R. Ruggiero - Reckoning

“Speed and surprise are our friends. No hesitation. Attack and keep attacking until it’s done,” he said as much to himself as to remind Angela and Calvin of the strategy.

“We will get him, Cooper,” Calvin said, patting him on the shoulder from the back.

As they turned into the driveway, Cooper felt the muzzle of Calvin’s pistol pressed against the back of his head. He almost spun around to knock it away from reflex, but caught himself just before.

“We have to sell this,” Calvin explained. He held the pistol so that its silhouette would be prominent by anyone viewing from the front.

“Good idea. Just warn me next time,” Cooper said in a weak joke.

Hodges’ driveway was paved and the Jeep’s tires found sure purchase as they drove forward. Trees crowded the driveway, blocking out the weak sun. In the distance, about two hundred yards ahead, the clearing beckoned them. Much closer, two guards toting rifles stepped onto the asphalt, blocking their approach and motioning for the Jeep to stop.

Damn! There was no time for Cooper to conceal the weapons he carried. His mind spun and decided all in a split second.

“Keep it steady and slow. As you pull up, gun it,” he said to Angela.

“Calvin, take the guard to the right. I’ll get the one on the left. We’ll all be deafened after that,” Cooper continued.

He was counting on that one-half second of delay in the guard’s reaction time to get them through this. That’s all surprise buys you. One half of a second. He hoped Miles could deal with what was about to happen on his end.

They rolled forward. The Jeep was travelling about ten miles an hour, but it felt as if they were travelling at ten inches per hour. C’mon! Cooper’s mind cried out. The guards did not raise their weapons as they approached; they only kept them at the ready in their hands. Cooper thanked God for that. He could see their faces now. The man on the right was young with pimples emblazoned across his face. He carried a shotgun, was dressed in Carhart work clothing, and a black baseball cap with white stitching spelling out ‘CAT.’ The guard on the left was older, probably in his thirties. His clothing was a mottled camouflage jacket and black pants. A green knit stocking cap struggled to keep curly brown hair covered. He had a pistol on his hip and an AK-47 style rifle in his hand; likely semi-automatic.

Angela craftily slowed the vehicle down as she approached them. Cooper lifted his pistol from its holster, keeping every muscle above the dashboard still as he did so. The guards took a half step forward, closer to the Jeep. Angela floored the accelerator and the engine revved loudly. Time slowed.

Cooper lifted his pistol up and rushed off two point-aimed shots at the guard. The pair of .357SIG rounds punched through the windshield in front of Angela. Puffs of clothing exploded outward from the man’s chest and he collapsed to his knees before toppling over. The sound was deafening and concussion from the pistol firing resounded within the cab. Cooper felt the muzzle of Calvin’s pistol leave his head and his pistol boomed just a few inches from his left ear. Flame shot outward in front of him, his left cheek feeling the heat. This shot was even louder than his had been. Stabbing pain shot through his left ear. He guessed his left eardrum had just been ruptured. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the guard drop out of view.

His head was ringing and pulsed from the massive concussion. His hand went to his ear and came back bloodied. The Jeep sped towards Hodges’ home. He shoved the pistol back into its holster and grabbed the FAL from where it rested on his lap. The reek of cordite and the haze of smoke filled the cab. He cranked his window down. Calvin had done the same in the back. Cold air rushed in. The Jeep gathered speed and the trees to either side whipped by. In mere seconds, they were into the clearing and the light. He squinted.

Angela slammed the brakes and the Jeep came to a rapid stop about ten yards from the front of the house.

Cooper spilled from the Jeep, coming up on one knee with his rifle at the ready. His eyes scanned the porch in one fluid motion. His mind cursed in frustration.

Hodges was on the porch, just above the front steps. An antagonizing smile was impressed across his face. His feet were splayed out wide. His posture was strong, confident. Miles was standing next to him, Hodges’ arm wrapped around his throat. His face was riven in fear. His eyes pleaded with Cooper’s for forgiveness and mercy simultaneously. Glistening beads of sweat covered his face and neck. Hodges had a pistol muzzle pressed firmly against his head, just behind his right ear. A two-man team was facing them from the other side of Hodges. Their weapons were a mix of military-style rifles and shotguns—both deadly at this short range.

Cooper saw Hodges’ mouth move, but could hear nothing of what he’d said. His could hear some muffled noises through the ringing in his left ear, but nothing out of his right.

“You’ll have to yell, I can’t hear a thing!” Cooper screamed.

Hodges looked confused for a moment, but then yelled. Cooper saw the veins popping on his neck.

His words were barely discernible to Cooper, despite his exertion, “Nice to see you, Cooper,” Hodges said. His sanguine tone irritated Cooper. The confidence of a man holding a Full House in a high stakes poker game. He ached to wipe that grin off his face, preferably with a paint scraper.

Instead, he forced a smile onto his own, “Likewise.” He kept his rifle up, aimed. By the actions of Hodges and his men, he guessed that Angela and Calvin were doing the same on the other side of the Jeep.

“You really do need to lower those rifles if we are to have a civil conversation,” Hodges said.

Cooper’s mind spun in overdrive. The flurry of options and probabilities raced through. He kept coming up empty.

“What guarantee do we have that if we throw down, you won’t just kill us?” He cared less about the answer than in buying himself time. Time to think.

Hodges belly rolled in a deep laugh, “ You have the guarantee that the Governor wants you alive. Your friends, well, they’ll just have to trust me.”

“That sounds very sketchy to me,” Cooper willed ease into his voice.

Miles caught his eyes again. If they had been hands, they would have been gesticulating wildly. What the hell is he trying to tell me? Cooper couldn’t discern the intended message as he saw desperation, despondence, and panic roll across Miles’ face.

Hodges impatience, however, came through clearly, “I’m going to give you five more seconds and then Miles and your friends are going to get very messy.”

“What does Miles think I should do?” Cooper opted for the direct route.

Miles’ eyes narrowed to slits full of anger and he yelled back at Cooper, “Bethany and Mama would know. Ask them!”

Looking perplexed, Hodges turned toward Miles. For Cooper, it all fell into place. Bethany’s recent revelation of infidelity. His mother, Lily’s, violent death within the hour. Miles’ inconsolable depression over it. He knew Miles was telling him to take the shot while keeping Hodges in the dark.

Cooper’s own eyes squinted. His sights lined up on Hodges’ head, on those gleaming teeth. His finger began depressing the trigger. Hodges knew what was coming, but he was a split second too slow to react. Cooper’s rifle fired. He hit Hodges in the right shoulder. At the same time, Hodges’ pistol went off. Miles’ head disappeared in a ruinous red splash. Blood, flesh, and brain sprayed across and onto the two guards to his left. They both cringed under the impact. These were the men opposite Cooper, so it saved his life, buying him precious seconds to delay on their part.