The Defiant: Grid Down

by John W. Vance

  “Okay,” he replied and started to assess the models and age of cars on the small quarter-acre lot. All the cars were older models, but finding one old enough might be an issue.

  The door to the office was locked, no surprise to Bryn. Sitting next to the door was a large rock. Normally this was used to prop the door open; now it would be used to open the door. She picked up the softball-sized rock and began to smash the door handle. It took only a few hits for the cheap handle to break off. She tried to pull the door, but the latch was still holding it closed. “Damn,” she cried out.

  Movement behind the door startled her; she dropped the rock and pulled the revolver out. Her hands were shaking. “Matt, someone’s here.”

  He immediately stopped what he was doing and raced towards her, his ASP extended and ready.

  A click and the door opened.

  Bryn stepped back down the worn metal steps and held the pistol at eye level.

  “You were always the bull in the china shop,” Sophie said, a broad prideful smile on her face.

  “How did you get in?” Bryn asked.

  “I tried the back door. It was locked, but the lazy bastards left a key exactly where you’d think they’d leave one, under a flower pot,” she answered and held the door open.

  Matt stopped in his tracks when he saw who it was and laughed out loud. “That’s awesome!”

  Bryn tucked the revolver back in her waistband and walked in. “Okay, smarty pants, where would the keys be?”

  “Um, duh, right where it says KEYS,” she replied, pointing to a metal cabinet that hung on the wall.

  The offices were nothing more than a thirty-foot rectangular box with windows. Inside there were two rooms, one an office and the other a conference room. A small bathroom divided the two main rooms.

  The metal cabinet hung in the office. Bryn walked directly to it and found it locked. She turned to Sophie and said, “Well, any ideas?”

  Sophie grabbed a letter opener and a paperweight. She jabbed the letter opener into the tumbler and hammered it with the paperweight until she heard a pop. She turned the letter opener and it worked like a key. “There you go.”

  “What classes are they teaching you in SF?”

  Sophie’s only response was to put her index finger to her head and say, “You got the long legs, and I got the curvy butt and brains.”

  “Whatever, get out of the way,” Bryn said and looked at the key chains for anything that would identify what key went to what car. “These guys were organized; I think this is going to go smoother than I thought. C’mon, let’s go get ourselves a car,” she said, pulling every key out of the cabinet.

  Bryn was proud of her sister. In one arm she carried all the keys in a box and the other she wrapped around Sophie in a tight embrace.

  They laughed about getting into the office and were lost in making jokes and chatting, and they didn’t see who was outside until it was too late.

  “Look what we have here,” a man said, holding a pistol to Matt’s head.

  Matt was on his knees and trembling with fear. “I’m sorry, they came up on me. I didn’t get a chance to warn you,” he cried out.

  Bryn and Sophie were frozen in fear on the stairs. A quick look of the lot sorted the situation up for Bryn; they were outnumbered and outgunned. She counted five men and all of them had weapons. Under her breath she whispered to Sophie, “Run back inside, go.”

  “What do you have in your hand there?” the man said. He pressed the pistol harder into Matt’s head. His dark brown hair of unknown length was covered by a ball cap, and the tight fitted T-shirt showcased his muscular build. Overall he looked about five foot ten, but to Bryn he might as well have been a giant. The four other men all looked similar, white, young and ready to do whatever they wanted.

  Bryn’s insides churned and tightened. She tried to think of a way out of this where Matt was saved, but she couldn’t come up with one. Running away was her and Sophie’s only option. She hated thinking that Matt would be left to these men and whatever devious things they were capable of, but she couldn’t come up with anything.

  “Sophie, run,” she whispered again.

  “Let him go and we’ll give you the keys,” Sophie cried out.

  “It’s just that easy, let him go and you’ll give us the keys. Maybe we want more than that,” the man hollered.

  This was exactly what Bryn didn’t want to hear. She knew negotiation with these men was not an option especially when you didn’t have leverage.

  “You look like a hot piece of ass there,” the man said.

