Brushfire Plague: Reckoning

by R. P. Ruggiero

  Jake’s smiling face was perched in the door window’s frame, “Wake up Sleeping Beauty! Bethany’s back.”

  Adrenaline shot through Cooper and he was instantly awake and searching for the door’s handle. He snaked the belt holding the holster on as he slid out of the Jeep. He buckled it as Jake led him to where Bethany must have been waiting to be debriefed.

  He found Dranko, Bethany, and Miles standing in a semi-circle filled with awkward silence. Bethany and Miles assiduously avoided eye contact with one another. Dranko stood between the two of them, arms folded.

  “We wanted to wait for you, brother,” he said as Cooper walked up.

  “Great, what’d we learn?” He fixed his eyes on her.

  Her eyes drifted up to his, “Junior is wounded. But, badly.”

  “Good. Bastard deserves it,” Miles interrupted vehemently. He’s trying to bait her.

  Bethany gritted her teeth, “They expect him to survive, but he might lose an arm.”

  “Anything else?” Dranko asked.

  “I couldn’t get a word in with the Sheriff. But, there are already notices up around town recruiting new ‘deputies’ to join him and…”

  “Whew, he doesn’t waste time, does he?” Miles interrupted again.

  “Well, this is good news, all told,” Cooper said.

  “How so?” Miles asked.

  “His son is alive, so he shouldn’t be crazy-mad. And, the wounding might be good in the sense that Hodges knows there’s a cost to be paid by a war. It should put him in the mind to negotiate.”

  The trio surrounding him nodded in agreement.

  “So, our plan at three remains what we discussed,” Miles asked.

  “Yup.” Cooper said.

  **********

  The caravan of three vehicles meandered down the highway toward Estacada. The lack of haste was reflective of their collective apprehension. In the lead vehicle, Miles and the two men he had hand selected to attend the meeting with him set the pace. Dranko, Cooper, and two other men were in Dranko’s Jeep. Bringing up the rear was a minivan filled with six men. The plan was for the last two vehicles to listen in on the meeting via walkie talkie. If anything went wrong, they were to come rushing in. The men were all fully armed, rifles or shotgun in hand and a pistol, or more, strapped to their sides.

  Cooper had become adept at smelling the fear of those around him. The Jeep was filled with that faint, familiar odor once more. He fell into his comforting habit of checking the action of the weapon in hand. He racked the bolt on the FAL repeatedly until Dranko told him to knock it off. Then, he shifted to checking the action on his pistol. Dranko exhaled in exasperation. The men in the backseat were similarly preoccupied with their own pre-combat rituals. One was lost, deep in prayer. The other was quietly repeating to himself the various tactical situations they had reviewed as a group before leaving. Dranko was tense.

  “Will you shut it? You sound like Rainman getting ready to storm the beaches of Normandy,” Dranko exploded at the whispering man.

  The man startled, gave a sheepish look to Dranko, and fell silent.

  “Thank you!” Dranko muttered in frustrated appreciation.

  Cooper stopped his own fidgeting with conscious effort. He looked out the window and saw the trees whipping past at a steady forty miles per hour. The sky was clouded and the light fighting its way down was dull and gray. Cooper’s mind drifted to a day much like this one when Elena had been driving up to a wedding being held up at Government Camp. He remembered how her hair had shined even in that dull light and how…

  He was interrupted by the whispering man resuming his mumbling tactical cant. Cooper looked at Dranko, who was rolling his eyes. Cooper couldn’t restrain the smile from breaking across his face. Dranko saw this, raised his hand, and flipped him a long and steady bird. In response, he shrugged his shoulders in the classic ‘what did I do’ way.

  Thankfully, Dranko made the last turn and they were moments away from their destination.

  “Alright, boys, look sharp,” Dranko said as he cranked the wheel, turning the Jeep at the light.

  “Sure thing, Sarge,” the praying man remarked, doing his best to imitate a New Yorker’s accent.

  “Hey, those introductions flew fast and furious back there and I know my mind was much more focused on our planning. But, if we gotta charge in there, guns blazing, it’d be good to know each other’s names. I’m CJ.”

