Brushfire Plague Page 8

The overweight man’s mouth went wide, gaping in surprise. His hands flew up into the universal sign of surrender. The empty bag of Cheeto’s fluttered downward in a lazy spiral. In a flash, Cooper braced his pistol onto the door frame of his pickup and shouted, “Freeze, don’t!” He trained his pistol onto the center of the man’s back. From his periphery, he saw Dranko on the opposite side of the pickup, his own weapon deployed into action.

  Mr. Porsche kept moving without a flinch of hesitation. His own pistol was drawn and was rapidly being brought to bear on his intended victim. The other man’s jean’s suddenly turned dark near his groin, his bladder having let go in reaction to the shock of fear hitting his body.

  Just as the man’s pistol came around, Cooper fired twice in rapid succession. Dranko must have as well because Mr. Porsche was simultaneously flung forward and then pushed to his left from the impact of multiple rounds. The overweight man was splattered in blood, an impromptu Rorschach of crimson covering the Oregon Duck’s yellow logo on his sweatshirt. Mr. Porsche’s shiny steel pistol clattered to the ground and he fell forward, grabbing the overweight man by the shoulders. The two men looked at one another in a shocked gaze. Then, Mr. Porsche slid to the ground into a deflated heap.

  The man’s sweatshirt was quickly soaked in blood. He began trembling and shaking. Cooper yelled, “Cover me,” to Dranko and moved around the truck’s door, his weapon still pointed at the apparently dead man. The impact of the bullets had lifted him out of his leather penny loafers and Cooper inadvertently stepped on one as he advanced. He used his foot to pitch the would-be attacker’s body over. The overweight man bent over and vomited, spewing bits of bright orange Cheetos all over the ground.

  The body let out one long raspy breath. Mr. Porsche’s eyes gazed blankly skyward. His chest and right side were a red ruin. Dranko’s shots had caught him just in front of the shoulder blade.

  Cooper lowered his pistol and Dranko stepped out from behind the hood of the pickup. The overweight man collapsed into a haphazard seated position on the ground.

  Cooper put a hand on his shoulder, “Breathe easy. Take a deep breath. You’re gonna be OK.”

  As the tension drained away, Dranko leaned over, resting his hands on his knees and forced a laugh, “Man, can’t I catch a break?”

  “Whad’ya mean?”

  “Why couldn’t the punk have snapped before we had wasted an hour in line,” Dranko responded.

  “You are an incurable pessimist with a capital P.”

  “I stand accused, but it’s just the reality-based way to look at things.”

  “Really? I see that we saved someone’s life. You see that we wasted an hour of our day.”

  Dranko smiled back, “You knew before you married me that I was a half-empty kind of guy.”

  In their banter, they barely noticed the squealing of tires as the other cars in line made a swift escape from the area. The overweight man sat immobilized, staring stupidly at them, moving his eyes from one to the other as they spoke.

  “True, I did know that. But, you promised me you’d change,” Cooper emphasized the last word with falsetto.

  Dranko laughed deeply, from his belly, out of breath, “OK, you win. This time.”

  An older man with an uncombed raft of white hair came running out of the gas station’s mini-store. He wore a dark blue smock and stained khakis, “I called 9-1-1. All I get is biz-zee. Five times, I call. Nah-ting.” He spoke in a thick Russian accent.

  “Don’t worry about it. The cops’ hands are full today. Go back and keep calling, eventually you’ll get through.” Without another word, the old man turned back sharply, almost clicking his heels in obedience, and then ran inside.

  Looking down at his bloody sweatshirt and wiping the blood and vomit from his face, the overweight man finally spoke, “I just wanted some gas. I didn’t want anyone to die.”

  Cooper kept his hand firmly planted on his shoulder. “What’s your name, son?”

  “Curt.”

  “Curt, this wasn’t your fault. This guy just lost it. Don’t twist your mind out of joint over it.”

  Curt nodded his head, eyes downcast, “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” although he didn’t sound convinced. He raised his head to look at Cooper and Dranko, “Thank you by the way. You guys saved my ass, for sure.”

  “No problem. Just do me one favor, will you?”

  “Sure, anything.”

