Brushfire Plague: Reckoning

by R. P. Ruggiero

  “So, what are you going to say to Hodges? You going to tell him we’re coming for his sorry ass?” Buck Floy asked, eyes alight.

  Cooper shook his head, a wry smile fleeting across his face.

  “Just the opposite. I’ll follow the advice from Sun-Tzu’s Art of War.”

  “What’s that,” Calvin asked.

  “I forget the exact quote, but it’s something like, talk sweetly before waging war. Bark loudly when preparing to retreat. So, I’ll act distraught and beg for my son’s life. I’ll agree to anything he says. Try to lull him a bit.”

  **********

  Cooper fingered the handheld speaker for the ham radio set. Earlier, Dranko had radioed Hodges’ men to arrange a call over the radio between Hodges and Cooper at eight o’clock. The black plastic was cold in his hands. He turned it in his hand, changing the grip, getting its feel. It was a good distraction as he gathered his final thoughts.

  Angela and Calvin had been dispatched to Miles’. They were going to find out how many more would join them in the attack on the compound where Jake was being held. He knew the pool was small. They could only talk to a few highly trusted people. If Hodges got wind of their plan, it would he hopeless before they even started.

  He knew this call to Michael Huynh was critical. He needed more men for this attack to succeed. He wanted to know the answer from Huynh before he talked to Hodges. He hoped that he could raise him quickly and get that answer.

  “You ready?” Dranko asked as he turned the radio on.

  “Yeah.”

  Dranko powered up the unit and fiddled with the dials. Random bits of conversation floated through the speaker as he searched for the station where he had heard Huynh’s men talking before.

  The distinct sharp staccato of Vietnamese told them they had found the right channel. The conversation between two people was animated, stressed. They waited for it to end before transmitting.

  “This is call sign Hammerdog. We wish to talk to the leader of the VPS,” Dranko said, slowly pronouncing out the initials VPS.

  A long pause ensued. Dranko repeated himself, this time adding, “We were referred by Joe Vang. Repeat, Joe Vang.”

  “Moment please,” the accented voice returned. Cooper and Dranko waited for more than a minute. Each second grew longer than the one before and Dranko’s foot tapped nervously. Cooper clenched his jaw and looked at the clock. They still had an hour before the call with Hodges. We’ll be fine if we can get Huynh on the line before then.

  The radio cackled, “State again your business.” The voice was clearer, without an accent.

  “This is Hammerdog. We are friends of Joe Vang. Talked to the leader of VPS before. Need to do again. Business proposition.”

  “We do not talk business over the radio in English.”

  “This is lucrative. Very.”

  Another pause, “OK. Leader can talk tomorrow morning.”

  Cooper cringed and the two men exchanged a look, “Must be within hour. I repeat, very good business.”

  “Give me a minute.” They waited.

  “OK. This channel at seven forty-five.”

  “Thank you. Wilco.”

  Dranko leaned back heavily in the chair and exhaled, “Phew! I think that may have been the hardest part.”

  “I hope so,” Cooper responded and then yawned. “I’m going to crash. Wake me in thirty minutes.” Cooper stood up and headed for the stairs.

  “How do you fall asleep before and after big moments of stress? I’m wired as a junkie right now!” Dranko marveled.

  “Dunno. Just can. Heck, Tom Brady fell asleep right before the first Super Bowl,” he called over his shoulder.

  **********

  A little later, he was woken by the sound of Dranko kicking his shoes. Cooper rose, stretched, let out a loud yawn, and then followed him back downstairs.

  He stared at the battery-powered clock on the wall as the last minutes ticked by. At seven forty-five exactly, Michael Huynh’s clear, strong voice bellowed into the room.

  “This is who you wanted to speak with. Who is this?” Cooper could picture him sitting at his ornate desk, talking on a portable unit.

  Cooper fingered the call button, “This is a friend of Joe Vang’s. We came to you a few weeks ago about protecting our neighborhood. You never heard back from us.”

  There was a pause. Cooper guessed that Huynh received a lot of requests for such things.

