The Defiant: Grid Down

by John W. Vance

  Using the wall, he eased up till he was standing. With a firm grip on the Beretta 9mm, he patiently waited for them to enter.

  With explosive force the door burst open, pieces of splintered wood flew, and the door hung from one hinge.

  Manuel and two of his men came in, pistols in their hands.

  “Marco!” Manuel yelled.

  Attempting to ease his rapid heart rate, Michael took several long and slow breaths. His ears listened intently for where the men were.

  A child’s cry came from the hall.

  “Marco, where are you?” Manuel called out.

  Michael could hear they were in the front room but not moving closer.

  Under his breath he mumbled, “C’mon, motherfuckers.”

  “Marco!” Manuel again called out.

  Michael knew they were being cautious, so if they weren’t coming to him, he’d have to go to them. Carefully he stepped to where the dining room wall met the short hallway that led to the foyer and front living room. Once there, his ears picked up on what sounded like three men discussing their options in Spanish. They stopped talking and the sound Michael wanted to hear came; the creaking of feet walking down the hall hit his ears.

  He pressed his eyes shut, said a quick prayer and pivoted around the corner. There he saw all three men stacked up walking slowly. Michael instantly squeezed off the first round, hitting the first man. Not wasting time, he put the sights on the second and again squeezed off a round. The bullet hit that man in the chest.

  He grunted and fell to the ground dead.

  With two men down, Michael turned the sights on the third man, Manuel. However, his success ended there.

  Manuel leveled his handgun and fired several times; all three bullets missed Michael but forced him to take cover.

  “I see you. You can’t escape, American, just know that,” Manuel hollered.

  “It’s just you and me. I can promise you that I’ll be the last man standing,” Michael responded arrogantly.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I remembered everything, and let me say, you’re fucking with the wrong guy.”

  The entire time they talked to each other, Manuel crept back towards the front door.

  “I’ll come back for you, American, I will,” Manuel yelled. He turned and ran out the front towards his vehicle.

  Hearing this, Michael pursued him, but when he exited, Manuel repelled his advance with a volley of bullets. Michael took cover and waited.

  Safely now in his vehicle, Manuel started it and left.

  Knowing his time to leave was limited, Michael picked up the weapons from the dead men and found Jose with his family cowering in the back bedroom.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m taking one of those cars you have,” Michael said.

  “Take the Chevette. That’s why I brought it back.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” Michael replied.

  “No thanks, I did this for selfish reasons too. Saving you saved me. I needed to do a good deed like this to be forgiven for the horrible things I’ve been made to do by these disgusting men and Manuel,” Jose said and spit on the floor.

  “Are you safe here?”

  “We’re leaving too. There’s nothing here for us. We have family in Loreto; we’re heading there.”

  Jose walked Michael out to the car. He gave him the keys and asked, “Did you have something to do with the missile?”

  His memory was still a blank, but there wasn’t any doubt he had some part in it. He needed to go find the one person who might be able to help him remember who he was; that person was his brother, Nicholas. “I think so.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I’m headed to San Diego.”

  Carlsbad, CA

  The last person Nicholas wanted to see was Brent, but there he was standing on the edge of his driveway and the street, looking at them as they pulled into their garage. What most worried Nicholas was he wasn’t alone. Alongside him was Chandler Nolte, the HOA president; Geraldine Francis, HOA board member; and two other people he’d never met.

  “How soon before that piece of shit shows up asking for a lift?” Nicholas asked.

  “What’s Chandler doing here?” Becky asked.

  While Nicholas pulled up the heavy wood-sided garage door, all eyes were on him and his car. Swiftly he put the car inside and closed the door.

  “Can we leave now?” Nicholas asked.

  “Not until you get another car,” Becky answered him as she navigated through the darkness around boxes and equipment.

  “I knew you were going to say that,” Nicholas fretted.

  “There’s no other choice. Just get it done. I’ll organize our things. As soon as you have it, we can leave.”

  Nicholas needed help, and the best place he thought about finding it was with his good friend Proctor Simmons. Over the past year and a half, Nicholas had confided his belief that things could come to an end. Proctor heard him clearly and also began to prepare, but like Nicholas hadn’t gotten all he needed. Nicholas would drive to his house tomorrow and enlist him for his cause. Proctor had assets, but the skill set he had above others was he was a medically trained doctor. An ob-gyn by trade, his overall medical training could be critical, plus he had an office that surely had medical supplies, something Nicholas had but not in abundance.

  “When are you leaving?” Becky asked.

  “Not until tomorrow morning, it’s safer, I think. I can at least see when someone’s coming at me.”

  “Makes sense.”

  They both began to chat more when a loud bang at the door echoed throughout the house.

  “Guess who?” Nicholas quipped. He made his way to the front door, with Becky just a few feet behind him.

  When he opened the heavy eight-foot-tall door, he found exactly who he thought he’d find, Brent, Chandler, Geraldine and the two other people.

  “Brent, Chandler, Gerry, nice to see you all,” Nicholas said.

