The Defiant: Grid Down

by John W. Vance

  Knowing his name was a victory for him. He went through the database that was his mind, and hazy images of being in uniform flashed as did a man who looked like him. He couldn’t recall his name, but the man he saw must be his brother.

  A tap on the door jolted him.

  The door opened, and there stood Jose holding a small tray. He walked in and set it on the nightstand.

  Michael sat up while Jose stuffed more pillows behind him.

  “Here you go, tacos de cabeza, one of my wife’s specialties.”

  “Looks delicious, thank you,” Michael said. The plate held three small tacos, a side of refried beans and rice. It looked like typical Mexican fare.

  Jose pulled the blinds back.

  Light splashed across the room.

  Not paying attention to the room and its contents, Michael was eating ferociously.

  A giggle from the doorway pulled him away from his food. He saw the little girl again and waved. “Hola.”

  She giggled and hid.

  “Sorry about my little Maria, she’s not accustomed to seeing Americans. You are American, right?”

  “Ha, I think I am,” Michael answered while he pointed at his head. “I don’t know for sure. I can’t remember much.”

  “I’ll let you eat, enjoy.”

  “This is so good. What is cabeza?”

  Jose hesitated but finally said, “Cow.”

  “Hmm, it’s so good. Tell your wife thank you and that she’s an excellent cook.”

  “I will, Michael.”

  Jose left but just before he closed the door, Maria shouted, “Cabeza is cow head!”

  Michael stopped chewing and looked in between the freshly made corn tortillas. He shrugged his shoulders and continued to devour them.

  Finishing the entire plate of food, Michael felt satiated and happy. Resting back into the thick pillows, he tried to piece together what he might be doing in San Felipe, Mexico, and what he might have been doing offshore in the Sea of Cortez. Nothing came to him as he searched the fragmented images in his mind. It would help if he knew what he did for a living, but all he could see was a younger him in a camouflage uniform. Maybe he was still in the service, and if so, what was he doing in Mexico. None of it made sense.

  A loud tap and the doorknob turned.

  Michael sat up ready for Jose to return so he could ask him some questions.

  The door opened, but it wasn’t Jose. A tall man stood there with two others behind him.

  A quick glance told Michael they weren’t very nice. He adjusted in the bed and looked for something he might use to protect himself.

  The men came into the room but not towards him. They surrounded the bed and hovered over him. A fourth man walked in, pulled up a small chair and sat down.

  “Michael, hello,” the man said.

  “Who are you?”

  “That’s of no concern to you; I’m more concerned about you.”

  Michael felt nervous; his eyes darted around the room to each man. Though they didn’t openly carry any weapons, he had no doubt the men were armed.

  “What are you doing in San Felipe?” the man asked.

  Michael turned his attention back to him. He was a tall man, lean and handsome. His jet black hair was slicked back and his face was cleanly shaven. His dark brown eyes were hidden below thick black eyebrows. His dress was semiformal with freshly ironed black slacks and a linen shirt worn under a camel-hair sports jacket.

  “I can’t remember much. As you can see, I’m a bit busted up.”

  “Yes, I see you’re not doing well. How did you come to receive those injuries?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How did you come to be on the beach?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The man looked at one of his colleagues and nodded. The large man walked over to Michael and grabbed his left arm.

  Michael pulled away but not quick enough.

  The man grabbed it again and twisted it into an arm bar.

  Michael screamed out in pain.

  “Now, why are you in San Felipe?”

  Seething in pain, Michael answered, “I don’t know.’

  The large man twisted his arm farther.

  “Ahhh, damn it, that hurts. I don’t know, I swear. I got hit in the head. I don’t remember anything.”

  “Do you know anything about the missile launch last night?”

  “What missile? I don’t know anything.”

  The man leaned in close to Michael’s face and said, “You end up on our beach injured. A ship that apparently launched a large missile or rocket is now smoldering out at sea and you don’t know anything? Ask me why I should believe you.”

  Michael begged, “Please let me go and I’ll tell you what you want to hear.”

  The man looked up and nodded.

  The large man released his arm and stepped back.

  Michael rubbed his arm and said, “I must have been on that ship you’re speaking of, but I don’t remember anything. I believe my memory is coming back, and when it does, you’ll be the first person I tell.”

  The man looked at the large man, who stepped forward again.

  “No, don’t, please. Look, see my head, see this bandage. I got hit with something big. I have amnesia. Look at me, I’m injured badly. I’m not going anywhere. Let me stay, heal up, and as soon as I remember, I’ll tell you.”

  “Wait,” the man said to the large man. “Marco, you’ll stay here, keep an eye on our American friend. Let us know when he remembers.”

  “Are you police or something?” Michael asked.

  “No, just concerned citizens.”

  “What do you care about a ship or missile?”

  “We care because whatever was shot from that ship destroyed our electrical grid and everything else.”

  Like a light bulb had gone off in his head, Michael remembered something. An image of the ship popped in his head along with the missile on a large pad. He hoped his newfound recollection wasn’t given away. He needed to figure out how to escape before he could tell them anything. What he saw was his value as a captive going to zero upon his full disclosure.

