“Cover him!” Cooper’s shout to the others sounded like the desperate plea of a heartbroken lover.
Dranko was rushing towards the machinegun nest. His run was frantic, stumbling across the uneven ground of the forest. Cooper sighted in on the men manning the machinegun and rushed shots in their direction as fast as he could pull the trigger. His shots smacked into the front of the sandbag and then into those behind the men. The smoking barrel was silent now, swinging towards Dranko. The range was pointblank for a machinegun. They couldn’t miss. The others in their line were a second behind Cooper, but their guns were now blazing furiously at the machine gunners. Two rounds simultaneously hit the man feeding the ammunition and his hands fell from the belt. The gunner was undeterred and the muzzle kept coming.
Dranko’s left arm jerked as an unseen defender’s bullet struck home. He didn’t pause and kept racing forward. He was almost in throwing range and his right arm drew back in the beginning of a throwing motion.
Cooper squeezed more shots in futility at the machine gunner and the sting of tears hit his eyes as he imagined the sure and imminent death of his friend. From the corner of his eye, he saw the small dark stain against the gray sky as Dranko hurled the grenade. Then, the machinegun spat death once more. Dranko flinched more than once as he was hit, and he fell face forward, his body slumping to the ground, bouncing once and then coming to a rest.
The world exploded with a sharp BOOM! Then, the machine and its crew disappeared under a flash of light, smoke, and debris. It had landed squarely inside the sandbagged walls. Dranko’s aim could not have been truer.
**********
Cooper used the deafening lull that the grenade’s explosion caused to race to Dranko’s side. His stomach had dropped out, a sickening feeling of emptiness that started there and extended to make his legs and arms feel numb. He scraped his knees as he slid to the ground, coming to a stop next to Dranko. He wasn’t moving. Two baseball-sized bloody and bleeding exit wounds were on his backside. One was near his right shoulder and the other near his waistline, on the left. Cooper’s heart leapt into his throat when he saw his body rise and fall in a shallow breath.
He dug out the ersatz first aid kit he carried and tore out the plastic-sheathed maxi pad and ripped it open. He jammed it firmly against the wound that was bleeding the worst. He was in the middle of securing it in place with a long piece of cut linen that he had when a face appeared at his side.
It was young, pink, flushed, and sweating. Blond hair fell haphazardly down his head down to his shoulders. It was one of Miles’ men. Cooper couldn’t recall his name.
“Let me take this!” The man was digging into what looked like a medic bag. Cooper’s brain caught up. Doug. That’s his name. The EMT.
He shook his head fervently at Doug, “I gotta make sure he’s okay!”
Doug looked back with desperate eyes, “The attack is bogging down! You need to lead it!” His mouth was inches from Cooper’s as spittle punctuated his words. They both ducked instinctively as a bullet split the air to their right, ripping past them.
His words catalyzed Cooper into action. As Doug started working on Dranko, he surveyed the area. It was true; his attackers were caught in a rough stalemate with the defenders. The advance had stopped. Given the superior cover that the guards enjoyed, a stalemated shooting contest was not a good thing. Cooper knew this. I have to get things moving! He glanced at his watch: 10:56am. Had this all happened in six minutes? Where the hell are my snipers and Huynh’s men?
His heart tore at him and called him a baleful scoundrel when he turned to Doug, “Don’t you dare let him die!” Doug nodded with determined, squinting eyes. Cooper crawled away, saying a silent prayer for his friend’s life. It salved his conscience little.
Cooper made it about ten yards before he found a log he could peer over and assess the situation. As he was crawling, he heard the wail of one of his other men cry out behind him. Another casualty. He hoped it wasn’t one of his friends. He focused on counting muzzle flashes and figuring out the enemy’s defenses. He heard the first deeper-throated cracks from his left as the sniper crew joined the fray. They were firing heavy-caliber hunting rifles with scopes. The first volley found at least one victim. A lamenting, shriek of “Mama!” told him that.
