Cooper and Dranko exited ahead of the main group, but remained to hold the doors open as the wounded and dead were carried out. As Miles passed them, Cooper talked nonchalantly to him.
“Hitch a ride, we will go and get Angela to come help the wounded at your place.”
Miles looked at him, and nodded. Cooper could tell he was in shock by the hazy look in his eyes. Miles was the last man from their group out the door and he promptly dropped to his knees and spewed vomit that splashed across the asphalt. As Cooper left the building, he saw a half dozen other colorful pools of puke that marked another common reaction to being involved in a violent, and deadly, encounter. The stench of it immediately assaulted him; the sour smell of bile mixing potently with the coppery smell of blood.
He lifted Miles up by the armpit, and pushed him onward.
Miles called out to the group, “Those with wounded, back to my place. Those without, gather medical supplies and join us there.” He then jumped into a pickup truck, driven by the man with the gruff voice, Frank. There were several wounded cloistered in the pickup’s bed. Dranko and Cooper ran to the Jeep, got in, and tires squealed as they raced back to Dranko’s place.
The drive to the cabin was a blur because of the adrenaline coursing through their veins. Neither man spoke a word and it seemed like they arrived there in a matter of seconds. They spilled out of the Jeep and were met by an avalanche of questions from Angela, Buck, Jake, and Calvin.
Cooper let Dranko handle the adults, while he pulled Jake aside. He knelt down next to him, so he could look at him in the eye.
“One at a time, son.”
“What happened?”
“There was a shootout at the marketplace between Hodges and our men,” he responded, holding onto his son’s shoulders.
“Who was killed?” Jake’s eyes were heavy with worry, deep lines forming at the corners of his eyes.
“About a dozen men. No one you knew,” he offered as comfort.
Jake transformed before his eyes. The worry was replaced by a boiling anger, his jaw grew tight, and his eyes went sharp, “I asked who?” His voice went flat, with a stiff edge.
Cooper looked at him confused, “I don’t know their names, son. But, no one you knew died there.”
Jake’s voice rose to a high pitched squeal, “I want to know who! Names matter. They can’t be nameless!” Jake tried to wrestle out of Cooper’s grasp, but he held on more firmly.
“What’s the matter, son? I don’t know these people well enough yet to know their names.”
Jake continued squirming to get free, “Don’t you get it? The dead can’t be without a name. It’s wrong!” He yelled into his father’s face.
Jake’s irrationality suddenly made sense to him. He released the grip on his son. “You’re right, son. It’s wrong.”
His rant continued, “The names matter. I won’t forget Antonio. Or, Leroy. Or, Peter. We need to know their names so we remember.” He dissolved into a wash of tears as the last words came out. Cooper pulled him into a tight hug.
His son sobbed into his chest, “We can’t forget. I don’t want to be forgotten.”
Cooper pulled him back, so he could look him into his read and tear-stained eyes, “Jake. You won’t ever be forgotten. No matter what. You hear me?”
Jake nodded meekly and sought the refuge of his father’s chest again. It pained Cooper to see his son like this. Grief and stress come out in all ways. Cooper knew that, but it still tore at his heart to see Jake like this. No eleven year-old should have to go through this.
He answered a debate he had been having in his head, “You want to come with me to Miles’? We’ll be tending the wounded.”
Jake nodded, “Yeah. Better than sitting here and wondering what’s going on and if you’re okay.” He wiped his sleeve across his face and breathed deeply, collecting himself.
“Let’s help Angela and Dranko collect what medical supplies we can spare.”
Jake nodded and they moved off. Within minutes, they had piled back into the Jeep and drove to the Stott’s. Calvin and Buck remained behind.
They were forced to park on the roadway next to the Stott’s entrance, given the pile up of vehicles along his driveway. Seeing two guards posted made Cooper inwardly praise Miles’ foresight. They rushed past, carrying the supplies they had brought in two small duffle bags. People were dashing up and down the gravel driveway. When they crested the small rise and reached the opening in the trees where Miles’ house and small farm lay, the scene that greeted them was little more than organized chaos.
They quickly spotted Miles, who was besieged by questioners pleading for his attention. Cooper quickly saw that half the people were relatives of the dead or wounded pleading to find out what had happened to their loved ones. The other half were people trying to organize things.
“Where’s the triage area?” Angela’s clear, firm voice cut through the din.
Miles looked at her blankly.
“Where do you have the critical patients situated?”
He shook his head, “Adam is over there; he got one in the chest,” he said while pointing to a pickup under a tree. “Jerry is inside the house, he got it…”
Angela grabbed him by his shoulders, “Look. This needs to get put together. And, now.”
Miles looked at her with a vacant look, nodding.
“You know where the critical patients are?”
He nodded.
“Good, round them up. Move them all into the house. Now.” As Miles moved off to comply, she called after him. “We have any other medical personnel here?”
“Not really. Couple EMTs. Doc Jones is supposed to be on his way.”
Angela shook her head.
“Cooper, find those EMTs and get them to me.” He nodded and moved off to move through the crowd to find them. He heard her barking orders as he left, Jake following in his wake. It didn’t take him long to find the EMTs and get them to report to Angela. He also found a practical nurse who was wailing over her dead husband’s body. Cooper was able to get her up and ambling towards Angela. He sent Jake with her to make sure she got there. He continued surveying the people there for medical skills or supplies that could be mustered. The last person he saw was a man wearing a white coat. He was sitting on the passenger side of a Jeep Cherokee, staring at the ground and rubbing his legs furiously.
He approached slowly, “How goes it?”
The man, gray hair glimpsing from underneath a ball cap, looked up.
“I said, how are you?”
The man nodded, shallowly and in a flurry, “Ah. Good, I guess.”
“What’s your name?”
“Raymond. Raymond Harrison.” The man’s voice was reedy, unsteady.
“I’m CJ. What do you do?” He continued, pointing at his coat.
“I’m a vet. Jimmy asked me to get over here. But, I…I can’t help.”
Cooper moved in and pulled Raymond to his feet. He brought his face in close. “Yes! Yes, you can!”
Raymond tried backing away, “No. Too much. I’m not trained for this!”
Cooper grabbed him by the collar, “You can. Just do what you can. You will save lives.”
“I’m not trained. Not ready for this. I take care of dogs and horses for God’s sake!” Raymond yelled at him, fear shredding his voice to a raspy, thin wail.
Cooper burst into laughter, “Yeah. And, I was a travelling salesman before I had to become a damned combat leader!”
“Huh? What do you mean?”