Silence descended upon the overpass as if a pair of earmuffs had suddenly been slapped onto his ears. Cooper could hear his own breath and it sounded like a jet engine sucking air into a vortex. Calvin must be reloading. He knew it would take several seconds for someone untrained under the stress of combat. Fine motor skills go first and fast when your adrenaline is pumping. The seconds ticking by seemed like an eternity. What he heard next made his blood chill.
A loud boom from the enemy’s line. Then another. And another. Damn! They’re back into action. Will be tougher to get them back into cover a second time. And, I hope they don’t get Calvin!
The harsh staccato from Calvin’s position began again. Cooper knew this was his best chance. He ran from out behind the van and sprinted headlong. He skipped taking cover. He knew he couldn’t count on getting through another reload by Calvin. As he passed the inviting cover of a burned out sedan, his body cried out for him to take advantage; like it used to plead for nicotine when he’d quit smoking after Jake was born. He kept going.
A bullet smacked into the asphalt a few yards behind him. He flinched, swinging his arm up in futile defense. They see me now. Just ten more yards! Calvin’s firing ended abruptly as his magazine must have run dry. Bullets whistled past Cooper and he was instinctively ducking and waving his free hand about him; as if brushing off an attack of angry flies. Sweat stung his eyes, his stomach was doing somersaults, and his loins were desperately trying to crawl back inside. His FAL jerked hard in his hands and he almost dropped it. A splinter of wood dug into his thigh and he momentarily winced. Damn! A bullet hit the stock!
Cooper slid behind the safety of the last car between him and where their enemies were strung out. He took a careful minute readying himself and checked the magazine on his rifle, ensuring the safety was off. He pulled the grenade from his pocket and hefted it in his hands. He knew he only had one chance to get it right. The explosive encased in cold metal was comforting in his hand. He kissed it for good luck, pivoted, and threw it over the car’s roof and hoped to God it landed for good effect. He crouched once more and waited for the interminable seconds to pass.
Boom! Concussion pushed past him. Sharp cries of agony rose to the sky, chasing the deadly shrapnel’s wake. Cooper didn’t hesitate. He rose up and surveyed the enemy’s line. The grenade had gone off nearly in the middle of it. He saw no one else visible. He ran quickly to his right, toward the far end of the overpass and reached it without return fire. Feeling like a soldier from the Great War jumping into the enemy’s trench, he crossed in between the small gap between the last car in their barricade and the overpass’ steel girder.
As he did so, he swung his rifle barrel and trained it to his left. Barely ten feet away, someone was curled up into a ball, rocking back and forth. Stick legs in black pants were scrunched up against the person’s chest. Cooper’s trigger finger squeezed twice before he could even process what he was seeing. Puffs of down fluttered through the air as the bullets ripped through the other person’s chest. The body toppled and fell onto its side. Cooper had kept moving; his eyes quickly looking further down the barricade’s line.
Toward the middle, he saw two bodies sprawled out. One was lying face down in a pool of blood. The other must have been very close to the grenade’s blast. A bloody stump adorned the body while a severed arm was lying off to the side. The man’s eyes stared serenely skyward. Cooper inadvertently marveled at the destructive power packed inside something that could be held in one hand. Then, jerky movement at the other end of the line of cars caught his eyes. Arms were thrust into the sky.
“I surrender, sir. I give up,” a thin voice rang out.
Cooper kept moving toward him, stepping carefully past the debris and bodies lying about. The man’s bolt-action hunting rifle lay at his feet. He was dressed in a dirty mélange of civilian and military clothing, black jeans, combat boots, and a woodland pattern camouflage smock were capped by a Burton-branded red knit cap. His head had been recently shaved, as the scalp was two shades lighter than the rest of his skin. Cooper’s face grew puzzled. There was something was familiar about him. He closed the space until just five yards separated them.
“You hear me, old man? I give up,” he called once more to Cooper, in a reedy, nervous voice.
Then it clicked. Woody! Cooper was momentarily shaken that he was, once again, face to face with the leader of the teenagers that he had already confronted twice. The last time had been a bloody affair in his own home.
A devilish smile alighted on Cooper, “You don’t remember me do you?”
