Nexus of Time

by Mark Riverstone

  But this woman just lost her husband. Nix has to give her enough time to absorb that. He knows rushing her before she accepts her husband's death might cause her to breakdown or lash out. It will be impossible to protect this woman if she doesn't trust him.

  Nix checks the rifle to make sure it still has ammunition, then stands and walks over to his Humvee. Grabbing his canteen, he takes it over to the car and places it on the seat next to the mourning woman. After stepping back, Nix raises the rifle and looks through the scope to see if anyone is coming in either direction.

  Tension fills the air. The volatility of this situation makes standing here doing nothing the wrong course of action. Not hearing any more whispers, her crying reduced to sniffs, Mr. Nix turns to see the woman sitting up and drinking from the canteen, staring off into the field. Nix decides now is a good time to coax her.

  "Were you injured? If you were, I can help you."

  "No. My husband was. He's..."

  "I know. I am not being insensitive or cold, but I need to understand the danger of sitting here if I'm going to help you."

  "Nothing to help. My husband, he needed help."

  "I need you to keep it together because this isn't over. What happened to him and you? Why were you and your husband out here?"

  "I...me and my husband were visiting friends who own farms along this road. We got a small place in Pickens, and we ran out of food and water. Everything in our fridge was ruined. Stores were empty, and gas stations closed. The only people we could think of who could help us were our friend farmers. They always keep food stores. Even have extra gas to keep their farm equipment going. We didn't need much, we just wanted to see if they had food to spare to get through the next few days, until power came back and things returned to normal."

  Nix doesn't respond to her false hopes. He knows things may never go back to normal, but he also knows hope is sometimes the only things that can keep a person trying, and he needs this woman to try.

  "My name is Nicolas. Why don't you get out of the car so we can talk?"

  "I don't want to leave my husband."

  "You are not leaving him. We'll be right here. You just need to keep talking to me. Please."

  Nix opens her passenger door. After a moment, she gets out.

  "What is your name?"

  "Linda. Linda Greer."

  "What happened, Linda? Tell me about that guy I had to kill and the roadblock."

  "That bastard deserved to die. He and his friends shot my husband, shot at us, and we did nothing."

  "So, you and your husband were driving to a friend's farm..."

  "Yeah. A couple miles up the road, those guys put a roadblock, cars and stuff, made it so no one could pass. They were stopping every car and taking what they wanted. We saw the people in front of us get their trunk emptied and gas siphoned from their car. They came over to our car carrying guns and told us we had to donate to pass. We told them we had nothing to spare. My husband asked who they were, and they responded they were the authorities. They said since we didn't have anything, they wanted our car. My husband just jammed the car into drive, did a U-turn, and took off. They shot at us as we drove away and hit my husband..."

  She becomes teary and chokes up at the thought of what happened.

  "It's ok, try to be strong, Linda. They sent one of their men after you. Didn't want you to get away. Sending a message to anyone else who resisted. Is there a place you can go, other than the direction of the roadblock?"

  "Our home, but nothing is there. And our car...my husband..."

  "Well, you can take this guy's truck. He doesn't need it."

  "I don't want to go home. I wanna kill those guys. They took my husband. My life. What am I supposed to do? Take that guy's truck and go home to starve? And my husband..."

  "Well, we can't stay here and wait for another one of those men to come looking for their friend."

  "What are you going to do, Nicolas? You gonna just leave? Go back to where you came from? You can't go into that roadblock. You can't help me."

  "Yes, I can. I can't turn away from this. But your husband. You can at least take him home, give him his peace and dignity. Put him to rest."

  "My husband is...was a fighter. He didn't take this and refused to give in to those guys. He wouldn't want me to, either. I don't care what happens to me. I'd rather die fighting than live knowing those bastards got away with killing my man."

  "You're upset and not thinking straight. You don't want to do that. Find the police. Tell them what happened. Get justice."

  "I'm telling you what I want. Justice my way."

