R. Ruggiero - Brushfire Plague

He used the barely suppressed rage to keep the other thoughts at arm’s length as well. Part of his mind coaxed him to comfort with platitudes about Elena not being sick with this new flu. This voice urged him onward to denial with questions about the real odds of Elena in Portland, Oregon having some deadly bug that had just broken out. She hadn’t been on a plane recently, had she? The questions came further and faster the more he let them be asked. Elena was in superb health, wasn’t she? This was probably just some run-of-mill cold she had picked up. Your friend Dranko always jumps to the worst-case scenario, right? No, the voice told him, don’t you worry, everything will be all right. You’ve had enough ill fortune in your life already, dear Cooper.

Yet, another part of him knew, was one hundred and twenty percent sure, that Elena not only had this new illness sweeping the land, but that she would die. Whereas the one voice reassured and dripped sugar from its lips, this other voice tormented him and its tongue stabbed him in the heart with each word. Yes, she had it and you better get your ass home in time to see her last breath. Tears welled up before he consciously pushed them away. He refocused on his driving as a distraction.

These two voices battled it out for the entire drive home. Cooper cursed again. I need to get home. There, I can do something and can get out of this steel box where I’m trapped and can’t do a damn thing to help her.

When he emerged onto the west slope of Mt. Hood, he regained his breakneck speed to a hundred miles an hour, or more. He was well onto I-84 and nearing Portland, when it struck him.

Accounting for it being a little after four in the morning, the highway was still far too empty. Nary a car or truck were moving in either direction. Except for his car and a handful of other vehicles, nothing was moving. Cooper had been on these roads in the early hours many times before, usually heading out for one of his trips. It had never been this empty.

What he did see were a dozen emergency vehicles, both police and ambulances racing to and fro. Moreover, the police cars—despite his excessive speed—didn’t give him a second look.

When this all sunk in, his stomach shriveled up inside him. This was something different. This was like nothing he’d ever seen before.

A short time later, he pulled into his driveway, cranked his emergency brake and brought the sedan to an abrupt, lurching stop. The first shreds of sunlight were just beginning to light the eastern horizon and only a thin and cold light made its way to his home. The windows reflected darker than the rest of the home, like gaunt, open wounds. His eyes locked onto the upstairs window, into the loft area that adjoined their bedroom. He did so with some meager hope that, somehow, Elena would have recovered and would be at the window, looking down and awaiting his arrival. The window only stared back at him, harshly vacant.

He sprung from the car and raced inside. He wrenched open the door, barely hitting a step on the way up. He sped into his kitchen, his sneakers sliding on the green linoleum floor. When he arrived at the landing, he whirled around the corner, ready to fly up the stairs. Dranko stood at the top of the stairs and beckoned him to halt with his hand upturned in the universal sign for “Stop”. Surprised, Cooper involuntarily did so for a moment.

Dranko kept his hand up and talked to him in a strong hushed voice, “This thing is bad, brother. I don’t think you can help Elena much. Both Sally and Walt are already dead from it and another dozen, just on our block, have come down with this thing. You might not have been exposed…”

Cooper, hearing Dranko’s words, became furious and began again to mount the stairs in rapid leaps, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Nothing…nothing could keep me from her and my boy.” The last words came as his face came parallel to Dranko’s and he nearly spat the words at him. He brushed Dranko to the side with his left arm and finished making his way up and into the bedroom. Dranko moved aside without resistance, lowered his head for a moment in understanding, and then turned back up the stairs to follow his friend at a respectful distance.

Cooper cleared the doorway and stopped dead in his tracks. Elena lay sprawled on the bed, groaning in restless motion. The moaning sounded like a wounded cat curled up in some dark corner of a dead-end street desperately tending its wounds after a losing fight with the alley cat and calling to the world for sympathy. Her eyes were closed, but he could see them moving frantically to and fro behind her eyelids. Her black hair was damp and matted, her face flushed. The sheets clung to her body, soaked in sweat. Cooper almost imagined seeing steam rise from her body; she was so clearly burning up.

To the right of the bed, focused so intently on his mother that he was unaware Cooper had come in the room, sat Jake. A surgical mask, too large for his face, sloppily covering the nose and mouth. But, his eyes told Cooper everything he needed to know. They were sunken in and ringed by sorrowful lines. They were thick with worry, narrowed down to slit-like focus, twitching with every movement or noise of his mother. He hadn’t slept all night. His head lay propped by his hand at his chin, with the arm on his knee.

Cooper took a step toward the bed and for the first time saw Lisa. She rose from her sentry post to the left of the bed and stopped Cooper with a wave of her hand. The scene had so unsettled Cooper that he offered no resistance. Lisa had a mask on as well and her hands were covered by blue latex gloves, the kind so ubiquitous in hospitals and medical offices. She reached to Elena’s dresser and produced a mask and gloves. However, her eyes too were clouded with worry, her brow furrowed so deep that her eyebrows almost touched.

“Here, put these on. I honestly don’t know if they’re helping, but they are worth a try. Put them on, say hello to Elena and Jake. When you’re done, we should talk in the next room,” she said as she handed him the materials, and then exited the room.

Cooper’s gaze followed her as she left. Her tired steps spoke volumes. At the doorway, Dranko met his eyes, returning a deep reservoir of sympathy. His look shook Cooper to his core. She isn’t dead! “Don’t look at me like that!” he hissed. Dranko didn’t display his surprise at his friend’s harsh words, but instead turned, and left the room.

Cooper stood there, pondering for several seconds. Then, he set the mask and the gloves down on the dresser. He took Elena’s hand into his own. Her hand felt light. Withered. The skin was so dry he worried it might flake off in sheaves if he touched her too firmly.

Cooper shifted and looked toward his son. Cooper’s outburst had roused Jake from his intense watch. His round, young face had turned toward his father. His gaze still rested on Cooper, but the faint brown eyes and tense face flew wide in disbelief at seeing him here. Cooper looked at his son and their eyes locked. Cooper moved quickly to his side. He knelt down and caressed his boy’s head into his chest, kissing him on his mash of curly black hair. Jake’s chest heaved deeply once and then he began weeping uncontrollably, the pent up emotion of the last day finally unleashed in a furious torrent. Cooper gathered him in, wrapping both arms around him in a comforting bear hug. Already, he could feel the warm tears on his chest, quickly soaking through his shirt. His own eyes filled with tears, and they remained in their soothing embrace for some time.

Finally, Cooper pulled his son’s face from his chest and cradled his face in both hands. Jake’s eyes glistened and his face was flushed beet red. Instinctively, he knew his son wanted him to tell him things would turn out alright and not to worry. Cooper desperately wanted to comfort his son. But, he was not the kind of man to say ‘everything will be OK’ when those words might well be proven to be untrue. To Cooper, honesty was a sacred trust, never broken. As a young teen, he had seen deceit destroy his father’s life. It had cost him much of his own as well.