Woody’s eyes intently looked Cooper over. Recognition flashed, “Holy crap!” Woody took a step backward and brought his arms down, hands upraised, in front of him.
“What am I gonna do with you?” Cooper’s tone was flat, deadly.
“Please, mister! I learned my lesson this time! I swear it!” Woody was trying to back away, taking careful steps. Cooper followed him, like a wolf cornering his prey. His mind raced. It was people like Woody who caused all the violence that had followed in the wake of the Brushfire Plague. Opportunists. Evil men. Wolves. These are the men who’ve stolen Jake’s childhood from him.
Cooper feigned relief, “Don’t worry, boy. I’m going to take you to jail. That is all.”
Hope came into Woody’s eyes and he ceased his retreat. “Yeah, jail is where you belong.”
Woody’s voice gained strength, “Sure. Which one is working now?”
Cooper’s face grew hard once more, “The kind you won’t ever get out of. You see, my boy could have been OK. Even dealing with his mother dying. But, it was people like you, Woody. People like you who messed him up and stole his childhood with your fucking killing and robbing!” Venom laced his words, spray flew from his lips and he slowly, relentlessly, stepped toward Woody. Each step made Woody’s knees tremble more.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Woody shrieked, “Just tell me which jail you’re taking me too, okay?”
Cooper’s rifle barrel jabbed Woody in the chest. “Hell. That’s the jail I’m taking you to.” Woody’s eyes opened wide. His lips started to form the word, “No,” but Cooper pulled the trigger first. Blood spray plastered Cooper’s chest and face. He spat and wiped his sleeve across his face, as Woody’s body slid to the ground. Woody’s mouth worked wordlessly for a few seconds and his eyes pleaded with Cooper’s. Then, his jaw fell slack and his eyes went blank. His body folded onto itself on the rough asphalt.
Cooper spent a long second staring at Woody’s dead body. He appeared so frail and small, much more so now. The witch’s brew of grieving rage at Jake’s forced march from innocent childhood to harsh maturity was sated, but only for the briefest of moments. By the time he turned and began running back toward Dranko, it was perched firmly once more in the dark recesses of his belly.
**********
Cooper reasoned that since he’d been able to clear the enemy’s line without being shot by their sniper perched in the house, Angela must have wounded or killed him. He sprinted back to where he’d left Dranko, his mind tortured by worry. I’ve paid enough, please don’t take Paul away, too. He covered the ground in a matter of seconds, though it felt like hours.
He rounded the edge of the vehicle’s bumper. Calvin was kneeling, blocking his view.
“It just hurts, like a sonofabitch,” Dranko was complaining.
Cooper’s free hand clasped to his heart and he let loose a long sigh of relief, “You’re alright,” he blurted as he arrived, next to Calvin.
Calvin was beaming, “Yes! He had a bulletproof vest on! Can you believe it?”
Cooper’s eyes met Dranko’s for a moment and they exchanged a look that conveyed his relief and his love for his friend all at once. He didn’t need words. Dranko simply nodded.
“I’m going to check on Freddie, then,” Cooper intoned.
Calvin waved his left hand, “I already did. Angela is with him. He will be fine. He took one through the shoulder, but Angel
a said it was a clean wound.”
Cooper nodded, “Good. I’ll radio the vehicles to come up. With all this gunfire, we need to get out of here as fast as possible.”
Calvin’s head drew back and confusion clouded his features, “Why?”
“You ever see a vulture?”
Calvin nodded, his eyebrows remained drawn together, “Sure. And?”
“Some vultures walk on two legs.”
Calvin drew back once more, but this time in recognition, “Ahhh!”
“Will you help Angela get Freddie ready to move?”
Calvin drifted away as a response.
Cooper fumbled his radio out of its pocket and radioed Julianne and Lily that they should come as quickly as possible. He then turned his attention to Dranko, who was seated on the ground, his rifle lying next to him.
“You alright?”
“Yeah, I think so. I don’t think anything’s broken, but it hurts like hell,” Dranko responded, a grimace on his face, and his right hand massaging where he’d been shot.
“Calvin did well. Very well,” Cooper commented.