  “Go get yourself some water from inside. Drink it down and don’t drive anywhere until you’ve settled down. Here’s my address if the cops show up and you need a witness to what happened.” He’d pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled it onto a paper towel.

  Curt tipped his fingers from his forehead, “Got it. Thanks again. I know where you live. When things settle down, I’ll bring you something to show my appreciation.”

  “Don’t worry about it. If the situation was reversed, you would have done the same.” He didn’t tell him what was so abundantly clear. It’s going to be a long while before things settle down.

  ******

  The next gas station they drove to had a shorter line, and they were both able to top off their tanks without incident and get home forty minutes later.

  As soon as Cooper stepped into his house, he smelled it. Things had become much worse since he’d left. He leapt up the stairs, taking three at a time. He spilled into the room to find Lisa asleep in the chair next to the bed and Jake perched at the foot of the bed peering intently at his mother. Cooper leaned the shotgun against the wall. Despite his loud entrance, Lisa remained asleep, snoring lightly. She must be dead on her feet with what she’s been doing the last few days.

  Cooper stood next to his son and patted him on the head lightly. He raised his eyes to look at his wife, afraid of what he might see. The bed was soaked in her sweat. She seemed much smaller than before. In the large bed, she thrashed about in delirium, like a boat tossed around by a furious storm at sea. Occasionally, she would say a few words and then devolve into unintelligible mumbling. Each time, Jake would give a start, hopeful of some word from his mother. Cooper moved his hands to son’s shoulders and offered a firm grip as comfort. They watched her like this as the hours of the day passed by.

  At some point, Lisa awoke and attempted to give Cooper a medical diagnosis. He didn’t listen. He already knew. Lisa wandered off to attend to others in the neighborhood. Hopefully, she can help some of them, Cooper thought bitterly.

  Around mid-day, he force marched Jake downstairs to eat something. They ate their tuna fish sandwiches in silence. Neither tasted the food they ate. In between bites, they would look at one another squarely in the eye, vacant, with shocked looks on their faces. Jake looked at his father and gave a simple nod, as a tear ran down his face. Cooper could think of nothing else, but to offer a similar nod in return.

  They left the dirty plates and half-eaten sandwiches on the table and numbly walked back upstairs to resume their watch. With each step, he knew he was learning what walking your last mile felt like. He walked slowly, zombie-like, barely feeling his feet touch the ground. His body felt heavy, each step an effort to make. Everything sounded muffled, as if his ears were full of cotton. His vision was slightly blurred with the sharp sting of pending tears.

  Once upstairs, Cooper returned to offering what comfort he could to Elena. A fluffed pillow. A wet cloth. A kiss on her forehead. The day passed like this until the late afternoon.

  Without warning, her fever broke and the frantic thrashing ceased. The immobility, wracked now by bouts of coarse coughing fits, was much worse to watch. Each new outburst was worse than the one before. Her body was tortured by each round, which grew longer and louder. Still, she remained unconscious.

  As the light gave way to dark, Elena fell silent. Mercifully the coughing abated. Their room remained lit by the glow of the orange streetlight. Neither father nor the son bothered to turn on a light. Cooper moved so he could sit on the edge of the bed and grasped Elena’s hand. He motioned Jake to her
other side. Jake laid in the bed, next to his mother, and grasped her hand tightly with both hands. He looked at his father with glistening eyes, wide open in grief and fear.

  “Tell her whatever you want, son. I think it is time.”

  “Mama, you can’t die. You just can’t. Not yet. Please, mama, no!” Jake’s voice shifted from soft whimpering, to a high pitched whine, to a plea laced with anger. His plaintive wail cut Cooper’s heart to ribbons. Tears filled his eyes. He leaned across Elena and embraced Jake.

  “OK, son. OK. I don’t want her to go either.”

  Jake pushed his father away and stared back at him, eyes alive with rage, “No. She can’t die! I won’t let her.”

  Elena let loose with a rattling cough that sounded like her lungs had come adrift and were hurtling around, loose, inside of her chest. They both looked at her with a mix of shock and fear.

  Cooper lowered his voice, “I know, son. I know. If there was anything we could do, we would be doing it. But there just isn’t.”

