Brushfire Plague Read online

  “If you would please, follow me, gentlemen,” Dranko intoned, mimicking an eighteenth century butler.

  The other men exchanged humored looks and fell in line behind Dranko as he walked toward his home. Jake gripped his father’s hand with his left and with his right motioned the universal sign for “he’s crazy” toward Dranko, smiling broadly the entire time. Cooper couldn’t repress a laugh in return.

  Dranko led them through his back door into his kitchen and stopped there to face the group. His face had grown serious and the excitement had faded. OK, this is the Dranko I know, serious as a heart attack.

  “I have something to show you. Some tools that can help us in our current predicament. But, before I can show any of them to you, I need your word you won’t tell another soul what it is that I reveal to you.”

  “C’mon Dranko, what’s with the drama?” Mark asked first.

  Dranko looked straight back at him, “Mark, not drama. Security. I need your word.”

  “Well, how can I promise something when I do not even know what you are going to reveal? I’m the President of the Association; I couldn’t keep it quiet if you had 500 doses of something that would cure this illness, for example. Give us a hint at least,” Dranko shifted his gaze to Calvin as he spoke.

  Dranko shook his head in frustration, “Calvin, my request for silence will enhance the welfare of this neighborhood, I assure you of that. Like I said, I have some tools that will help us through this current crisis, but I can’t show them to you unless I have your word.

  Cooper knew that Dranko was talking about guns or weapons of some kind, so he decided to assist his friend, “I’m in. You have my word. I trust you. Jake you’ll keep it silent as well, right?” Jake nodded quickly and seriously. A forced grave look scarcely concealed a lurking smile. You could tell he was immensely pleased to be in the room during this grown-up conversation.

  “Alright, with your assurance that my silence benefits our neighborhood, you have my word,” Calvin added.

  Mark nodded his head with an ironic corner of his mouth upturned, “Sure. You have my word as well.” Everyone had agreed in quick order.

  Dranko clapped his hands, the excitement returning, “OK then, follow me.”

  He grabbed a set of keys off of the wall and moved to the door that led to his basement. He unlocked the door, flicked on a light, and led them downstairs. The old stairs creaked in rapid succession as they descended.

  At the bottom, a large room off to the right was blocked by a heavy steel door. To the left was a washer, a dryer and assorted detritus of camping gear, cleaning supplies, and tools. Cooper realized now that as long as he had known Dranko, he had never been down in the basement.

  “My Lord, what the hell do you have down here, Fort Knox?” Mark asked incredulously as he noticed the steel door had a large lock combination dial and a handle with five spokes coming to open it. In fact, it did look like a smaller version of a bank vault door.

  Dranko didn’t miss a beat as he fiddled with the dial, “Not Fort Knox; it’s what I call Depot Prudence. You’ll see why I have this security in a moment.”

  Calvin looked at Cooper with an upturned eyebrow and Cooper could only shrug his shoulders, “I know no more than you. Dranko’s never shown me down here.”

  Dranko stepped back from the dial, turned the spoked handle, and opened the heavy door, “Please step in.”

  They ambled into the darkened room slowly. Dranko followed them in and then turned on a few light switches. Their eyes recoiled from the sudden brightness of the multiple banks of fluorescent lighting overhead. Apparently, Mark’s vision recovered quickest.

  “Wow, Dranko what the hell have you got here?

  Now, Cooper could see it too. He involuntarily let out a low whistle.

  Jake shouted excitedly, “There must be a hundred in here!”

  Dranko laughed out loud, “No, no, only a few dozen.”

  Calvin stood gaping, slack-jawed, “Are those legal?” He pointed at a couple military-style rifles that were displayed, mounted on a peg board; the way most men organized their hammers or screwdrivers.

  “Of course,” Dranko responded, with a sly wink that only Cooper noticed.

  They were standing a few feet inside the door. Immediately in front of them, opposite the entrance was a rack that held over a dozen shotguns and hunting rifles, evenly split between them. The hunting rifles seemed nothing out of the ordinary, a mixture of synthetic and wooden stocks, most with scopes.

