The Defiant: An Unbeaten Path (8 page)

“In his stomach, but it’s festering.”

Vincent couldn’t imagine she was setting him up, but he wasn’t about to go blindly. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll be right back.” He hobbled off.

Like he promised, he returned a few minutes later but behind the wheel of the SUV. He unlocked the gate and pushed the heavy gate open.

She stood just on the other side, waiting patiently. However, she wasn’t the woman he had encountered yesterday. She looked tired, stressed and her clothes were stained with blood.

He was bringing everything with him. Yes, it was risky, but leaving it behind unattended was even riskier. Just as he was getting in, he said, “Get in.”

Bridgette quickly got in. She watched as Vincent awkwardly got back in the cab. He tossed his crutches and rifle in the backseat and slammed the door. Before he engaged the transmission, he looked at her and said, “No funny business, you understand?”

“Listen, I’m sorry about yesterday. I’m desperate, please understand,” she answered, her tone conciliatory.

“Fair enough,” he said as he put the vehicle into gear and sped off.

Wellsville, Utah

Becky could tell by the look on Nicholas’ face that he wasn’t listening to the doctor’s recommendations.

And she was right; Nicholas looked past the doctor towards the window and the trees beyond that.

No one had any reports on Bryn and Rob, and this unnerved Nicholas. He was already filled with guilt over Proctor; now he was faced with possibly losing two others in his group. He and Becky had sat up talking last night about the entire situation, and she now agreed that the idea of having a democracy was just plain silly. It sounded practical before they left, but that was their pre-apocalypse mindset. Few people had ever lived in such situations and thought that a simple vote could make everything all right. But the vast majority of people lacked real experience of combat and warlike situations. What was best was one person making the tough calls. Nicholas mainly faulted himself. He had some combat experience, but it had been over two decades before, and in many ways he had become soft. He’d allowed himself to be talked out of what he knew was the right call. The consensus he and Becky had come to last night was that he would be in total control. They’d keep their little democracy but only for decisions that were considered minor.

“Mr. McNeil, are you listening to me?” the doctor asked. She could clearly see he wasn’t focused on her.

“Um, yeah. You recommend I take it easy.”

“Mr. McNeil, you have been shot. Fortunately the bullet traveled clean through; however, you could still open yourself up for infection. Your number seven and eight ribs on your right side are bruised and you sustained a concussion.”

“Got it.”

Becky thought about asking Nicholas to take the doctor’s words more seriously, but she knew him and it was a waste of breath.

The doctor frowned, and her irritation with his lack of respect for her was apparent. “Here is some Advil, some cephalexin to prevent infection, and if the pain is more than the Advil can handle, here’s some hydrocodone.”

Becky took the three bottles and tossed them in a small satchel.

Still ignoring the doctor, Nicholas turned and asked Becky, “Where’s Abby?”

“Out front with Colin and the others.”

“And Katherine?”

“She’s out there too. I forgot to mention she wants to hold a funeral here in two days.”

Nicholas nodded.

“The nurse will check you out,” the doctor said and exited the room.

As soon as the door to his room closed, Nicholas exclaimed, “Thank God. Can we get the hell out of here?”

“Be grateful, these people have been generous and very nice.”

He thought for a second and agreed, “Don’t get me wrong, this has been a miracle. I could never have imagined a town would still function and operate almost like nothing had happened here.”

Becky stayed with Nicholas as he went through the procedural checking out from the clinic. After a few jokes and some heavy exhaling from Nicholas, as the process took longer than he wanted, they found themselves outside.

When Nicholas saw Colin and the group, he jumped out of the wheelchair and headed towards them. “Colin, we need to have a few words.”

Colin didn’t have to guess what it was about. “Yes, boss.”

Nicholas opened his arms and said, “C’mon here, buddy.”

Colin looked at him strangely, not expecting a warm reunion. He embraced Nicholas and said, “Glad you’re okay.”

“And please, stop calling me
boss.
I’ve already asked you before to stop that. Please, enough.”

“It’s a Southern thing.”

“Well, we’re not in the South, nor are we anywhere close to the Mason-Dixon Line.”