  “I was thinking the same thing, but I was too embarrassed to say anything! I’m Michael,” the praying man said. “Like the Archangel!”

  “Yeah, I’m Rusty,” the whispering man said.

  A long silence passed as Dranko sat silent. I guess he’s mad about something.

  “Our esteemed chauffeur to this confab is Dranko. His Christian name is Paul, but he’s so surly that it’s best to call him by his last name. Otherwise, you risk charming him out of his sour attitude,” Cooper offered, a wry grin crossing his face and imbuing his words.

  “Screw you,” Dranko muttered, gravel in his voice.

  Cooper looked back at the two men in the backseat, as if to say, “See?” Both men chuckled. Dranko made a production out of turning the walkie talkie to the agreed upon channel, as he pulled the Jeep up next to a curb about two hundred yards from the parking lot, but where they could see it. This brought silence to the group.

  “This is Red One. Do you read? Ten Four,” Miles voice crackled over the speaker.

  Dranko fingered the mic, “This is Blue One. Copy. Ten Four.”

  Then, the man leading the group of men in the van, “This is Blue Two. Copy. Ten Four.”

  They watched Miles’ pickup truck lurch into the parking lot. A black Cadillac Escalade crouched in the middle of the lot. Cooper used binoculars to scan the rooftops surrounding the parking lot. He exhaled when he saw nothing. In fact, he didn’t see another vehicle in sight. Hodges must have cleared them out.

  “He’s probably got his men inside the store,” Cooper observed for the group.

  Miles’ pickup came to a stop about ten yards away from the Cadillac. Over the walkie talkie, they heard the rustling as he opened his door and got out. The men in the Cadillac imitated them and soon the two trios faced one another. Hodges was resplendent in a freshly pressed Sheriff’s uniform. The normally dull green uniform was almost shining. He was even wearing the full tassel on his Cavalry-style Sheriff’s hat. I guess he’s going for every ounce of authority to bolster his leverage.

  “Howdy Sheriff,” Miles began.

  “Afternoon, Mr. Stott,” Hodges responded.

  “I’ve got this walkie talkie on. My men are listening in. If anything goes wrong, they will be here in seconds,” Miles informed him.

  Hodges chuckled, “Wise security. Yes, I see their vehicles over there.” He pointed in their direction. “My men are inside and will be out here faster than yours.”

  Miles grunted, “So, let’s make sure nothing goes wrong then?” Cooper smiled on the inside at how Miles adeptly handled that one.

  “Indeed. I believe we are here to negotiate an end to the hostilities.”

  “We think of it as a justified rebellion.”

  Hodges guffawed and then his voice turned deadly serious, “Let’s not get into a rhetorical bullshit fest.”

  Miles voice faltered, “Sure. Our demands have changed.” Cooper cringed and looked at Dranko. He shrugged, indicating he was as surprised. “Junior fired first, killing Keith. Valerie must have more compensation, as do the other men who were killed in the shootout.”

  “Valerie is dead,” Hodges’ voice was flat.

  “What?” Miles’ shocked voice rang out over the tiny speaker.

  “She’s dead. She attacked Junior this morning and died in the scuffle.”

  Cooper saw Miles pace around in a tight circle and then come face to face with Hodges, “Your boy is a load of trouble!”

  “And, I’ll deal with that.”

  “You aren’t doing a very good job lately!” />
  “Watch it, Miles.”

  They could hear a loud and long exhale as Miles gathered himself. “Alright, here’s the deal. For the next six months, one-third of the levy is distributed to the men’s families who were killed today, on our side. After that, the levy is reduced by ten percent permanently. And, we need a civilian oversight board so excess use of authority can be addressed. Finally, Junior is to be stripped of all authority.”

  “Done,” Hodges answered without a pause.

  “Really?” Miles’ shocked answer made Cooper shudder. Rookie negotiator.

  “I just have one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  Despite the static on the hand held radio, Hodges words came through as clear as a lightning bolt on a sunny day, “I want Cooper Adams.”

  **********

  Cooper’s eyes shot to Miles. Over the walkie talkie, his voice came through firm and steady, “I want him, too. That bastard screwed the pooch for all of America.”

