R. Ruggiero - Brushfire Plague

Cooper breathed in a deep sigh of satisfaction. They had not had a problem assembling a schedule for the checkpoints and patrols. In addition, they had three burial teams sign up and they would begin the first of their grisly work in the morning. This felt right. He had always been a person of action and now that a plan was in motion, he could relax a little. The sun was still shining and the chill had disappeared from the air. Fluffy white clouds moved lazily across the sky, driving east to points unknown. As they had done throughout, the birds flittered on the wind, oblivious to the troubles of man below.

Dranko grunted, bringing Cooper’s attention back down to earth. Cooper turned to face him and noticed an impish smile on his face. Something must be up, I’ve never seen him smile like that! Cooper, Mark, Calvin, Freddie, and Jake gathered around him. Dranko had carefully whispered to each of them and asked them to remain behind after the meeting.

“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.