The Myriad Resistance (30 page)

CHAPTER 27

THE RETURN TO BASE

“I have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect
—
in terror.”

~Edgar Allan Poe

I had not done conditioning work in a while. It showed on my jaunt across the bridge. I guess I was no more than a mile along when I started to get a stitch in my side and my breathing turned to gasps. I paused for a moment to rest. I squinted back to the southeast to see if I could see the boats in the distance. The rising sun made it difficult to tell. I think I could see them far on the horizon. I didn't see any other boats in their vicinity, which was a good thing.

After a minute of rest, I turned and continued my run, trying to keep my head down and my breathing steady to avoid another cramp. After what seemed like a marathon run, the bridge finally made land. I passed over the tan beach extending for miles in each direction. I slowed down and began to consider my possibilities. I was still about twenty-five feet above the beach, a little too far to jump even into the soft sand.

Traveling a little further, I passed some beachfront condos. They were taller than the bridge, but too far away to reach. As I rounded a corner, about a half mile from the toll plaza, my already hammering heart almost burst out of my chest. A military blockade was set up a couple hundred yards from me; I hadn't expected it until the other side of the toll plaza. I immediately crouched down by the concrete guardrail. If any of the four soldiers manning the blockade turned around, they would have seen me. I was fortunate they continued to face forward … at least for a while.

My mind raced as I tried to figure out a way out of this, then it hit me in the face, literally. A large green leaf blew across my cheek and stuck to my face, clinging to me like glue with the moisture of last night's rain. I realized there was a large tree next to the bridge. There were several of them growing along both sides of the bridge with several varieties and sizes. I peered over the side and saw I was still at least twenty feet off the ground. I could also see another tree, a few feet away from me, boasted several good size branches. They should support my weight all the way to the bottom, or at least until I got low enough to where I could jump.

I swung my leg over the guardrail, watching the soldiers. They did not move. I reached out and grabbed a limb. Before I could get it in my grasp, the unthinkable happened. I heard a vehicle approaching from behind and then the sudden squalling of brakes. The soldiers heard it too and wheeled about with their weapons drawn. I was exposed. I was visible and they saw me.

“Hey you, stop!” one of them shouted and began to run in my direction with his weapon trained on me.

I knew if I didn't stop, the top of this tree along with my body would be riddled with bullets in a few seconds. I did the only thing I could do, the only option open to me … I jumped. As I flew through the air turned to leap, I glanced over my shoulder to see who had driven up; I saw the car with the Casper bumper sticker a few feet away. The visitor center janitor stared right at me with her eyes and her mouth as round as the tunnel. She leaned forward, her face inches from her windshield.

I think I actually laughed as I took the leap from the bridge. I'm not sure if I was laughing at the absurdity of the situation, or the woman's comical expression. Perhaps it was because I considered I was going to die from a fall and become a forest running Impal. Would my father show up for my Shredder party? I knew he would consider me no different from anyone else. I would be just another demon trying to deceive the living.

I didn't die. Instead, I yelled and cursed as my body bounced from limb to limb. Finally, I managed to grab hold of a medium-sized bough about eight feet off the ground. I held on for a brief moment until I heard the soldier's shouts above. I let go of the limb as if it was on fire and bolted full speed through the woods. It did not take long to realize that I was not in the woods, instead I was in a heavily forested neighborhood. This was much worse. The obstacle course of fences, toys, swing sets, clotheslines and the occasional backyard dog kept me on my toes for the next several minutes. Just when I felt my lungs would explode and my legs collapse, I emerged from between two houses onto a busy four-lane highway.

On my mad dash through suburbia, I did something I was not proud of. I grabbed a red Washington Redskins jersey off one of the clotheslines. Under normal circumstances, I would not have done anything so despicable. Today was anything other than normal circumstances. Moreover, I knew the soldiers saw me so I needed to change my appearance. I slipped the jersey on over my head and was pleased to see that it hung down around mid-thigh, making a change of pants unnecessary.

