The Myriad Resistance by John D. Mimms Page A

Andrews’s brother owned a sightseeing tours company, which operated small cruise ships around the Chesapeake Bay area. He owned two ships in his fleet that he believed could make a transatlantic voyage.
    â€œThey should be more than big enough to hold all the Impals coming for the journey,” he said.
    â€œAll of them … coming?” Charlotte chimed in. “There’s more than the ones we shelter here?”
    â€œThere are three other camps I am working with … one in Pennsylvania, one in New Jersey, and another in North Carolina. We are going to meet on the determined night and facilitate one big extraction,” Danny said.
    â€œHow many in those camps?” Derek asked.
    â€œI’m not sure. We should be evacuating close to four hundred, give or take a few,” Danny said. “Don’t forget, we have another shipment coming in today … all the way from Washington!”
    Everyone began to talk at once before Danny put a decisive end to it.
    â€œOkay everyone, pack out you trash and let’s get ready for the next shipment!” he proclaimed. He then turned and winked. “It’s cleaning day for you, Cecil,” he said pointing to a bucket, mop, and an assortment of cleaning supplies in the corner.
    When I considered our dirty little shack, I was thankful to receive an order to perform clean up duty.
    â€œDon’t worry, they clean up good,” Burt whispered, poking me in the ribs. “Ours was a regular crap hole when we first moved in last week.”
    I started to make a sarcastic comment when I heard a commotion outside. Several people darted about the mess hall and I could hear the sound of approaching vehicles. My heart leapt into my throat until I saw Burt’s amusement.
    â€œRelax chief,” he said, reading the panic on my face. “It’s just our new Impal pals.”
    We walked outside to find a group of people talking excitedly and watching the road with anticipation.
    â€œAre you serious? It’s really him?” one elderly woman asked a chubby young man with sunglasses and a large scar on his cheek.
    He shrugged and said, “I don’t know, I guess we’re about to find out.”
    As if on cue, two large SUVs came into sight around a bend in the woods. A minute later, they skidded to a stop beside us. Everybody stepped back as if one of the vehicles might be radioactive and then stared in excitement. The front doors opened and a man and a woman got out of the front seat of each. They were either Impals carrying batteries or fleshers like us. They opened the back doors, including the cargo area and a number of Impals poured out of each vehicle. They all radiated with a ‘batteries not included’ shimmering glow. They always seemed much more surreal in the daylight.
    The people began whispering again. I couldn’t figure out what the commotion was about, until I looked a little closer. A group of Impals headed towards me. There was one man much taller than the rest. I felt a jolt of excitement as I recognized our new refugee. Thomas Pendleton told me about his encounter with him before his capture. I never dreamed I would be coming face to face with none other than Abraham Lincoln.

CHAPTER 8
    MAN DOWN
    â€œBeware of false knowledge; it is more dangerous than ignorance.”
    ~George Bernard Shaw
    The tall, lanky former President tried to blend in with everyone else, but it was impossible. His stature was too recognizable both in the historic and physical sense. He loped past without a word. I stood frozen in place, dumbstruck. I had met two famous names from history in less than twenty-four hours. I must admit, Lincoln is the ultimate. He may not be my favorite president, yet I was an admirer all the same.
    The drivers of the SUVs along with Taylor, Derek and Charlotte accompanied the new arrivals. They led them into the woods along the path leading to the concealed mineshaft. I turned to see Burt