The McClane Apocalypse Book Ten

by Kate Morris

  “What happened?” she asks, now wanting to know.

  “Parker returned last night. He questioned me on whether or not I was in his private office, which of course I was. I denied it, though. Then it got a little…heated.”

  “Uh-oh, that’s not good,” she says.

  “Worried about me?”

  She chuckles. “No, worried for Parker.”

  He throws back his head and laughs. His jawline is sharp and angular. Then he inclines his chin to someone behind her. She turns to see Derek, who is inferring they should get on the road.

  “Sam, do you mind riding in the back with the Professor?” Derek asks her. “I’m gonna let Doc ride up front. I think the trip here has made his back sore. He wanted to ride in one of the Army trucks, so I let him. Now he’s sore, of course. I tell ya’, these kids today are hard to handle.”

  She laughs, Derek smiles at his joking, but Simon is quiet. Robert sent a caravan of his men along with Derek to help spot on the road, keep them safe, and to learn more about how Dave runs his own compound.

  “Sure,” she answers immediately, concerned more for Grandpa than having to sit next to Simon. At least the trip isn’t a long one back to the farm.

  Once they are in the truck, Derek engages Doc with conversation about the clinic while she sits as close to her door as possible to stay away from Simon. The headlights from the truck behind them containing six of Dave’s men, their road escort back to the farm, provides the only light in the darkness of the evening, the sun having set while they all stood around talking at the compound.

  It doesn’t matter that she is trying to put space between them. He leans over onto one elbow to speak quietly with her. “Your friend Courtney seems pretty happy. She’ll be due in the spring I hear.”

  “Hm, yep,” she says, trying not to frown but knowing it probably isn’t working.

  “And Cory and Paige are married now, too,” he says.

  “Yes, I seem to remember the event,” she answers, not sure why he’s stating the obvious.

  Simon chuckles and says, “I remember certain things about that night better than others.”

  Sam swallows hard and refuses to look at him.

  “Like kissing you in the parking lot,” he whispers, causing her cheeks to burn a dark pink and her head to whip toward him to offer up a glare.

  “Simon,” she reprimands in a whisper full of anger and warning.

  He smiles right at her, so Sam looks away. Then she glances back only to find him staring directly at her. There is something in his eyes that makes her uneasy. It’s a sort of softening, a gentling that she’s never seen before. And a lot more confidence.

  “I also remember our conversation…” he starts.

  Sam doesn’t want to deal with this, so she interrupts and asks loudly so that Derek can also hear her, “Why do I need to go to the farm?”

  “We need your drawing skills, Miss Samantha,” Grandpa answers for them.

  “Drawing? What for?”

  “A portrait,” he says.

  Sam looks at Simon, and he nods and adds, “Of Parker. We want to show it to our prisoner back at the farm and see if he recognizes him.”

  She furrows her brow and asks, “Why would he?”

  “We’re not sure if he will,” Simon answers as Derek and Grandpa resume their own conversation. “Just a hunch. Someone was feeding the senator and his highwaymen our intel, our next moves. It had to be someone on the inside, someone who knew our plans. We got lucky defeating them, but a lot of things just aren’t adding up with this.”

  “You think Parker might be involved with them? With the highwaymen? That doesn’t make sense. He and his men were helping us fight them.”

  He tips his head to the side with apparent skepticism written on his features and expressed in his downturned mouth. “Not really. Robert sent men. They fought. Parker was usually in the way or trying to change our plans and screwing everything up most of the time. He’s one of the few people we allowed into our inner circle.”

  “But he was reporting back to the general,” she says.

  “Was he?” he asks, leaving the question dangle.

  Sam remembers back to the time that she found him in Grandpa’s study in the middle of the night using the radio. Hadn’t he just been speaking to the general?

  “What would this mean if he was the mole?” she asks softly, not sure she wants to hear the answer.

  “I have a few theories,” he says, more to himself than to her.

  “What?”

  “I’ll tell you tomorrow,” he says with a sigh as if he is exhausted.

  She points it out, saying, “You seem tired.”

  He offers a smile that lets her know she’s right. “It was a long week. Working in the lab with the other doctors and then sneaking around spying on the fort at night.”

  Something nags at her, and Sam says it and then quickly regrets doing so, “With Dr. Eliza Avery?”

  His eyes jump to hers and narrow. “Dr. Avery, yes. And other doctors. We were doing disease research.”

  “Hm,” she says, trying not to sound jealous. She’s not. That’s a ridiculous notion.

  He goes into the details of their research, but Sam can’t help but feel that he is hiding something about Eliza Avery, the pretty blonde doctor. Not that she cares one whit about it.

  After a few moments fighting an internal battle of jealousy but at the same time also wanting her former friend to be happy, Sam realizes he hasn’t spoken for a while. When she looks over at him, he has fallen asleep with his head resting back against the headrest. He looks so relaxed when he’s sleeping like this. Peaceful, without conflict or demons or guilt nipping at his heels.

  “All ashore that’s going ashore,” Derek announces a short time later as they pull onto McClane land, their escort right behind them. Simon instantly awakens in full alert mode.

  “That must’ve been an invigorating conversation,” he states with an impish grin toward her. “Sorry.”

  Sam can’t help but smile back and say, “Don’t worry about it. You guys must be exhausted.”

