Slowly and precisely, they picked their way across the city. None of them had driven this far at night since the plague had struck, and the nervous tension clouded the air inside the car. The barricade that Cooper and Dranko had encountered earlier on Division lay deserted. One of the vehicles comprising the obstacle lay aflame, sending soot into the air, black against the dark night sky. There were no signs of bodies, only stains of crimson in a few places on the asphalt that were made visible by the burning car. Inside their moving car, the trio’s alertness heightened, grips tightened on weapons, and their breathing became shallower. They drove onward.
The streets were largely deserted. Whenever they encountered another vehicle or pedestrians, they would circle each other like predators on the Serengeti, giving one another wide, wary berths as they passed. The city’s blocks were as before, a hodgepodge of untouched areas, with others showing the effects of fire, bullet holes, or the dead. Only this time, there was more of the latter. They also encountered a few more roadblocks and barricades, but were able to skirt around those without incident.
Nearing the Morrison Street bridge on the corner of Grand Avenue, they encountered a solitary figure. The man was tall, pushing seven feet. He wore a dirty basketball tank top and matching shorts. The shirt was smeared with blood. They could not tell if it was his own or not. Dranko deftly maneuvered the car to give themselves separation from him. His eyes locked onto Dranko’s and a thin, accusing finger pointed at him. Suddenly, his head fell backward and he laughed hysterically, “Off on an errand? What errands are there to do now? But the dying, the dying is all there is. No need to leave home for that!” As he rambled, his eyes fell back inside his head, so that only the whites were visible. Angela shivered.
“I hope that’s not some kind of omen for our attack,” Dranko complained. Cooper ignored him.
“I wish we could help the poor soul,” Angela said sympathetically.
“Psychosis,” Dranko mumbled. “It must be overtaking a good number of people as the situation overwhelms them.”
“And medications run out,” Cooper added.
As they crossed the bridge, they scanned in all directions. The elevation the bridge provided helped them see further around the city. To the south, fires burned.
“Sellwood,” observed Cooper.
“Looks like it’s spread beyond that area,” Dranko said.
“Those hills to the west, there’s fire there too. West Linn and Lake Oswego,” Angela whispered, her voice weakened by disbelief.
In fact, scattered fires burned in all directions. Most looked limited to a house or two, but others appeared to cover entire blocks. They saw the eerie, blood-orange glow that signified fires in the distance as far north as Vancouver and as far south as Wilsonville. To their east, Mount Tabor and Powell Buttes limited their view. To the west, the hills there did the same. As they witnessed the city burning, Dranko couldn’t help but shudder.
“Roll up the windows,” Angela called. Dranko had them all cracked a bit to allow the night air in and prevent fogging of the windows. As if conjured by her mention, Dranko and Cooper both could now smell what Angela had already. The mixture of odors that assaulted them was a contradiction of allurement and repugnance. The nostalgic wood smoke, reminiscent of fireplaces and campfires, abutted sharply against the acrid smell of tires and other plastics burning. Most disturbing was that the sickly sweet smell of flesh burning mixed with the cavalcade of aromas.
“Maybe it’s just animals,” Dranko offered weakly as he pushed buttons to close the windows up tightly.
The road that led to Mitchell’s home was lonely, with homes spread out amidst the forest. Cooper pulled the car off into a pullout and they quickly gathered their gear from the car. They disappeared into the woods. They made their way slowly and carefully in the near total darkness. The moon was at half-strength and her light battled mightily to peak through the towering trees above. Mostly, she failed.
Cooper picked his way carefully through the woods, taking each step in time. He carried a small flashlight with a red filter on it, but he used this with great caution. He was thankful that after only a few hundred yards, he was able to find a small clearing that was completely hidden from the road.
“Let’s post up here. Change your clothing and we’ll begin moving towards Mitchell’s from here. He felt their heads nod.
The soft swishing noise of clothing moving was all that was heard as the three of them changed into the darker clothes they would wear in the assault on Mitchell’s home.
“It’s not a hot cup of joe, but it’ll do,” he heard Dranko say, pressing his hands toward theirs. Cooper felt something fall into his palms and he popped them into his mouth, tasting the delicious chocolate-covered espresso beans. He gobbled down a dozen or more, grateful for the caffeine rush. Angela murmured softly, “Mmm….”
Within seconds, they were moving again, leaving their unneeded clothing behind. The dark woods seemed to close in and swallow them up. Perfect cover for an approach though. About halfway there, they came to a stream that ran bubbling across their path.
Cooper pulled Angela close and breathed into her ear, “You follow this up to the road, cross it, get on the reverse slope and then move the last quarter-mile to take up position across from Mitchell’s home. Take your first shot in fifteen minutes. Exactly, OK? Be careful.”
Her hair brushed his cheek in a rapid up and down motion as she nodded. She found his ear, “You too.” She gave him a kiss on his cheek and then disappeared into the dark. Cooper pushed aside the warmth that flushed across his face. He stared after her into the dark, until her shadow disappeared.
He and Dranko resumed moving, climbing slowly up a hillside that would bring them to the west side of Mitchell’s estate. Their breathing was rhythmic as they fell into a deliberate climb. Cooper didn’t risk using the penlight at all now, and so they picked their way carefully amidst the underbrush. Here, a loud crash to the ground on a tangled root could prove catastrophic.
Soon, between the trees, they could see the lights from Mitchell’s home. It was a well-lit area, covered by floodlights. Cooper recounted the layout from the photographs: a large central mansion that must have covered five thousand square feet, a guest home about one-quarter of that, a garage as big as Cooper’s home, and two other small outbuildings would dot the grounds. Twin tennis courts were to the south of the main home. An enormous swimming pool was to its west. As they moved closer, they could see the buildings come in and out of view as they moved between trees and up and down small rises in the ground.
They were probably a hundred yards from the edge of the woods when a shot rang out from where Angela would have been positioned. A loud yell of pain responded from in front of them. Cooper glared down at his watch. The illuminated dial screamed back at him. She was three minutes early!
“Damn!” he let out a whispered curse.
They began double-timing it through the woods. Cooper decided that speed mattered more than stealth, and flicked on his red-filtered flashlight so they could see the ground in front of them.
A second shot thundered from their left and this time they heard shattering glass, but no shrieks of pain. Dranko grunted next to him as a shin smashed into an unseen rock. They were both breathing hard. Covering wooded, uneven ground at breakneck speed, while carrying weapons, ammunition, and body armor was taking its toll.