  “Why haven’t you taken her to a hospital? You haven’t even tried!” Jake hissed sharply in a half whisper and punched his balled fists into his father’s chest.

  Cooper pushed him back, grasping his fists, “The hospitals are full up, and you can’t get there. Besides…”

  “You didn’t even try,” Jake interrupted.

  Cooper held up his hand, palm out, “Now, listen. The doctors don’t have anything, anything that works on this bug. I wasn’t going to have your mother die in some overflowing hallway or parking lot in some hospital gown!”

  Cooper’s crescendo surprised Jake and he remained silent as Cooper continued, lowering his voice again, “I love your mother as much as any man can love a woman. But, I love you more. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret later…not saying to her while you have the chance.” The bitter sting of his own last words with his father bubbled up. “The one thing we control, right now, is how we say goodbye.”

  Jake began to utter a protest, but Cooper’s sharp look belayed him, “It is time to say goodbye, son. Say goodbye to her now and you can protest to the heavens later. I know she wants to hear you tell her just how much you love her and…” His throat tightened, eyes filled with tears, and he could not continue.

  “And how much I’ll miss her,” Jake finished for him. He looked his father, his eyes soft in sympathy.

  “Yes, and how much we’ll miss her.”

  Cooper and his son spent the next hour telling Elena goodbye. They alternated between tearful goodbyes and happy reminisces. She drew her last breath with her husband and her only son holding her tight and kissing her on the forehead and cheek.

  Elena died at 8:07 in the evening. Cooper’s heart was rent asunder and he cried unabashedly. His deep sobs contrasted sharply with his son’s high pitched weeping.

  Cooper didn’t know that his troubles were only just beginning.

  Chapter 8

  A few hours later, just before midnight, Dranko found them asleep. Elena’s corpse lay on the bed. Cooper and his son were in the bed next to her, collapsed in exhaustion from grief. Jake lay curled up to against his father in the fetal position.

  Dranko stepped quietly to them and then nudged Cooper awake.

  “What’s up?” he asked groggily.

  “Nothing. Just wanted to check on you. I’m sorry brother,” Dranko said, his eyes drifting to Elena’s body.

  Cooper looked confused, momentarily, and then remembered. He gazed longingly at his wife. His lower lip firmed, “Thank you. I’ve grieved as much as I can now. More will come, I know that. But, right now, I’ve got to put it all aside.” He paused and took a deep breath, reaching down and grabbing her cold, stiff, hand, “I promised her I’d protect our boy. And, that is what I have to do. It starts now,” he said as he placed her hand on her chest and looked determinedly at Dranko.

  Dranko squeezed Cooper’s shoulder hard, “Right. He does need you now, more than he has his entire life.”

  Cooper rose from the bed, stretched his arms out wide, yawned and then asked, “In the morning, will you help me take her to the funeral home?”

  “Sure thing. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to stay here tonight and keep an eye on things. Your house is better positioned to survey the neighborhood than mine. From what I’ve been hearing, I think it’d be a good idea.”

  Cooper suspected that his friend also wanted to keep an eye on him, so he smiled and nodded in return. They just don’t make friends like Paul Dranko anymore. “Sounds good, but you wake me for second watch. You need to sleep, too. ”

  “Deal.”

  “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, brother.”

  Dranko made his way downstairs. Cooper heard every squeak and groan from the wooden steps. He made a makeshift bed on the ground with pillows and blankets and then gently laid Jake down on the floor to sleep. He didn’t want his son to wake up next to his dead mother. He lay down next to him. Within minutes, he was fast asleep as well.

  As first light rose, Cooper went into the living room and turned on the TV, looking for news. He kept the volume low to prevent waking Jake. He quickly found CNN. He noticed immediately the absence of graphics and bottom-screen scrolling news updates that had been omnipresent for years on newscasts. The sound was off-kilter. The announcer’s makeup and clothing were makeshift, as well. I guess everything is a bit ragged now. He was quickly fixated by the deluge of new developments.