  “I get the other one,” a second man called out, referring to Bryn.

  “Listen, guys, we just came here to get a car, but we don’t want trouble,” Sophie responded.

  Bryn’s non-responsiveness was making Matt upset, but he had resolved himself to the fact he wouldn’t make it out of this. So with this grim prediction he cried out, “Run, girls, run like hell.” He lunged from his kneeling position and collided with the man holding him at gunpoint. This forceful impact caused the man to drop the gun. Seeing an opportunity, Matt dove for it, as did the man.

  The other men ran towards them, their guns out in front.

  Bryn dropped the box of keys, pulled the revolver and headed at them too, in direct contradiction to her own initial thoughts and instincts.

  Normally Sophie would have been afraid, but she grabbed the rock and pulled the pepper spray from her pocket. Like her sister, she ran towards the men.

  As everyone ran towards an explosive and deadly collision, Matt and the man were locked in a fierce struggle for the loose pistol.

  Bryn’s heart was pounding hard in her chest, and with the revolver out in front of her, she squeezed off the first round, hitting the second man.

  The man fell to the ground hard; he was hit but not dead. He looked at Bryn and raised his pistol, but before he could pull the trigger, she shot him in the face.

  Bryn looked for another target, but a volley of fire rained down on her from one of the other men. Two bullets hit her, cutting through her upper right arm and making it impossible for her to hold the revolver. It dropped from her hand and hit the pavement.

  The man who had shot her smiled and came towards her, pistol leveled at her head.

  The struggle between Matt and the first man ended with Matt losing. A shot rang out from the pile of arms and legs.

  Matt groaned and rolled over on his side. His hands were plastered to his stomach.

  The man stood up and brushed himself off. He spit on the ground and yelled, “You dumb fat fuck! Now I’m going to kill you!”

  Sophie kept running towards them, but her attempt was feeble, and she was tackled to the ground by one of the men. He sat on top of her; a toothy grin told her she would be punished for their resistance.

  Bryn, Sophie and Matt tried to fight back, but the odds were not in their favor. They had managed to kill one, but it was just too much.

  Bryn tried to stand, but the two men guarding her pushed her back to her knees, their pistols held at her head. Blood poured out of her wounds and pooled on the pavement.

  “Get up, motherfucker!” the man yelled at Matt.

  Matt didn’t answer; he squirmed on the ground in pain in a thick puddle of blood.

  The man bent down and grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him up. “Damn, you’re a heavy fuck.” He rammed his pistol in Matt’s mouth and yelled out, “Time to die.”

  Matt looked up at him. Tears flowed from his eyes as he knew his time on earth was close to an end.

  Sophie shrieked with sorrow for Matt. “Please don’t kill him, please! I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t kill him.”

  “Listen, bitch, we don’t have to barter with you. We’ll take whatever we want. Now shut up before I bust your pretty mouth open!”

  “You’re a piece of shit, and when I get up, I’m going to kill you!” Bryn yelled.

  “Ha, ha, do you hear this bitch?” The man laughed.
“She’s going to kill me, ha!”

  Bryn stared at him hard; the pain in her arm had gone as the rage acted as a painkiller. “That’s right, I’m going to kill you.”

  “We shall see,” the man said. He put his full attention back on Matt and began to squeeze the trigger.

  A rifle shot cracked.

  One of the men watching over Bryn dropped to the ground dead. The back of his head was missing.

  The man holding the pistol on Matt looked around and yelled, “Who the fuck is that?”

  A second shot cracked, hitting the second man next to Bryn. Again that shot was true, hitting him in the head. He fell backwards, landing hard on the ground.

  Now only two men remained, the first man standing over Matt and the man with Sophie.

  Bryn took advantage of the situation and grabbed a pistol from one of her dead attackers. She turned and shot the man next to Sophie several times.

