Free The Myriad Resistance by John D. Mimms Page A

daylight. The cabin did not seem quite as foreboding in the light, it just looked filthier. Every speck of dirt, dust and rodent excrement was on brilliant display in the radiant lavender morning light. It was evident that a thorough cleaning was in order. This task would come later after breakfast and a walk-through of the camp. I had just swung my legs over the side of the cot when Abby pressed a cold towel to my nose.
    â€œYour nose is swollen and it bled last night, dad,” she said.
    I winced in pain causing her to recoil. I forgot about my broken nose. My abrupt dismount from the bed not only reminded me of my nose, it also reminded me of the beating I endured last night.
    â€œI’m sorry, honey; I didn’t mean to scare you. I fell yesterday and it is still pretty tender.”
    She examined my nose with a frown. I could see tears start to well up in her eyes. I was thankful she could not see the cuts and bruises currently concealed by my clothing.
    â€œOh Daddy,” she sobbed. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
    â€œIt’s okay, Abbs,” I said as I stood up and gave her a hug. She seemed as if she had grown in the past few days, her forehead was now even with my chin. She is about an inch taller than Barbara now.
    I felt a lump in my throat as I lamented the loss of my little girl; she was now, for all intents and purposes, a young woman. I still didn’t have any problem addressing her by the nickname she carried since she was old enough to walk. We were heading towards the door when I noticed something hanging around Abbs’s neck glinting in the sunlight. I screwed up my weary eyes and it was as if a light bulb switched on in my head. Hanging around her neck was a familiar pendant. It was a golden ‘S’ about two inches high. The two ends of the ‘S’ were connected with a small piece of clear plastic tubing, roughly making the ‘S’ into an ‘8’.
    â€œWhat is that?” I asked, pointing at the charm.
    She grasped it in her hand at first then held it out for me to see.
    â€œIt’s the infinity symbol dad,” she said as if she couldn’t believe I didn’t recognize it. “It’s the symbol people started using to represent the resistance … to represent what we are doing.”
    â€œWhy?” I asked.
    She stopped and stared at me with disbelief for several long moments. She then removed the chain from her neck. I guess I have been out of the loop. It seems everyone is familiar with this symbol except for me.
    â€œAll of our lives are eternal,” she said, watching me for agreement.
    I nodded.
    Abbs held out the pendant in her left hand, then traced the golden ‘S’ with her right index finger.
    â€œThis part of eternity is our physical existence,” she said. With her index finger, she traced the area with the clear plastic tubing. “This represents our spiritual existence,” she said then traced the entire symbol with her finger. “Our physical and spiritual existence makes up our eternal life or infinity.”
    â€œSo the solid part is us,” I said, tapping my cheek with the palm of my hand. “And the Impals are the clear plastic tubing?”
    â€œWell … yeah, I guess,” Abbs said. “We are no different than the Impals, just at a different point on the symbol.”
    â€œThat’s cool, honey. Did you come up with it?” I asked.
    â€œNo, dad!” she said with an impatient huff. “Everybody’s using it! It is called the Myriad.”
    â€œWhy not infinity?” I asked.
    Abbs shrugged. “Not sure. I think it’s because it represents more than a single infinity, it’s kinda like a multitude of infinites … you know, a multitude of people.”
    My head already ached this morning from yesterday’s activities. The prospect of entering a deep philosophical discussion wasn’t going to help matters. I