  “Hi, Nic,” Brent said, a stern look etched on his face. His jaws were clenched and his brow furrowed.

  “What can I do for you?” Nicholas asked.

  “Sorry, do you want to come in?” Becky interjected.

  Nicholas gave Becky a blank stare, which told her everything about what she just did. He opened the door wide and motioned with his arm for them to enter.

  One by one his unwelcome neighbors stepped across his threshold.

  Becky exited the room and returned a minute later with two lanterns. She set them in a large seating area next to the foyer. The LED lights gave off a warm white glow and created an odd atmosphere.

  The seating arrangements made Nicholas feel this was a tribunal. His guests sat across from him while he and Becky sat opposite in a small love seat.

  “So sorry for interrupting you, but Brent brought something to our attention that we wanted to address with you,” Chandler said. He was a tall and sturdy man. He stood over six feet four inches, and the rumors were he left his career as a professional football player after being implicated in a gambling racket. He vehemently denied those rumors and the NFL never found solid evidence, but those rumors were enough to make a mediocre quarterback toxic, and within three years of going from team to team, he finished his career as a San Diego Charger.

  “Let me guess, the car,” Nicholas responded.

  “Yes, that’s it. Nicholas, we don’t know what’s happening, but no one’s cars are working and our attempts to contact EMS have not worked out. It’s not that we didn’t try. Several of our neighbors walked to the closest fire station, but they found three firemen with no answers, and none of their vehicles were working. Needless to say, it was disheartening.”

  “You want to use the car I have?”

  “Why did you lie to me?” Brent asked with a sharp tone.

  “I didn’t lie. When you stopped by the first day, I didn’t have it then. I picked it up later from my father-in-law.”

  “I asked you to l
et me know, but you didn’t. I told you my son needs his prescriptions,” Brent chided.

  “Sorry, Brent, let’s just say you’re not high on my list to help. I seem to remember you dimed me out after that party.”

  “You can’t get over that, can you?”

  “Who would, and who does that to their neighbor? We weren’t having a kegger, just a party, and yes, some people got a bit excited, but we weren’t having a goddamn rave.”

  “Chandler, do something,” Brent ordered.

  “Brent, Nicholas, please stop your bickering. Our community has an emergency and we need to come together. Nicholas, you have a car that works, and we have neighbors in need. I don’t have any right to dictate what you can do with your car, but I can ask on behalf of the community. Can you allow us access to your car to go procure food, water and other essential items?”

  Nicholas didn’t answer. He sat staring at the lantern. He hated being put in the situation he just found himself in. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to contribute; he just didn’t put his neighbors as a priority. For him, his family was that, but how could he say no to them. Of course, in theory, declining to help was easy, but how do you do it when those people are sitting right in front of you.

  “Nic?” Chandler asked.

  Becky also noticed the awkward pause and touched his knee.

  “Thoughts?” Nicholas asked Becky.

  Her response was a simple nod.

  “Chandler, I will do what I can, but let it be known I can’t make guarantees that I’ll be able to get everything for everyone. What I recommend is we get a few in the neighborhood to come with me and look for more cars. This seems like the practical first step towards equipping you with the tools you’ll need to get past this emergency.”

  “Until the authorities can fix this, yes, that makes sense,” Chandler inserted.

  “Good, I’m leaving in the morning; put together a list of items needed and give me two capable people to join me. And when I say capable, I mean ready to fight if need be, I want them armed. If you know someone in the community who knows how to hot-wire a car, that would be beneficial too.”

  “Armed?” Geraldine asked. Her face showed concern.

  “Yes, armed, I’ve been out there twice, and things are starting to deteriorate. We were attacked earlier today. It’s only going to get worse, and where we have to go tomorrow, I’m betting we might encounter some trouble.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Brent said.

  “Do you have a gun?” Nicholas asked.

  “No, but I can handle myself,” Brent answered as he sat straighter in his chair.

  “Do you know how to handle a gun?” Nicholas asked.

  “No, I mean yes, I shot a .22 rifle when I was a kid.”

  Nicholas exhaled loudly.

  “Is this really a critical requirement?” Chandler asked.

  “I have the car, I set the requirements,” Nicholas stated.

  “This is bullshit!” Brent barked.

  “Chandler, please have two capable men and a list. Please prioritize the items, medicine at the top,” Nicholas said.

  “I will. When do you need it by?”

  “Early, say five thirty tomorrow morning. I’ll need to review the list and make a route.”

  “I’ll have it here by then. Thank you. Does anyone have anything to add?” Chandler asked.

  Everyone sat silent.

  Brent was stewing, his jaw clenched and brow pressed together tightly as he kept staring at Nicholas.

  Nicholas escorted them out and stopped Chandler just before he exited. “Hey, listen. I won’t have the car long; also you need to begin organizing things.”

  “Is that something you’d like to help with?”

  “Can’t, we’re leaving.”

  “Leaving? Where are you going?”

  “Somewhere safer, I hope,” Nicholas confided.

