The Myriad Resistance (12 page)

“I think so, as long as there is not a national emergency it should be several hours before the Secret Service notices I am missing.”

I wasn't sure how the president could get out of the White House without the Secret Service noticing. That wasn't the question I wanted answered. I wanted to know about the Tesla Gates.

“Would you mind sitting inside, Major Garrison?” Dr. Winder asked.

“Are you sure you don't need me?” I said to Danny before slipping inside the massive car.

“Nope, we got it covered,” he said, and then glanced at his watch. “We should be back in a half hour. We are going in to pick up a load in the bus … much more inconspicuous.”

“There should be a few more crates of batteries on the bus,” Dr. Winder said. “I figured you could use more.”

We collected a good stockpile in the mine back at Brentwood Springs, but the more the better.

“Thanks, we'll be back shortly,” Danny said and shut the door, leaving the President, Dr. Winder and me in relative darkness.

Dr. Winder activated an overhead light, illuminating all our faces and casting the interior into eerie relief. I felt as if I was in an interrogation room or perhaps gathered around a campfire about to tell ghost stories. I guess, in a sense, that was what we were about to do.

“Well, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I am going to go up front with Kingston and make a call. My wife is in California today and she will be expecting a call from me in a few minutes,” the president said.

“Kingston is our driver,” Dr. Winder offered. “He is an ex-Marine and Secret Service agent. There is no one I would trust more when we are travelling covertly like this.”

The president pressed a button by his head.

“Kingston, I am coming up front for a while … passenger side door.”

“Yes sir,” responded a deep voice on the speaker. He sounded like Boris Karloff's narration of The Grinch.

The president slid out the passenger side and closed the door. I caught a brief glimpse of the taillights of the tour bus as they pulled away. A moment later, we heard the front door of the limo slam shut.

“Is he all right?” I asked.

“Oh yes, like I said there is no one I would trust more,” Dr. Winder said.

“Why the hell did he not at least get out of the car when Andrews threatened the President?” I thought to myself.

“So you want to know about the Tesla Gate?” Dr. Winder asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“There are very few people who even know of its existence,” Dr. Winder began. “A handful of people in the upper levels of the government and on a few military bases have any knowledge. I take it you knew about it on your base?”

“Enough to know it was there and what it was being used for. I find it hard to believe that the government could come up with something like this so fast, even if Einstein agreed to help them.”

Winder grimaced as if I struck a nerve with my mention of Einstein. “Yes … well, I don't think he would. He seemed to be one of the few people who had enough foresight to see what was happening after this storm hit. Besides, the Gates were around long before this event.”

“Where is Einstein?” I asked.

Dr. Winder and Albert Einstein made several radio appearances together. When the storm first started, they speculated about the cause and consequences of the phenomenon.

“I don't know,” Winder said, sadness in his voice. “He disappeared a couple of weeks ago. I'm not sure if he got away or if he was taken away.” I could tell he was choosing his words carefully, because if he were taken away, my father would be to blame.

“I'm sorry,” I said.

Dr. Winder shook his head as if warding off a pesky fly.

“Well … anyway. They were created a few years ago with a completely different purpose in mind.”

He put a finger to his lips for a moment.

“Have you ever heard of the Philadelphia Experiment?” Winder asked.

Indeed, I had. I remembered it as a science-fiction movie from when I was a kid. Since then, there have been a number of documentaries and conspiracy theories trying to either prove or debunk its legitimacy.

“The Philadelphia Experiment was a military experiment alleged to have been carried out at the naval shipyard in Pennsylvania,” Dr. Winder explained.

I had the feeling it would soon be no longer alleged.

“I forget the exact date,” Winder continued, “it was sometime around October of 1943. The United States Navy destroyer escort
USS Eldridge
was reported to be rendered invisible, or “cloaked” to both the naked eye and to tracking devices. This disappearance was due to an experiment based on an aspect of the unified field theory, a term coined by none other than Einstein.”

