Brushfire Plague: Reckoning

by R. P. Ruggiero

  Cooper welcomed the freedom of making highway speed and, despite the cold, rolled down the window so he could feel the wind whipping past him. Angela gave him a wink as they drove, the speed elevating her mood, as well. Calvin’s face softened, though he kept a sharp lookout down the road.

  “Keep it at 45. That’s the most efficient speed to save fuel,” Dranko advised once again via the walkie talkie.

  “Party pooper,” Cooper bemoaned to those next to him, but complied.

  “Still feels like we are doing ninety, compared to what we were doing,” Calvin offered. Cooper nodded, grinning.

  **********

  Soon after they left Carver, Dranko sped past Cooper to take the lead. Almost exactly five miles east of Carver, he pulled off the road on the left side, next to a distinctive clutch of three white birch trees. He stopped his Jeep, grabbed a shovel from the back and ran do the middle area between all the trees. Before Cooper could even reach him, the dirt was flying in all directions as he dug furiously.

  “What are you doing?”

  Dranko stopped. When he looked up, he looked like a kid on Christmas morning. “I’m digging up my cache!”

  “What?”

  “I stored some supplies here. They were meant for walking out of Portland, so no gas though.”

  “You mean you have stored some gear out here, buried?”

  Beaming, Dranko continued, “Exactly! I knew I might need to walk to Estacada if I’d had to flee my home without proper supplies. Wouldn’t have made it.”

  Cooper shook his head in disbelief, “My Lord, you do think of everything!”

  Dranko’s shovel clanked metal, “Here, help me.”

  Together, they finished dragging out two metal bins that each weighed about thirty pounds. “What’s in here?” Cooper asked as they freed the second one from its hole.

  “Some sealed food, water, some first aids supplies, and a Glock 9mm, with three full magazines.”

  Cooper stroked his chin, “I guess that’s worth stopping for.”

  “It sure was! I’m just happy we’re driving to my cabin instead of having to hoof it. I’m still surprised the roads weren’t hopelessly clogged.”

  “Not enough people thought they could flee this thing. They didn’t all get on the road at the exact same time. That’s what saved us.”

  Dranko nodded and hefted the first metal bin and began walking back to their vehicles. Cooper grabbed the second and followed him. He was still shaking his head at his friend’s thorough preparations when he deposited the bin marked “food” into the pickup.

  **********

  In less than an hour, they were approaching Estacada. “There’s a gas station a few miles coming up. Let’s stop there and see if we can fill up,” Dranko informed him.

  “Roger that, wilco,” Cooper responded.

  As the gas station came into view, Cooper immediately knew it was occupied. Two pickup trucks were parked at either entrance, like watchdogs. At least one man stood up in each pickup bed, rifle in hand. Several men were loitering across the parking lot.

  “It’s controlled,” he called to Dranko over the radio.

  Cooper decreased his speed, so that he could approach slowly. The men on the ground motioned for him to stop just outside the gas station’s parking lot. A man dressed in a hodgepodge of military clothing approached. He was young, in his twenties, with long, dirty, blond hair that contrasted sharply with his military dress. A sidearm was affixed to his hip, and he carried a large bore shotgun.

  “What can I do you for?”

  Cooper rolled down his window, “You have gas for sale?”

  The man rolled the toothpick in his mouth, “That depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “Are you a registered resident of Estacada?”

  Dranko had walked up just then, “Sure. I have a house just outside of town.”

  The man eyed them derisively, “I figured as much. You aren’t from around here?”

  “We’re fellow Oregonians and I have land up here,” Dranko said, doing his best to sound friendly.

  “Well, you gotta register with our Sheriff if you want to buy anything in this town.”

  Cooper’s eyebrows knotted, “What does registration mean?”

  “You know, the usual. Sign up, keep your nose clean, pay your taxes, and swear loyalty to the Man.”

  Cooper’s jaw tightened, “What’s the name of the Man and where can we find him?”

