Overthrown: The Great Dark (Overthrown Trilogy Book 1)

by Judd Vowell

  29.

  H enry startled me from my sleep with an urgent whisper. “Dad, dad...wake up. There’s somebody outside the tent.”

  I sat up quickly, but quietly. And listened. I could tell by the crack of light at the bottom of the tent’s zipper that it was past daybreak. The footsteps were loud, but I knew the woods carried echoes far, especially in the early morning. I counted what I thought was five people walking, give or take a couple. And they were moving slowly, deliberately. I turned to Jessica and Henry and put my forefinger to my pursed lips. “Shhh.”

  We had been sleeping in our clothes on the journey. Had to be ready to move at a moment’s notice. I slipped out of my sleeping bag and calmly unzipped the tent. Before I poked my head out, I listened again. Still the crackling of leaves and twigs under feet, maybe just a little closer. Or maybe the open air made it seem that way. No matter. The sooner I surveyed the situation, the sooner I would know how to handle it. I eased back the flaps and peered into last night’s campsite. No one in sight, but the sound of footsteps continued. I gently crawled out of the tent, staying on my elbows and stomach and knees. Without the enclosed space of our nightly quarters tricking my ears, I was able to locate the direction of the walkers. South of us, but moving north. Moving toward us. They were still far enough away for me to strategize.

  I went back into the tent, gathered up my handgun and binoculars, and told the kids to stay put. “Remember, guys. Not everybody out here is like those men from yesterday. Start breaking down the tent and packing up, but be quiet about it. I won’t be gone long.” And with that, I slipped back out and set off southward.

  30.

  A NTI-Authority – Leader of the New Unknown (continued)

  Part Four: The Benefactor

  The one true mentor that guided Salvador through childhood had also been an heiress to a real estate fortune. Miss Maria de la Coba had moved to the United States with her father in 1919 at the age of five. Her mother had died before Maria had developed any lasting memory of her, and her father made their new home in Tampa primarily to leave his dead wife in the past. He had been a successful real estate developer in Havana, taking advantage of the tourism boom of the early 20th century. Hotels were his specialty.

  Once he was able to liquidate his holdings in Cuba, Maria’s father started over again in Tampa. Apartment buildings were his plan. The growing Cuban immigrant population in Florida made him an even wealthier man. Wealthy enough to survive the Great Depression. Real estate recovered as the country did, and Maria’s father accumulated a small fortune. At the time of his death in 1948, he was worth over four million dollars.

  Maria had no interest in real estate. She was too easily distracted to have interest in anything as a young woman. Her father spoiled her with gifts, parties, and money. As she drifted through her youth as an immigrant socialite, she never put much thought into what she may be giving up. And she wasn’t prepared for her father’s death when it came unexpectedly. His advisors told her to sell off his properties and invest the money under their guidance. She took the former advice, but thought better of the latter.

  As she traveled the world on her inheritance, Maria tried to forget about the life she may have wasted. For 10 years she dined in the finest restaurants, drank the best champagne, and danced with the richest men. But she never found the happiness she so desperately sought. When the restlessness of her spirit finally subsided, Maria was too old for a family. Too old for the thing she had never had, and the thing that would have brought her peace. So she settled in the Cuban neighborhood in Tampa and surrounded herself with other people’s children.

  ◊◊◊

  The principal pulled Salvador out of his fifth period calculus class to tell him. Miss Maria had suffered a stroke and was in the hospital. There wasn’t much hope for her survival. He was allowed to leave school to attend to her, as he was the only family listed in her will.

  Maria had adopted Salvador when he applied for the private high school. He needed a legal guardian for the application. She had then met with her longtime lawyer once he left for his freshman year. She knew her health was declining, and she wanted to make sure what remained of her savings went to Salvador. What remained was substantial.

  Salvador arrived at Miss Maria’s bedside in time to say “goodbye” and “thank you.” She was paralyzed from the stroke, but he saw the acknowledgement in the twinkle of her eyes. He thought of that moment often. Once funeral arrangements had been planned, Maria’s lawyer sat down with 17-year-old Salvador to review her will. The estate would be his in its entirety. There were very few physical assets, but the money left was six and a half million dollars. Miss Maria had invested the little she had left from her ramblings wisely. The money would be held in a trust until Salvador’s 18th birthday.

  ◊◊◊

  Salvador finished his studies at the private school, but his teachers saw his enthusiasm disappear after Maria’s death. He lost interest in applying for colleges, and when graduation day came, he had no plans to continue his formal education. He graciously accepted his diploma, called for a taxi, and asked for a ride to the airport. He had emptied his trust fund six months earlier in anticipation of that day. First to Miami, then to Cuba.

  31.

  D r. Raj must have known things were about to turn. I thought about it many times, and that was the only conclusion that came to me. Maybe some sort of Indian intuition.

  ◊◊◊

  Meg’s surgery had gone as well as possible, and it allowed for her medication regimen to begin immediately. Dr. Raj still wanted to see her twice a week to check her cancer cell levels, administer the correct dosages of medicine, and monitor her chakras. Healing of the body and spirit, remember? For four weeks, Meg and the rest of us got back into the familiar routine from a couple of years earlier. But at the end of that fourth week, Dr. Raj told us he wanted to make a change.