  To their right were the pegboard-mounted assault rifles.

  “Do any of these go full-auto?” Cooper asked.

  “Only one. The M16. The other two are a semi-automatic AK-47 and a FAL.” Dranko noticed the apprehensive furrowed eyebrows that popped onto Calvin’s face and so he quickly added, “Don’t worry Calvin, the M16 is legal too. Bought and processed through the good ole’ Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. Machine guns, with the right paperwork, are legal here in Oregon.”

  “…and God Bless America!” Freddie sang. At that, everyone laughed.

  Calvin laughed loudest and longest, a deep baritone, and grabbed his sides.

  “C’mon, my joke wasn’t that funny,” Freddie said.

  Calvin gathered himself and shook his head back and forth, “I was a liberal my entire life. I hated guns. Always fought against them. And, now, standing here, I’m as happy as a lark that Dranko has a damned machine gun that we can use! That, my friends, is ironic!” Everyone chuckled once more.

  “Well, the times have changed,” Mark said.

  “Yes. Yes, they have,” Calvin finished with a wide grin.

  Dranko turned his attention to the wall behind them, next to the door. Mounted on hooks on the wall were over a dozen pistols and revolvers of different makes and calibers. He recognized Glocks, Smith and Wessons, Colts, and a few Berettas.

  “Depot Prudence, you say? Damn, Dranko, this is Fort Disneyland!” Mark exclaimed when he had finished scanning the room.

  Dranko tried to remain serious, but couldn’t contain a wide grin from breaking out on his face. He coughed to clear his throat, “Let’s just say I’ve always had an interest in firearms and in being ready for anything that might happen. I tried building this collection up, but always lacked the time or money.”

  Cooper clapped him on the back, knocking him off balance, “How about we just say you’ve always been a pessimistic son of a bitch and we’re all a damn sight thankful for it right about now!”

  Everyone burst out laughing. After it subsided, Dranko spoke up, “Alright, it’s time to gear up, but first some basics.”

  “Let me guess, the first rule of Gun Club is we don’t talk about Gun Club,” Freddie’s quip elicited another round of laughter.

  Dranko let it subside before proceeding. The others gathered around him, in a small semi-circle. Cooper had never seen him like this before, confident and in command around others. Here, Cooper knew they were on his terrain. Firearms and weapons was a subject that Dranko was an expert in; at least relative to everyone else in this room. Dranko spread his feet shoulder width apart, folded his hands together, and began.

  “As a matter of fact, Freddie, the first rule is not to talk about what I have. To anyone. Wives too.”

  “Why not?” Calvin queried.

  Cooper answered so Dranko didn’t have to, “One word: security. You tell someone and then they tell someone. Before we know it, some bad guys find out there are some weapons here and they’ll come looking for them. And, they won’t be coming to politely ask for them. Weapons are in short supply right now—everyone will be looking to get their hands on them.”

  Cooper could tell that Dranko was about to move on, so he stopped him. “Everyone understand this? Silence is the rule. When we leave here today, our story is we each had this weapon put aside or you tell them you got it from me. Everyone agree?”

  Cooper looked around the room, making each man nod his head. When the circle had been completed, he allo
wed Dranko to continue.

  “The rest is pretty simple. You will all leave here with a rifle and a pistol of your choosing. We’ll do this organized. I’ll explain each of the firearms as best I can and then you’ll choose which ones you want. Got it?”

  A series of grunts and nods was his response. “These weapons are now your responsibility. Don’t lose them. You keep ’em on you or locked up at all times. You sleep with it next to you. You shower with it. You lose one, I will be very unhappy and you will not receive a replacement. Understand?” Everyone did.

  “Let me add one thing,” Cooper cut in. “If there’s a fight, and I think there will be, we are going to be the difference. Those with the military-style weapons will be bringing firepower the bad dudes won’t be counting on. Remember that. Surprise is key. If you’re joining a fight, come in from a different direction and lay down as much fire as you can. They will think they’re being hit from their flank by a much larger group. For everyone else, you’re the steadiest hands we have in our neighborhood, so be smart and use your rifle or shotgun to best effect in the fight.”