A large red bandana hung next to the jersey and I grabbed it by accident. I was glad I did. The jersey would not be a sufficient disguise; I would also need something to cover my head. ‘Dew rags' were what we once called bandanas tied on one's head, giving the wearer the fashionable appearance of a pirate. I had not worn one since I was in college and was not sure I remembered how to tie it. After a couple of failed attempts, it came back to me. I was soon walking down the street in my dark-red jersey and a serviceable, red dew rag bandana on my head. I felt like a gang member and hoped I wasn't in one of those neighborhoods.

No one bothered me and I was thankful to see no police or military anywhere. Either they hadn't called my incident in or I gave them the slip by heading in a direction they did not expect. I didn't know what direction I headed. My flight or fight instinct told me to run the hell away … screw the direction.

It took me a few minutes to get my bearings on the street. Once I did, it seemed I caught my first break today. I was less than a mile from the twenty-four hour grocery store where I was supposed to meet everybody. We all agreed it would probably be the most inconspicuous place for a vehicle to park for a long period. Several minutes later, I arrived in the parking lot and spotted the SUV parked next to a shopping cart return. Burt was in the driver's seat, fidgeting nervously.

I approached with caution and knocked on the passenger side door. Burt jumped as if he were in an ejection seat. He bumped his injured arm and let out a cry of pain. He turned in panic. When he saw me, relief flooded across his face.

“Cecil! Boy am I glad to see you!” he said as I opened the door and slid inside.

His smile drooped into a frown as he looked beyond me, and then in the rear-view mirrors.

“Where's Danny?” he asked.

There was no way to sugarcoat it so I told him the whole story from the tanker to boarding the cruise ships. After I finished, he sat quietly for a while, drumming the fingers of his good hand on the steering wheel. He finally took a deep breath and turned to me.

“He was a good man; he will be missed,” he said with misty eyes. Then with an attempt to break the fog of heavy emotion; he turned and started the vehicle. He then switched the radio to a reasonable level. A song was playing I did not recognize.

“They're playing music on the radio now?” I asked.

Burt shook his head as if snapped out of a trance.

“What … oh … yeah, at least in touristy areas like Virginia Beach,” he said. “There will be more propaganda on later, you can count on it.”

Burt moved his arm in the sling with a wince. He turned his head and faced out the window. I could see his grimace of pain in the mirror.

“Why don't you let me drive, partner,” I said. “I've got two good wings.”

The truth was I felt as if I had been clubbed on my arms and torso with a baseball bat. I also suffered several burning cuts and scratches all over my body. Adrenaline deadened my nerves as I jumped from the bridge and ran the neighborhood steeplechase. Now that it was over, my body was starting to erupt into a crescendo of raw nerves. At least I could move both of my arms relatively pain free, for now anyway.

Burt didn't give me the argument I expected and I was glad. I didn't want to waste time arguing, I wanted to get back to my family. We had been gone over twelve hours now and I am sure they were worried sick about me. We exchanged seats and I buckled up, shifted into gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Burt said, reaching into the back seat and retrieving a brown paper bag with the grocery store's logo on it. “I took the liberty of getting you breakfast. I know it's not breakfast food, but it is the best I could do without a microwave handy.”

“Thanks, it's great!” I said as I peaked in the bag while we waited at a traffic light. I was hungry, hungrier than I realized before he mentioned food. However, when I peaked in the bag, I almost lost my appetite. He bought me a tuna sandwich, a bag of potato chips and a bottle of water. Under normal circumstances, I would consider it a fine meal. Burt knew of my affinity for what we called ‘gas station' food. There was just one glaring problem. There was two of everything. He also bought breakfast for Danny.

I tried to divert the attention away from the obvious fact, but it ended up backfiring on me.

“So, where did you get the money?” I asked in a joking tone. “You been holding out on us?”

“Danny,” Burt said then turned and stared out the passenger window.

I felt about three inches high.

“Of course it was Danny,” I thought to myself. He gave me money to take Steff to Martian Burgers. I would say he was the only one with enough foresight to accumulate cash, yet that wasn't entirely fair. I escaped from jail and fled to the base with no real opportunity to pay my bank a visit.