  There was a long pause. Cooper watched as Hodges first sneered and then took a step closer to Miles and leaned in. He whispered something in Miles’ ear, which they couldn’t hear. Miles’ face remained flat, controlled. Cooper’s stomach tightened. He looked down and saw that his knuckles were white around the pistol grip of the FAL. He deliberately relaxed them.

  He watched as the two parties separated, got back into their vehicles, and drove away. Cooper shot Dranko an apprehensive look as they fell in line behind Miles’ pickup. He responded with a sympathetic look. Cooper cursed the men in the backseat for preventing him and Dranko from talking freely about what had just happened.

  The drive back was interminable for Cooper. He knew his fate was in another man’s hands and he hated every second of it. Anger flushed his cheeks and his heart was racing. He was much more comfortable when he was able to take action. The enforced idleness and the unknown was killing him. He reflexively balled his fits and uncurled them repeatedly.

  His mind burned. What had Hodges said to him privately? Would Miles sell me out to save his own family? Had Hodges made such an offer? If so, what the hell was Miles thinking about it? Miles hardly knows me. He may not even believe that what I’ve said about the Brushfire Plague is true! Had Hodges figured out from Miles’ body language or facial expression that Cooper was in town? Or, had Miles’ thrown him off with his lie? If he hadn’t, how soon would Hodges come for me? These thoughts tormented him as they drove.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when the tires crunched gravel and they were churning up the driveway toward Miles’ house.

  ***********

  He was at Miles’ side as soon as he clambered out of the pickup. Miles held up one finger, signaling him to wait. Cooper grinded his teeth, but turned away to give him space.

  “Frank and Michael, round everyone up. I’ll tell everyone what happened in five minutes.” The men ambled off in opposite directions to spread the word.

  Miles grabbed Cooper by the arm and led him around the side of the house. Dranko fell in line behind them. When they stopped, they realized that Jake had appeared, as well.

  “What’d he say?”

  Miles’ eyes were full of concern, “He said he knew who you were and that you were with us.”

  Cooper spat, “How the hell does he know?”

  “Who knows? But, he sounded pretty confident.”

  “Bethany?” Cooper asked, no longer concerned with Miles’ feelings about his wife and their delicate situation.

  His face flushed, “Maybe. We could find out.”

  “Does it really matter,” Dranko asked. “He knows. The rest are just details aren’t they?”

  Cooper nodded, “You’re right. The only question now is what are you going to do?”

  Miles rubbed his temples, “Well, he gave me forty-eight hours. We meet again at the same time, same place, day after tomorrow.”

  “That’s not an answer,” Cooper said, squaring his eyes with Miles’.

  He looked helpless, “I don’t know, Cooper. I owe you. For what you did for my mom and what you did for us, here. But, it’s that obligation versus risking an all-out war.”

  “He could be bluffing,” Dranko added.

  Miles shook his head. “I don’t think so. There’s more. Jake, can you give us a minute?” Cooper waved Jake off with his hand. Jake stomped off, shooting them the sharp dagger looks that only an eleven-year-old can master.

  “What is it,” Cooper asked, as soon as Jake was out of earshot.

  “Hodges said that he has help on this one. He said that if I say no, it won’t just be us against him.”

  “Did he say what kind of help?”

  “Nope. But, it could be the Feds.”

  “Or the Governor,” Dranko added.

  “Or, he’s just a damned blowhard,” Cooper cursed. He kicked a clump of forest duff in frustration, “So, Miles. You gonna give me up or not? I need to know?”

  “I don’t know, Cooper.” He looked him with imploring eyes. “I’m sorry. I think I should tell everyone what happened and make it a group decision.”

  “That’s not good enough,” Cooper’s eyes blazed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What are you going to recommend? What you say will matter a lot.”

  Miles looked down at the ground for a moment, and then looked up. The face that greeted Cooper was a tortured one, “I don’t know, Cooper.” Their eyes caught for a moment before he turned and left.

  “Coward,” Cooper whispered in rage. He started to walk away, but Dranko grabbed him by the arm.

  “Ease up, brother. He barely knows you. It’s a big decision on shoulders that aren’t used to it.”

  He looked up at his friend, relaxing a degree, “You’re probably right. But, it still sucks.”