  “Meg, you are strong in mind,” he said during that last office visit. The last time we would ever see him. “Your spirit is powerful. Your energy points need no further monitoring by me.”

  We were confused. What was he telling us? Were we finished with her treatments?

  “What exactly are you saying, Dr. Raj?” Meg asked.

  “I am saying that you are your own guide now on this journey. I do not need for you to come see me twice a week. I will continue to medicate your body, but your spirit is intact.”

  He took a long pause, which was not unusual for him. He was slow and deliberate when explaining things, unlike most doctors we knew.

  “I will want to see you monthly to keep your medications updated,” he continued. “I will supply you at each visit, hopefully decreasing the dosage each time.” Another pause, then he rolled his chair close to Meg. He took her hands in his. “You will beat this disease, Meg. If you never hear me say anything again, know that. You are one of the strongest patients I have ever had. Stay focused, repeat your mantras.” He squeezed her hands. “Win.”

  ◊◊◊

  The nurse came into our room not long after Dr. Raj finished his pep talk to Meg. She had four small boxes that held Meg’s life-saving pills. Dr. Raj signed off on a check-marked sheet of paper and took the boxes from her. Then he described the daily procedure. Two pills with a large breakfast, one with lunch, and one more with a light dinner. Easy enough. And no more driving half-a-day twice a week. Our family life might actually get back to normal. We couldn’t conceal our excitement.

  “Ok, you guys are done for now,” Dr. Raj announced. “But one more thing before you go.”

  He pulled out a local medical center map. Dr. Raj’s office was adjacent to a large hospital complex that took up more than eight city blocks. His trial medications were stored in a building two blocks over. He pointed it out to us. He then took out a red marker and circled the building twice. It seemed insignificant to know that information at the time, but it would become immensely important before long. For the record, I don’t think the good doctor was a fort
une-teller. But I did get the feeling that he knew something that we didn’t. Somehow, he knew we may never see each other again.

  32.

  I tried my hardest to move softly across the damp forest floor. The last thing I needed to do was make the unknown travelers aware of my existence. Our existence. I chose to move southeast to flank them, get a look at them, and then get back to camp to devise a plan. I stopped every few yards to listen for their footsteps. Trot, listen, trot, listen.

  When I got close enough for a good look, I found an oak with a trunk wider than my body. Using the binoculars, I peered around the tree and focused on the group of hikers. Five of them. Damn, my ears had gotten good. Two women and three men. Younger than me, but all adults. They were spread out from each other, as if to better defend themselves in case of an ambush. And they were walking slowly, just as I had thought I heard. They had packs and guns, but that wasn’t abnormal, considering. I didn’t feel intimidated or fearful of them. I had always been a gut guy, and my gut told me they were harmless. And maybe helpful.

  I hoofed it back to our campsite as quickly and silently as I could. The kids had dutifully packed up the tent and sleeping bags. We were ready to move if we chose, but I wasn’t so sure.

  “Alright, guys, decision time,” I started. Then I described the group of hikers to Jessica and Henry. “I really believe these people are like us. No way to know it. But I believe it. What do you think?”

  “Your call, Dad. I trust you,” Jessica said.

  “Ok, Dad,” Henry began, “but let’s be smart about this. If we want to approach them, we need to be careful about it.”

  “True, Henry,” I said. “How about we hike out to the road and wait there. I’m sure that’s where they’re heading anyway. Open air, they can see us, we can see them.” They both nodded in agreement.

  Then Henry came up with an added protection. “And let’s put Jessica in a tree out of sight. Sniper-like. If they aren’t who you think they are, at least she can give us a chance.”

  “Not a bad idea, Henry,” I agreed. “You alright with that, Jess?”

  “Of course, boys.” She winked at us. “I got your back.”

  ◊◊◊

  After we found a tree for Jessica to climb, Henry and I walked out to the empty highway. I was nervous, but I didn’t want to betray that to Henry. It wasn’t long before we heard the group coming through the woods. I saw the first of them get to the edge of the trees and stop. He held up his fisted hand like some platoon leader directing his soldiers to hold where they stood. I didn’t delay our introduction.

  “Hello,” I spoke in a loud but restrained voice. “We mean no harm.” I raised my arms in the air. Henry did too, just as I had instructed.

  The only member of the group that I could see crept out from the trees, his hand now on his holstered pistol. “Your names and your intentions. Now,” he said with authority.

  “I’m Gordon, this is my son Henry. We are traveling the road, looking for companions.”

  The man took three more steps forward, then looked left and right. “Where are you going?”

  “East,” I replied. “About 100 miles. To the university hospital complex.” We kept our arms raised toward the sky.

  I knew the rest of his crew had their weapons pointed at us as he approached, even though I couldn’t see any of them. He looked us up and down as he got closer. He stood tall right in front of us for a few seconds, turning a resolution over in his mind. Then he extended his hand to me. “Jeff,” he said. Maybe he had that same gut feeling about us that I did about him.

  “Hi, Jeff. Good to meet you.” I shook his hand.