  Finally, he said, “Are you the popular one?” Cooper appreciated Huynh speaking in code.

  “Yes, sir. The very one.”

  “Ah, good to hear from you. What can I do for you now?”

  “I need six very well trained and very well armed men. First thing in the morning. Estacada.”

  “That is a dangerous journey,” was Huynh’s response.

  “Yes. Three or four hours, I’d guess.”

  “You told my man this was lucrative. How so?”

  “I have gold.”

  “So do I,” he laughed.

  Cooper smiled. Negotiations underway. “It’s always good to have more, yes?”

  “Certainly. What is your offer?”

  Cooper eased back into the chair, “Three ounces. Plus six M4s, automatic, when it’s done.”

  Huynh laughed. “That would buy you a toothless old man with a squirt gun.”

  Cooper forced a laugh himself, “But, I’m sure it would be a handsome old man.”

  “I like a man with a sense of humor, but let’s get serious.” Huynh’s voice turned cold as a corpse.

  Cooper matched him, “Yes, let’s.”

  “You are far away. Any men I send will face danger both coming and going. Plus, they will face danger on the assignment itself, of course,” Huynh’s voice was steady, dripping with confidence.

  “You speak truth I cannot deny. However, you see what’s happening around us. Since we last discussed, ah, business, the value of gold has increased has it not?” Cooper matched the other man’s demeanor.

  “It is good you agree with me about the peril my men will face. And, yet you offer me machineguns which you do not even yet possess.”

  Cooper countered, “True. But, you’ve heard of the spoils of war, no?”

  “Of course,” Cooper knew he was striking a nerve as irritation crept into Huynh’s voice.

  “Well, that is a sound basis for our deal. I’m able to tell you that with success, what portion of the enemy’s loot shall be yours.”

  Huynh paused so long before responding that Cooper almost panicked and asked him if he we still on the line.

  “I see your point. It is valid. I will accept five ounces of gold and all of the automatic weapons liberated from our adversary,” Cooper could almost imagine Huynh at his desk, hands folded in assurance of getting what he wanted.

  The tense negotiations continued back and forth. Cooper’s blood rose as the minutes ticked by. He was violating one of his father’s cardinal rules of negotiating: never be the only person in the room with a time deadline.

  At seven fifty seven they hadn’t made much progress. Huynh had agreed to two men for four ounces and the weapons.

  “Let me have a second,” Cooper said to Huynh and huddled with Dranko.

  “How much gold can you put to this?”

  Dranko rubbed his chin. “It’s your son, brother. You can have it all if you need it.”

  “How much do you have?”

  “Ten ounces.” That was worth almost $20,000 before the Plague.

  Cooper touched his shoulder, “Thank you.”

  He clicked the handset. Seven fifty-eight. “I want to save us both busy men time. Here is my final offer; for six well-trained and well-armed men, I will give you six ounces of gold, a dozen M4s, and a heavy machinegun.”

  Seconds ticked by in silence.

  “Alright. You have a deal. I can have my men there by nine in the morning. Where shall they meet you?”

  Dranko gave them the map coordinates for a road junction a half mile fro
m his property.

  Eight o’clock. Cooper mopped his brow with a rag and had Dranko begin turning dials to reach the station that Hodges was on.

  ***********

  Static. It hissed over the speakers as minutes ticked by. Cooper forced himself to take rapid, shallow breaths. He wanted to sound like he was on the verge of panic when Hodges came on. Dranko made a few attempt to raise Hodges on the radio and the only response was the disturbing scream of dead air. As the clock changed to 8:05, Cooper’s fear turned real. What did this mean?

  He looked at Dranko, whose eyes were full of concern.

  “Maybe he just wants to take you off guard?”

  Cooper nodded, hoping, and kept up his practice of breathing quickly, so that he would sound out of breath.

  “You there?” The voice actually startled him at 8:08. “Sorry I am late. I had a situation to deal with.” Hodges voice was flat, emotionless.

  “I want my boy,” Cooper responded, deliberately sounding firm, but letting fear seep into his words.