  "I don't think he'd want you shot by a bunch of criminals because you desire revenge. Please, I'm here to help you. I killed a man to protect you. And I don't want to see you killed. Let me help you. Please."

  The woman calms. "You want me to run away while you go face these men?"

  "That is exactly what I want. I'm trained for this."

  "There are more of them than you. And a lot more guns."

  "I'm trained for that, too. That guy's truck there, I'll pull it over here, we'll place your husband in the truck and you can take him home. You are heartbroken and angry, but when things get back to normal, you'll be glad you didn't die. Do you have kids?"

  "No. Just me and him."

  Mr. Nix realizes it is better if he shuts his mouth and gets this woman on her way.

  "I'll get the truck. Then you can go home."

  The woman nods. Nix takes the rifle and tosses it into his Humvee. Then, walking back to the roadside, his mind questions his decision to help. If he takes on these guys, he might be the one who ends up dead. Then he'll never make it back to HQ and help against the Greys.

  Nix admonishes himself. He can't leave those men out here robbing and killing. He's not saving humanity for men like that, he's saving humanity from men like that. Men who are no better than the Greys. Nix lived a long good life. Walter reminded Nix not long ago that he was always in the heat of battle, but that Nix didn't contemplate whether the battle was worth dedicating his life. This fight, here, is worth fighting. These men are unjust. Their victims are innocent. If Nix dies in this battle, as small as this battle is, this battle is one worthy to be fought. Nix cracks a smile knowing Walter is with him at this moment.

  At the stranger's truck, Nix looks in the cargo bed. Inside are collected food cans and packages, random guns and knives, and gas cannisters. A couple cannisters are empty, and a few canisters are full. Unscrewing the lid on one of the gas cans, he dumps it into the pickup's tank. He will put the other two into his Humvee. Nix goes over to the driver side and gets in the cab, only to realize he doesn't have the keys. He gets back out, goes over to where the stranger he shot lays, and discovered the stranger is gone. A path of tamped grass and blood traces the stranger's escape. After following it twenty feet, he comes upon the man dead. Nix searches his pockets, finds the keys, and returns to the truck.

  Mr. Nix pulls the pickup into the pasture alongside the damaged sedan. With the help of Linda, they remove her dead husband from the car, put him into the passenger side of the pickup cab, and strap in his corpse. Nix then takes food goods, a shotgun, couple revolvers, and the two remaining full cans of gas from the cargo bed. He pours the gas into his Humvee, then tosses the empty cans into the back of the pickup.

  Nix hands Linda the keys. As he gets into his Humvee, she gets into the pickup. With Nix in the lead, both vehicles turn around and head back to the opening in the broken fence. Pulling onto the road, Nix turns in the direction that the pickup came from, toward the roadblock, while Linda turns the other way, the same direction she and her late husband were escaping.

  Rebel Yell

  Chapter 34

  Country Rural Route, South Carolina.

  Nix drives along the country road, considering every possibility before he walks into what he knows will be a volatile, even suicidal, situation. As well trained as he is, two things can always make a civilian confrontation deadly f
or even the most prepared operative: unknown numbers, and untrained unpredictable hostiles. The first is always a possibility, so caution can help compensate for hidden numbers. The second, however, can make violent civilians more dangerous than elite soldiers. Nervousness and twitchy fingers can cause untrained hostiles to shoot even if they don't intend to. Panic can cause them to fire at anything, armed or unarmed, friend or foe. And a fear of dying can drive them to a desperate act that kills everyone, including themselves, not intentionally but because they are trying to not die.

  He glances around the inside of his Humvee to make sure the items he took from the stranger's pickup truck are concealed, in case the men at the roadblock can recognize the items. The rifle and shotgun are tucked tight in a blanket behind his seat on the floor, hidden from view. His service revolver is in its holster, but he has one of the two additional pistols he took from the pickup tucked in his waistband, and another under his seat.

  Nix has a loose plan in his head. He'll drive up and there will be men with guns. They will see Nix as a soldier, that he is alone, and will become defensive. At that point, Nix must jump out and shoot before they have a chance to group up against him or take cover. His tactic will be the more he can kill by surprise, the fewer men he'll battle in an extended firefight.