  “Sheriff Hodges is the man. He’s gotten us through this mess. Gotten us organized. You can likely find him at the Thriftway, that’s what used to be the supermarket. That’s where most of the trading happens these days.”

  “Much obliged. We’ll do that,” Dranko said.

  They piled back into their vehicles and drove off.

  “Let’s go to your place first. We can figure out what’s going on with Sheriff Hodges tomorrow,” Cooper radioed to Dranko.

  Dranko responded by accelerating his Jeep and taking the lead position. In twenty minutes, they were driving up the long driveway to Dranko’s cabin.

  ***********

  The driveway was a skinny affair. Only one vehicle could pass at a time. Gravel crunched under Cooper’s tires as he twisted his steering wheel this way and that making his way up the slight incline. About twenty yards in, out of sight of the road, Cooper spotted something odd. A rusted and graffiti-riddled dumpster sat alongside the driveway. It looked like it belonged on the streets of New York, not in a peaceful, green forest.

  He thumbed the walkie talkie, “What’s that?”

  He could hear the delight in Dranko’s voice, “My temporary roadblock. It’s filled with rocks, but a man can move it into position to block the driveway. I have a carjack I can use to prop it up and remove the wheels.”

  “No one can move it after that, I’d guess.”

  “Pretty close. And, if I want to block this driveway semi-permanently, I will fell those two large trees on either side.”

  Cooper could tell which ones he meant. He smiled wryly, “Effective, friend.”

  “The only way to be, brother,” Dranko’s glee came through loud and clear.

  Dranko’s Jeep made it halfway through the next turn before he stopped his vehicle and jumped out. Cooper idled while watching Dranko drop to one knee while examining something very near the ground. He couldn’t make out what he was looking at. After a few seconds, apparently satisfied, Dranko clambered back into the Jeep.

  Cooper’s curiosity couldn’t wait, “What was that about?”

  Cooper’s radio cackled once again, “I put a lightweight line of fishing line across the road, near tire level. Unless someone is being very careful, I can tell if a person has been through here in a vehicle.”

  “Got it. So, I’m guessing we’re clear?”

  “Yes, but when we get up there, we should clear the area, just to be safe.”

  Cooper smiled once more to himself, “I’d expect nothing less from you.”

  They continued driving onward. After two more steep S-turns, they emerged into a large clearing. Off to his left, Cooper saw the cabin. It was truly a cabin, made of logs and gray wattle in the joints. It was small, Cooper guessing twenty by twenty. It was made to appear smaller because the logs themselves were large, thick and out-of-scale to the dwelling’s size. Hmmm, let me guess. Dranko chose logs big enough to stop up to a .50 caliber round? Cooper didn’t have to ask his friend; he was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was right.

  The cabin’s front door glinted gunmetal gray and appeared heavy and thick. It weakened the rustic nature of the cabin, though its windows destroyed it. The “windows” were more like firing ports. Scattered on each of the two walls, he could see three or four small circles of glass, at various heights. He noted that each wall had one that was barely a foot off the ground, so someone could fire out from the prone position. As he completed his survey of the cabin, Cooper noted the metal roof had a skylight cut in. A ground-mount
ed solar array lodged where it had ample access to the south sky.

  His eyes drifted across the clearing. Almost an acre of ground was prepared as a gardening area. The ground lay fallow. Next to that were several neat rows of fruit trees. Given the elevation and knowing Dranko’s no nonsense approach, Cooper guessed they were hardy apples. He spotted a cluster of white beehives set at the edge of the clearing. Finally, a derelict silver bullet-shaped Airstream trailer was grounded opposite the wooden cabin. Sunlight sparkled off its distinctive metal shell.

  Dranko was already out of his vehicle, rifle in hand and moving adroitly toward the cabin. Cooper felt remiss, his mind having drifted as he had taken the scene in. Hastily, he grabbed his rifle and raced to catch up to Dranko and take up the supporting position. He covered Dranko as he approached the front door. Dranko checked it and found it locked. He motioned Cooper forward. Within seconds, Cooper joined him at the door. Dranko fished out his key and prepared to unlock the door. Cooper made ready to clear the cabin as soon as the door was opened.