Dranko nodded enthusiastically, “I was disoriented for a few seconds after I was hit, but I kept hearing steady gunfire.”
“He was a fool or brave for stepping into your spot and just letting loose.”
“That line is always a very fine one, isn’t it, brother?”
Cooper chuckled, “It is, for sure.”
“What are you guys laughing about?” Calvin’s deep voice rang out from behind him.
Cooper turned to face him, “The thin line between bravery and foolishness. You did really well just now. You saved us all.”
Calvin’s lips pursed, “I just followed the plan.”
“The plan didn’t include Dranko getting shot at jump street. Many people woulda panicked at that. You didn’t.” Cooper returned.
“It was nothing. You two would have done the same.”
Cooper nodded, “Maybe. But, we’ve both been trained. And, I’ve seen trained men wilt under fire. You did very well, Calvin,” Cooper finished by clapping him on the shoulder.
“Sure, thanks. Glad I held up, alright.” Calvin’s eyes grew worried. He staggered and dropped to one knee. Cooper followed him down so he could maintain eye contact.
“You alright?”
“I…I…feel sick,” Calvin said as his body began trembling.
Cooper clasped him by the shoulders, “You’ll be okay. It’s the adrenaline. You’re coming down from the rush of combat.”
Calvin’s face was flushed, sweating, and it had lost its pallor, “I’m gonna be…” A splash of vomit across the asphalt interrupted him. Cooper curled his nose at a smell he abhorred and averted his eyes.
He looked into Calvin’s eyes, “Listen to me. You’re going to shake for a while. It’s normal. And, it’s far better to get the shakes after a firefight than during one!” Calvin mustered a feeble smile and dipped his head in agreement. “Just stay on your knees or sit down, but keep taking deep breaths. It’ll pass.”
The revving of his truck’s engine made him turn his head. He patted Calvin on the shoulder once more and moved toward the sound. He arrived at where Freddie and Angela were waiting just as the vehicles carrying Julianne, Jake, and Lily pulled up. Lily and Julianne dismounted and clustered about him. Jake sat, disinterested, in the truck.
The two women checked in on Freddie’s condition. Reassured, they turned to Cooper, who briefed them on what had happened. Minutes later, they were loaded into the vehicles and snaked their way past the barricade. Cooper stopped his truck on other side.
“What are you doing?” Julianne asked him.
“We need to gather up their weapons. Can you help?” He responded as he got out. She nodded and followed him.
He quickly made his way to the end of the line and began grabbing the discarded weapons and ammunition from the dead. He was back near the truck when he found Julianne staring blankly at the first body she had come to. She was motionless, her eyes fixated on the torn and bloody man that lay at her feet. Her right hand was clasped to her mouth. He kneeled down and rummaged through the man’s pockets, taking the magazines for the rifle he’d carried and the loosened the belt that held the man’s pistol. He reached up, handing the loose magazines to Julianne. She recoiled, stepping back.
He looked up at her, “I need your help. I can’t carry all of this.”
She remained stock still, her eyes unseeing.
Cooper recalled his father’s words. When they’re in shock, sometimes you have to shock them out of it. His father had been talking about his experiences from a bloody strike where he’d helped the longshoremen in Longview.
“C’mon! Snap out of it! I need you,” he barked.
Julianne’s eyes fluttered. Her gaze fell upon him and his outstretched hands. She shook herself and then grasped the magazines he held. He then pulled the man’s pistol belt off of him and handed it to her as well.
Rising, “There you go. Thanks.”
He led her to the pickup’s bed and they deposited the weapons there. Julianne stumbled, still in a daze, back into the cab. He rounded the truck and lurched back in. He found the handheld radio.
“Lily, let me take the lead. We will get a bit down the road and find a place to hole up. We all need to rest.”
“You got it, sweetie,” the old woman’s voice came back.
They drove down the road for a few miles until he spotted what looked like an abandoned house atop a hill. It was in an area where houses were spread out, most having at least a few acres to call their own. The front door was open, shifting in the wind. It looked to be a refurbished farmhouse. The finely manicured lawn and the lack of any garden area, despite the ample land surrounding the home, told Cooper it was likely a professional’s home.