The cabin held at least a half dozen defenders, with at least one weapon firing from both of the two windows on its front side and several gun ports that had been cut through the walls. Spread along the forested area were at least ten other men, clustered singly or in a few pairs in hastily built defensive positions.
Calvin was at his side now. His dark face glistened with the sweat of exertion.
“What is the plan?” He asked. He rolled over and began readying himself to fire upon the enemy’s position without waiting for an answer.
Cooper rolled onto his back and fished the hand held radio out of his pocket.
“Hook One, this is Eagle One. You read? Over.” He used the call signs that they had developed before the attack.
Seconds passed and then he repeated himself.
His radio squelched, “Eagle One, this is Hook One. Over.” Jason’s voice was calm on the other end.
“Where the hell are you? Over.” Cooper abandoned the radio protocol in the heat of the moment.
“Encountered resistance. Eliminated. ETA is 3 minutes to engagement. Over.” Jason maintained radio formality.
“Hurry. Need Aggressive flank attack. Over.”
“Wilco. Over.”
Cooper rolled back over and put his mouth next to Calvin’s ear. He was steadily firing every couple seconds. Cooper was impressed with his fire discipline.
“Work your way down the line. Huynh’s men attack in three minutes. General aggressive advance forward to take advantage of the surprise.”
Calvin nodded and then backed away until he was under good cover. Then, he turned around and crawled back toward the others. Cooper replaced him and began looking for a target of opportunity. His vision narrowed and sharpened. The firing had died down considerably and lonely shots rang out every five seconds or so. Most of these men are untrained and are interested in hiding more than in fighting.
Movement caught his eye. To the left side of the cabin, mottled clothing moved against a bevy of green ferns. The position was oriented to defend the cabin’s right side and it had inadequate cover from the angle Cooper had. He sighted in the FAL. The man opposite him was facing in the other direction, working the bolt on a hunting rifle, readying himself to shoot back at the snipers hidden amongst the trees to that side. The range between them was about a hundred yards.
Cooper drew a bead on the man’s back, breathed in, released half of it, and then squeezed the trigger steadily until the rifle bucked against his shoulder; surprising himself when the rifle finally roared. He’d kept his focus on the front sight while firing, but shifted to the where the target lay. He’d missed just inches to the man’s left. The man quickly rolled to the other side, onto his back, and was desperately searching for the source of the new threat. Cooper didn’t give him time.
The way he had rolled and lifted his upper body off the ground to search for his adversary, now gave Cooper an even better target. He lined up his sights and carefully fired again. This time, the bullet struck the man. It hit him in the chest. His face went wide in shock and then he stared at his chest for several long seconds. It was like he couldn’t believe that he had just been shot. Then, his face went white, blood dribbled out of the corner of his mouth, and then his body went limp.
Cooper didn’t pause to reflect, but resumed his search for another target. Gunfire was sporadic all around him, but he could not get a good look at anyone. He grounded himself, eyes barely peering over the log. Instead, he figured out the next place of cover he would advance to once Huynh’s men attacked. The wait was interminable. Adrenaline was thick in his blood, every muscle grating at the inactivity forced upon them, and his heart raced in anticipation. He pulled the bolt part
way back, visually double-checking that a cartridge was chambered. Dull brass stared back at him, confirming it. He knew the act was unnecessary, but he was desperate for something to do while he waited. He took the opportunity on a more needful task, pulling out the partially spent magazine and inserting a fresh into the rifle. He loaded each magazine to nineteen rounds, instead of the twenty it could hold. In his experience at the firing ranges, loading them to capacity made jamming more likely.
Suddenly, a man was running across the open ground, back towards the cabin. Madness! He must have panicked. Sure enough, the man carried no weapon. Cooper gritted his teeth, cursing the necessity of what he had to do. He drew a bead and fired. He’d guessed the man’s speed wrong and led him too much as the bullet whacked a tree a few inches in front him. A sane man would have hit the deck and sought cover, but he kept running. Cooper re-sighted, breathed, and fired again. The man fell to the ground abruptly, as if his legs had suddenly given out. The puff of fibers spilling into the air showed Cooper he had hit him squarely in the side, just above the waistline. Bitterness flooded Cooper’s mouth at shooting a fleeing, unarmed, man. That man might have made it to the cabin, been rearmed, and come back into the fight. His rationalization calmed his piqued conscience, at least for now. He gritted his teeth in renewed determination, everything for Jake. Yet, his conscience would not be silent: Even a part of your soul, Cooper? This time the answer came back with no hesitation. Yes, anything. Even that.