I said a silent prayer of thanks for my breakfast, and for Danny, as I took a bite out of my tuna sandwich. It was dry and I chased each bite with a swig of semi cold water. It wasn't five star dining, but it satisfied me and gave me a little burst of energy, something I was going to need a lot of today.

We drove in silence for thirty minutes, both of us remembering our friend and pondering numerous questions in our heads. Burt broke the silence with a deliberate clearing of his throat and a deep breath.

“So, do you think everyone got away?” he asked. He sounded like his throat was as dry as sandpaper so I grabbed Danny's water out of the bag and offered it to him. He took it and downed half the bottle before setting it in the cup holder and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Yes, I do,” I said. “I could see them clearing the mouth of the bay while I was still on the bridge.”

He pondered this for a while, and then took another drink of his water.

“Will they make it without batteries?” Burt asked.

“They should; they will make International waters by noon and be out of my father's jurisdiction.”

“What happens when Europe gets tired of them?” Burt asked.

I shrugged and ran my fingers gingerly across my scalp. It felt as if it had taken a blow from a thorny rose bush. I could feel a warm, wet patch in my bandana and knew it was not sweat. I was glad the dew rag was red.

“We can only worry about what we can control, Burt,” I said. “All we can do is hope and pray for the best and then cross that bridge when and if we come to it.”

He shrugged then leaned his seat back and closed his eyes.

“I can't wait to get back to Sally,” Burt said in a dreamy voice.

I cracked a smile. I felt the same way about Barbara. I also was anxious to see the girls. I glanced over and caught Burt peeking at me out of one eye. He closed his eyes as if he was visualizing Sally. I was glad we had something else to occupy our minds.

It wasn't long before Burt was sound asleep. I found myself wishing I stayed in the passenger seat. It was a long, trying night and the effects were starting to creep up on me. I shook myself awake as I took the bypass exit around Richmond. My eyelids felt as if weighted with sandbags. I knew I was going to need to pullover and get some fresh air or we would wind up in a ditch.

I parked at a small roadside park and stretched my legs before going to make use of the facilities. After a visit to the urinal, I stopped to examine myself in the mirror. There was a large scratch on my right cheek and my left ear. I ducked my head to see a large wet spot on my scalp. I considered removing the bandana, then decided to wait until I had something to replace it.

As I touched my arms and torso, I winced with pain. I knew I must be an unholy sight under this baggy jersey. Before I could examine my wounds further, a man with a small boy came in the door. I washed my hands, and then splashed water on my face before stepping out the restroom door into the bright morning sun.

When I turned towards our vehicle every fiber in me knotted with terror. A state police car pulled up beside us and two officers sat like stone in the front seat. I couldn't tell for sure in the glare from the sun, but I think they were staring at me. Why wouldn't they? I looked like a gang member who had just been in a fight.

As I walked towards the SUV, both officers got out and headed in my direction. I tried to remain casual and avoid eye contact as I stared straight ahead. I could feel their eyes boring into me. I tried to look at anything else. A tree, a bush, the trash can, a couple of sparrows fighting over a half-eaten French fry … still, I could still feel their eyes burning holes in me. My mind went to work with desperate fervor, trying to come up with stories and excuses. I knew none of that would matter if they asked for my identification. Fake IDs escaped Danny's advance planning.

Drawing close to the officers, I glanced up. It surprised me to see they weren't even paying attention to me. They eyed a vending machine under a nearby pavilion. The officer closest to me acted as if I wasn't even there. I turned and watched over my shoulder as they attacked the defenseless machine with a handful of change. I wondered if there were donuts in it.

When I got back in the vehicle, Burt sounded like a buzz saw as he slept off the night's adventures. I started the vehicle and pulled back on the highway. I felt a little more rejuvenated, yet still longed for restful sleep. We hadn't been on the road long when a high-pitched noise made me jump. It took a few moments for me to realize that it was the ringing of a phone. I checked in the console and floorboard beside me. I couldn't see any sign of the phone. After about five rings, I realized it was coming from somewhere on Burt, yet he continued to slumber like a baby. I reached over and tapped him on his good arm.