Cooper, Calvin, and Angela approached carefully. As they got closer, they saw scattered bullet holes and partly broken windows across the home’s front. Fortunately, they cleared the home without incident and ensured its vacancy. The home’s furnishings confirmed Cooper’s intuition that this house belonged to someone better off; possibly someone who commuted to Portland. He saw no evidence of firearms being in the home: no safe, empty ammo boxes, or an abandoned rifle case. He shuddered to think what it must be like to be out on the open road without a single firearm. His stomach rolled as he thought about the bodies he’d seen on 82nd Avenue. Without question, some of those poor souls had met their demise without a means of protection.
A wall adorned with family photos, some missing, told him a family had lived here. The pictures gave Cooper pause. Will families ever pose again for family photographs? Hell, will we have pictures at all anymore? He doubted photographic paper was on anyone’s priority list for whatever remained of the disintegrating supply chain. He sighed as he shouldered his rifle and stepped onto the porch to motion the others that it was ‘all clear.’
After the vehicles were pulled behind the house and out of sight from the road, the rest of the group made their way inside.
Chapter Five
Angela cleaned and bandaged Freddie’s wounds more thoroughly. He was soon asleep on a couch in the living room. Calvin did the same in a bedroom upstairs. Julianne fell into an easy chair and just stared into space. Dranko set about cleaning his rifle, moving stiffly, as Lily set up a portable stove in the kitchen and began brewing hot water.
“It’s a mess in here,” she called from the kitchen.
Cooper felt the fatigue, which always hit him after a firefight, begin to consume him.
“Angela, can you keep guard for a while?” Cooper asked.
“Sure. What are you going to do?”
“I’m gonna catch some shuteye. Can you wake me in two hours?” She nodded.
He turned to Jake, “Rest if you want, son. When I get up, we should scout the area and see if we can scavenge fuel or other supplies.” Jake simply stared back at him and nodded numbly.
Cooper ascended the stairs. When
he made it to the landing, the plaintive sounds of Julianne sobbing found his ears. He shook his head. One firefight and most of us are spent. A firefight we barely survived. He found an empty bedroom. A pennant for the Seattle Mariners adorned the space above the bed. Posters of a singer he didn’t recognize plastered the wall opposite the bed. A desk, papers and books strewn across it, sat in the corner. The drawers had been emptied and clothes were haphazardly scattered throughout the room. He stood over the desk and looked at an unfinished sheet of math problems. I think this family bugged out in a hurry. Probably when it first started.
He unburdened himself of his gear. He checked the FAL’s stock and saw the clean hole the bullet had made. Thankfully, it was in a place that wouldn’t interfere with its operation. He set his rifle leaning against the wall, and collapsed into the bed. He was asleep in minutes.
**********
Cooper’s eyes flew open. He’d been dreaming about running across open ground, bullet whizzing by his ears. Jake had been wounded, fifty yards ahead. In his dream, a rifle round smashed into his chest, his arms outstretched helplessly toward Jake, when he awoke. He was panting, his body damp with sweat, when his eyes jerked open and saved him from his nightmare. He startled backwards, seeing Jake asleep and curled up next to him in the bed. Jake rumbled at his movement, but fell back into easy breathing.
His face was placid. Cooper watched him in earnest. His face was soft in slumber. It was the look he had seen on his son’s face countless times when he had looked in on him before he had left on one of his many trips for work. Emotions welled up inside him. He looks like Jake again. He’s a boy once more. Tears ran down his face. His heart began to race. He was terrified because he knew that when Jake woke up, the boy would be gone. His hands clasped together and came to his face. His fingers kneaded in anxiety. His eyebrows drew together, knowing he was powerless to stop the transformation that was so quickly overtaking his son. He desperately wanted to remain in this place forever. Like it was before all this started. He thought of Elena’s body moldering in a cold grave, miles away. He wished that he and Jake could descend these stairs and find her making them a warm breakfast. Instead, he knew they would leave here and confront a world determined to rob them of their lives. His jaw clenched. It’s already taken his mother. It’s already stolen his childhood. His hands became fists. Inside, he raged against his impotence to protect his son. All I can do now is make sure he lives. At least I can do that.
Brushfire Plague: Reckoning Page 11