  “Don’t shoot me! Don’t shoot,” a muffled voice rang out from behind the door. Dranko’s eyes flashed and he dropped his keys in shock. His mouth fell open. His jaw moved, but no words came out.

  “Unlock the door!” Cooper shouted.

  “Promise you won’t shoot, first,” the voice on the other side pleaded.

  “Sure, I won’t shoot you.” Silence ensued. Then, Cooper heard the metallic snicks as multiple locks were disengaged. Cautiously, the door inched open.

  Dranko’s face grew crimson, veins bulging on his forehead. He recovered and slammed the door open. Cooper followed quickly enough to see a man pushed backward by the door and falling in a heap on Dranko’s cabin floor. He was a skinny, young man. Pimples still dotted his face, which he was frantically shielding with waving arms.

  “Don’t hurt me, Mister. You know me! You know me!”

  Dranko and Cooper exchanged looks of surprise.

  “Get up, then. Let me see you!” Dranko’s face was a contortion of rage, curiosity, and impatience.

  Clumsily, the man gathered himself to his feet. He wore blue jeans and a white Budweiser t-shirt. Tan work boots adorned his feet. Disheveled blond hair fell to his shoulders. His facial muscles were tight, in a bewildered and frightened grimace.

  “You remember me,” he nervously croaked. “I can’t remember your name. Mr. Dinko or something like that. But, I helped you install that solar unit a few summers ago.”

  Dranko’s face fell and his body deflated like a fast-leaking balloon. “It’s Dranko. Yeah, I remember you. Tim or Tom, right?” He dropped his rifle onto a nearby couch.

  “That’s right, Tim,” the man said.

  Dranko began pacing the room, agitated hands ran through his hair. In a few moments, he was animated again, “Are you kidding me! I can’t believe it!”

  “What?” Tim asked.

  Dranko drew up in front of Tim, looking him in the eye. “I only had one person ever help me build up this place. I did everything right to keep a low profile here. And, the one person that knew about my hideout is already here when I make it!” He threw up his hands in exasperation and paced a tight circle once again. A scant smile crept onto Cooper’s face. Dranko spotted it and leapt upon him for it.

  He wagged a finger in front of Cooper’s nose, “You see! You call me a cynic! What are the odds? I even hired this kid from two towns over so he wouldn’t be blabbing to locals.”

  Cooper fought the laughter bellowing up from inside, but lost. His chortling made Dranko grow apoplectic. He grew a deeper shade of red, “Sure, laugh at me! This is the story of my life! If it can go wrong, it will. It should be called Dranko’s Law and not Murphy’s.” He ranted as he strutted about the room, arms flapping in exaggerated self-pity.

  Tim remained stoic in the middle of the room. He looked happy to be ignored for a moment. His bulging eyes tracked Dranko around the room as best he could, while remaining still.

  Dranko continued grumbling, but the ferocity began fading.

  “Why don’t we find out what damage has been done?” Cooper asked. Dranko stopped in his tracks, thought for a moment, and nodded his head once. Then, he returned to where Tim was standing.

  “When did you get here?”

  “A week ago,” Tim said, nervously.

  “Anyone else with you?”

  “No, sir. My girlfriend died early from the Plague.”

  “You bring your own food or did you eat mine?”

  Tim’s eyes grew wider, “Both. I didn’t have much at my place when all this started. But, I’ll pay you back, I swear!”

  “With what,” Dranko returned, his voice flat.

  “I’ll work for you. Whatever you need!”

  Dranko squinted, “We’ll see about that. You mess with my guns?”

  Tim’s eyes darted back and forth, “I tried. I was scared with everything that’s happened. I didn’t have one and was scared up here by myself. But, I couldn’t open your lock.”

  “Did you try to break it?”

  Tim shook his head frantically, “No, sir! I didn’t break anything here. I figured you’d show up eventually and I wouldn’t want to, anyway.”

  Dranko cocked his head, suddenly thinking of something, “How’d you get in here, anyway?”

