R. Ruggiero - Reckoning

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.