  “That it does, brother.”

  “I don’t want to end up on the run again. We just got here.”

  “We’ll figure it out. We always do. Now, I have to get ready.”

  “For what?”

  “I have to do what I hate the most.”

  Cooper’s brows furrowed deeper, “What?”

  “One, make a speech so these good people don’t throw you out like the morning trash and two is something even worse.” A wry smile crept onto his face, “To accomplish this grandiose feat, I also have to say something nice about you.”

  That brought a smile to Cooper. Then, the two men walked to where the group was assembling.

  ***********

  Miles climbed onto a hood of one of the pickup trucks and waved his arms to quiet the group gathered around him. Cooper estimated it was close to a hundred people, mostly men. Miles licked his dry lips and then rubbed his hands down the sides of his pant legs. Nervous. Slowly, the talking faded to whispers and then to silence.

  “I got a lot to say, so hear me out,” Miles began, his voice raspy. “First, the good news. Hodges agreed to our demands, but…” Miles was drowned out by hearty applause. He waved his arms to quiet them.

  Finally, a robust voice bellowed out from the crowd, “What’s the condition?”

  “He wants Cooper Adams.”

  “Who?”

  “The man,” Miles said, pointing at Cooper, “who helped us plan this thing in the first place.”

  “I thought his name was CJ,” a young woman queried, confused.

  “Wait, Cooper Adams? Isn’t that the guy that has everyone squawking about how Brushfire Plague started?” This time it was Frank, who was bemused by the thought.

  The group devolved into a chaotic frenzy of shouted questions and loud assertions. Mile’s efforts to calm everything down failed. He turned to Cooper, helpless. As Cooper ascended the hood of the pickup, the yard fell silent.

  “I’ll answer all your questions. Yes, I’m Cooper Adams. I’m the guy that told the truth about how the Brushfire Plague started.”

  Several people shouted out in derisive mockery and yelled obscenities.

  Cooper locked eyes with one o
f the offenders, “Look. I wish it wasn’t true. But, it is. You can either believe the facts. The facts I revealed to everyone. Or, you can believe the government that is denouncing me. But, I’ll just ask you one question: what did I have to gain by making it all up?” Cooper’s eyes burned with the intensity born of conviction and only available to the zealot or the truth teller. The other man wilted. My father always said a sincere man is a powerful man. No one else answered his question.

  A raised hand beckoned for his attention and he pointed at a short man who was made shorter because he was flanked by two tall, lanky men, “Let’s put that aside for a moment. Why’d you introduce yourself as CJ?”

  “My middle name is James, so it’s true they are my initials. Why’d I use them? Frankly, I was hoping to stay hidden here. Telling the truth to the world about Brushfire Plague is what forced me, and my son, from our home.” Gain the sympathy of a hostile crowd whenever you can, his father had advised. Cooper pointed down at Jake and the group paused a moment, taking him in.

  “So, the question before us is whether we hand Cooper over to Hodges or we tell Hodges to pound salt,” Miles said. “Personally, I think we tell Hodges to go take a bath in the Clackamas River.”

  “C’mon, Miles. You can’t be serious?” It was Rusty, one of the men who had ridden with them just a short time ago to the meeting with Hodges.

  “And?” Miles retorted.

  Rusty looked up at Cooper, “No offense, man. But, he’s not from around here. You want us to risk a war with Hodges to protect one man? And a stranger at that?” Cooper struggled to keep his face calm. He knew lashing out at the man for saying what many must also be thinking would be a mistake. Silence hung in the air after Rusty finished talking. Cooper saw a dozen or so heads nodding in agreement. Less than I would have thought.

  “Hell, I don’t like that Hodges is in cahoots with the government in trying to get their hands on Cooper,” Frank took a step forward as he began. People moved away to give him space. More importantly, people are leaning in, listening to him. His father had told him often: If you want to know who the leader is within a group, watch who gets listened to. “We are smart people here in Estacada. We know if the government says it’s bad, it must be good. If they want Cooper, it tells me we should protect him.” Cooper was impressed with the man’s oratory; his words shifted from flattery to indignation effortlessly. A number appeared to agree. Cooper noted that they were the better armed in the group.