“Roger that, I’ll stop.”

“Did you do as I asked?” Nicholas queried.

“Yep, we’re to see him as soon as you’re ready,” Colin answered, referring to the mayor of Wellsville.

“Good,” Nicholas said as he went for his watch but couldn’t find it. He turned to Becky and asked, “Where’s my watch?”

She held up the shimmering gold piece and replied, “Right here.” She walked over and handed it to him. “It was one of the first things I checked on after I saw you yesterday.”

Nicholas took the timepiece in his hand and stared at it. This watch meant a lot to him. It very well could be the last item he’d have from his brother, Michael. His mind raced to where he might be and if he was okay; then he remembered it was Michael McNeil he was worried about and that he shouldn’t be. From his earliest recollections, Michael was a tough and able person. He had been a great older brother and always looked out for him when he was a child. He had been hard on Nicholas but had good reason. Nicholas respected and loved his brother and wished he could be there with him as they went through this struggle. Unsure of where he was or if he’d see him again, this watch represented Michael and their brotherly love. It was one of the few prized possessions he had.

“I forgot to mention, the mayor wants to see you too, so it wasn’t too hard to get this meeting,” Colin informed Nicholas.

“Good, let’s not keep the mayor waiting,” Nicholas said, putting his attention back on where he was. He pocketed the watch and climbed into the Suburban.

Undisclosed Bunker Facility, Superstition Mountains, East of Apache Junction, Arizona

Michael looked around the room. It was just like his hospital room and the seemingly endless hallways, stark white with no windows. He longed to see the sun and to breathe fresh air.

Anatoly didn’t share anything significant along their way to this new room. He did tell Michael he was in a bunker in the Arizona Mountains and that he had never been there before but knew about its existence. He opened up that they were not CIA but that Michael definitely was and had joined their cause against Viktor. However, what he didn’t discuss was what the end game was. And finally, what were the coordinates for?

“Take a seat, Michael,” Anatoly instructed.

Michael did as he asked. It felt good to sit, but he couldn’t relax.

Karina walked in then and closed the door.

Michael took note along his walk that he didn’t see anyone else. The only people he had seen since being at the bunker was Anatoly, Karina and the nurse. The bunker felt large, but it seemed empty.

Karina took a seat next to Michael and placed a large file in front of him. “This might help jog your memory.”

Michael went to open up the file but stopped when Anatoly spoke. “Before you do that, let’s get to the heart of the matter. I have to admit that I thought you were lying about your memory loss, but it appears you have truly suffered from your injuries. Our doctors tell us that your memory will come back. The issue we have is limited time, and if we fail, the world will be lost.”

Michael cracked a smile and joked, “I think the world is already lost.”

Anatoly ignored him and continued, “Viktor is part of a group that is bent on world domination, and the only way he believes he can do that is by being in possession of what you’ll see in that folder.”

Michael again went to open it but was stopped once more.

“Before you open it, I want to impress upon you that with your memory loss, what you’re about to see and hear will confuse you. You might even think we’re crazy, but I can assure you that the Michael we knew before was fully committed to our task.”

“Anatoly, I wish I could remember what this is all about,” Michael replied. He turned to Karina and said, “And I wish I could remember us, I do vaguely and I know we had something, but it’s the strangest thing to have bits of memory but also feel I’m looking at a stranger.” Michael looked back at Anatoly and continued, “Whatever you’re about to share with me, I will listen and I pray it will bring the man I was back. You said there isn’t time to waste, so let’s do this.”

Anatoly was about to speak but Michael interrupted. “And please don’t drug me again. I’m here and I want to help,” he said, but in his heart he was still wary, and as his memory returned, he would be open with prejudice.

What Michael said made Anatoly crack a smile, which was unusual for him. “Viktor is the head of a group called the Union of Salvation. They were a defunct group that had been instrumental in Russian politics and affairs for over two hundred years. In fact, some claim they were the ones who sowed the seeds of revolution before the Bolsheviks. They now have been resurrected by Viktor and their aims are greater. They wish to dominate the world and create some sort of utopia. The problem we have is their utopian visions require a drastic reduction in the world’s population. What you’ve seen happen has been all of their making, but they feel in order to control the world, they need one item, and this is where you come in. Open the folder.”