  “That’s easy. Just turn yourself in to me. I’ll release your boy to anyone you want.”

  “What do you want me for? What would happen to me?” Cooper let a false panic rise in his throat.

  Hodges laughed on the other end. “I don’t care a bit for you. But, some people I know want you pretty badly. Bringing you in myself will not only give me a lot of money, but it will help my standing with them. They just want to question you. Probably have you take back the things you’ve said. Then, I’d guess you’ll be on your merry way.”

  Cooper held back the scoff that leapt into his throat and instead played the part, “Yeah, sure. I just want my son to be safe. Can I talk to him?” Cooper’s voice quivered on the last words.

  “Sorry, he isn’t with me.”

  “How do I know he’s safe then?”

  “You’ll just have to trust me.”

  “OK,” Cooper gulped.

  “Can we make arrangements to meet then?”

  “Sure.”

  “Tomorrow. Noon. At the Ranger station just outside of town.”

  “Alright. I’ll be there. I want to warn you.”

  “Warn me,” Hodges exclaimed indignantly.

  “Yeah. You harm my son, and all hell will rain down upon you!” Cooper’s false bravado was pitch perfect.

  “I have no desire to harm a hair on his head. You come in, nice and easy…he goes home nice and easy.”

  The channel went back to ominous static.

  Cooper leaned back in his chair and exhaled.

  “You played that well, brother.”

  Cooper pressed his fingers into his forehead, kneading the flesh.

  “I guess so. Big day tomorrow, eh?”

  “Indeed.”

  Cooper rubbed his temples, “This is driving me crazy.”

  “Yeah,” Dranko grunted sympathetically.

  “I can’t believe Jake is in that bastard’s hands. How’d I let that happen?”

  Dranko leaned in, bringing his face closer to Cooper’s, “Hey, now. Don’t go there. This ain’t your fault.”

  “But…”

  Dranko waved his hands dismissively, “But, nothing. You can’t carry him around in a backpack twenty-four seven. Can you?”

  “I guess not,” Cooper said, unconvinced.

  “This just happened.”

  Cooper brought his eyes from the floor to look Dranko squarely in the eye, “It didn’t just happen.”

  “What?” His friend asked, confused.

  “I could have just kept my mouth shut about what I’d learned about the Brushfire Plague. Look at what’s it’s caused. More violence. Threatened war. Riots. Jake being kidnapped. It’s all a damned mess.” Cooper’s hands slid behind his head and he dug his fingers into his neck, massaging the tense muscles.

  “Yeah, it’s a mess for sure.”

  Cooper chuckled, “Thanks for making me feel better.”

  “You didn’t let me finish. Yes, there’s been a high price for the truth getting out. But, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure. What?”

  “Does water in a creek flow downhill?”

  Cooper wrinkled his eyebrows, “I don’t see what…”

  “Just answer the question,” Dranko demanded.

  “Yes, it flows downhill.”

  “Why?”

  Cooper looked at him dumbly, “Duh. Because it has to. Physics.”

  “And, does Cooper Adams tell the truth? Always. Even when it’s annoying and frustrating. Or stupid.”

  He turned sheepish, “Yes, he does.”

  “Why does he?”

  Something swelled up from deep inside Cooper. Impotence at not being able to lie when it would help him so much. When it would help Jake. The hurt from what had happened to his father and his lost childhood. It ran together with the pain he now experienced watching the same thing happen to his son. A devilish froth of pain and rage overwhelmed him. His face flushed red, his jaw clenched, and his fist thundered onto the table. The ham radio bounced.

  “Because I do. Because I’m trapped inside of this!” His hands motioned his body.

  Dranko was surprised at his friend’s reaction, but let him go. Cooper stood up and paced the room in a wide circle. Dranko watched. Waiting. He knew him well enough that words would come.

  After his fifth rapid cycle around the cramped basement room, Cooper stopped and looked at Dranko.

  “I do have a choice, that’s the difference.”

  “Do you really though, brother? Really?” Dranko stood so that he was at eye level.

  “Hell, I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. But, it doesn’t help with how I’m feeling. I did all of this.

