R. Ruggiero - Brushfire Plague

Cooper withdrew his head from the guardroom and slithered to the corner of the building. He looked up and around. Something slammed him in the shoulder, spinning him back and around behind the building. It took Cooper a second to realize that he’d just been shot. He plunged a hand underneath the body armor and thanked God when it came back dry. The pain was already beginning to throb in his shoulder, but he ignored it. He rotated his shoulder quickly to verify that no bones had been broken.

He heard Dranko heave his body into the shelter of the building just as he pushed the barrel of the shotgun past the wall and fired two shots in rapid succession. He fired into the area where he believed whoever shot him had done so. Hearing no shots in return, he snapped his head out and back to take in a quick view. The fleeting image of a guard slumped over a railing that ringed a large open porch told him what he needed to know. He quickly fished three shells from his pocket and reloaded the shotgun as Dranko inched his way toward him.

“No surprise here, eh brother?”

“None. It’s bum rush time. It’s twenty yards to the house, cover me!”

Cooper didn’t wait for a response, but simply gathered his legs up underneath him and ran full speed at the body of the man that had just shot him. His shoulder cried out in protest as it rocked back and forth cradling the weight of the shotgun. Halfway there, a bullet made a loud “zing” noise as it zoomed past, just inches from his head. From behind him, Dranko let loose a three-round burst. Someone above him emitted a dull “oof.” Cooper didn’t bother looking up, thankful he’d made it to the porch without injury. He jumped over the low fence rail that circled the porch and slid up against the wall. Coming to a stop, he scanned the surrounding area, shotgun at the ready. Fifty yards away, he saw three guards racing in the direction of Angela’s position. He heard another loud report and saw the muzzle flash out of the corner of his eye. One of the guards toppled to the ground, smashing his face into the dirt. He came up clutching his leg. The other two pressed onward. I hope she retreats to safety soon.

To his left, he saw Dranko sprint from the outbuilding. He didn’t have a view of the second story, but assumed Dranko had looked it over good before running. No one else was in their vicinity paying attention to them. No sooner had Dranko thudded home next to him, than Cooper began a rapid duck-walk along the wall. He wanted to make sure his head didn’t rise above the wall and be silhouetted against the window. His quadriceps began protesting loudly at such unusual exertion and Cooper cursed Mitchell for owning such an enormous home.

This side of the home was over fifty yards long. It felt like an eternity to Cooper before he reached the wall’s end. He stretched himself flat on the ground and used his feet to push half his body past the wall, facing to his right. His instincts proved correct.

A pair of guards stood on either side of the massive door that led into Mitchell’s home. The one closest to him held an M16 at the ready, looking to his left. Stupidly, his gaze was transfixed at head height. When Cooper came out at ground level, it took him a long second to see the movement and begin to react. By then it was too late.

Cooper’s shotgun blast hit him just below the hip and angled upward. From only fifty feet away, the shell devastated him. He fell to the ground immediately, spewing blood in a wide arc. Cooper racked another shell into the chamber and pointed the barrel at the other guard who stood just a few feet further from his recently dispatched co-worker.

From behind the barrel, Cooper saw the guard’s eyes fly wide open in shock and fear. His M16 clattered to the ground as he raised his hands above his head in surrender.

From the ground, Cooper used the shotgun to indicate the pistol strapped to his side, “Drop it!” he screamed.

The guard’s hands were shaking as he slowly removed the pistol and dropped it to the ground.

“Now, run home and don’t you dare turn around!” The guard nodded quickly, turned on his heels and fled.

He heard another spray of gunfire from behind him and swung his head around. A guard, partially concealed behind the mammoth garage, pitched forward and fell to the ground. A lazy trail of smoke drifted upward from Dranko’s muzzle.

The two men quickly assembled on either side of the door that led into Mitchell’s home. Cooper told him what he’d learned on Mitchell’s whereabouts inside from the guardhouse monitors. Cooper took the grenade from his chest pocket and showed it to Dranko, who nodded in the affirmative.

Cooper pulled the pin while Dranko pulled back on the door to open it just wide enough for Cooper to roll the grenade inside. The door’s movement caused angry bursts of gunfire from within, which splintered the wood. Cooper released the trigger on the grenade, and rolled it as deeply as he could into the room. Then, they pulled the doors tightly closed once more.

A deafening explosion soon followed. The concussion forced the massive oak doors to push outward, rocking Cooper’s and Dranko’s shoulders. The pair wasted no time in pulling the doors wide open and, from a prone position, sprayed the room with several shotgun blasts and a full magazine from the M16.

The two men surveyed the room as they reloaded. It was thick with smoke from the gunfire and the grenade. Much of the room was obscured. An enormous chandelier had been half-wrecked from the grenade, but the remaining half still showered light into the room. They saw two bodies on the ground, about fifteen feet part, but neither moved. Dranko methodically fired two rounds into each one. The bodies twitched under the impact, but no more. That guy is thorough, Cooper mused.

An ornate, marble staircase led up to their left, while a long hallway beckoned to them just past the foyer. As they moved forward, Cooper couldn’t resist chuckling at the sight of a statue of Venus with bullet holes stitched across her chest. I guess losing your arms to the ravages of antiquity was not enough, he thought sardonically.

From the monitors, Cooper was unsure which doorway off the hallway led to the room where Mitchell was huddled with his guards. However, he knew that it wouldn’t be the first couple of doors and that it was past the midpoint of the long corridor. He motioned for Dranko to follow him. As he did, he heard a flurry of gunfire from a distance, in the direction where Angela had posted up. I hope you have already run off, Angela.

Cooper moved like a cat, slouched, fast, and silent, as he slinked down the hall. Valuable paintings lined the walls. Various portraits of kings, queens, famous artists, and faeries looked down upon the two black-clad men skulking past. Cooper would have sworn he saw their expressions turn to disgust as they did so.

When he reached the first door on the left that could have possibly led to Mitchell’s room he paused and readied himself for the entry. Dranko let out a low whistle. Cooper paused without looking back.

“Camera, end of hallway. Assume we are under observation, brother,” he whispered, just loud enough for Cooper to hear.

Damn! They’re watching us. No surprise here. Any entry they made now would be known and predictable by their opponents. It made getting through the door alive virtually impossible. He knew what had been decent odds for success had just turned much, much worse.

Suddenly, he had an idea. He hoped the artwork were originals, as he suspected.

His voice rang out loud, echoing down the hallway, “Mitchell, come out! I’m not here to hurt you! I just want to talk! If you don’t, you’ll be very upset in ten seconds…nine….”

Cooper kept glancing from one door to the next, unsure which of the half dozen that Mitchell—or his armed guards—might emerge.