The Defiant: Grid Down

by John W. Vance

  “You are a nice guy, wow,” she said.

  “Don’t mistake kindness for weakness. My family and friends come first, and if you are in my way or are hurting others for no reason, I’ll unleash my wrath on you.”

  “A nice guy that kills, I like it,” she said a bit flirtatiously.

  “I try to do the right thing to a point.”

  “Hey, don’t smash the window!” she hollered out to Alex and Brent.

  Brent was about to swing a large stick at the driver’s window.

  “I have the key here and that’s my car.”

  Brent gave her a hard look.

  “Your friend there isn’t so nice, though,” she said.

  “He’s not nice and he’s not my friend,” Nicolas responded. He gently patted her arm and continued, “All done. Let’s go see if your new car runs.”

  Bryn pushed past Brent, unlocked the Bronco and climbed in. She paused and said a quick prayer before turning the key. The Bronco roared to life. Its V-8 engine grumbled and spit as she pressed the accelerator. “Yes!”

  Brent was in earshot and shouted out, “We should get it!”

  “We were here first,” Bryn countered.

  “Yeah, but if we didn’t help, you’d be dead and we’d just take it anyway.”

  Bryn scrunched her face. She couldn’t argue with that logic.

  “Nic, we need to get him out of here. I did all I can do here; I need to take him to my clinic,” Proctor called out. He had bandaged and stopped the bleeding with the trauma kit Nicholas had brought, but the bullet was still inside. “I need to operate on him.”

  “Put him in the back of my truck!” Bryn hollered.

  Nicholas gave her a glance but let it go. He appreciated her spunkiness, and the timing wasn’t right to argue about a car. A man’s life hung in the balance.

  Brent stepped up to the driver’s window, looked at Bryn and declared, “Don’t think you’ll keep this.”

  Bryn winked at him and drove over to Matt.

  “We need another car!” Brent screamed.

  “And we’ll get one. We’re splitting up. Proctor, do you feel safe enough to take him back to your office?”

  “Yeah, I feel safe enough, but I need some help,” he answered. Proctor wiped the blood from his hands on his jeans.

  Nicholas really liked Proctor; he was a no-nonsense man, smart, witty and tough. He had a lean build and dark hair he kept cut short, but liked to keep a few days of stubble on his face at all times. “Take the girl with you and Brent.”

  “I’m staying here to help find another car since you gave that one to them,” Brent sulked.

  “We’ll find another car or more. Just go,” Nicholas ordered.

  Brent gave him a sour look and walked over to Proctor.

  “Take his legs and help me put him in the back,” Proctor said to Brent.

  They loaded Matt up and soon left for Proctor’s clinic in Poway, fifteen miles away.

  Nicholas watched them drive off. His practical mind stepped in and put forward the idea that what he was doing wasn’t smart. He rebuffed this and told himself that if he and his family were to survive, they’d need alliances and others. Maybe these new people would be a part or just people they’d meet along the way. Anyway, he hoped karma existed, because he knew one day he’d need to be rescued too.

  Calexico, CA

  Michael was tired and his body ached. The drive through the night had been taxing, but he declared that he wouldn’t sleep until he crossed into the United States. Curiosity ran strong in him, so he took the risk and drove to the border checkpoints east of Mexicali. He wanted to see if anyone was there or if they had pulled back since the attacks. What he found surprised him; the border was wide open. The stations usually manned by border patrol agents were vacant. He drove across as easy as an illegal crossing the Rio Grande. This told him the attacks had done enough damage that critical parts of government had fragmented and abandoned their posts. He didn’t know if the border was left open because of an order or because the individual agents couldn’t get there or just decided not to show up.

  The EMP certainly had created havoc, but coupled with nuclear strikes against major cities, the entire country was paralyzed. His knowledge of how the government worked told him that all essential personnel were bunkered down across the country; hundreds of feet down they were living in a luxury that many Americans had known. These lucky few who happened to find themselves protected would not know the horrors that would soon visit most of the population. Where this war was going was unknown, but what he did know was that the country he had worked for and pledged his life to for over twenty years was gone.