Michael did and the first thing he discovered was group of photographs, most of them old. He picked them up and began to shuffle through them.

Anatoly remained quiet and watched him process the images.

“These aren’t stirring anything in my mind. Um, this thing Viktor is after, it looks like a relic. What is it?”

Anatoly frowned at Karina and answered, “That, my friend, is the Spear of Destiny. It goes by other names like the Holy Lance, the Holy Spear, the Lance of Longinus or the Spear of Longinus, but fact is, those photos are of a replica that is housed in Austria.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t recall any of this,” Michael lamented.

“It will come back,” Karina said as she touched his leg.

“What is it?”

“The Spear of Destiny is the name given to the lance that pierced the side of Jesus as he hung on the cross.”

“I really hate that I don’t recall this, but it does seem familiar. I don’t understand; why would Viktor and his Union of Salvation want a relic?”

Karina stepped in and answered, “Because it holds powers. Those who are in possession of the spear will have total power and be able to control their destinies.”

“I’m sorry, but this is a joke, right?” Michael asked.

“No, Michael it’s not a joke, it’s very real. Many have sought after its power and many have held it in their hands. Men like Constantine, Charlemagne, Frederick Barbarossa the First, Herod the Great, Maurice the Manichean, Theodosius, Alaric, Theodoric, Justinian, Charles Martel, Heinrich the First, and Adolf Hitler.”

Michael was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the story and was beginning to wonder if Anatoly and Karina were crazy and members of the tinfoil-hat club. He then began to become concerned about his own sanity, as apparently he believed in this. He then looked at the world around him and decided that it couldn’t be any crazier than what was happening to everything.

“I do know how hearing this sounds, but you hold the key to all of it,” Anatoly flatly said.

“The coordinates?”

“Yes, Michael, you are the only living person who knows the whereabouts of this powerful relic.”

Michael looked at both of them and asked, “How is it that I’m the only person?”

Anatoly looked at Karina and said, “Tell him.”

“You have nothing to fear, trust me.”

“Tell me.”

“We had them all killed. You, however, did something that no one else had done before. You had it inscribed on something, and only you know where that item is.”

“How is it that I’m a party to this whole thing? I’m a CIA agent.”

“Michael, you’re much more than that, my friend, much more.”

Vista, CA

The first thing that hit Vincent was the smell of what could only be described as
death
. He’d encountered the smell before in hospitals and overseas in triage facilities. Then he saw Bridgette’s husband, Ron. He wasn’t sure if the smell added to the overall feel, but once he laid eyes on him, all Vincent could think was that he was looking at a dead man.

Ron was covered in a sticky sweat that clung to his ashen skin. The pajamas he was wearing were soiled with blood, vomit and old sweat. The bedroom itself was large and beautifully decorated. Vincent could tell at one time they had money and spent it on lavish furnishings. He couldn’t tell if they were ever neat and orderly people, but they definitely weren’t now. A large pile of soiled sheets sat in the far corner, but the floor was relatively free of debris as if someone was attempting to maintain some cleanliness. A large, eight-foot-tall set of French doors sat opposite the king-sized master bed and were open to allow fresh air to come in, but even with that the smell was intense.

Bridgette hurried to Ron’s side and took his hand. He was shaking from what was most likely a fever brought on by infection. The severity of the fever was so high he could barely open his eyes to acknowledge her presence.

Upon entering the house and making his way to the upstairs bedroom, Vincent took notice that Noah was nowhere to be seen. This didn’t alarm him, as the house was large, but he made a mental note.

“Honey, I have a man here that might be able to help,” Bridgette said to Ron in a whisper.

Ron didn’t open his eyes, but he did hear her. He opened his mouth and unintelligible sounds came out.

She turned to Vincent, who was still standing in shock at the scene in front of him. He didn’t know what he could do. During his time in the Marine Corps he’d had advanced first-aid training, but Ron’s condition was past his skill set.