  “…stated Doctor Jake S. Simpson, Deputy Chief at the Center for Disease Control here in Atlanta. The reports of deaths from the plague continue to come in to our news center from the CDC. The latest report, now six hours old, is of over five million people in the United States who have succumbed to this disease.”

  Involuntarily, Cooper took a step backward and gasped. Five million! He couldn’t believe it. He began walking automaton-like backward until his legs brushed the sofa. Then, he softly collapsed into it.

  “We have only scattered reports from around the world. The best estimates are that between one hundred and two hundred million dead. The Chinese government has not released any firm numbers of their casualties, but reporters on the ground indicate that they have been only mildly affected by the Brushfire Plague thus far. They have taken aggressive quarantine efforts, including reports of blanket arrests of anyone who recently travelled outside their borders. In addition, much of Africa has been spared the worst from this onslaught. While the Plague appears to have simultaneously broken out across the world on every continent, Africa has appeared to only have had limited secondary exposure from travelers. However, we have received the first reports out of Australia of the plague’s outbreak there.”

  Cooper stopped listening for a few moments, trying to digest what he’d heard. The numbers were staggering. This was already worse than the Spanish Flu Pandemic, with no end in sight. Worse still, that pandemic had taken over a year to run its course. This swath of death had occurred in just a few days.

  “Widespread rioting and acts of violence have been reported in most major cities across America. Many small communities have been so afflicted, as well. Authorities are urging people to remain calm, to stay in their homes, and call emergency personnel if there are any problems. Leading medical experts have issued statements to remind people that, while this illness is extremely deadly to those who come down with it, that many people appear to have immunity to it. All research medical resources around the globe are frantically working on a cure and a vaccine for this new virus.”

  Cooper could only shake his head in disbelief.

  “In business news, all of the world’s stock exchanges remain closed during this emergency. In fact, most commercial and industrial activities have ceased altogether given the rampant closure of borders around the world and the massive absenteeism at workplaces and factories worldwide…”

  Cooper staggered from the living room to the kitchen. He was famished after the tumultuous day before. He could smell the sausa
ge and eggs before he started cooking. He added toast, orange juice, and a pot of black coffee to round out the breakfast. Midway into the cooking, Dranko and Jake stumbled into the kitchen. Jake’s eyes were bleary and blood-shot. He dragged a red blanket lazily behind him that had caught up on his leg. Dranko was shirtless, but was struggling to find the sleeves of a ratty black t-shirt, which advertised some cheap brand of whiskey.

  Cooper looked intently at Jake, “Good morning, son.”

  Jake looked up and offered a tepid smile, “Good morning, Dad.” Cooper pulled him close, hugged him tightly and whispered in his ear, “Come what may, we’ll be together through this thing.” Jake pulled away, looked at him hopefully, his eyes laced with doubt, and began buttering the toast in dull silence.

  “Take your seats, gentlemen. Dranko, will you grab some plates and silverware? Everything is almost ready.”

  They ate in silence, but ravenously. Jake tore his toast to pieces, ripping them into his mouth. Dranko bit a pork sausage link in half, fat spurting out and stinging him in the eye. Cooper devoured his eggs in single bites and yellow yolk dribbled down his chin. He wiped it off with a slice of toast and ate half of it in a single bite. A half-gallon of orange juice disappeared between them amid loud slurping noises as they gulped it down. All told, a dozen eggs, almost a pound of pork sausage links, and a half a loaf of bread were consumed.

  Five minutes later, sated, they all sat back almost simultaneously.

  Cooper surveyed the scene. Not a speck of food remained, plates were picked clean. Jake had butter smeared across both cheeks and his fingertips were wrapped in grease from the pork. He was furiously licking them clean now. Dranko had bits of pork grease, yolk, and crumbs from the toast coating the better half of his goatee. Cooper could only imagine what he looked like.

  “My, we must look like a trio of starving men who’ve just emerged from prison and had their first meal!”

  He burst out laughing. Loud, side-splitting chortles filled the room. Tears streamed down his face and he gasped for breath. Dranko and Jake first looked at him, astonished. Then, looking from Cooper to one another, they too fell into uncontrollable laughter. That caused a new spasm of guffawing. Soon, they were all doubled over, clutching frantically at their sides, and waving at each other to stop.