Gus shook his head, “Not, this. Don’t be such a damned naïve Boy Scout! You’ve caused a lot of damage with what you’ve done. More people are already dying because of what you said!”
Cooper glared at him.
Gus strained once more against Dranko’s arm, “Well, we can stop debating this. But, one thing isn’t open for debate. You better get the hell out of our neighborhood!”
Cooper exploded, “What the hell are you talking about?”
Gus assumed a self-assured tone, “What I mean is plain. You are now a clear and present danger to our neighborhood. You are going to have to find a new place to inhabit.”
“Inhabit?” Cooper said, digesting what Gus had just said.
Then, Cooper lunged at him. Dranko shifted his body to keep the two men separate as Gus backpedaled in surprise, “How dare you! You pompous fat bastard! I’m the one who kept you all safe the last few weeks! I ain’t going nowhere!”
Gus shook his head and his lips curled up in derision, “We’ll see about that!” He retreated down the steps, being careful to keep facing Cooper as he did so. Finally, he turned and walked quickly back towards his own home.
Dranko turned to his friend, “See?”
Cooper just shook his head, “Aw, shut up, will you?” Despite his words, a chill ran down his spine as he realized that anyone might turn on him now. He knew the truth would be hard for the world to hear, but it was dawning on him that even those who knew him well might now become an erstwhile ally…or worse. He turned and made his way back toward the basement where Jake was waiting for him. Dranko paused, shaking his head, and then followed his friend downstairs.
The trio spent the next hour making small talk and listening to Dranko’s Ham radio. Dranko pensively wrung his hands. Cooper knew he wanted to talk about the dangers facing him now, but that discussion led to only one conclusion: leaving his home. He reflexively dismissed the idea, so he avoided the topic.
Then, the radio caught his attention.
“…reports, reliable ones, have filtered in about the dangerous rise in gang activity. In Detroit, Cleveland, Los Angeles, New York, Boston, and several other cities, gangs are engaging in outright control of entire sections of the cities in question. With the loss of central authority, organized criminal enterprises are filling the gap…”
“I’m glad we haven’t seen that here,” Cooper intoned.
The corner of Dranko’s mouth curled upward, “Not yet, anyway.”
Cooper smiled, “That’s right Mr. Sunnyside, not yet indeed!”
“I’m just sayin’…it can still happen here. When you think about it, it has already started.”
Cooper’s eyebrows drew together, “What?”
“Look at the craziness in Sellwood. Hell, they nearly burned the whole city down! Then there’s the Vietnamese Protection Society that we talked to. He’s getting organized. And, I worry about that church around the corner.”
Cooper nodded, “OK. You have a point with the Sellwood and the Vietnamese group. But, they haven’t started taking over and running parts of the…”
“But, they damn well could if they wanted,” Dranko interjected. “You’ve seen their firepower. They’re organized when so many are not. What’s stopping them?”
“No, you’re probably right. What’s stopping them is Michael Huynh is more interested in profit than power.”
“That’s true, too,” Dranko returned.
“Now, what do you mean about that church?”
“I just mean that any organized group is going to have power now. Gangs are criminals organized with guns. Churches are people organized and bonded together tightly by faith. They may or may not have guns. Most, from the reports I’ve heard, are doing good with it. Keeping people fed, helping with security, organizing self-help between people. But, right here, we have that one around the corner is using their access to food to win converts, right?”
“Yeah. Despicable,” Cooper spat the word.
“I agree. But, those kinds of things are happening, too. All I’m saying is that, throughout history, some churches have used access to resources, like food, to expand. And, sometimes, conversion has come at the end of the blade of a sword…”
“Or, the barrel of a gun,” Cooper finished the thought. “Yeah, I see what you’re saying. I agree, we will need to keep close tabs on the other organized groups around. Let’s hope that Mr. Huynh stays focused on making money in a semi-legitimate way. And, let’s hope our churchgoers next door keep their proselytizing based on the reward system.”
Dranko nodded gravely.
“What’s that?” Jake asked, cocking his head to the side.
“What’s what?” Cooper responded.
“Don’t you hear that?”
Dranko moved quickly and turned off the Ham radio. Then, they heard it.
Muffled shouts coming from outside. Seconds lingered as they struggled to make out what they people were shouting. Then, one word hit Cooper as clearly as if it was being shouted out from inside the room.
“Fire!”
Cooper was to the stairs and rocketing up before Dranko had reacted. Then, he and Jake bounded up the stairs in his wake.
Dranko’s door banged on its hinges as Cooper flung it open and leapt over the front steps. He landed harshly, letting his knees buckle to absorb the shock. He swiveled his head toward where the crowd was shouting from.
His throat tightened when he saw the group gathered around his house. In slow motion, his head kept turning until he saw the black smoke billowing angrily skyward.
“No!” Cooper yelled in fury as he raced towards his burning home.
He quickly rounded the corner. Several neighbors were racing toward his home, buckets and containers of various origins in hand. Mark Moretti, one of his friends, was using his home’s garden hose to spray the flames.
As he ran headlong toward him, Mark saw the determined look on Cooper’s face and handed him the hose as soon as he came up.
“I’ll go and get the neighbor’s hose going,” Mark shouted.
Cooper nodded and concentrated on dousing the flames before him. He breathed a sigh of relief as he realized the fire was, so far, confined to his small detached garage.
Seconds later, Mark brought a second hose to bear and Cooper realized they would get the fire under control before it spread to his house.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Dranko and Jake running across the street to join the makeshift bucket brigade that was coming together.
Within ten minutes, the fire had been put out. As Cooper relaxed, he surveyed the scene. A messy mixture of steam and smoke curled lazily upward from his wrecked garage. The structure was a mishmash of undamaged wood alternating with boards scorched black by the flames. From the heat, most of the paint had blistered or peeled. Then, his gaze fell to the base of the garage. Like a diamond amidst a coal miners’ convention, a glistening object jumped out and grabbed his attention.
A mostly melted glass bottle lay broken in half at the foot of the garage.
His heart raced and rage filled his veins as he clenched his fists. “Molotov cocktail,” Cooper muttered vehemently to himself before realizing that Dranko and Jake had come to his side.
“What’s that?” Jake asked.
“It’s a bottle filled with gasoline,” Dranko answered.
“You mean someone wanted to burn our house down?” Jake asked incredulously.
“Yes, son.”
“But, why?”
“Because some men are too weak to handle the truth,” Cooper fumed.
He turned to the group of neighbors still clustered about. “First, thanks everyone for helping me get this thing out. This sure looks intentional,” he said pointing at the glass bottle. “Did anyone see anything?”