Rick nodded rapidly, “That’s right Woody!” Rick was visibly nervous, standing next to Smartie’s corpse. Probably first time he’s ever smelled the blood and mess of a dead man. Cooper could see the shotgun shaking in his hands.
Cooper waited, breathing steadily.
Woody grew impatient and took a half-step towards Cooper and pointed the pistol at him, “Well, what’s it gonna be, old man? You gonna give us the combination to your safe or not?”
Cooper grunted, “Sure. I’ll do it. But, I have to go up there with you. I don’t remember the numbers without actually working the dial. Muscle memory, you know.”
Woody thought for a moment, weighing the truth of his words, “OK, OK. You can get up, but do it real slow.”
Cooper feigned an old man, rising ever-so-slowly onto his knees.
“Hurry up! I don’t have all night. I know the cops aren’t doing much these days, but I have no doubt one of your neighbors heard you give the buckshot greeting to Smartie and have dialed 911 by now. If you’re lucky, it might have been answered.”
As Cooper straightened up, he kept his right hip pointed away from Rick and Woody.
“It’s not the cops you have to worry about in our neighborhood. Drop it!” Dranko’s voice rang out strong and clear as he buried the barrel of his rifle into Woody’s head, just behind the ear. Cooper knew Woody couldn’t see the barrel, but it must have felt like a cannon notched against his head. Woody’s .45 clattered as it hit the floor.
In a quick, fluid motion, Cooper had his pistol trained on Rick. Rick lowered the shotgun and held it out for Cooper, holding it by the stock, barrel pointed at the ground.
“So, just what are we going to do with you two boys?” Cooper asked. “I think we warned you last time we’d give you a bullet if you came back into our neighborhood. This time you came into my home. Doesn’t that mean I should give you two a bullet as promised?”
Rick whimpered and began to cry. Woody looked at him with disgust and then turned back toward Cooper, defiant, “Do whatever you want. You got us fair and square. I ain’t scared of you.”
“Oh, this guy’s a tough one, a real hard case,” Dranko mocked, pushing the barrel harder against his skull. Woody winced in pain.
“My, my, he is. Tough as nails. I would put you down like the cur that you are. But, see, that would be illegal as you don’t pose a threat to me right now. While the law isn’t very operative right now, it would still be wrong. Besides, I have a better idea than that,” Cooper said smiling confidently.
“What’re you gonna do, call the cops?”
“Hmmm, we can try that, but I’m guessing 911 is busy right now. No, my idea is much simpler than that. First, you two are going to strip naked. Then, you are going to hoist what’s left of your friend Smartie onto your back. We’re then going to escort you out of our neighborhood and down the road a bit, maybe a mile or two.”
“What the hell you doing all this for?” Woody interrupted.
“It’s simple. Carrying a half-torn apart dead man, especially one that was your friend, will take the piss and vinegar out of any man. You included. I’m betting that fifteen minutes of feeling his blood drip down your body, having to smell all that death right up close and personal will make you rethink your current line of work. I think when you return to your gang, most of whom are just along for the joy ride, naked, covered in blood, and humiliated, that your days of leading that ragtag band will be over. You see, they’re going to ask what happened to Smartie and you’ll have to tell them how he died. I think they’ll then see following you around is bad for their health. You really should just go back to playing video games and kicking the occasional dog.”
“My boys won’t abandon me,” Woody shot back.
“Oh yeah? I think once they realize that a night out with you can bring them home dead, they will drop you like a hot potato. Young men don’t like to think about dying and Smartie here will ensure that your boys will have no choice. They will know their leader can’t even pull off a simple home burglary—in this neighborhood anyway—without getting one of his boys killed. You see, your gang is nothing more than a bunch of scared and misguided teenagers who’ve watched one too many Tarantino movies. You all thought this would be fun and games. Now, they’re gonna see that what you’re doing is serious business. So serious, they could end up dead.”
Woody stared back at him, fuming. Woody knew his leadership was being eviscerated in front of Rick which meant it would spread to the others once they got back.
Cooper broke the silence quickly, “I’m done with you. Let’s get going.”
A half hour later, Woody and Rick were gone. Dranko had escorted them, naked and carrying Smartie’s limp body, a mile or so down Division Street, headed east. No police crossed their path, which showed just how far law enforcement had fallen. Dranko had used their assailant’s pickup and returned with it to the neighborhood. They also kept Woody’s .45 pistol which turned out to be a well-maintained original Colt. Cooper had spent the time cleaning up the mess that Smartie had left behind. He kept Jake in the basement until everything had been returned to normal, save the broken picture frame that now hung on their wall without any glass in it. He had also bandaged his shoulder wound, which fortunately had not cut into any muscle.
When Dranko returned, Cooper reached out a hand to his friend, “Thank you. You saved my ass back there.”
Dranko smiled, “You’re lucky I’m a night owl. I was already up when I heard that 12 gauge blast, I just came running.” His smile grew wider as he continued, “Despite me being pissed off at you, I couldn’t let you get killed by some no good teenagers.”
Cooper returned the smile, “Good that keeps us square because I’m still pissed off at you. But, I’m too damn tired to talk about it right now.”
“Me too. Let’s talk later, over some breakfast, brother.”
“Sounds good.”
Dranko left as quickly as he had come.
Cooper decided to watch the latest news on the television, but when he turned it on, he discovered his cable was out. Not a single station came on. He shook his head, and turned on his radio instead. Every station was carrying news. He quickly settled on his favorite station.
“…in Des Moines, there are at least fifteen confirmed dead and seventy-six wounded after a riot at a Wal-Mart distribution center. Hundreds had gathered there as the shelves in retail grocery stories emptied. That concludes our latest round-up of news related to the Brushfire Plague.
In direct news, the Center for Disease Control has announced that it is working around the clock to identify the source and structure of this virus so that work on a vaccine can begin in earnest. They announced significant progress on identifying and mapping its structure.
Dr. Leonard Luciani from John Hopkins University has caused a firestorm of controversy with his recent claim that he believes that the Brushfire Plague was not an accidental mutation. He said yesterday, during an interview on CNN, “…the rapidity at which this virus spread indicates it was not accidental. I’ve read the explanations that this virus appearing across the globe, almost simultaneously, is due to the commonality of international travel is complete hogwash.” He has been roundly condemned across the scientific community for his comments and has been called “irresponsible”, “dangerous”, and even “criminal.”
Casualty figures continue to be difficult to ascertain accurately, but most estimates are that between thirty and fifty million are either dead or infected across America…”
Cooper turned off the radio. He’d heard enough.