  “That took me two days. Your locks were impossible to pick. I searched all over this place and I finally found your extra key after two days. Putting it under the beehives was pretty clever.”

  “You slept outside those two days?”

  Tim grew sheepish, “No. I did jimmy open one of the windows on the Airstream.”

  Dranko glared at him, “So, you did break something then.”

  “Not really, the lock wasn’t fully engaged. So, I got it open without breaking it.”

  Dranko looked chagrined, “I see.”

  “Look around. I kept your place clean and in order.”

  “I bet that’s true. I didn’t see any trash outside,” Cooper intervened.

  “How’d you get here?”

  “I drove into Estacada, but ran out of gas and couldn’t lay my hands on anymore gas for neither love nor money. So, I left my car and walked up here.”

  “Alright, we need to discuss what to do with you,” Dranko said, and motioned Tim to move outside.

  They followed him.

  “Go stand over in the garden area so we can talk.” The others in their group were milling about the vehicles. Cooper and Dranko walked over to join them. “Don’t do anything stupid,” Cooper called over his shoulder to Tim. Tim nodded fervently.

  “Who’s that?” Angela asked.

  “Proof that optimism is stupid,” Dranko groaned.

  The corner of Cooper’s mouth downturned, “He’s someone who worked on installing the solar unit, so he knew about this place and showed up.”

  “He’s the only person I ever had up here to work on anything! So, naturally and of course, he shows up!”

  Cooper grew impatient, “Yes, but let’s stop complaining and deal with it.”

  “He looks harmless enough,” Calvin observed.

  “What do you remember about him? Behavior. Character.” Cooper asked.

  Finally, Dranko calmed down and grew serious, “Honestly. Good kid. Worked hard. Fair rate. Always on time and stayed late to finish the job.”

  “Anything else?”

  “He did have a brother who was a Meth head. Totally hooked on that stuff. He was really pissed off about it and complained to me about it.”

  “We know he has electrical skills, what else?”

  “He mentioned hunting as a kid with his dad. We should ask him, though.”

  “Did he tear your place up?” Lily asked.

  Dranko shook his head. She continued, “So, you got yourself the world’s best trespasser?”

  He pursed his lips in response.

  “So, let’s make sure his brother or parents won’t be a problem. And, if he’s willing to work, we let him
stay?” Cooper asked the group. Everyone nodded, Dranko joining reluctantly at the end.

  As they walked back to finish the interview with Tim, Cooper pointed to the Airstream, “What’s that all about?”

  “It was my temporary structure up here, as I was building it up. I got it cheap because it needed some work. It’s the world’s best-kept secret. RVs and trailers make the cheapest and quickly set up bug out shelters.”

  Cooper cocked an eyebrow, “Best kept among the one-tenth of one percent of people like you who were getting ready for all this!”

  Dranko chuckled, “Just remember you said it.”

  His eyebrows drew together, “Said what?”

  “That I’m part of the smartest one-tenth of one percent!”

  “Smart? I never said that. Maybe just lucky? Tell yourself what you want.”

  His words failed to wipe the self-satisfied smile off Dranko’s face.

  Tim was kneading his fingers when they came upon him. “So, did I get voted onto the island?” His smile was tentative, nervous.

  “Dunno yet. We have a few more questions.”

  “What about that brother of yours, with the meth problem?”

  Tim tightened his lips, “He’s dead.”

  “Plague too?”

  He shook his head, “Nope. ‘Bout a year ago. Knifed in a bar.” His head wagged back and forth, “Dumbass.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “They moved to Arizona last year. After my brother died, they wanted a change of scenery and a warmer climate, anyway. I talked to them the day after all this broke out. But, not since.”

  “You willing to work?”

  “Yes, sir. Mr. Dranko knows I bust tail.” Dranko cocked his head and raised an eyebrow to show he agreed.

  “You might have to work harder than the rest. We all brought something to this party and you haven’t,” Dranko added.

  Tim looked him straight in the eye, “No problem. I know I got some debt I need to work off for you, anyway.”