The Myriad Resistance (11 page)

“It's nobody's fault,” I lied. “There are some crazy people out there trying to take advantage of the situation. Did you hear the gunshots this morning?”

She didn't reply for a long time. Not breaking her mood and demeanor, she finally asked, “Is Mr. Golden okay?”

“Yes, he'll be fine. He will need to rest for a few days. I don't want you and Abbs wandering off in case any more of those crazy people come around.”

She didn't break stride or her scowl.

“Am I clear, Steff?” I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders as if to say
whatever.
Her arms and face were still locked in a defiant stance. A few moments later, we arrived at the cabin. Steff went in ahead of us, slamming the door in our faces with one final temperamental gesture. Part of me wanted to hug her neck and part of me wanted to strangle it. I was a patient man, but my limits were stretched to the maximum. I didn't blame her for being upset with our situation. The one thing I did blame her for was the way she was handling it. I turned and looked at Barbara before she went inside. She could tell I needed to remove myself from the situation. She kissed me on the cheek.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I love you.”

I smiled despite the tears of frustration I felt beginning to well in my eyes.

“I'll go get the cleaning stuff they showed us this morning. Maybe she'll feel different once the place is cleaned up a little.”

“I'll go help,” Barbara offered.

“No, stay here with her and keep an eye on her. I don't want either one of the girls to get out of our sight again until this thing is over.”

As I made my way back to the mess hall, I met Abbs walking back toward our cabin with Taylor. I thanked him for his help and asked where Andrews went. He shook his head and said, “He … uh, he had something to do.”

“Yeah, he had to go off and cuss Steff,” Abbs said. “He's a little bit presumptuous considering he doesn't know us. I really can't say I disagree with him though.”

“Sam Andrews has got a temper,” Taylor said. “I've learned to take everything he says with a grain of salt and give him a wide berth.”

I was glad that I ran into them, especially after I saw the cleaning supplies. It was more than I could manage in one trip. I was surprised when Taylor offered to help carry everything. However, I was downright shocked when he offered to stay and help clean. The shock only lasted until I saw the way Abbs and Taylor looked at each other. It reminded me of the way Barbara and I looked at each other when we first started dating. It would seem I had one more thing to worry about.

“Hands off, cradle robber,” I almost said. I wasn't sure how old Taylor was; he was one of those people who enjoy a mature youthful appearance. He could be anywhere from eighteen to thirty-five. The only thing I am certain of is that he is older than Abbs.

Barbara, Abbs, Taylor, and I spent a couple of hours cleaning the cabin. Steff sat outside under a tree drawing in the dirt with a stick. When we finished there was a noticeable improvement. The ancient cabin no longer resembled a roach-infested crap hole. It was more like a well-scrubbed, roach-infested crap hole. In any case, I found it tolerable. Judging by Steff's grimace when she reentered, I don't think she agreed with my assessment. She sat on the edge of her cot and glowered at me.

“I think it's great, Dad,” Abbs whispered in my ear. “And I don't care what anybody else says,” she proclaimed, raising her voice to a hoarse shout. She then gave Steff a contemptuous scowl.

We returned to the mess hall early in the afternoon. We enjoyed another fine helping of Vienna sausages, Saltine crackers and bottled water. I made a mental note to check for a grocery store when we went for our pickup tomorrow; although I wasn't quite sure what good it would do me. I never carried cash and neither did Barbara. Our debit cards were our preferred medium of exchange. I'm almost certain they had been frozen or were being tracked right now, so our monetary options were limited.

We decided that when we departed for our pickup, we would be taking the two SUV's. The first one would be for Danny and me while the follow vehicle would hold Sam and Charlotte. There were to be no civilians in this party. A fact I did not notice at the time. It proved to be a wise decision on Danny's part, considering our target destination.

“I'll keep an eye on your wife and daughters,” Taylor promised. His Winchester rifle hung on his back with a nylon sling. He reached back and patted the butt of his weapon for reassurance.

