The Myriad Resistance (29 page)

I breathed a sigh of relief when I reached the entrance to the pier, then turned around and screwed up eyes as I gazed into the darkness below. Danny brought three Impals up with him. They all apparently carried batteries on their person because I could not see any of them. Only their dark, moving silhouettes were visible. I did recognize Danny because he was the one giving orders.

Danny and another Impal grabbed my boat. They pushed the small craft away from the rocky shore then turned it on its side, swamping it with water. The other two Impals made their way through the choppy water under the pier. They did the same thing with what was left of Danny's boat. The small mass of crushed metal would also be his crypt. I didn't fault Danny for sending the other two out to deal with it. I don't care how tough you are, I don't think anyone wants to be his own undertaker.

Danny scuttled both of the boats to make sure there was no evidence we were here. This was a smart idea. If our boats were discovered in the morning drifting near the bridge it would throw up a red flag, especially if one of the boats contained the corpse of a Myriad Resistance member. In that case, the evacuation boats waiting on the other side of the island wouldn't make it out of United States waters.

Both boats disappeared beneath the waves before I could set up my position on the pier. Danny and his Impal companion, introduced as Horace Wexler, joined me on the pier. The other two took up position below. I still couldn't see the other two. Horace was a middle-aged man from the 1940s. He wore a pinstripe Oxford suit with a red and gold necktie tied in a perfect Winsor knot. This made him seem completely out of place in the middle of the ocean. I couldn't imagine anywhere he wouldn't be out of place except for the newsroom of the Daily Planet.

If Impals came back in whatever clothing they were most fond of or comfortable wearing in life, I couldn't imagine that anyone would be comfortable in a suit, especially not for eternity. Because, aside from my dress uniform, I could count on one hand the number of times I have worn a suit in my life.

The process of hauling the batteries to the surface was both arduous and fascinating. There was no way that just Danny and I could have completed the task. We barely pulled them up with four. It was slow going at first with all the Impals. It took a tremendous amount of concentration to pull the rope without it passing through their hands. Fifteen minutes later, we had the tarp sitting on the rocks a few feet from the water's edge. After letting the water drain through the ‘colander' holes Danny poked in the bottom, we easily pulled it up and over the railing of the pier. After a brief rest for me, the two Impals below climbed up to meet us. They grabbed the rope and began to pull the tarp across the large asphalt parking lot of the visitor center. They then turned and headed towards the exit ramp from the bridge.

I froze when I noticed a solitary car in the parking lot. A light was on inside the visitor center, casting a narrow beam through the window facing the parking lot. We would have to go past the window. I motioned for everyone to stop then crept forward and peered inside. A heavyset African American woman had her back to the window as she ran a rather noisy vacuum cleaner. A pair of wires dangled from her ears as she sang to the music coming through her earbuds. I watched her for a moment. When I was satisfied she wouldn't turn around any time soon, I motioned everyone forward. She could not hear a bomb go off between her loud music and vacuum cleaner. I kept my eye on her as they moved past, unsure of exactly what I would do if she turned around and spotted us.

A minute later, we passed the visitor center and headed for the exit ramp. As we passed the little white sedan, which I assumed belonged to the vacuuming woman, a bumper sticker in the back window caught my eye.

“I Brake for Impals!” it proclaimed in red letters on a white background.

Beside the slogan was the smiling face of Casper the Friendly Ghost. His innocent image made me chuckle at first, then it made me think of Seth. A pain of guilt shot through me because I was unable to stop that atrocity, my laughter soon faded. Were he and his father still around or were they shredded out of existence? I wasn't sure if I would ever know.

I did feel a small degree of encouragement in the fact that there were people who stood up for the right thing, even when it might not be popular. Yet, she could just be a fan of the cartoon. It was hard to believe the best in people anymore after all I have witnessed. I guess it was still possible. The Army fatigue clad colonel running ahead of me was proof.

We soon reached the bridge, then took an immediate left toward the tunnel. The two lane north and southbound lanes merged to form a single two-lane stretch through the tunnel. A few minutes later we headed down a steep incline; the entrance to the mile-long passage under the Chesapeake Bay. The lighting was minimal since the bridge was closed to traffic today. It reminded me of the entrance to the haunted house at the state fair. An ever-increasing ethereal glow added to the eeriness as we descended further. A moment later, we were drowned in a blinding light as a horde of Impals approached us from the depth of the tunnel.

I squinted as I stared in amazement at the massive assembly of spirits. This was the first time I had seen them all together and that, coupled with the close quarters, made it appear as if there were thousands. Danny and my Impal companions spread the tarp out in front of them and as they passed, they each picked up a couple of batteries.

I watched as they formed two lines, one on each side of the tarp, as they picked them up. The expression on some of their faces was troubling to say the least. Fear, shock and confusion seemed to be the most common among them. There were many who showed stoic resolve as they scooped up their ration and marched toward the mouth of the tunnel. I felt a cold hand tugging at my arm. I looked down to see Chester, his batteries already in hand.

“I told you I'd do it!” he said proudly.

“You did great, Chester. I'm going to miss you,” I said, patting his glacial head.

The truth was, I did not get a chance to know Chester very well. After all, he was only with us a couple of days. I guess I revered him as much as I did Danny. I couldn't imagine what he endured for almost a century and then bounced back with so much resilience. I couldn't imagine being an Impal either. It was beyond my comprehension right now and that's the way I wanted it to be … for a long time.

Chester strode forward and then I turned to face Mrs. Fiddler and her daughter.

“Thank you, Mr. Garrison,” she said and gave me a peck on the cheek. I felt cold on my waist as her daughter wrapped her arms around me.

“Thank you,” she whispered, then turned and followed her mother.

Tesla shook my hand and thanked me. There were few pleasantries exchanged between us. He was a proud man with a quiet demeanor. He studied his hands with intense curiosity. It was as if he had never seen them before. “You know, Mr. Garrison,” he began. “Our virtues and our failings are inseparable, like force and matter. When they separate, man is no more.”

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.