Brushfire Plague: Reckoning

by R. P. Ruggiero

  Cooper and Miles awoke early the next morning, the nervous anticipation of the coming day doing its work. Dranko continued sleeping soundly, as did Lily, Bethany and the children. The two men crept quietly about the house while getting dressed and readying some hot water. With a steaming cup of tea and a dry slice of stove-toasted bread in hand, they went outside.

  “You were lucky you were on propane up here,” Cooper commented, his breath frosting.

  Miles nodded, “Luckier still that we had just been filled up about two weeks before everything went to hell. Wood fired cooking would change a lot of things.”

  “It will change a lot of things. You’ll run dry on propane soon enough.”

  Mile frowned, “Yeah, I know. At least I have a few months to get ready for it. Some of my friends already have. Chopping wood ain’t no joke.”

  Silence lingered between them. Cooper sipped the tea, each time burning his lips. He welcomed the contrast between the cold air and the scorching tea. He breathed in the clean, frosty air deep into his lungs. It burned him, but it woke him faster than any cup of caffeine would ever do. He savored the morning quiet. He wished he could take the peace that surrounded him now and bake it into his body so that he could bring it with him. Must be thinking about the conflict that’s coming up today. Cooper wished he could tell how it would unfold. He took a big bit of the dry, tasteless toast. He washed it down with a burning gulp of the tea. I’d kill for some butter right now. He laughed at his own thought. But, I’d only maim for some coffee.

  “You have any idea how Hodges will react to being confronted?”

  Miles sucked his cheeks in, thinking. Finally, he blew out the air before talking, “I think he’ll be reasonable.” He paused again, his eyes squinting in deep thought. “It’s his son I’m worried about. He’s a hothead. Has been since the day he was born.

  “You ready for today?”

  Miles laughed nervously, “Ha! That’s a good one. “

  He smiled back, “What makes you say that?”

  “I just mean, how do you get ready for something like this? I feel a little like I’m about to deliver the Declaration of Independence to the King or something.” He shook his head in disbelief when he’d finished.

  Cooper finished a drink of tea, blew out a long exhale of steam, “Well, you sort of are doing that. Can I give you some advice?”

  “Always.”

  “Keep what you say short. But, most importantly, pitch whatever you say to the people who are in the middle.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Think about those who are with us right now, but could be talked out of it. Think of those who aren’t with you in the room, but could be won over to support you when they hear what you said. Pitch what you say to those people. What you say will be repeated on down the line.”

  Miles thought for a few moments, chomping down a mouthful of toast, “Why wouldn’t I want to just fire up those who are most supportive?”

  Cooper smiled, “Trust me. Those people are going to be fired up to just be standing up to that SOB. The people you need to think about are those who are there with you, but their knees are wobbling. That’s how you keep and expand support.”

  Miles nodded, “Alright. That makes sense.”

  “So, you know what those kinds of people will want to hear?”

  “Sure, I think so. They need to hear that they might be next. They need to hear that he’s gone too far.”

  Cooper clapped him on the shoulder, “Very good! I think that’s right. And, what do they need to hear about our demands?”

  “That’s a good question,” Miles said, and thought for a moment. “Well, first, I’ll present them as requests, not demands. Then, we just need to make them seem reasonable, which I think they are now—thanks to your help.”

  Cooper gave him a wide smile, “Not bad for a farmer boy from Estacada. You have good instincts here. Trust ‘em.”

  Miles raised his mug in response, “Thank you. It’s mostly just common sense. But, it’s good you made me think it through. Not sure I would have done that on my own.”

  Cooper clanked his own mug against Miles’, “You’re welcome. Some people don’t have much common sense in the first place.”

  Miles laughed at that, “True. We have a lot of them back in D.C., don’t we?”

  Cooper smiled wryly, “Maybe less now.”

  **********

  Miles whiled away the time by pacing about his property. Cooper watched him. At times, he would walk with intense, deliberate focus; head down and unaware of his surroundings. Then, he would gyrate into wild gesticulations and punctuating unspoken words with emphatic gestures. The contrast was remarkable. Miles went from a mild mannered college professor walking on a bucolic campus to a wild-eyed agitator up on a soapbox in front of a mob. Cooper expected the latter would be the more appropriate analogy today.