I liked Taylor, yet I wasn't certain how confident I was by this promise. It would be hard enough letting the girls out of my sight. Leaving them in the hands of a total stranger, especially knowing the stranger is attracted to my oldest daughter is disquieting. There was little choice, not if I was going to do anything more than cower in a hole with my family until the storm passed. I had to trust in the people around me because I did trust we were doing the right thing.

The night was a little more restful than the previous one. A clean and familiar environment worked wonders. The next day was uneventful. Steff's mood did not improve so I spent most of the day visiting Burt. He was in good spirits even though he said his shoulder hurt like a
“sumbitch.
^”

We left camp a little after seven in the evening and, according to Danny, we had about an hour and a half drive ahead of us. This meant we would be getting to our destination right at dusk. We were just out of sight of the mess hall when Danny finally revealed our mission.

“We are going to DC to pick up another load of Impals,” Danny said. “We will have about fifteen refugees waiting on us.”

I felt as if my heart dropped into my boots. We would be going to Washington, into the lion's den. I was about to question the sanity of this plan when Danny spoke again.

“I know it sounds crazy, but this is our last trip there. According to our source in the city, this is the last group of refugees. All the others are either captured or evacuated.”

“Who is your source?” I asked.

Danny gave me a wink, “That's classified, only not for much longer. They'll be meeting with us tonight.”

“Impal or flesher?” I asked.

“Both fleshers,” he said. “I'm sure you'll recognize them.”

We arrived at the main parking area of Arlington National Cemetery at little after eight o'clock. The sun had just set in the distance. The waning glow, coupled with the ultraviolet quality of the night gave our surroundings an appearance of surreal reverence. The somber grounds seemed to magnify this to breathtaking proportions tonight. In the past seven weeks since this storm came along, I don't think I ever witnessed a scene so awe-inspiring. I noticed the parking area was vacant aside from a mid-size tour bus in the distance and a black limousine. The limo was almost obscured from view as it sat between the bus and a large hedgerow. The shadow of the bus threw the limo's parking area into almost complete darkness.

We pulled up behind the tour bus and parked. I noticed the sign on the side advertised The Monuments at Night Tour.

“Are we taking a tour while in town?” I mumbled.

Danny got out first. He left his door open, bathing me in the bright overhead light. I felt completely exposed. He stepped in front of the vehicle and behind the limousine with his hands raised in the air. My heart began to thunder in my chest. Were we caught? Seconds later, the back door to the limo opened and two men emerged. They stood in the dark so I couldn't make out their features other than each man wore a suit. I heard Danny speaking with them in muffled tones. After a few very long moments, he turned and motioned for me, and our two companions in the other SUV, to join him.

We got out and walked to Danny's side, flanking him, and preparing for any trouble.

“Cecil Garrison, Charlotte McVey, Sam Andrews …” Danny said pointing to each of us in turn. “I would like you to meet Dr. Ray Winder, the president's science adviser.”

I met Dr. Winder once before when he spoke at an Army conference at the Pentagon. His speech was about scientific advances benefiting the military. I remembered him as a slender and graying man. In the three years since our encounter, he seemed as if he aged twenty years. His hair was almost completely gray and his haggard face and slumped shoulders bore the weight of the world.

“Nice to meet you and thank you for your service to our country,” he said as he shook each of our hands.

He stepped back in the shadows and waited as Danny introduced the doctor's counterpart.

“Our next ally needs no introduction,” Danny said as he held out his hand in welcome for the other person to step forward.

A collective gasp went up from everyone and I found myself frozen in disbelief as the other figure stepped forward. We all recognized him, how could we not recognize our own Commander in Chief … the President of the United States.

CHAPTER 10

THE SHREDDER REVEALED

“Do not tell secrets to those whose faith and silence you have not already tested.”

~Elizabeth I

An eerie, awestruck silence fell over the group as we stared in disbelief. Danny watched us for a few moments before he spoke.