  “What’d you say about Julianne?”

  Dranko’s question stopped him cold, “What?”

  “What’d you say to Julianne. Didn’t you say she made the best decision she could with the information she had?”

  “Me or Angela said something like that. Yeah.”

  “So, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “So, stop this baloney about guilt. You are who you are. You made the best decision you could. What more can be asked of any man?”

  “To make the right decision.”

  Dranko’s arms flew into the air, “You’re impossible.”

  Cooper put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Thanks. It does help. Why don’t we get our gear set up for tomorrow?”

  Dranko nodded and let his friend lead them upstairs to the main floor of the cabin.

  As they prepared their equipment, Cooper whispered to his friend, “I wish I knew what was happening inside Jake’s head. He’s been on a roller coaster these last few weeks. Sometimes he sounds like a grizzled, emotionless, and cynical war veteran. Other times I see the little boy like nothing has happened.”

  Dranko’s eyes shined with concern for his friend, “Yeah, he’s been through a lot.”

  “I just wish I knew how this was affecting him and how it’s going to turn out.” Cooper’s hands grasped his head before he continued, “I mean, he’s seen so much death and destruction. My God, he couldn’t even have time to properly grieve his mother’s death yet. What’s going to happen to his mind?”

  Dranko stepped in so he could put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Look, Cooper. Try not to think about it. There’s nothing more you can do right now. He knows you love him. You keep trying to talk to him. What more can you do?”

  It was as if Dranko had said nothing, “And, what are those bastards doing to him right now? I swear to God, if he’s been harmed I will put a goddamned bullet into the brain of every last man involved in this!” Cooper’s voice shook and thundered as rage overtook him. His fists were tight balls by the time he had finished.

  Dranko’s words were stern, “If they have harmed a hair on his body, you’ll have to beat me to it, brother.”

  Despite his feverish wish to the contrary, Dranko’s words were not helpfu
l to Cooper. He just nodded to his friend’s sympathy, then shook his head and returned to topping off one of the magazines with fresh rounds. The two men continued their work in silence. Cooper’s thoughts continued in torment as circular thoughts of worry, rage, and desperation went unabated for hours.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The first rays of sunlight drifted into the room where Cooper slept, waking him. He was instantly alert and tense. He had slept fitfully, worrying about where Jake was and whether he was all right. He had doubted his decision to wait until morning to attack. The advantage of a surprise night attack versus the advantage of having more men to even the odds battled in his head all night. But, the risk of having Jake accidentally shot in the darkness was too much for him to bear.

  He dressed quickly, slipping into the same camouflage clothing he had worn on the night that they had attacked Ethan Mitchell’s compound. It had only been weeks since that day, but it felt like a lifetime ago. He crept downstairs and worked his way outside, carefully closing the cabin door behind him.

  The brisk air assaulted his lungs when he stepped outside. They stung as he inhaled deeply, the scent of the pine heavy in the air. He strode across the open ground, walking toward the tree line. The ground was saturated from an overnight rain. His ears heard each ‘squish’ as he tromped toward the trees. When he reached the trees, he surveyed the area looking for a suitable spot for privacy.

  He spied a copse of four pine trees clustered in a tight circle and made his way there, about fifteen yards into the forest. He cloistered himself in their cover and knelt, one knee on the ground. He fished a photograph out of his breast pocket and looked at it intently.

  Elena looked back at him, cradling a newborn Jake in her arms. It was taken a week or so after his birth. Her face was radiant, the glow of newfound motherhood emanating from her. Jake’s face was scrunched into a grimace that looked like an evil smile, but Cooper smiled to himself every time he looked at this picture.

  “I need your help today,” he said to the photograph. His voice was quiet, barely making it to the edge of the trees that surrounded him.

  “I have to succeed in bringing our son home.”

  Cooper’s throat tightened as he thought about the alternative, which wasn’t something he thought he’d survive. He’d known too much loss already. If not for Jake, he thought he would have laid down beside Elena when she had died and willed himself to die with her. Without Jake, he there would be no reason to struggle onward in this world turned upside down.