  The smiles and giddiness left the men’s faces as he talked. Straight lips, furrowed eyebrows, and clenched jaws replaced them. Cooper knew they felt the same tightness in their bellies that he did in his. Contemplating a firefight in your own neighborhood, where you had played ball in the street with your kids and had bar-b-q’s in your backyards, was a terrifying thought.

  Dranko moved to the wall holding the pistols and began explaining the main differences in function between revolvers and automatics. Cooper knew most of the basics and his mind drifted to other needs.

  Two hours later, the group was finished kitting itself out. Cooper hoisted Dranko’s prized possession—a FAL with a folding stock. The FAL was a Belgian-made assault rifle that fired the .308 round that was popular in a lot of hunting rifles. At the right distance, it was powerful enough to drop an elk. Against man, it was a devastating round. When he took it from Dranko’s hands, he could feel the resistance when it came time to let go. Cooper took it because he knew his marksmanship would make better use of the harder-hitting round the FAL fired, rather than the lighter-weight M16 round. It had a twenty-round magazine, so he didn’t feel as if he’d lack for ammunition supply. He kept his own pistol. His was chambered in the .357SIG caliber, which was a good pistol round for penetrating car doors and windshields. He suspected that could come in handy.

  Dranko kept the M16 assault rifle for himself. Freddie had a Dirty Harry-looking .44 magnum revolver on his hip, while Mark had chosen a .45 auto. Remembering the grocery store, Cooper decided not to mention how that pistol had come into Dranko’s armory. Calvin was pleasantly shifting the weight of a wood-stocked, semi-automatic, AK-47 back and forth between his hands.

  “Being a black man in politics, I’m always accused of being a revolutionary. I guess I might as well look the part!” He let loose deep, booming, laughter and the others joined in.

  “Maybe back in college they called you that, but you have a house and mortgage now!” Freddie laughed. It was true, ‘revolutionary’ was the last word you would ever associate with Calvin. He was as mainstream as they came.

  Calvin had a no-nonsense Glock, in 9mm, holstered to his hip. Jake had been given a tricked out Ruger 10/22 that used the diminutive .22 round but looked like an M16 with a synthetic stock, pistol grip, and forearm grip added on. Jake was beaming from ear to ear. He feels like the big boys now. The other men were leaving with an equal mix of hunting rifles with scopes on them and shotguns.

  When they were ready to go, Dranko handed them each a slip of paper with names and a time. “These will be the people you will most likely be doing patrol and guard duty with. Tell them each to be at Cooper’s house at their scheduled time. I will give them weapons and ammunition then.”

  “Why Cooper’s?” Freddie asked.

  “Like I said before, misdirection. If anyone does find out we have some gear, they go to the wrong house,” Cooper answered. When he saw the look of worry on Jake’s face, he winced. He knew there was nothing he could do about it now. My father told me about the burdens of leadership. He never told me they could involve your son shouldering the burden too. In truth, he hadn’t needed to. Cooper had learned that truth first-hand, while growing up. A shiver ran down his spine thinking that his own son might have to learn it the hard way as well.

  Dranko received many thanks as they dispersed. As the group made their way upstairs he called after them, “Thank me by using it all well out there, God forbid the need arises,” he paused, “and keeping your damn mouths shut about where you got any of it!”

  After everyone else had left, Cooper turned to Dranko, “I have to say, you are one cunning bastard. How’d you keep all of this,” he said with a wide sweep of his hand, “secret from me, your theoretical best friend?”

  A sheepish smile swept onto Dranko’s face, “Damn, I just had to keep this from everyone. Too many problems with people knowing.”

  “I wouldn’t have told anyone about it.”

  “True. I trusted you not to tell anyone. Except one person. You would have told Elena. Every man tells his wife everything. He has no secrets from her—except his mistress or his gambling, of course” he laughed at his own joke. Turning serious, “And, I had no idea who she might tell.”

  Cooper looked at his shoes, “OK. You got me there. Well, it’s a damn fine thing, you having all this.”