  “The grid is down?” Michael asked.

  “Yes, and everything else. Nothing electrical works, including most cars, and I have no doubt it was because of that missile.”

  “I still don’t know what you care, if you’re not the cops.”

  “Because you’re valuable if you know something, even to the cops. I can get a lot of money for you,” the man said and stood. Looking at Marco, he said, “Don’t let our friend go anywhere, understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The man and the others left.

  Michael could hear them talking behind the door. Soon their voices became silent.

  The door opened again and Jose was there. “Senor, I’m so sorry, please forgive me. Manuel, the tall gentleman, is my employer. I mentioned something to one of his men, and they just showed up. I didn’t tell them on purpose, you must believe me.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Jose. Can you answer a couple questions for me?” Michael asked.

  “Si, yes, of course,” Jose said, stepping all the way into the room and taking a seat in the same chair where Manuel had just been.

  “He mentioned the grid is down. Is there any other information about it, why or how?”

  “No, sir, the electricity went out very early this morning, hasn’t come back on.”

  “Did you see this missile launch?”

  “Si, I did. I was working very early this morning and saw it. The rocket lit up the sky like it was daytime. Then not three minutes later a large explosion followed. It must have been the ship.”

  “Where was the missile going? I mean headed, what direction?”

  “North, northeast.”

  “Okay, thanks. Oh, do your cars work? He said something about cars not working.”

  “Oh yes, my Datsun runs great. It’s what I brought you home in.”

 
“Thanks, Jose, sorry for the trouble. Let the big guy know I’ll be taking a nap. Hopefully I’ll remember something.”

  Jose leaned in and said, “Don’t remember too fast, okay?”

  “Got it, understood.”

  “Get some rest,” Jose said and left the bedroom.

  When the door latched closed, Michael began to put some of the pieces together. He now remembered that he was on the ship and there was a missile. He also remembered fighting people, but he was hurt and then there was an explosion.

  One tiny remnant of his memory came back slowly as he lay there. With is one good eye closed, he viewed the images that imprinted on his mind. Suddenly a name came that hadn’t before, Nicholas. Was Nicholas someone he knew? Was it his brother, as he wanted to associate the name with the face of the younger man who looked similar to him? Another name followed right behind it, San Diego. Did Nicholas live in San Diego? Why was he having the name of that city enter his mind? Was he from San Diego?

  Michael didn’t know who exactly he was dealing with, but by their modus operandi, he knew they had to be cartel. That meant he would most certainly be killed once he told them what he knew. He had to get out of there as quickly as possible, but to where? Where would he go? Then he said under his breath, “San Diego.”

  Carlsbad, CA

  Nicholas held the Sig Sauer P239 in his hand. He loved the feel, size and weight of this compact semiauto pistol. He had grown up around firearms, but his father, a former highway patrolman, had loved his ‘wheel guns’, and if he had to carry a semiauto, he went for the old reliable 1911. His older brother, Michael, had turned him on to Sigs. It took one time at the range with one and he was hooked. The safe that was hidden behind a false wall in his office closet held several models of Sigs, but besides his P220, the P239 was by far his absolute favorite. He holstered the pistol and zipped up a light jacket to conceal it.

  On his way out of the office, he caught his reflection in the mirror and stopped. He looked at himself and pivoted back and forth to see if the pistol bulged from his jacket. The last thing he needed was to run into law enforcement and go to jail for carrying without a permit. However, he was willing to take the risk. He liked the old saying, ‘Better to be tried by twelve than carried by six.’

  As he continued to look at his reflection, he found it so odd that something had finally happened to warrant him carrying a concealed weapon. He liked the way he looked but oddly liked the excitement of what was happening. He was sure that would wane if things truly went bad, but for now he felt vindicated and relatively safe. Taking one last look, he bolted out of the office and right into Abigail.

  “Dad, I was just coming to see you,” Abigail said.

  “What is it?”

  “I want to come with you.”

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and said, “Not a good idea. Let me see what’s happening out there first.”

  “That’s why I should come; I can help you.”

  He smiled at her and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll be fine. I’m just going to Nana’s and Papa’s. I’ll take surface roads, and I doubt anything really bad is happening right now.”

  “But you think things will get bad?”

  He had always protected her, and maintaining her innocence of the world had been a priority for him for so long, but she was sixteen, and if this got bad, he needed to make sure she had all the information she needed. “It could get bad. People don’t handle power outages too well; history is our teacher in that regard.”

  She gave him a hug and felt the pistol. “You are worried.”

  “Just a precaution.”

  “Can I have one?”

  He looked into her eyes and without reservation said, “Yes, but not now. When I get back, I’ll set you up.”

  “But what if something happens while you’re gone?”

  “Nothing will. Keep the doors locked and you’ll be fine. People are just coming to grips with this now. We’ll need to be concerned when they realize they’re screwed and the government isn’t coming to save them.”

  Hearing them talk, Becky walked in from the kitchen. “Set her up with what?”