  Only the first man remained. He screamed out, “Where the fuck are you?” He slowly began to back away, the pistol he held in his tight grasp out in front of him. Out of fear he began to pull the trigger repeatedly until the pistol clicked with the slide locked back; he was empty. He pivoted, but Bryn was standing in his way.

  “I told you I was going to kill you,” she said and pulled the trigger.

  Vista, CA

  The slight breeze felt good on Vincent’s face. The noise of the wood blinds banging against the windowsill had awakened him. His vision was blurry, so he blinked repeatedly in an attempt to focus. He gazed around the quaintly decorated room. Little trinkets adorned the small shelves and tops of all the furniture. Reproductions of well-known oil paintings hung on all the walls. In the air was a faint smell of lavender. When he adjusted himself in the bed, a sharp pain emanated from his right foot. He tossed off the blanket and looked at a tight bandage. He ran his hands across the textured fabric until he found the center of the pain. Exhaling deeply, he tried to recall how he had arrived where he was. He remembered the helicopter crash but not much after. An image of a young woman came to him, then flashes, and the black smoke from the crash. Remnants of a conversation came to him with the young woman. Yes, he remembered that and, yes, he now remembered that his team were all dead. He must have blacked out again after that, because he couldn’t remember anything else. He glanced around the room, looking for his clothes, but saw nothing. The shorts he had on were not his, and by the way his wound had been treated and the condition of the room, he assumed those who had rescued him were good people.

  The door opening startled him. He adjusted himself, preparing to meet whoever had rescued him. The door had slowly creaked open not more than nine inches when a child’s head appeared from around it. The boy saw Vincent awake and staring at him. Shyly, he tucked his head back. He could hear unintelligible whispering followed by a woman’s voice.

  “You two close that door this minute and get back to your chores.”

  The children listened to the unseen woman and scurried away without closing the door.

  Vincent sat farther up in the bed and said, “Hello?”

  The door opened fully to reveal the woman; he recognized her face. She was the young blonde woman from the crash site. Now able to see her clearly, he was drawn in by her beauty. She was average height, he guessed around five feet five inches, and slender. Her facial features had a cuteness that he was attracted to. Her long, straight hair was pulled back in the same ponytail from before, revealing her full cheeks, small nose, and pouty lips.

  She stepped into the room and said, “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m alive. That’s a good sign,” he replied. He felt nervous for a reason he could only assume was his attraction to her.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked. She stood at the foot of the bed. She was dressed plainly; a buttoned-up white shirt was tucked into faded jeans.

  “Actually, I am.”

  “Good, I’ll go get some food,” she said, then turned around.

  “Wait. Don’t go just yet. I have questions, a lot of questions.”

  “Let’s answer your questions after you get fed, okay?”

  “Sure, that’s fine.”

  Before she left, she approached the bed, put out her hand, and said, “I’m Stephanie.”

  Vincent took her hand and shook it. “I’m—”

  “Sergeant Gunner Vincent, United States Marine Corps. I know,” she answered confidently.

  He looked oddly at her, not knowing how she knew his name.

  Pointing at his chest, she said, “Your dog tags and you had your identification in your wallet. We didn’t mean to be nosy; my father just wanted to see who you were.”

  “Of course, I’d do the same thing.”

  “Unless you need something else besides your questions answered, I’ll go and get your food.”

  He found her abundance of confidence and maturity attractive. She didn’t look as if she could be any older than twenty-five, but he could tell by their minimal conversation that she was wiser than her peers.

  As she stepped toward the door, he said, “Can you answer me this, where am I?”

  “You’re at my father’s house.”

  “It looks like a farm,” he said, looking out the window.

  “It is.”

  “What do you grow?”

  “Sergeant, I told you that your questions will be answered, but later. Please, you’ve been hurt badly. You need your rest so you can heal.”

  “Fine, I’ll stop, but you must understand that I’m curious. I somehow live after that and get rescued by a beautiful woman. If my body didn’t hurt so bad, I’d swear I was in heaven.”