The fact he did not say ‘allegedly' based on Einstein's theory was not lost on me.

“The Unified Field Theory,” Winder continued after taking a deep breath, “aims to describe mathematically and physically the interrelated nature of forces that comprise electromagnetic radiation and gravity. In other words, this unites electromagnetism and gravity into one field. Consequently, if light were bent, then space-time would be bent, effectively creating an invisible time machine.”

I had heard all this before and, while interesting, I was not certain how this pertained to the Tesla Gates. I wanted the layman's answer and I hoped Dr. Winder would get to the point soon.

“According to the accounts, unspecified ‘researchers' theorized that some version of this Unified Field Theory would enable a person to use large electrical generators to bend light around an object so that the object became completely invisible. The Navy would have regarded this as being of obvious military value, and by the accounts, it sponsored the experiment.”

Dr. Winder paused to remove his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to fight back a headache

“I will skip all of the conspiracy theories out there and stick to the subjects I know to be fact. Besides, the important event, which pertains to the Tesla Gates, happened on October 28, 1943. This time, the
Eldridge
not only became invisible, she vanished from the area in a flash of blue light and teleported to Norfolk, Virginia, over two hundred miles away. The claim is that the
Eldridge
sat for some time in full view of men aboard the ship SS
Andrew Furuseth.
A short time later the
Eldridge
vanished from Norfolk and then reappeared in Philadelphia at the same site from which she vanished.”

I had heard that story as well, however I had always believed it to be nothing more than a conspiracy theorist's dreams or Hollywood chimera. “You mean it is true?” I asked in disbelief.

“One-hundred percent,” he said. “I personally saw the documentation and testimony from several scientists who worked on the project, including Einstein himself.”

“So … you are telling me the Tesla Gates are a version of the Philadelphia Experiment?” I asked.

“In a way. The experiments were abandoned after the war ended. Data was hidden or destroyed so it would not fall into Communist hands. It was almost lost to history until revived by a grandson of one of the original scientists. He sold his late grandfather's journals and schematics to the government. He got a very hefty paycheck and then disappeared to Europe to live off his newfound wealth.”

“I'm still confused over what this has to do with Impals,” I admitted.

“Well.” Winder began. “The military's goal with this technology was to develop a teleportation device to send equipment, tanks or men anywhere instantly, the ultimate surprise attack.”

“Did it work?” I asked.

“Sometimes,” Winder admitted. “With equipment anyway.”

“Did any people go through it?”

“Yes, one was burned alive in the electrical current and the other … well they still don't know where he is.”

“So somebody got the idea that this thing would shred Impals?” I asked as my temper started to flare. The human capacity for ignorance and cruelty was beyond my comprehension.

“Not exactly … it was kind of an accidental discovery, you know like how the microwave oven was invented.” Winder said, trying to muster a small smile that never materialized. I would have questioned his sincerity if it had.

I heard this story as well. Microwave emitters powered Allied radar in World War II. The leap from detecting Nazis to nuking nachos came in 1946, after a magnetron melted a candy bar in Raytheon engineer Percy Spencer's pocket.

“How?” I pressed.

“As coincidence would have it, they ran another human test at the facility in Arizona minutes after the cosmic storm arrived. The volunteer, if successful, was supposed to rematerialize about a mile away at a designated location on the base. Instead, he was thrown backwards by the electric current as if he hit a brick wall. He died on the spot, burned to a crisp. His spirit, his Impal part remained. It was probably due to disorientation, but the man's soul, his Impal, ran at the current and vanished without a trace.”

I swallowed hard, having a good idea what happened next.

“So my father got wind of it and seized the opportunity?” I half stated and half asked.

Dr. Winder ducked his head and stared at his lap, avoiding eye contact. He shook his head as he spoke.

“No, major … he took it as more of a sign, a sign from God on how he was supposed to eradicate these unholy abominations. He got everyone riled up into a frenzy of fear so fast no one took time to stop and question it before it was too late.”