  He didn’t know his role in the EMP strike but could only assume he had been sent to stop it. Why he was on that ship was the nagging question. The stress of the past three days and the injuries he had suffered had taken a lot out of him. He found this stress had impacted his memory. He needed rest and soon.

  With the desert flat and expansive all around him, he headed north.

  “Where’s a good spot to catch a few hours of sleep?” he muttered out loud.

  To the west he spotted a gravel pit; this seemed like a good place to hide out. Who would be needing gravel in a post-EMP world? he asked himself.

  He took the next left and drove a mile when the gas light came on. Oddly a smile cracked his rugged face. He considered himself lucky that he had made it this far without having to refuel.

  Seeing Jose again was something that would never happen, but he owed his life to that man and his family. He didn’t know what bad things he had done, but Michael knew he wasn’t a bad man, just a man trying to make his way in the world. So often he had met people, many good that made bad decisions. For the most part that’s how he viewed most people. This didn’t mean he would have to show mercy to those people if his life was in jeopardy. If a good person decided one day to do a bad thing and it put him in the crosshairs, he’d have no remorse in killing them. It wasn’t personal to him, it just was what it was.

  His eyes grew heavy and he dozed off. The car veered off the dirt road and into a drainage ditch. He woke up and jerked the car hard back onto the road and saved himself from crashing. He looked ahead through the grimy windshield and saw the gravel pit was only a mile away.

  “Stay awake,” he said, loudly smacking himself.

  He finished the drive and pulled into the facility slowly, keeping an eye out for who or what might be there that could be a threat. Situational awareness came naturally to him. A slow drive around gave him the confidence that it was vacant. He pulled behind a small mountain of rock and dirt and parked. He stepped out and again scanned the area. He was beyond tired, but one mistake in this world meant death, and he wasn’t so tired that he wanted the eternal sleep.

  A small utility shed was fifty feet away. He made for that and found it unlocked. Inside he found tools and other small items.

  “Jackpot,” he said when he found a stack of tarps. He positioned them into a small bed, but before he curled up, he secured the door. “This is going to feel good,” he said as he lay down. Just as he drifted off to sleep, another name came to him. He opened his eyes and blurted out, “Viktor Azamov.”

  Vista, CA

  “That was one of the best lunches I’ve ever had. How do you prepare a meal like that in these conditions?” Vincent asked after wiping his face and mouth with a paper towel.

  “Freeze-dried,” Stephanie answered, picking up the tray from his bed.

  “Freeze-dried?”

  “Yes, now if you’re up to it, my father wants to talk with you.”

  “Uh, sure.”

  “Good, I’ll be right back,” Stephanie said as she walked out of the room with the tray.

  She left the door open, giving Vincent the ability to hear murmurs down the hall. He couldn’t quite make out what the people were saying, but it didn’t make much difference, as within moments of her departure, a man stepped into the room. He was tall, white-hai
red, clean-shaven and handsome. If Vincent was to guess, he’d say he was in his mid-sixties. The man walked to the chair that sat next to the window. He grabbed it and positioned it closer to the side of the bed. Vincent just stared nervously at him. After the man sat down, he smoothed out his trousers and crossed his legs. Placing his hands on his knee, he cleared his throat and looked at Vincent.

  “Hello, sir,” Vincent greeted the man.

  “Hello, Sergeant Vincent,” the man said.

  “I want to thank you for rescuing me from the chopper and taking—”

  “No need to thank us, it’s what we do,” the man interrupted.

  “Okay,” Vincent said and then shut up. He didn’t know what to say. The man made him feel apprehensive.

  “Sergeant, we have some questions for you, so I’ll just begin. We have had someone out near the crash site since the helicopter went down, but no rescue team has come for you, why?”

  “Uh, well, that doesn’t make sense. I know they’ll come looking for us,” Vincent said, sitting up farther.