  “You’re not in heaven; I can guarantee that. With everything that has happened, I’d say we might be in hell. Now lie back and rest. I’ll be back soon with lunch,” she said and left, closing the door behind her.

  He adjusted in the bed in hopes it would alleviate the pain, but it didn’t. His surviving being thrown from the helicopter was nothing short of a miracle, and having Stephanie find him and care for him was another one. He didn’t know the reason, but he was meant to live. He was sure the Harpers Ferry had sent another helicopter to search for them. The pain spiked in his foot and felt like an electric shock. He scrunched his face in pain and decided he needed to heed her advice. If he was going to get word back to the ship, he needed to be healthy. He sank into the thick pillows and closed his eyes.

  San Diego, CA

  Bryn stood over the man. Thick red blood oozed from the bullet hole in his face. She aimed the pistol and pulled the trigger again. It wasn’t necessary, as he was dead; she did it solely for her own satisfaction.

  Unsure of who fired the rifle shots, she looked across the street and saw a man waving and with his other hand he held up the rifle.

  She waved back. After what had happened, she was skeptical, but what could she do? she thought. If they wanted her, Sophie or Matt dead, they easily could have done it. She had to assume this person was decent and was saving them.

  Matt moaned.

  Both she and Sophie ran to him.

  “We’re going to get you help,” Bryn said.

  Matt’s wound was serious. He had taken a point-blank gunshot to the stomach and he was bleeding badly. The pain was immense; he cried and kept begging for them to do something.

  “What are we going to do?” Sophie asked.

  “We’re going to help him. Now is not the time to be having this discussion. I’m going to see if one of these cars will work,” Bryn said and ran to the box lying where she had dropped it.

  The hard patter of feet caught her attention and she spun around. The pistol still in her hand, she held it out. The trembling she had experienced the first time she handled a gun was gone. “Stop right there. Don’t even think about doing anything.”

  “Whoa, don’t shoot. We were the ones that saved you,” the man said, frozen to the spot fifteen feet from Sophie and Matt.

  “I need to help my friend
.”

  “I’m a doctor and I can help your friend,” the man said.

  She started to walk back towards him when she saw three other men running in their direction. “Don’t fuck with me, us! I’ll kill you like I killed that other fuck!”

  The other men caught up to the first and stopped. “Let’s be clear I killed three of them.”

  “Who are you?” Bryn asked.

  “We’re the good guys. I’m Nicholas McNeil, and we’re here to help.”

  Once an understanding was established, Brent and Alex went to work trying to find cars that worked.

  Bryn’s right arm was injured, but that didn’t stop her trying to also go to work.

  Nicholas stopped her. “Hey, your arm needs to be bandaged up. It looks like you took a couple hits. Doesn’t that hurt?”

  She looked down at her bloody and swollen arm. It throbbed, but her adrenaline was still high. Putting on a tougher persona, she shrugged it off. “It’s a flesh wound. I’ll be fine.”

  “No, it won’t. You’re not doing yourself any favors by sucking up the pain,” Nicholas reminded her as he grabbed some items from his trauma kit. He ripped open a pad and began to clean the wound.

  She pouted as she watched Alex and Brent begin their search. In the rear of the lot she saw a red Bronco and called out, “The red Bronco is mine. I’m calling that!”

  Brent and Alex looked back. Alex waved and headed for it.

  “Looks like we weren’t the only ones with this idea,” Nicholas said.

  “Yeah, kind of a no-brainer, just happens that everyone showed up on the same day,” Bryn responded as she watched him apply antibiotic ointment.

  “Lucky for you the rounds went clean through. Totally missed the bone.”

  “Can you hurry up?” she asked, her patience almost tapped as she watched Brent and Alex walk up to the Bronco and peer into the windows.

  “Calm down. You claimed it, it’s yours.”

  She cocked her head and asked, “No one is that nice.”

  “Well, I am, or at least I’d like to think I am. I don’t know what’s happening or how this shit is all going to work itself out, but I can’t sit back and allow what I saw happen when I can do something about it.”