The two women checked in on Freddie’s condition. Reassured, they turned to Cooper, who briefed them on what had happened. Minutes later, they were loaded into the vehicles and snaked their way past the barricade. Cooper stopped his truck on other side.
“What are you doing?” Julianne asked him.
“We need to gather up their weapons. Can you help?” He responded as he got out. She nodded and followed him.
He quickly made his way to the end of the line and began grabbing the discarded weapons and ammunition from the dead. He was back near the truck when he found Julianne staring blankly at the first body she had come to. She was motionless, her eyes fixated on the torn and bloody man that lay at her feet. Her right hand was clasped to her mouth. He kneeled down and rummaged through the man’s pockets, taking the magazines for the rifle he’d carried and the loosened the belt that held the man’s pistol. He reached up, handing the loose magazines to Julianne. She recoiled, stepping back.
He looked up at her, “I need your help. I can’t carry all of this.”
She remained stock still, her eyes unseeing.
Cooper recalled his father’s words. When they’re in shock, sometimes you have to shock them out of it. His father had been talking about his experiences from a bloody strike where he’d helped the longshoremen in Longview.
“C’mon! Snap out of it! I need you,” he barked.
Julianne’s eyes fluttered. Her gaze fell upon him and his outstretched hands. She shook herself and then grasped the magazines he held. He then pulled the man’s pistol belt off of him and handed it to her as well.
Rising, “There you go. Thanks.”
He led her to the pickup’s bed and they deposited the weapons there. Julianne stumbled, still in a daze, back into the cab. He rounded the truck and lurched back in. He found the handheld radio.
“Lily, let me take the lead. We will get a bit down the road and find a place to hole up. We all need to rest.”
“You got it, sweetie,” the old woman’s voice came back.
They drove down the road for a few miles until he spotted what looked like an abandoned house atop a hill. It was in an area where houses were spread out, most having at least a few acres to call their own. The front door was open, shifting in the wind. It looked to be a refurbished farmhouse. The finely manicured lawn and the lack of any garden area, despite the ample land surrounding the home, told Cooper it was likely a professional’s home.
Cooper, Calvin, and Angela approached carefully. As they got closer, they saw scattered bullet holes and partly broken windows across the home’s front. Fortunately, they cleared the home without incident and ensured its vacancy. The home’s furnishings confirmed Cooper’s intuition that this house belonged to someone better off; possibly someone who commuted to Portland. He saw no evidence of firearms being in the home: no safe, empty ammo boxes, or an abandoned rifle case. He shuddered to think what it must be like to be out on the open road without a single firearm. His stomach rolled as he thought about the bodies he’d seen on 82nd Avenue. Without question, some of those poor souls had met their demise without a means of protection.
A wall adorned with family photos, some missing, told him a family had lived here. The pictures gave Cooper pause. Will families ever pose again for family photographs? Hell, will we have pictures at all anymore? He doubted photographic paper was on anyone’s priority list for whatever remained of the disintegrating supply chain. He sighed as he shouldered his rifle and stepped onto the porch to motion the others that it was ‘all clear.’
After the vehicles were pulled behind the house and out of sight from the road, the rest of the group made their way inside.
Chapter Five
Angela cleaned and bandaged Freddie’s wounds more thoroughly. He was soon asleep on a couch in the living room. Calvin did the same in a bedroom upstairs. Julianne fell into an easy chair and just stared into space. Dranko set about cleaning his rifle, moving stiffly, as Lily set up a portable stove in the kitchen and began brewing hot water.
“It’s a mess in here,” she called from the kitchen.
Cooper felt the fatigue, which always hit him after a firefight, begin to consume him.
“Angela, can you keep guard for a while?” Cooper asked.
“Sure. What are you going to do?”
“I’m gonna catch some shuteye. Can you wake me in two hours?” She nodded.
He turned to Jake, “Rest if you want, son. When I get up, we should scout the area and see if we can scavenge fuel or other supplies.” Jake simply stared back at him and nodded numbly.
Cooper ascended the stairs. When he made it to the landing, the plaintive sounds of Julianne sobbing found his ears. He shook his head. One firefight and most of us are spent. A firefight we barely survived. He found an empty bedroom. A pennant for the Seattle Mariners adorned the space above the bed. Posters of a singer he didn’t recognize plastered the wall opposite the bed. A desk, papers and books strewn across it, sat in the corner. The drawers had been emptied and clothes were haphazardly scattered throughout the room. He stood over the desk and looked at an unfinished sheet of math problems. I think this family bugged out in a hurry. Probably when it first started.
He unburdened himself of his gear. He checked the FAL’s stock and saw the clean hole the bullet had made. Thankfully, it was in a place that wouldn’t interfere with its operation. He set his rifle leaning against the wall, and collapsed into the bed. He was asleep in minutes.
Cooper’s eyes flew open. He’d been dreaming about running across open ground, bullet whizzing by his ears. Jake had been wounded, fifty yards ahead. In his dream, a rifle round smashed into his chest, his arms outstretched helplessly toward Jake, when he awoke. He was panting, his body damp with sweat, when his eyes jerked open and saved him from his nightmare. He startled backwards, seeing Jake asleep and curled up next to him in the bed. Jake rumbled at his movement, but fell back into easy breathing.
His face was placid. Cooper watched him in earnest. His face was soft in slumber. It was the look he had seen on his son’s face countless times when he had looked in on him before he had left on one of his many trips for work. Emotions welled up inside him. He looks like Jake again. He’s a boy once more. Tears ran down his face. His heart began to race. He was terrified because he knew that when Jake woke up, the boy would be gone. His hands clasped together and came to his face. His fingers kneaded in anxiety. His eyebrows drew together, knowing he was powerless to stop the transformation that was so quickly overtaking his son. He desperately wanted to remain in this place forever. Like it was before all this started. He thought of Elena’s body moldering in a cold grave, miles away. He wished that he and Jake could descend these stairs and find her making them a warm breakfast. Instead, he knew they would leave here and confront a world determined to rob them of their lives. His jaw clenched. It’s already taken his mother. It’s already stolen his childhood. His hands became fists. Inside, he raged against his impotence to protect his son. All I can do now is make sure he lives. At least I can do that.
“Time to get up,” Angela yelled into the room.
He jerked his head around, glaring at the intrusion. She startled.