  “Well, let’s hope this passes over quickly. Most people don’t have a lot of food, and those that have ventured out said things are getting a bit crazy out there. We need this to go well tomorrow,” Chandler said and patted Nicholas’ shoulder. He walked out and into the darkness.

  After closing the door, Nicholas turned to Becky and said, “Great, not that I didn’t have enough to do, I have to run errands for our neighbors.”

  “Let’s talk about it over dinner, and stop bellyaching. At least we have a car.”

  Abigail was sitting in the kitchen, writing in her journal. She looked up when they entered and asked, “Dad, here’s the addresses for my friends. You promised to stop by and check on them.”

  “More errands?” Nicholas lamented.

  “You promised,” Abigail said and kissed him on the cheek. She grabbed a lantern and shuffled out of the kitchen.

  He looked at the names. There were four listed; the top had a star next to it. “Do you know a Rob Robles?”

  “Who?”

  “Rob Robles. I don’t think I’ve met him before, have you?”

  Becky was busy making dinner; her focus was on mixing the ingredients not listening to Nicholas. “Honey, can you grab those lanterns or light some candles? I can’t see that well.”

  “Sure,” he said and walked out to grab the ones in the front seating room. “Hmm, Rob Robles, are you what I think you might be?”

  San Diego, CA

  With an agreement struck, Colin finished the evening by giving Bryn the basics of marksmanship. He started by detailing the nomenclature of the revolver and the simple functionality behind it. He stressed that its simple mechanisms made it the perfect piece for her until she had further training and education. She attempted to argue with him that she needed the semiauto, but he refused by telling her that not knowing how to operate one could prove fatal.

  “Malfunctions happen, and if you don’t have the training, it could be the last thing you do. What is beautiful about a revolver is that a simple misfire doesn’t require much but squeezing the trigger again.”

  He covered more detail with her and eventually he showed her tactical stances and movements. He went over how to quickly reload the revolver and stressed the importance of only firing when she had a target. The revolver had limited capacity, so she needed to make each shot count.

  Neither paid attention to the time, so when Bryn looked at her watch, she was shocked to see how quickly the time had melted away.

  “Oh my God, it’s almost midnight.”

  “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

  “When can I shoot this? I want to shoot this,” Bryn said enthusiastically.

  “Unfortunately, I think you’ll get a chance to use it for defensive purposes sooner than you want.”

  That reality hit her as she looked at the handgun in her hands. A flood of emotions washed over her rapidly as she then thought of where she was just a week ago. How strange that everything had shifted and changed so much that now she was in her neighbor’s apartment, holding a gun and getting tactical training.

  “I don’t recommend we go out shooting, so you’ll have to just train by dry firing. That will get you used to the trigger pull and proper aiming.”

  “Can I take it with me?”

  “Sure, you need it,” he said, sliding the box over to her.

  She looked inside to discover a box of fifty hollow-point bullets, three reloaders with cartridges and another smaller box that held a cleaning kit.

  He walked back into his bedroom and came out holding something; he handed it to her and said, “You’ll need this too.”

  She took and examined it.

  “It’s a small clip holster; it slides into your waistband. Use your shirt to conceal it.”

  She did what he said, tucked the holster in her pants and inserted the pistol. It fit snugly, and with it, she felt empowered.

  “Oh, and take this too,” he said, handing her a folding knife with clip.

  Taking it, she slowly opened the blade. The knife looked intimidating with its serrated edge. “I can’t thank
you enough.”

  “Same time tomorrow, we’ll do some more training, okay?” he asked.

  “Same time tomorrow,” she responded as she clipped the knife in her right pocket and walked to the door. She stopped herself short of opening it, turned and asked, “What do you think is going on?”

  “Armageddon, I assume.”

  “No, what do you think happened?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. Does it matter now? Shit’s not working, and when shit doesn’t work, people go crazy.”

  “Crazy is right. It wasn’t twelve hours and people were ransacking stores and hurting other people.”

  “People were doing that before, but on a much smaller scale. Keep that in mind.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “Don’t worry about the why. In fact, don’t worry; plan, prepare and stay on your toes. What happened happened; that ship has sailed. If you want to see the sun rise for many more years, you’re going to need to put the party girl in a box and get your game face on.”

  “Party girl?”

  “You think I never saw you every weekend coming and going, drinking and partying? I know everything.”

  “Okay, now you’re creeping me out. What? Have you been stalking me?”

  “Ha, no, nothing like that. You just never noticed me. I’ve always been sitting on my perch, smoking cigars or having a drink. You were just too busy with your life and your smart phone to ever see me. So many people are now seeing for the first time, and it’s scary. They woke up to a world that’s not going back more than likely, and now that they can see, they know they’re not ready. They never prepared, they never took the time to learn the skills that humans had learned for millennia. The knowledge of their inabilities is frightening.”

  “Makes sense. I know I was…am a bit scared, but I’m a quick study.”

  “I can see that,” Colin said with a smile.

  “Why did it all fall apart so quickly?”

  “Because we were never really held together that tightly.”

  Chapter Three

  “Those who fail to plan, plan to fail.” – Alan Lakein