  “Exactly.” Dranko paused and then the same smile he’d worn before crept back onto his face, “There’s just one more thing.” Cooper cocked his eyebrow as he watched Dranko move to a corner of the room and open a locked cabinet.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” he exclaimed as Dranko turned around, revealing what he had recovered.

  Dranko was smiling like a boy who’d stolen a cookie from his mother’s jar, “I only had one extra, so I had to wait until everyone else had left.” Dranko crossed the room and handed it to him.

  Cooper took the vest, heavy with bulletproof armor plates, “Well, thank you, Dranko. I appreciate your trust.” Cooper nodded to Dranko and the warmth of friendship lingered between them.

  The two men held their gaze for a long pause. Then, Dranko interjected, “Hell, brother, it ain’t trust. I just know you’re a lousy soldier and you’re liable to be shot a dozen times for every one you dish out. You need the protection more than anything else!”

  Cooper returned the smile, “Duly noted. But, there’s no doubt that all of my combat time is going to be pulling your sorry ass out of trouble, so it’s clear that it’s your self-interest in protecting your virtually worthless bag o’ bones that has you giving me this.”

  The two men laughed until they cried. Jake stood silently in the corner, smiling but not fully understanding the men’s humor.

  After the laughter subsided, Cooper looked back at him, “As you’re distributing things at my place, I need to make a circuit of our neighborhood. We need to do some things to restrict access and to create some defensible positions.”

  Dranko nodded, “I was wondering when you’d get around to that.”

  ******

  Two hours later, Cooper met Dranko back at his own house. He and Calvin had sketched out a rudimentary plan for installing barricades and firing positions at each of the entrances to their neighborhood. Cooper had clapped himself on the back for remembering to pull Calvin into the plan early. The main building materials for the barricades would be cars and anything else with enough bulk to stop a bullet. They had come up with a plan to construct a centrally located defensive position as a fallback in case a major attack occurred. Cooper grinned in satisfaction at that.

  Dranko had finished disbursing the last of the weapons and reviewed the plans with Cooper intently. He made a few helpful suggestions.

  “I need to make the circuit and round up the men again. I’d like to get this set-up before nightfall.”

  “Why don’t you just call them up?”

  �
��I don’t have their,” Cooper said seeing the sheet of paper bearing names, weapon, and cell phone numbers that Dranko was holding up, “numbers.”

  Dranko grunted a smile at him.

  “You are one damned fine logistics man, Mr. Dranko,” he said grabbed the list from him and tore it carefully in half, watching with amusement Dranko’s look of horror. “Now, you can help me with the calls.”

  In no time, the men and women had reassembled. Cooper noticed how most of them now walked with more swagger and confidence, carrying their arms at port or slung over their shoulders, as they entered his home.

  He had transferred his sketched diagrams onto a much larger piece of butcher paper, torn off some roll that had supplied Jake with art projects in the past. He wanted everyone to be able to see and understand the plans for the entire neighborhood. He pegged it to the wall so the group of thirty-odd could cluster around it and see it as he talked. As the group was assembling, Dranko sidled next to him and whispered, “Feels like the Sandbox,” referring to their shared time in Iraq.

  “If we were in a tent, sand was filling my boots, and someone else was at the map laying out the mission parameters,” Cooper intoned back at him.

  Dranko punched him in the shoulder, “You’re incorrigible.”

  Cooper turned to the group, “Alright, soldiers…”

  “Soldiers? Hey, Sarge, when we getting’ paid?” Freddie joked. The room echoed with nervous laughter.

  Cooper remained at the front of the room, stone-faced, ensuring the laughter died prematurely, before it could reach its natural crescendo. He stared right at Freddie, “When you pick up that weapon, you become a soldier. What we’re about to go over is deadly serious. It could save someone’s life. More importantly, it could save mine. Or, the person sitting next to you.” He paused and people looked at each nervously. He had their attention.

  Freddie had turned bright red, “Sorry.”

  “There is no apology needed, Freddie. I know you’ll be a good, solid man on the line out there. Let’s review the plan.”