  “Where were you going?”

  Vincent paused for a moment. He looked at the man sitting next to him. He seemed familiar, but he knew he’d never met him before. He was dressed in jeans and a buttoned-up collared shirt. His clothes were clean, but his jeans showed the stains of work. Vincent studied his hands and saw that they too showed the marks of labor. His knuckles looked rough, and some fresh scratches were visible. “I’m from a Marine Expeditionary Unit. We were coming back from deployment when the war started. Our ships are headed to Camp Pendleton, but I was on a mission to rescue an officer’s family and take them to safety.”

  “War?”

  “Yes, we are at war with Russia. It appears they struck first with an EMP, we retaliated, and they struck back with nuclear weapons.”

  The man raised his eyebrows. This was the first he had heard of such a thing. “There’s been a nuclear war?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What do you know?”

  “I know what I know, sir, nothing more,” Vincent answered.

  “That’s truth there,” the man said.

  “You know me. Who are you?” Vincent asked.

  “My name is Roger Puller.”

  “Wait a minute, Roger Puller, like Roger Puller the billionaire? You’re the guy who developed smart weapons.”

  “There’s nothing smart about a weapon,” Roger said and looked down.

  “No, that stuff is cool. Those 40mm grenades with the self-propulsion and guidance, they’re amazing.”

  “Enough, you don’t know everything about me. I created those systems decades ago, only seven years ago did they go into use. I have since regretted all the things I did. Since you’ve heard of me, you’ll know that I sold Puller Defense Industries and have put myself as far away from my past as I could.”

  “I did see something on the news; you’ve become quite the peace advocate.”

  Roger exhaled heavily and looked at Vincent. His eyes had a look like they were weighted down by years of regret and sorrow. “That was the old me. I’m a new man now with a new mission in life.”

  “I apologize; I didn’t mean to bring up things that are sensitive. By the way, thank you for rescuing me and taking me in.”

  “I know my daughter, Stephanie, has already mentioned it, but that’s what we do.”

  “I have to ask, how old are you? You’re like in your sixties now, and I saw two young kids out there.”

  “They are my blessings; they’re adopted. Stephanie is my only biological child.”

  “Sorry, I’m prying.”

  “Pay no mind. So you’re holding up.”

  “Yeah, I guess. I need to contact my ship, though, and inform them I’m alive.”

  “In good time, you need to rest more. Give it a day,” Roger said and patted his leg.

  Vincent thought it odd he wasn’t asking more questions or that he didn’t seem freaked out about the news that the country was at war.

  “I really need to contact them.”

  “Well, Sergeant Vincent. You broke your foot badly. You’re not going anywhere anytime soon,” the man said, pointing at his bandaged foot. “Your fellow Marines will be at Camp Pendleton. They’re not going anywhere. Look at this as R&R.”

  He didn’t like not being able to reach out, but he’d be patient a bit longer. Soon he’d have to stress the importance. However, he couldn’t shrug off the odd feeling he had about Roger. He wasn’t concerned and he seemed too calm.

  “I’ll let you rest. Stephanie will bring you dinner later.”

  “Thanks again.”

  Roger left and closed the door.

  Vincent looked out the window. The sun was high in the blue sky. He marveled that the world didn’t take notice of the troubles happening. The sun rose and set and life went on. Soon thoughts crept to his parents and then to his situation. Maybe the crash and his surviving it was meant to happen. He was sure they thought him dead along with the others. If he ever had a reason not to go back, this was it, but soon that thought was squashed by his devotion to the Marines. Leaving under these circumstances seemed wrong and dishonest, it challenged his integrity. He didn’t want to think about it anymore, so he shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. Rest was critical, he needed it, and his foot needed to heal. He was no good to himself or his fellow Marines with a broken foot. Today he’d rest; tomorrow, well, he’d make that decision then.

