Machinegun bullets splintered the pavement to the right of his truck and began stitching closer as they sought their target. He shot another glance into his rearview and cursed in disgust.
Peter had run into the street and now stood in the middle of it without any cover. He was firing round after round at the driver of the HUMVEE. It bore down upon Peter as he pumped rounds into the windshield, which was already pockmarked from previous bullets hitting home. Everything slowed as Cooper saw the machinegun pivot on its pintle mount and fire at Peter from a mere dozen yards away. Cooper marveled at how he simultaneously looked naked, exposed, and small against the hulking HUMVEE coming at him, but also heroic and larger than life standing his ground on the asphalt.
A burst of rounds from the heavy machinegun pulped him. His body twitched about like a shredded plastic bag in a gusty wind. Red clouds of misty blood peppered the air all around him. Then, the HUMVEE crashed into his body and Cooper heard the crunch of bones breaking. He fought the bile that rocketed from his stomach at such a horrible scene. He could see the HUMVEE’s machinegun slowly searching for him once again.
Just then, the HUMVEE swerved to its right, collided with a parked minivan and rolled. That’s when Cooper registered that Peter had not died in vain; he had killed the driver and enabled them to escape. The driver’s side windshield was riddled with bullet holes and was painted red. As the first HUMVEE came to a screeching halt, it neatly blocked the road and prevented the one following from pursuing them.
Cooper cranked his steering wheel hard to the left to get themselves out of the field of fire from the second HUMVEE. He breathed easier once his house on his left shielded them.
He mumbled, “Thank you, Peter Garcia. Thank you.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Jake who was turned around in his seat and had seen the whole thing. His eyes were haunted, unblinking. Automaton-like, his body shifted back toward the front; his face frozen in shock. He stared off into the distance while a lonely tear descended down his left cheek. Cooper, in turn, stared at him in disbelief. His stomach fell out and he ground his teeth in frustration.
Damn this world to hell! Cooper cursed without uttering a word.
Chapter Three
Dranko had expertly guided the vehicles through the eastern barricade. He had waved at those remaining at their post, but their attention was consumed by the sounds of battle coming from behind them and they didn’t see him. Once free of the obstacles, they drove at breakneck speed eastward on Division. Angela rode shotgun in Dranko’s Jeep, while Lily and Peter sat in back. Next to Cooper, Calvin sat, cradling an M4 rifle. Behind him, sat Julianne and Jake; a look of shock still gripping his face.
“Keep a good lookout,” Cooper said unnecessarily as they passed a burned-out minivan. Calvin grunted and tightened his grip on the rifle.
“If you are doing aimed fire, keep it on single-shot mode. Flip it to burst only if you are just spraying and praying,” Cooper advised.
Calvin laughed, a deep baritone, “Can you please speak English to me? I did not serve in the Corps like you did!”
Cooper smirked, “That’s Dranko who served with the wet boys. I was in the Army. But yeah, sorry, I just mean only use burst fire if you are trying to keep the other guys’ heads down. Until you get used to it, one shot per pull is best if you’re actually aiming.”
Calvin nodded, “Alright, that I understand.”
Dranko’s Jeep took a sharp right onto 82nd Avenue, which was a major roadway heading south. From the news reports during the first days after the Brushfire Plague hit, they knew the freeway was hopelessly blocked when it had appeared that the entire city had decided on the same day to flee the plague by getting out. It had made the worst Los Angeles traffic jam look like a lonely desert highway in Arizona. Traffic became snarled on every lane, the emergency lanes, and the medians. Eighty-second had its share of abandoned vehicles, likely refugees from the freeway disaster, but it was still navigable.
“I think what saved us was that people waited too long to exit, and even those routes were blocked, and most people were trapped on the freeways,” Calvin offered.
“You could be right,” Cooper agreed. “Michael Huynh’s group is headquartered not far from here. I wonder if they’ve kept this area cleared out, too.”
Calvin recoiled at the mention of the name of the leader of the Vietnamese gang that Cooper had sought assistance from, “You mean gang? We shall see. As we go further south and away from that gang, we will see what happens to the roads.” Calvin managed to pack a truckload of derision into just one word. Cooper would never forget how vehement Calvin had been in discussing the idea of having the gang assist them with security. The neighbors had deadlocked. Of course, if I’d lost a brother to gang violence, I’d probably feel the same way.
“That’s true. We’ll find out.”
They drove on in silence for several minutes, winding their way through the abandoned, or destroyed vehicles, they encountered. Looks like a war zone. The vehicles alternated between those that had simply run out of gas or broke down and had been left, to those that had been burned, to those that were riddled with bullets. Too often, those were metal coffins, holding dead bodies, some of which had begun to decay.
When they encountered the first car with dead inside, Cooper told Jake to get down on the floor so he wouldn’t have to bear witness.
This woke him from his torpor and he yelled, “Why? I’ve seen everything already!”
Cooper’s heart broke at the words and the wounds they held. He stifled this and lowered his voice, “Just do it, son.” Jake obeyed, but with a defiant look upon his face.
It pained Cooper to know his son was likely right. Suddenly, he felt exhausted, like the Dutchman trying to plug the holes in the dike without enough fingers or toes. As if he needed another reminder about his futile efforts to protect his son from the horrors all around them, they soon passed a Chevy sedan riddled from stem to stern with bullets. Inside, a woman at the wheel and two kids in the rear were dead from gunshot wounds. Decay had set in and, despite their closed windows, the foul smell found them. Seconds later, Cooper heard Jake whimpering. Julianne reached down to comfort him, but he slapped her hand away. She looked out the window and tears rolled down her face.
Cooper wrenched the steering wheel toward himself in futility and wished it would all just go away. Calvin offered a look of sympathy to Cooper. He appreciated the effort but realized it was as inadequate as trying to wipe with one square of toilet paper. Thanks, but there’s just too much shit for it to matter.
A bit later, they all tensed up as they approached a mother and two young children who were sitting on the curb next to a minivan. They looked dirty, and tired. Cooper imagined they were very hungry, as well.
“Keep an eye out, could be a trap,” Dranko warned over the radio.
They parked their own vehicles about a hundred yards away and Cooper, Dranko, and Calvin approached with their weapons out and ready.
“What’s going on?” Cooper called out.
The woman’s head turned toward him listlessly, “Nothing.”
The men looked at each other in confusion, but kept approaching. When they were within talking distance, the woman clutched her kids a bit closer. She looked up at the men facing her. Her face was dirty and tear-stained. Her eyes were sunken and hollow. Already dehydrated, Cooper thought.