  Cooper contemplated the various ways that the day could play out. He was most worried about Junior Hodges being there during the confrontation. He knew he was the wild card in the scenario. Junior was a hothead, there was no mistaking that. Then, he had Keith who was raw and emotional from the trauma he was experiencing. Putting the two in the same room was likely to result in an explosion. Last night, he had debated asking Keith to stay out of the fray today, but he had decided he didn’t have enough cachet with the group to pull that off.

  **********

  Dranko’s Jeep rolled down the roadway that led toward town. Cooper was riding shotgun, while Miles sat upright in the backseat. He was quiet and the other two men left him alone. Cooper and Dranko had attempted their normal joke-laden banter to alleviate the tension, but Miles hadn’t found any of it humorous, so they let it lie. Dranko peered ahead intently, focusing on the road and was soon lost in his own thoughts. His left foot was tapping out a nervous rhythm. Cooper fiddled with his Smith and Wesson pistol, checking the slide and trigger function.

  The parking lot was much fuller than it had been yesterday. Their plan had been to arrive over the course of a half-hour, entering in separate groups of two or three men. They didn’t want alert Hodges that anything was amiss. They had decided to confront him at 9:07am. Miles would lead the group. Cooper and Dranko, being new to town, were to remain separated from everyone else. They would disperse away from the group and provide some ‘flank’ cover. Their biggest tactical disadvantage was that they would all have only pistols because security didn’t allow long guns into the marketplace. Meanwhile, the guards would have rifles and shotguns. Cooper knew that if gunfire broke out in a place like this, it would be a bloody mess. At least we’ll outnumber Hodges and his guards by 4-5 to one.

  The emergency brake scratched and the Jeep came to a stop. Cooper turned back to Miles.

  “You ready?”

  Miles looked up at him and nodded. His face was firm, the jaw set and muscles tense. He’s nervous, but resolute.

  “You’ll be fine. Just remember who you are talking to,” Cooper said.

  Miles nodded once more and then exited the vehicle. Dranko and Cooper remained behind. They were going to give him five minutes to get inside and mingle before they entered as a pair. He looked at his watch; it was 8:56am. His stomach tightened. He grabbed his pistol once more and checked its function again.

  “Leave it,” Dranko said, irritated. He’s tense, too.

  Cooper re-holstered his pistol to placate his friend. They watched as other vehicles pulled in and men entered the marketplace in pairs and trios. Cooper spotted some familiar faces from the night before, including the man with the gruff voice who had spoken up several times. He noticed the outside guard watching them as they remained in the Jeep.

  “We should go. We’re drawing attention by sitting,” he said and opened the door.

  He gazed skyward as he exited. It was a rare cloudless day. The sky was azure and beautiful. Cooper’s skin rose up in goose pimples, triggered by the frigid air, but sustained by the anxiety of what was coming. His feet barely touc
hed the ground as he moved in rapid strides across the worn parking lot. Dranko was a step behind him. They crossed without incident into the marketplace.

  Cooper surveyed the scene in rapid fashion. He spotted six guards spread out across the market’s tables and floor. He saw Hodges on the upraised office area with three other men clustered about him; apparently his personal bodyguards. The guards were mixed between rifles and shotguns. Hodges had a pistol at his side. With the guards at the front entrance, that made a dozen guards. He sidled up next to Dranko and they quickly exchanged what they’d seen and confirmed it was the same. Cooper told him where he should go. If where Hodges sat now was the tip, he and Dranko would deploy as the outward edges of an arrow. Their crowd of men, led by Miles, would fill in the area around the tip. These positions would allow Cooper and Dranko to protect the backside of the crowd and cover the guards in that area. Last night, they had made additional plans to have the men in the crowd face outward in all directions. Someone had called it their ‘porcupine defense.’ Cooper moved deliberately to where he wanted to be when it all started. He pretended to browse the tables as he passed, but deflected conversing with the vendors, so that he wouldn’t get delayed. He kept glancing up at Hodges, who was huddled over some paperwork. So far, their plan to go unnoticed was working. Cooper breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

  It proved to be a hair’s breath too soon.