  San Diego, CA

  The search for another car proved disappointing. The Bronco was the only operational vehicle there. They visited another lot down the street, but that too proved futile. Unable to find one and the day’s light sinking into the horizon, Nicholas questioned his allowing Bryn to claim the Bronco. He could hear Becky now, questioning his kindness, especially to a young attractive woman. Maybe his kindness this time had been weakness. The other problem he had was Frank was expecting the Dodge back. He came to the determination that he’d have to let him down or enlist Bryn to help him.

  “It’s getting dark, and I don’t want to be on the roads at night,” Nicholas said.

  “I need to go get my sister and friend,” Bryn said.

  Alex looked over and optimistically said, “Don’t fret, Nic, there’s always tomorrow.”

  “Well, I have to give the Dodge back to my father-in-law.”

  Bryn couldn’t help but feel for his plight and had also come to a realization that she needed more friends in order to survive. She prided herself on being a quick judge of character, and Nicholas and Alex seemed like good people. They had to be; they'd had every opportunity to hurt her but hadn’t. What was holding them back was their own deep and true goodness.

  “You can use my Bronco to find another car. I owe you that,” she offered.

  Nicholas looked at her and said, “You’d do that?”

  “How can I not offer? You saved our lives and your friend is caring for Matt.”

  “You don’t know me, but I’m never one for charity, but this circumstance is unique. I’ll take you up on that.”

  “I love when people can work together,” Alex said, a big grin on his face.

  “And you, I like you,” Bryn said.

  “Is it my boyish good looks or that I’m just an all-around good guy?” Alex joked.

  During the entire day’s journey, Alex had been charming, resourceful and had kept an even-keel attitude that she found refreshing. She wasn’t attracted to him, but she could see them being friends. She guessed he was twenty years her senior or a little less, so it was more of a big-brother attraction. Nicholas too was the same age spread as Alex, but she did feel a slight pull. It was clear and he established he was married, but ever since she was a young woman, she liked older men. Nicholas was handsome, confident and strong but had compassion, a trait that she found made a person human and one she always looked for in a man.

  “I guess this makes us partners for now,” Nicholas said.

  “Partners it is.”<
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  “Let’s work out logistics, then,” Nicholas said, getting right to business.

  As they drove the car-riddled highway towards Proctor’s clinic, they worked out how they’d work together. Nicholas wanted to ensure he’d have access to her car, and in order to guarantee that, he wanted them close by. After a bit of discussion the plan was set. Bryn and Sophie would stay with him while Matt would stay at Proctor’s house under his care.

  Nicholas told Bryn where he lived and that he was semi-prepared with equipment, food and water.

  She had known that morning her time was coming to an end at Sycamore Grove, and this plan gave her a way out. It was a hasty decision, but she didn’t feel there was a lot of time to sit and ponder. How she would work out a permanent thing with Nicholas wasn’t clear to her, but she’d find a way, she just needed to get out of her place.

  They reached Proctor’s clinic, but the good news of plans and partnerships vaporized the moment they walked in the house.

  “I did everything I could, but he had lost too much blood,” Proctor said. His face showed the anguish that all were feeling. Matt was a stranger to him, but Proctor was a sensitive man. He felt Sophie’s pain and wished he could have done something, but it was beyond his abilities and resources.

  Sophie was in the examination room with Matt’s body, wailing.

  Bryn ran to her.

  “Sorry,” Nicholas said to Proctor.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t fix him.”

  “What do you recommend we do with the body?” Nicholas asked.

  “Just toss it in the dumpster,” Brent said.

  “Are you always an asshole, or is today just asshole day for Brent?” Proctor asked. It had only taken Proctor a couple hours to see Brent for what he was, an annoying prick.

  “That’s not going to happen. We will bury him. Let’s get him wrapped up in something, and we’ll take his body wherever the girls want to take him.”

  Bryn walked in and, after overhearing their conversation, said, “Thank you Nic, let’s take him with us. I’ll be honest I didn’t know him all that long, but in the short time we did spend together, I found him to be a great guy. I want to honor that by giving him what he deserves, a proper burial.”