“Jesus,” I muttered.

“Yes son, He is who we must look to right now,” Dr. Winder said.

I was about to ask how many Tesla Gates or ‘Shredders' existed when a loud crack sent my heart leaping into my throat. The sound of gunfire erupted outside the car.

CHAPTER 11

THE BACK SEAT

“Tell mother, tell mother, I died for my country … useless … useless.”

~John Wilkes Booth

Panic gripped Dr. Winder. He pressed back into his seat almost as if he believed he were an Impal and could somehow pass through the padded leather into the safety of the trunk. I pulled my pistol out of my pocket and doused the overhead light. Total darkness engulfed us as a muffled yell and another gunshot rang out. My heart jumped into my throat.

I peered through the dark windows, trying to catch a glimpse of one of the shooters. There was only eerie silence. I could hear the rapid breathing of Dr. Winder close by in the blackness. He emitted a pathetic whimper with each exhalation; the man was terrified. And why shouldn't he be? I was scared as hell too, and I trained for situations like this.

I jumped in surprise as something heavy and metallic smashed against the top of the car. Whirling in the direction of the sound, my heart almost stopped as a bright light blinded me. I first thought they shot out the window. Unless they used a tank, that would be impossible on a presidential limo. My second thought was an explosion, but this theory was dispelled when I saw the source of the light. My jaw became unhinged as I watched the shimmering luminescence of an Impal almost land in my lap. This Impal just passed through rear passenger door. He lay there dazed on his back staring up at me with horrified eyes. This was not just any Impal; this Impal was the President of the United States.

“My God …” he muttered in the tinny sounding Impal timbre. The sound, coupled with the gruesome surreal circumstances, made hackles stand up on my neck.

I jumped again as the heavy-metal object slammed against the side of the car, this time on the opposite side.

“Kingston … shot … got chains … captured,” the president stammered as he continued to stare at me with wild-eyed panic.

I got the impression that Kingston was killed, and then captured. The president, by either a calm presence of mind or stupid dumb luck, had stumbled back here before he could be caught. Judging by his expression, I would say it was the latter.

“Who are they?” I hissed as a fist pounded on my window. I could hear unintelligible muffled voices.

The president shook his head. He appeared as if all hope had left him.

“It was a bunch of street punks. I opened the door for some fresh air and they …” he said, trailing off.

I finished the sentence for him.

“Shot you?”

He stared at his glowing, luminescent hands as if he had never seen them before. I guess he hadn't, not like that anyway.

In the glowing ambience of the president, I could see Dr. Winder staring into space. His expression was as vacant as an empty glass. I wondered for a few moments if he were still alive until I saw him take a shuddering breath.

“Doctor!” I snapped. “Doctor … is there any way they can get in here?”

He didn't respond at first then his eyes turned toward my face. He reminded me of one of those creepy funhouse portraits with the eyes that follow you. All factors considered, I hadn't been this frightened and creeped out since my encounter with the nest of snakes as a boy.

“No,” he said, emptiness in his voice, and then returned his gaze to the unseen spot in the air.

I sank to my knees in the floor and cradled my gun skywards as I listened to the noises outside. One thing kept running through my head. How the hell could this have happened to the President of the United States. A bunch of street punks? I guess if the President has no security detail and exercises poor judgment, he's as vulnerable as the rest of us.

I felt a strong desire for a cell phone or walkie-talkie to get in touch with my friends on the tour bus. I wasn't sure when they would be back and I didn't want them to be ambushed as well.

Muffled voices and banging on the roof seemed to engulf the car from all sides. The blows vibrated the roof and windows like a violent thunderstorm. Dr. Winder remained vegetative while the president sat up and tried to compose himself. The man was a war hero and a tough politician, not to mention a brave advocate for the Impals. I would imagine that this was the most incredible and disturbing experience he ever endured.