  He introduced himself to Henry, then called the others out of the woods. They slowly revealed themselves and walked up to us on the road. First was Paul, then Anthony. The women were Beth and Madeline. They were all about the same age, in their early twenties I guessed. I liked them immediately.

  “So, where are you guys heading?” I asked.

  Jeff spoke. He was the obvious leader of the group. “Same direction as you. We figured it would be easier walking on the highway.” He paused and looked at the others, then back at me. “We could join you two if you wanted?”

  You two. Shit. I had to explain Jessica. “That would be great,” I said with a smile. “One thing though...we’ve got a third wheel around here somewhere. My daughter.” Then I acted as best I could, looking around for Jessica as if I didn’t know where she was. I put my hands around my mouth and yelled out, “Jessica!!! Come on back, honey!”

  Right on cue, Jessica came rustling through the woods behind our new friends. “Hey, Dad,” she said. “Sorry, I got turned around after I got done.” Perfect. The good old pee-break excuse. Jessica’s wit and charm always shone through to strangers. I saw the two young women smile at each other.

  “Jessica, get up here,” I told her. “We’ve met some people. Some nice people. They’re going to join us on our journey.” I couldn’t help but smile as I said it.

  33.

  A NTI-Authority – Leader of the New Unknown (continued)

  Part Five: Discovery

  The innate desire to explore the land that gave him his name had been with Salvador for years. He would drift into sleep as a child with Miss Maria’s tales of Cuba, its people, its beauty. In school, he would find himself lost in Cuban history books during study hours. And then there were the parents who he never knew. He longed for their story, even as he hated them for their absence.

  In the summer of 1977, Salvador slipped secretly into Cuba under cover of darkness and clouds. He made his way to Havana, where he arranged transportation to Vinales, the town where the first Juan Sebastian had started what became a cigar empire. Salvador was determined to live as his oldest-known ancestor had. To perform manual labor. To get his hands dirty. He applied for a job as a farmhand, and soon found peace in the sweat and toil of field work.

  The work weeks were long, but Salvador rose early every Sunday to investigate his family’s history. He attended church services and community gatherings. He spoke with city leaders and common townspeople. His natural charisma gained him access to anyone and everyone who might know information about the Sebastian family tree. Soon enough, he had developed a timeline, up to his father’s disappearance into the Escambray Mountains in 1959.

  After eighteen months of tobacco farming and ancestor research, Salvador’s restless nature led him from Vinales east. To uncover what happened to the father he never knew, he would have to follow the man’s path from so many years before. Salvador hitchhiked his way to the Escambrays, where he found locals who would describe to him what was known as the War Against the Bandits. He learned of the guerrillas who fought against Castro’s overpowering military numbers. He heard the stories of extermination forces walking elbow-to-elbow clearing the region of anti-communist rebels. Finally, he found a man who had known Alejandro Sebastian, and who knew of his death. Alejandro had died as he had lived, with courage and resolve. He had been smart enough to know the futile outcome of his war, but he had fought it anyway. Salvador wept as the man described the last days of his father.

  ◊◊◊

  Once Salvador had learned as much as there was to know of his family in Cuba, he left the country far behind. He traveled for the next fourteen years, from Brazil to Bangladesh and from China to Czechoslovakia. His craving for world culture was insatiable. He was fascinated with the people of the world and what made them different. But perhaps more importantly, what made them the same.

  When he returned to the United States in 1993, the dawn of the Internet was breaking. His fascination with the connection of people across countries and cultures had a new avenue of discovery. Salvador made his way to the tech valleys of California, and he came up with a plan to unite the world.

  34.

  T he night after our final trip to Dr. Raj’s office, I sat down at the kitchen table to organize Meg’s medication. I opened the boxes that he had given us and started separating out
the pills.

  “That’s funny,” I said to Meg.

  “What’s funny?” She was always accusing me of over-exaggerating things.

  “No, seriously. This isn’t right. I’m counting six-months-worth of medication here. He told us we’d have to come back monthly, right?”

  Meg thought back. “Yeah, every month. Definitely.”

  “Well, that just doesn’t make sense.”

  “I’m sure they just made a mistake, Gordon,” Meg said. “I’ll call and find out tomorrow.”

  ◊◊◊

  I couldn’t sleep that night. The good doctor had me thinking too much.

  35.

  I let Jeff lead the way. He struck me as the classic alpha-male. I always let people be who they naturally were whenever I was faced with a group dynamic. My former consulting job, a job that mattered no more, had provided me plenty of experience in dealing with differing personalities. And no challenges to the dominant ones usually meant no problems. Usually. I guess I could’ve been considered a good mediator. And besides, for this group there was only one direction to go and one road to follow. No need to make any waves.

  Jeff instructed us to walk in a pattern. He would be out front, then we would trail behind in two lines of three with the last of us anchoring the rear. The kids would be in the middle of each line. I didn’t let him know that Jessica and Henry could hold their own at that point. Because I didn’t mind the extra protection for them. Beth, Jessica, and Madeline in the first line. Me, Henry, and Paul in the second. Anthony would lag behind us as rear defense.