A fusillade of gunfire rang out from slightly behind the cabin and Cooper knew their best chance to advance and take the cabin had arrived.
**********
He gathered his legs underneath him. Fear screamed at him to stay put and hug dirt, but his mind won.
“Charge!” Cooper yelled with encouragement from the top of his lungs, to benefit those around him.
He rose up and fired blindly, his rifle at his hip, as he ran forward. He knew his chances of hitting anyone was zero, but he hoped that bullets flying through the air would keep at least some of their enemies’ heads down. Around him, he heard similar fast-paced gunfire, as his men mimicked the tactic, just like they had discussed before the attack.
His boots pounded the ground, making the best time he could over uneven ground. His ankle cried out in pain as it was nearly turned when it slipped into a hole. He jerked it free and pressed on. He leapt over another fallen log before a bullet zinged by his right ear. He fell to the ground on reflex. In front of him, he saw a muzzle flash from the cabin. Someone was firing at him from a porthole of sorts. The rifle’s barrel poked out and eyes peered out from behind it. Cooper gave a silent prayer of thanks when he saw the barrel was quivering slightly.
A mini-fireball leapt from the muzzle and a round hurtled over him, to his right. Cooper aimed his rifle and fired a half-dozen snap shots at the porthole. He hoped to either hit the man behind it or at least scare him enough so that he’d withdraw from the position. When he peered through the smoke, the muzzle of the enemy’s rifle lay resting in the dirt. He could not tell if he had, in fact, hit the man or if he had simply pulled back and left the rifle. Cooper charged forward.
Gunfire rang out all around him. To his left, and behind him, he heard someone cry out in agony as one of his men was hit. He did not waste the time to look behind to see who it was. To his right, he heard someone yelling, “I surrender, I surrender!” Behind the cabin, he heard the racket as Huynh’s men lay down a barrage onto the cabin’s defenders. His lungs burned as he sprinted towards the cabin. His heart felt like it was going to explode. His legs were lead weights and his muscles protested his commands to lift them again and again, but he pressed on.
He was surprised when he crashed into the cabin’s log walls unscathed. His back pressed into the logs. To his right, another defender lay completely exposed to him, unaware anyone had made it this far. He was quickly dispatched.
A barrel poked out from another porthole to his left. Cooper stepped back, jammed his own rifle into the hole, and fired. A shrieking scream was the response. Those in the cabin were now in a very bad tactical situation. Up close, it was easier to shoot in than shoot out.
Cooper crashed the butt of his rifle against the door.
“Surrender and you’ll live!” He yelled, trying to get his voice to rise above the din.
“Surrender and we will let you live!” He shouted again.
Someone else had heard him from outside the cabin and the same cry was raised to those who defended the cabin on the outside. There were several seconds of confusion as shots continued to ring out, but gradually lessened to silence.
A tentative voice emerged from the cabin, “How do I know we can trust you?”
“You don’t. But, you’re going to die for sure if you don’t throw down. Like shooting fish in a barrel, you ever hear that?” Cooper yelled back inside.
Seconds passed as a hurried conversation took place inside.
“OK, we’re coming out! Hodges don’t pay us enough for this shit!”
“Come out, arms up!” Cooper instructed them loudly.
He positioned himself so that he could cover the door well. Slowly, the door edged open. The first man that came out was in his fifties, gray beard with a shemagh covering his head. Piercing blue eyes blazed from a man who did not like losing.
“You got us good, you bastard,” he said as he exited, hands up.
“Where’s my boy?”
“That sniveling brat yours? He’s inside. We didn’t hurt him,” the man responded.