  **********

  The front door clattered on its hinges as Junior Hodges and two men flanking him came bursting in. He wore a self-satisfied smile on his face. He strode confidently across the marketplace, snatching an apple off of one of the tables without even a pretense of paying for it or even acknowledging the offended seller. With his entrance, the place had fallen silent, and Cooper could hear a sharp crunch as his teeth plunged into the apple’s flesh, ripping a good-sized chunk from the core. Watching him from across the room, Cooper saw juice dribble down his chin before he wiped it away with his sleeve. Cooper found Keith in the crowd and was thankful that two of his friends were both holding him steady and shielding him from Junior’s view. Hearing the silence, Hodges looked up from the table. He scanned the room and Cooper saw him surveying around with the larger than normal number of customers. Hodges eyebrows drew together just as Junior reached the stairs and climbed up to stand next to his father.

  Miles moved into position. The men, moving like a school of fish, followed.

  “Sheriff Hodges, we need to have a word,” Miles’ voice rose to fill the silence. His words were filled with anxiety at the start. But, by the time he’d finished the sentence, confidence had displaced that. That a boy, Miles!

  Hodges looked confused for a moment, but then recovered. He moved to stand directly across from Miles, but from the higher position, looking down. The guards moved into a large semi-circle around the crowd of nearly forty men. Cooper and Dranko were outside of that line, giving themselves a strategic position. No one had yet drawn a weapon or unslung a rifle, but every hand was ready to do just that.

  “What is this about?” Hodges demanded, his words coming out strong and forceful.

  “We have a dispute to settle,” Miles answered.

  Someone from the crowd added, “Damn right we do.”

  Hodges mouth tightened and his eyes grew sharp, “Well, what is it? I don’t have all day.”

  “We know you aren’t aware of this,” Miles started. Damn smart to build in a graceful way for Hodges’ hands to be clean in this, even if they aren’t. “But, yesterday Junior Hodges came and kidnapped Keith’s wife Valerie as ‘payment’ for his levy. She hasn’t been seen since.”

  Cooper saw genuine shock flash across Hodges’ face. He could tell it was taking the man the force of will not to turn and engage with his son. His son lacked such discipline.

  Junior’s reedy voice rang out, “I didn’t take nobody, she wanted to come along and have some fun…”

  “You son-of-a-bitch! That’s a damned lie,” Keith shouted vehemently. A friend on his right grabbed his arm with both hands to prevent him from ripping his pistol from its holster. Cooper couldn’t see his eyes, but he could only imagine how they burned in furious hatred.

  Now, Hodges turned to his son, “Keep your mouth quiet, boy.” Junior slinked down like a dog that had just been kicked across the room. He backpedalled until he disappeared behind a partition.

  “Continue, Mr. Stott,” Hodges said, turning back toward Miles.

  “We have three simple requests, Sheriff. First, we want your commitment that people will never be asked for or accepted as payment for our levy. Second, we want the levies reduced by ten percent. On top of that, we want ten percent of the remaining levy to be diverted to Keith and Valerie as compensation for this terrible crime. Third, we want a fair, no weapons allowed, fight between Keith and Junior.”

  There was no hesitation from Hodges, “Done.”

  Like a popped balloon, the tension hissed out of the room.

  Then, a shot rang out.

  **********

  Cooper first saw Keith crumple to the ground in slow motion. His face went slack in surprise. Hands clutched to his chest. A rush of scarlet cascaded past his fingers and began forming a violent blood fall down his chest.

  Then, the thunderous boom smacked his ears. His eyes swung toward the direction of the shot. Junior held a hunting rifle in his hands, the smoke curling haphazardly upward. He was racking the bolt to chamber a fresh round. The dull metallic clanging was heard from across the room. Cooper was surprised he could hear it, given the deafening roar of the single shot that had just been fired. Cooper’s hand went for his pistol. He wasn’t the only one.