  Though his age has sapped him of the strength and agility that allow him to overpower a strong combat-skilled adversary, his eyesight and pinpoint marksmanship have remained untouched. Those watching Mr. Nix when he first arrives should see Nix is alone and age docile, not expecting him to make a move. Attacking first, he hopes to eliminate two to three of them before they return a shot. If more than six bandits are there, they might injure or kill Mr. Nix. His hope is to inflict quick casualties, destroy their morale and cause them to flee the roadblock. Desertion is always a welcome possibility when facing untrained militia. But that is a best-case scenario, and a longshot.

  Alone, with no backup, and a high probability of death has Mr. Nix recalling the life he left behind long ago. As a member of a secret organization, he cut his ties with his family and friends. A young wife, a son and a daughter left over forty years ago to become an invisible untraceable agent. He made sure not to check their progress over the years, to not tempt or distract himself, because his mission to save the world from horrors beyond leaves no room for longing. Nix never considered his mission may someday get beyond his reach. That he would be lost in the field uncertain of his purpose. Or that he would risk his life on a remote country road to save local folks, just to give himself a purpose.

  Nix remembers a personal ritual from when he was a young agent still working in international espionage. Uncovering sleeper cells hiding in the US. Before entering a deadly confrontation, Nix made a hollow fist, blew in it, shook imaginary dice, then rolled the invisible dice in the air. It was his way of accepting survival was a gamble and he was tossing his roll. What he's doing here is definitely a high-stakes gamble.

  A cluster of vehicles ahead on and roadside create a one-lane gauntlet in the middle of the road. Nix makes his fist, blows, and rolls the dice. As he decelerates toward the roadblock, his eyes assess the barrier setup.

  They put up a physical chokepoint in the road. Trucks and cars park along the roadside and on the road are positioned in a way to leave only enough space for a single vehicle to squeeze through. Going onto unpaved land to get around the roadblock isn't possible, for reinforced cattle fences parallel the roadway on each side, running as far as the eye can see. There are two cars before his, stopped at the roadblock, waiting to pass.

  Two rifle-ready men stand at the chokepoint. A third female bandit with a shotgun stands by the door of the first vehicle, waiting. That car trunk is open, where a fourth man with a rifle strapped across his shoulder removes items from the trunk and carries them to an open-backed cargo truck parked on the roadside. The inside of the truck trailer is stacked with piles and boxes of canned food and supplies confiscated from travelers. A fifth young man wearing a dual pistol holder around his waist uses a hand pump to extract gasoline from the first car's tank, siphoning it into a gas can.

  A sixth rifle-ready man stands by the second car, aiming at the couple in that vehicle, making sure they wait quietly for their turn to be raided of gas and supplies as their toll to pass unharmed.

  As Nix approaches, the sixth rifleman by the second vehicle aims his rifle while waving for Nix to slow. Finished with the first car, the young man caps the gas can he was siphoning into while the man raiding the trunk slams it shut. The woman with the shotgun waves the first car through. Then, the two men blocking the passage move aside and allow the car to pass. The first car accelerates, racing away. The shotgun woman signals for the second car to move up.

  While grabbing the door handle, Mr. Nix clutches his handgun, his adrenaline level rising ready to jump out and begin firing. Right before he pulls the handle to open, a chill runs up his spine. All his training and experience tells him the action he is about to take is suicidal. Mr. Nix is not wearing body armor. The gunmen are on edge seeing an Army Humvee, keeping their weapons raised and ready. And there are six of them; too many for Nix to shoot before they return fire. The few seconds Nix hesitates removes his element of surprise. He knows enough to listen to himself. Mr. Nix lets go of the door handle, remaining passively inside his Humvee.

  A man with his rifle aimed a Mr. Nix yells to him.

  "Hold up there ya ol' dog. Keep your hands where I can see them."

  "What's going on here?"