Cooper snarled at the insult, but his joy at the rest of what he’d said was overwhelming. His impatience overtook him.
“Get out quickly, hands up!” Cooper yelled. A half-dozen others filed out, hands up, heads down. Outside the cabin, the surrender was proceeding apace as the defenders emerged as individuals or pairs from their defensive positions.
Once the last man was out, Cooper left them under the guard of Calvin and rushed inside the cabin.
The stench nearly overwhelmed him. He spotted two dead bodies. One on the side he had advanced from and the other on the rear of the cabin. Blood pooled with defecation on the floor near the dead men. He guessed some of the other men had urinated, or worse, in their pants as the battle unfolded. Light cascaded in from the gaps in the wooden boards that had been nailed to cover the windows.
There were two chairs in the middle of the room. Their occupants wore hoods, had gags jammed into their mouths, and were tied down. Jake and Julianne! Tears filled Cooper’s eyes as he raced to the smaller of the two figures. His rifle clattered to the ground. His pocketknife was in his hand when he got there.
He ripped the hood off of him and untied the gag in one fluid motion.
Jake’s eyes blinked. His face was dirty. Dried blood ran down from the left side of his mouth and his lip was gashed there. His eyes were puffy, from crying and lack of sleep, no doubt. At first, he shrunk backward when he saw a tall imposing figure standing over him. His eyes dilated to the light and then his eyes grew wide. His mouth moved, but no words came out. His eyes filled up and glistened, wet.
Cooper knelt to the ground and sawed at the bonds that held his arms behind him and then those against his feet. His wrists and ankles were chafed and bloody. Cooper scooped his son into his arms and lifted him from the chair. He felt like a feather in his arms. Jake pulled his head back, looking at his father’s face in disbelief, as if he was trying to convince himself that his father was truly holding him in his arms.
Cooper’s heart was torn in two when sound finally came from Jake. He wailed like a wounded animal. He sobbed deeply, his body wracking against Cooper’s hold. Relief gushed from him. The shock of rescue overwhelmed him. He held his son tightly against him, never wanting to let go. Someone else came in and tended to releasing Julianne. He saw it from the corner of his eye.
He knelt down and placed Jake’s feet on the ground. He cradled his face in his hands, “Are you alright? Are you really OK?”
Jake n
odded slowly. His own eyes were still wide with disbelief.
“I thought…I was…going to…die,” he sobbed between each painstaking word.
Cooper pulled him into his arms once again, “I know, son. You are safe now.”
Jake’s body pulsed against his as the tears continued.
Cooper turned to Julianne. Her face was a bloody mess of caked blood, swollen eyes, and deep purple bruises. Her lips were swollen and cut in several places. Tears ran down her face. A puddle of urine lay under the chair.
“What happened?” He asked purely from shock.
“She fought for me,” Jake surprised him by answering for her.
Her eyes were clouded by fear, but she nodded slowly.
“What?” He asked, confused.
“When they came for me, she fought. She punched. She bit. They had to hit her in the head to get her to stop.” Jake’s words came staccato.
Julianne’s eyes simply pleaded, like an animal in pain.
He softened his look, “Thank you.” His heart stirred. “Thank you,” he said again, absentmindedly. Their eyes locked for a long moment. Something passed between them that hadn’t yet. It scared him and he looked back at Jake.
Jake continued, excited, “She was like an animal. Clawing, hitting, biting, screaming. She scared me!” He exclaimed.
He looked once more at Julianne, in wonder. “Why?”
Her words came muddled by the pain and swollenness around her lips and jaw, “I just did. Something came over me. Like if I could save Jake it would make up for…” Her voice trailed off as she descending into a fit of sobbing. Cooper knew the rest.
“I understand,” he said, reaching out to place his hand on hers.
She shook her head furiously, “You don’t. You don’t! I had to. I owed you. I owed the world! One bit of good is all I wanted!” She was frantic and yelling.
He rubbed her hand, “You did. Jake’s alive. Who knows what could have happened.”
This calmed her for a moment, but then her eyes flew wide open.
Brushfire Plague: Reckoning Page 31