“Mr. President, this is Charlotte McVey, Sam Andrews and Cecil Garrison,” he said, pointing to each of us in turn.

The president waited as Danny pointed each of us out, and then he stepped forward and extended his hand to me.

“Major Garrison, I know this must be hard for you. I want you to know how much I appreciate your loyalty to your country,” the president said, shaking my hand.

I could have said thank you, or my pleasure, or just doing my duty, sir … or I could have said screw you, you coward. I didn't say anything at all, I was still in too much shock to get my tongue and brain to coalesce and make a lucid statement. I wasn't star struck. I met the president before. It was about a year ago during a White House dinner at the invitation of my father. I believed this man was our enemy, in league with my father and other cronies in the government. However, here he was in a deserted parking lot offering his help. According to Danny, he had been helping for a while.

Andrews broke the silence. His unpredictable temper boiled over at the sight of the president. He stepped forward with malice as he spoke.

“You son of a bitch!” he raged. “Do you know what the hell you are doing? Do you have any idea? Maybe we ought to turn you into one of them so you'll understand!”

Andrews reached behind him to retrieve the pistol tucked in his waistband. As he brought his arm back, I instinctively lunged at him, hitting him square on the chest. My larger frame won out as he sprawled backwards, landing hard on his back as the pistol discharged. Danny was on top of him before I could move again. He disarmed and pinned him before I could straighten up. Charlotte watched with her hands over her mouth, her eyes as big as saucers.

Dr. Winder ushered the President back to the car, keeping his body between Andrews and the Commander in Chief. I kept expecting Secret Service to emerge from the bushes or the car at any moment.

Danny sat on Andrews's chest with his knees pinning his arms to the pavement. He bent low, his face inches from the would-be presidential assassin. He let loose with a string of obscenities as Danny stared at him with contempt. After a long couple of minutes, Danny got up and helped Andrews to his feet. On Danny's orders, he walked over and climbed on the tour bus, the metal door slamming shut behind him.

Danny walked back to the limo and leaned inside. After a couple of moments of conversation, he beckoned Charlotte and me to come over. The president leaned out and spoke.

“Major Garrison, as I was saying, I want you to know how much I appreciate your courage. I'm sorry I haven't been able to do more to help. My hands are somewhat tied trying to take care of my own family.”

He confirmed what I already suspected, the president wasn't pulling the strings, and my father was. In some kind of bizarre coup d'état, he and the military controlled the government. Not by removal and replacement, it was accomplished through control by intimidation. If he was able to do it with the president, I'm sure the Supreme Court was a piece of cake.

“I'm sorry, Mr. President,” I said, which was all I could muster.

“I am too, Major Garrison,” he said. “It's more my blame than anyone. I trusted him and appointed him. I had no idea he was capable of this.”

I shook my head.

“Don't call me major, please … just Cecil. I gave up the title when I joined the resistance.”

The president regarded at me for several long moments; I could see tears welling in his eyes.

“It is men like you who make this country great, major. And as long as I am Commander in Chief, you will always be a major.”

“Thank you, Mr. President,” I said. He then turned his attention to Charlotte.

“Thank you for being a patriot and a decent human being, Charlotte,” he said. “I'm proud of you.”

Charlotte blushed and shook his hand. She muttered something unintelligible before stepping back behind me.

“Well Colonel Bradley,” the president said. “This is your last run to DC. I wish you Godspeed in your mission.” He paused for a moment before asking, “Is there anything else I can do for either one of you?”

Without hesitation Danny said, “Could Dr. Winder please explain the Tesla Gate to Major Garrison? Winder explained it to me a while back and I'm still not sure I completely understood it.” He glanced at his watch and said, “Besides, our pickup is in about fifteen minutes and we really don't need four people.”

The President and Dr. Winder gazed at each other for a long moment, and then Dr. Winder shrugged. “That's fine by me, Mr. President,” he said. “Do you have the time?”