R. Ruggiero - Brushfire Plague

When Dranko woke him up, his eyes were moist and the pillow was damp where his head lay. I hope that’s the vision of his future, he thought as he dried his eyes, got up, and stretched. His alarm clock sat blank, the numbers dark. Electricity is still out, so it wasn’t a temporary problem. He looked at his watch; he’d been asleep for almost exactly one hour.

Five minutes later, he was dressed and downstairs. Dranko had a steaming cup of coffee ready for him. The table was spread with maps and photographs of Mitchell’s estate.

“How’d you do all this?” Cooper asked incredulously.

“The coffee is instant. I boiled the water on my camp stove. The maps and the rest are from the miracles of the Internet,” he paused as Cooper gave him a quizzical look. “Oh, I’ve got a generator so I can still run my computer. And, I have a network card so I’m not limited to the local net being up and running to get onto the Web.”

“You really did think of everything, didn’t you?”

Dranko only grinned in return.

“Where’s Angela?”

“Right here,” the voice came from behind Cooper and he swung his head to see her, “I was just checking in on Jake.”

“How is he?”

Her full face was alight with optimism, “Lisa was just here a half hour ago. She was surprised that he hasn’t degenerated like most everyone else. He still has a fever, but it hasn’t worsened. As you know, it usually does. She said to tell you to not get your hopes up, but that this was an unusual sign.”

Cooper closed his eyes and breathed a deep sigh, “Well, that makes our visit with Mitchell more urgent. Jake may have just a little more time. If we can find some kind of cure,” he stumbled trying to find the right words, then gave up. “There’s more time, that’s all.”

Dranko nodded sympathetically, “What’s the plan?”

Cooper reviewed the photographs, which were top-shot satellite images from Google Maps of Mitchell’s home. He showed Dranko their likely line of approach and two backup approaches if those were compromised. They each pointed out potential concealment points for any guards that might be there. They discussed how they would operate once inside the home.

“I think we’ll be OK once we get to his home. I’m confident that we can handle any rent-a-cops that he has employed there,” Cooper concluded.

“We don’t know the quality of who he has. I wouldn’t be surprised that a guy like him has top-notch security,” Dranko said.

“What you need is a distraction. You should let me help. I can snipe from here,” Angela said, indicating a hill that overlooked Mitchell’s estate. “Given how rusty I am, even if I don’t hit anything, they will be forced to send someone, or more, to investigate.”

Cooper’s hand went to his chin as he contemplated her suggestion, “But, what will they do if they catch you?”

“They won’t. I’ll be gone long before they get close enough. They will be coming up that steep hill if they come on foot. And, it’s across the road, so I’ll hear any vehicle and can cut back on the reverse slope well before they reach me. It’s really low risk.”

Cooper looked intently at her, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Dranko filled me in. I’m not going to lie to you, I’m going to shoot to wound, not kill. But, that I can do to help you. And, I want to do that for Jake. The only real question is, does Dranko have a good sniping rifle for me to use?”

Cooper and Dranko laughed for a moment before Dranko responded, “My larder has been depleted for sure, but there are still a couple of choices left. I have a nice Remington, scoped, medium caliber. It has more than enough range, is accurate, with low recoil. The smaller cartridge will increase your odds of wounding versus killing too.”

Angela nodded, “Sounds perfect. What time are we leaving? I should go find Lisa and make sure she can be here with Jake.”

“We should leave soon, by nine. I don’t want to be driving into the West Hills too late. We might get stopped. So, we’ll go out there early. Stay out of sight and then hit Mitchell’s estate at three fifteen in the dark and early,” Cooper suggested.

Angela and Dranko nodded. Angela left to find Lisa while Dranko went to retrieve the rifle for Angela and other needed supplies. Cooper gathered up a shotgun and pistol, and soon was methodically cleaning and oiling them.

Dranko was back first, after only being gone for ten minutes. “You rolling with the shotgun?” he asked.

“Yes. I figured you’d have the full-auto M16 so you can deal with anything on our way in. I’ll take point once we’re close-in and inside. The shotgun will be ideal for that. The old maxim of war is that the louder side wins. This will give us that advantage on the inside, without question.”

“I never understood the absurdity of bagpipes going into battle until I read about that very fact. So, I’m guessing you’d like one of these?” Dranko said as he held up a pair of fragmentation grenades.

Cooper sat halfway up in astonishment, “Where’d you get those for Chrissakes?”

“It pays to be forward thinking, and have friends in the right places. You want one? I only have two.”

“Damn straight,” Cooper answered. Dranko tossed him one and Cooper caught it, giving him a reproachful look. “A pessimist should never toss a live grenade to a friend in a living room.”

“Maybe I don’t think you’re such a great friend. Have you seen all the trouble you’re getting me into lately?”

“Trouble? Hell, you used to worry about falling over and breaking your leg when you’d put your pants on in the morning. At least now I’m giving you something real to worry about.”

Dranko chuckled and then Angela’s voice caught them both by surprise, “Are you old women ready to stop flirting with each other?”

Cooper and Dranko looked at her, then each other, and shrugged their shoulders in exaggerated fashion. Dranko handed Angela the rifle, solid and made for hunting deer. “I only have one box of shells for it, which is why we hadn’t already distributed this one. But, for tonight’s work, it will be plenty. I brought this for you too, just in case. He held up a small pistol with an extra magazine.

Angela took both weapons from him. She checked the actions and practiced racking the bolt on the rifle a dozen times. Keeping the muzzle pointed at the floor, she dry-fired at least as many times, to get a feel for the trigger pull, “Very nice. Balanced. The bolt throws fast and smooth. The trigger is light, consistent, and it breaks clean. The glass on it looks sharp and clear.”

“It holds four rounds in that box magazine. Don’t forget, with the bolt open, you can top off the magazine.”

Angela nodded, “Got it.” She moved her attention to the .380 pistol, practicing racking the slide, dry-firing, and checking the sights.

Dranko had his M16 strapped across his back. “And, I also have these,” he clanked a set of rifle plates together. “When added to our soft body armor, these can stop most rifle rounds, too. They are heavy, but for a short run like this, it won’t be a problem.”

Angela shook her head, “I don’t need a set. My game tonight will be speed. Those will just slow me down too much. You wear them.”

Cooper started to protest, but stopped himself. What she says makes sense. I’m not going to play out something from a movie and be the over-protective male.

Finally, Dranko handed her a camouflage smock, “I didn’t have a full set of pants and shirt, but this should work to cover most of you.”

“Thanks. With a pair of dark pants, they’ll be fine.”

Cooper spoke up, “We wear regular clothes getting there, weapons stowed. We’ll change in the field. There may be more police up in the West Hills, I don’t want to risk a stop.”