  “Nothing,” he replied. Getting into an argument about arming his sixteen-year-old was something he didn’t need right now.

  “Tell them they need to come back here,” Becky insisted about her parents. She was worried about how they would be able to manage the situation.

  “I can’t guarantee that will happen.”

  “Maybe I should go with you,” Becky said.

  “No, stay here. I won’t be gone that long.”

  “What else should we be doing?” Becky asked.

  “Pack one of the backpacks I put in the bedroom. Only pack things you’ll need, so high heels and cocktail dresses don’t fall into that category.”

  She cut her eyes at him.

  “I’m serious,” he said.

  “I’m not an idiot,” she replied.

  “I wasn’t saying that, it’s just…”

  “What?”

  Now was not a time to be petty, so he stopped short of saying anything. “Nothing, just put things together.” He gave them both a kiss and left.

  If his guide to what was happening in the world came from what he observed while he rode his bike through the streets of Rancho Del Sur, he would think nothing had happened. The people he did see were going about their day with no apparent concern. Many cars he saw had their hoods up while people were walking the sidewalks, talking, laughing and seemingly not overly concerned. Children were riding their bikes and playing outside. A sight he hadn’t seen in many years.

  Right now a normalcy bias ran through many people. Without a reasonable explanation, what had happened today was just another in a string of endless attacks that had been plaguing the country. It started several months ago with a few lone-wolf attacks on malls; men walking in, shouting, ‘Allah Akbar!’ and then shooting. Also a few of the major cities had car bombs detonated at large events. San Diego had been lucky, but even there, those attacks had numbed many people. After the buzz of an attack wore off they went back to the malls, to schools, sporting events, etc. What were they to do, give up? Nicholas didn’t think they should put their arms in the air and surrender, but at least people should ready themselves for the big one, and this he now thought must have been it.

  Once outside the gates, a different picture began to emerge. Abandoned cars sat everywhere on the road. As he passed the first strip mall that housed an AM/PM convenient store, the realities of his future began to come into stark relief. A couple cars sat at the gas pumps, abandoned, but the storefront was smashed; people came out cradling food in their arms. In some ways he was surprised, he had this image of rioting and chaos exploding within hours, but couldn’t imagine why someone would begin to loot. Did they know something he didn’t? Were they sizing up the situation and thought they couldn’t get caught?

  Fortunately for him, the ride to his in-laws was mostly downhill. He prayed Frank would allow him to take the car, but he’d understand if he didn’t. Why would he give up what might be one of the few operational vehicles in the area?

  He made the left into the condo complex where his in-laws lived and again saw nothing unusual or out of sorts. Running Cedars was a retirement community that spanned five acres of beautifully manicured landscaping. The streets weaved around three dozen two-story condominium buildings, each housing four units each. The backs of the buildings faced an expansive common area with swimming pool, hot tub, horseshoe pits, barbeques and a large clubhouse. His in-laws loved living here, and he could see why, they needed for nothing.

  A few people were out walking their dogs and taking in the typical sunny and bluebird San Diego day. They waved as he rode by, with no care in the world.

  Outside their building, he stopped and hustled over to the front door, bike slung over his shoulder. The last thing he needed was to have someone steal his bike. Instinctually he hit the doorbell but couldn’t he
ar it. He laughed to himself that he too had some actions tied to a world with electricity. After a few knocks on the door, it opened.

  “Nicholas, what are you doing here?” Marjory, his mother-in-law, asked, surprised to see him.

  “Hi, Mom, we’ve been calling, but with the power out, Becky thought it best I come over to see if you needed anything.”

  “Come in, come in,” she said and stepped aside.

  Nicholas stepped into the foyer. He marveled at how much natural light their little condo got. His mother-in-law had always been partial to homes with lots of windows, she couldn’t stand a dark house, and fortunately for them she had that taste.

  He liked his mother-in-law; she was sweet, generous and engaging. He was never at a loss for words with her around, as she was a great conversationalist and never judged. However, when it came to the other half of his in-laws, it was the opposite. Frank was stiff, stubborn and very opinionated to the point of being righteous. Their relationship had struggled from the beginning after he overheard Frank telling Becky not to marry him because he wasn’t going to amount to anything. Frank had later apologized, but it took years and proof that he did amount to something. That apology rang hollow to Nicholas and it strained what could have been something that Nicholas had wanted again, a father figure.

  Nicholas only had his older brother for family, as both of their parents were dead. Their father had died from a heart attack when Nicholas was ten, and his mother lost her fight to breast cancer eight years after. Nicholas felt lost after his mother’s death and followed in his brother’s footsteps by joining the military, but unlike his brother who went into the army and became a Ranger, he joined the Marines. From the Marines he went to college, but he found college boring. He wanted more, and to him college was a job machine. He floated from job to job until an old friend told him to pursue being a stock broker. That was it for him; he started working for a small firm and eventually owned his own.

  “Do you guys need anything?” Nicholas asked.

  “Can you believe this power outage? You’ll have to excuse me, but I think it’s fun. Frank, on the other hand, is not too happy. He’s been seething that he can’t call the electric company.”