  Hodges’ face went wild in panic. He waved his arms in a wide, circling, gesture. His lips formed the word, “No,” but Cooper couldn’t hear him.

  At first, those wielding the faster-to-deploy pistols had the advantage. The room descended into a fusillade of gunfire. Cooper drew on a guard that stood less than twenty feet in front of him, to his left. The man, youngish-looking in his twenties, had a frail-looking growth of hair on his face. He had a shotgun slung on his shoulder and he was desperately trying to bring it into his hands. The sling got caught up on a metal stud that was protruding from his leather jacket. The man’s head jerked around to assist himself in the detangling and his eyes drew back in shock when he saw Cooper’s pistol muzzle bearing down on him.

  He fired. He hit the man square in the forehead. A neat, dark hole appeared instantly and Cooper tried to avoid seeing what exploded outside the back of his head. The man teetered on his feet, his vacant eyes locking onto Cooper’s for an instant before he slumped to the ground, like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. Cooper shuddered at the look the man had given him in death.

  He wheeled to his right, anticipating that the guards from outside would come piling in. As he did so, he saw several guards falling down, apparently hit by the cavalcade of gunfire spitting across the room. Cooper knelt as he turned, to gain the scant cover offered by a nearby table, piled high with metal tools. As he’d expected, two men were swarming inside, pushing past the glass door and coming in with an AR-15 and a shotgun, respectively.

  Cooper fired rapidly at them, not taking proper time to aim. His shots went wide. His fire, from twenty yards away, was close enough to force the men to go tumbling to ground, seeking cover.

  From behind him, and to his left, the sound of an angry buzzsaw cut loose. It lasted all but a few seconds and then an odd silence descended upon the room except for the dull moaning of the many wounded. Cooper couldn’t avoid turning his head. On the raised platform, Hodges stood out in the open, a smoking machinegun in his hands. The machinegun was a Thompson, straight out of a 1920’s gangster movie with a fifty round drum magazine attached. Miles’ group of men had been decimated. At least a dozen men lay slumped on the ground. Some were silent and unmoving, but most were writhing in throes of pain.

  “Truce!” Hodges’ voice thundered across the room, as he held up the
machinegun above his head, using both hands.

  Miles was still standing, despite the many fallen to his right and left. He echoed the word, “Truce!”

  Hodges looked down upon them, “We are neighbors here. Let us attend the wounded!” It was then that he noticed that Junior was not among the standing. Someone must have gotten the bastard. I hope for good.

  Cooper was mesmerized by the scene as it unfolded. Men who had only moments before had been shooting at one other were now gingerly moving past one another to assist the wounded from their respective ‘sides’. The vendors formed a neutral group in this equation and some remained unmoving, while others helped those closest to them. He was amazed that the hastily arranged peace had even happened and more so that it was holding. He attributed it to the power of the bonds these men had held for a long time as residents of a common community. While recent events had quickly driven divisions between them, those bonds still lay below the surface.

  Cooper’s assessment was that half of the guards were either dead or wounded from the first wave of gunfire. He and Dranko exchanged a look and nodded to one another. They avoided joining the larger group, seeking to maintain their charade of not belonging with Miles’ group. Instead, they dithered in place.

  With hasty bandages applied to those still living, Hodges’ deep baritone rang out again, “Retire with your dead and wounded, Mr. Stott. Meet me here at three today, in the parking lot. You and two men. I will do the same. We cannot let the sun set on this day without resolution.”

  Miles nodded to him, “Agreed.” His voice was shaky and he looked to be unsteady on his feet. Cooper knew that seeing bodies riddled by bullet holes and the blood and gore usually untethered the uninitiated. He saw the dark stain down his pant leg and recalled reading once how common it was for soldiers to wet themselves in combat, but that was rarely talked about.

  Cooper and Dranko exited ahead of the main group, but remained to hold the doors open as the wounded and dead were carried out. As Miles passed them, Cooper talked nonchalantly to him.