glaring problem. There was two of everything. He also bought breakfast for Danny.

&nb
sp; I tried to divert the attention away from the obvious fact, but it ended up backfiring on me.

  “So, where did you get the money?” I asked in a joking tone. “You been holding out on us?”

  “Danny,” Burt said then turned and stared out the passenger window.

  I felt about three inches high.

  “Of course it was Danny,” I thought to myself. He gave me money to take Steff to Martian Burgers. I would say he was the only one with enough foresight to accumulate cash, yet that wasn’t entirely fair. I escaped from jail and fled to the base with no real opportunity to pay my bank a visit.

  I said a silent prayer of thanks for my breakfast, and for Danny, as I took a bite out of my tuna sandwich. It was dry and I chased each bite with a swig of semi cold water. It wasn’t five star dining, but it satisfied me and gave me a little burst of energy, something I was going to need a lot of today.

  We drove in silence for thirty minutes, both of us remembering our friend and pondering numerous questions in our heads. Burt broke the silence with a deliberate clearing of his throat and a deep breath.

  “So, do you think everyone got away?” he asked. He sounded like his throat was as dry as sandpaper so I grabbed Danny’s water out of the bag and offered it to him. He took it and downed half the bottle before setting it in the cup holder and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Yes, I do,” I said. “I could see them clearing the mouth of the bay while I was still on the bridge.”

  He pondered this for a while, and then took another drink of his water.

  “Will they make it without batteries?” Burt asked.

  “They should; they will make International waters by noon and be out of my father’s jurisdiction.”

  “What happens when Europe gets tired of them?” Burt asked.

  I shrugged and ran my fingers gingerly across my scalp. It felt as if it had taken a blow from a thorny rose bush. I could feel a warm, wet patch in my bandana and knew it was not sweat. I was glad the dew rag was red.