  "People trying to smuggle contraband. We don't allow contraband in our county. We're gonna hafta check you, too."

  "What kind of contraband?"

  "Anything we say is contraband."

  The rifleman moves to the Humvee's side and sees Nix's holstered gun.

  "For your safety, why don't you just hand me that sidearm there. Nice and easy. Don't want none to get hurt. But I'll shoot if you don't obey."

  Nix pulls out his service revolver with the barrel pointing down, and hands it to the man through the open Humvee window. The man takes Mr. Nix's handgun.

  "That's good. Now, put your hands on the steering wheel as so I can see them."

  "I'm Army. You have no right to stop me."

  "Maybe you is, maybe you isn't. Maybe you are AWOL. But I can tell from your accent you ain't from around here. And you just might be smuggling contraband."

  "I saw you taking gas. How is gas contraband?"

  "You better shut it ol' man. Don't worry about what we are doing. You let us do our thing, and you'll be on your way. You cause any problems, and you ain't ever going nowhere."

  Nix sits in the Humvee, his hands on the wheel, still and obedient while he waits his turn to be pillaged. He must make his move before they search his Humvee. If they find the rifle and shotgun hidden under the blanket behind the seat, they may recognize the weapons. Nix needs a small distraction. Enough for him to draw the pistol under his seat and shoot the guy standing next to him.

  Like the sound of thunder riding in on the wind, the roar of an engine rapidly approaching. In the rear-view mirror, Nix sees a ranch-red pickup racing up the road his way at breakneck speed. The red pickup that the woman he rescued drove away in. The rifleman gets a big grin on his face and yells to the others.

  "Hey y'all, Rickman is back! He must a caught those runners. Son'a bitches be dead."

  The man lets out a hoot and waves to the approaching pickup, his strange excitement and toothy grin adding an odd exuberance to the scene of roadside robbery.

  Heard over the straining engine of the approaching pickup truck is the screeching scream of an enraged woman's yell. As the pickup nears, time slows. The woman's pained wail overpowers and drowns out the engine's roar. Nix turns his head to see the Linda's strained face, stretched and contorted in agony, resembling a banshee. As the sun reflecting off the chrome grill blinds Mr. Nix, the pickup truck races by dangerously close to the Humvee, smashing into the rifleman by his door and crushing the
surprised look on his face with its chrome grill, knocking him aside, a contorted rag doll.

  The gas siphoning young man and older truck robber dive out of the truck's path in time to see the woman with the shotgun run over, her body a speed bump jostling the pickup as the oversized tires grind the woman's bones. The red pickup continues to rocket forward, striking the left car blocking part of the road opening so hard, the car twirls as it slides aside. With the front crushed and a tire bent out of alignment, the pickup spins and fishtails until it hits the cattle fence, forcing the smoking engine to stop.

  Taking advantage of this unexpected distraction, Mr. Nix leaps out of the Humvee dual wielding the pistol from his waist and the one from under his seat. As the four unharmed gunmen run towards the pickup, Nix fires both his pistols with amazing accuracy. He shoots two trailing gunmen in the back as they run towards the pickup. Unaware of Nix's attack, the two gunmen nearest the pickup unload their rifles on the pickup, blasting out the front and rear windshields.

  Nix continues firing, hoping to take out the last two men before they kill the woman inside, but fails to before they return fire. Defensively, Nix ducks behind the next car lined up to pass through the gauntlet road block. Inside the car, he can hear a panicked couple whispering. Nix calls out to the couple as he hides leaning against the driver door.

  "I'm Agent Xanthos with the US Government. Are you people ok inside there? I'm here to help."

  "Yeah! We're ok."

  "Keep your heads down. I'll tell you when it's clear."

  Nix moves toward the front of the car, hiding behind the fender. Remaining hidden, he raises one handgun above the hood, exposing it. A shot fires out, but it hits the car body on the far side. With such a stray shot so far off from his exposed hand, Nix figures the gunman shooting at him is having trouble aiming because he's injured, or is just a terrible shot.