  The family files out the kitchen door in a flurry of motion, hugging them and then her, even though the temperature has dropped probably into the low forties and entirely too cold to linger outdoors.

  “The children will be so glad to see you in the morning, Sam,” Sue comments, making her smile.

  “Me, too,” she says, acknowledging in her heart how much she’s missed them.

  They all pile into the big house, and Sue sets out food for those who are hungry. A few of Dave’s men take a helping of cold meats, cheeses, and bread. The house smells like home. Not just the smells of home-cooking but home. It makes Sam sad, actually. It even makes her think of her family, which she tries so hard not to do. The familiar smells and sights of her old home are fading from her memory as time goes on, even the smell of her beloved mother.

  “Everything alright?” Simon asks as he comes to stand next to her in the mudroom, where she is setting her bag on the floor next to the coat rack.

  “What?” she asks, surprised to find him beside her. “Oh, yes. Fine. I’m fine.”

  “You sure?” he asks, reading her so well.

  Since it’s Simon, she tells him because he would be one of the few people who would probably understand this. “I was just trying to remember what my old home smelled like. It’s getting harder and harder to remember stuff like that.”

  He frowns slightly and nods. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I was just thinking about my bedroom the other day. I woke up disoriented at Fort Knox, thinking I was back home in Arizona.”

  “Were you having a dream about it? That’s usually when that happens to me.”

  He nods. “Most of the time I dream about you, though.”

  “Wh…what?” she whispers as he grins mischievously. Sam blushes and leaves the room as if it has suddenly caught fire. They join the family in the dining room where a full report is given of what th
ey’d done, seen, and discovered at Fort Knox. She knows most of what they go over since she was privy to the radio calls on Henry’s farm.

  “We’re pretty sure the red files are men who were going to be a part of a new government,” Simon explains to them. “I’ve brought them back so that you all can take a look and see what you think about them.” He places a stack of faded red files on the center of the dining room table, and Reagan and John immediately take one. Kelly does the same.

  “Did you discuss this with Robert last night like you said you were going to?” John asks his brother.

  “Yes, we did. He didn’t know anything about any of those red files,” he says. “He knows about the personnel files and the medical files on the citizens, but he wasn’t sure why Parker had some people sectioned off in red files. Red files that were hidden, too. I believe him. He seemed just as surprised and very concerned. Maybe even a little confused.”

  “And what about these maps?” John asks next, picking one up.

  Simon shakes his head. “We aren’t sure really. They don’t seem of significance. The farm isn’t marked. Dave’s camp isn’t, either. Nothing that has to do with us or our inner circle of allies is marked. We’re not sure what those places are that he has circled or their significance.”

  “Did Parker return to the base?” Kelly asks.

  “Not until late last night. Had some words with the Professor. Then he took off again. He might be back now, but he hadn’t returned yet before we left today. It was almost three days that he was gone.”

  Kelly’s dark eyes dart to Derek’s, “That’s interesting.”

  “Oh, and a guard on patrol found a dead man about a half a mile from the base. He was one of Parker’s men,” Derek tells them.

  “Interesting indeed,” Kelly says. “Seems like a lot of people show up dead who hang out with the dude.”

  “Yes, we thought so, too,” Simon says. “The body count on the men in Parker’s trusted circle keeps racking up. Doesn’t make sense.”

  “Someone’s picking them off,” Reagan says. “Who? The President?”

  John comments, “Could be. He’s bound to be mad at Parker, too. Just like he’s angry with your father for leaving. Parker seems to be just as culpable in this.”

  “I don’t know,” Simon states more to himself than the rest of the room.

  “What’s that, Simon?” Paige asks. She is sitting next to him. Her husband is standing behind her and has his hands resting on her slim shoulders.

  “Nothing. Just some theories I’ve been working on,” he says.

  “What about?” John asks with more interest.

  He shrugs. “Not sure yet. I’ll let you know when I can make sense of it.”

  She pauses to stare at him for a moment as John continues to question his brother and Grandpa. What is it that Simon is theorizing? She’d like to know. His blue eyes are pensive and concerned.

  “…and that’s where Sam’s gonna come in,” John states, gaining her attention again.

  “What?” she asks, getting a few chuckles from some of the family for not paying attention.

  “The sketch. Simon told you about that? We need you to rough sketch out a drawing of Parker as best as you so that we can show it to the prisoner, that rat car dealer.”

  “Oh, yes, right,” she says. “I’ll get on it tonight.”

  “Tomorrow will be fine, Samantha,” Grandpa corrects, which causes her to smile.

  They talk for another hour, going over plans, security of the farm, contingencies again, and finally wrap the meeting. Everyone is exhausted and turns in for the night except for the ones on watch duty. Sam is too keyed up to find sleep, though. She sits at her desk in her former room and works on that drawing of Parker. It makes her stomach acid burn just looking at him in black and white. There’s just something about him that she’s never found pleasant. He’s like one of those big, black spiders in the corners of the barn beams up in the hayloft. She hates those stupid spiders. It never fails. She always ends up walking right through those wispy filaments and then has that feeling all day like one could be hiding in her thick hair. He’s like that. He’s like a sneaky, creepy spider hiding in the corner, lurking and waiting to get tangled in someone’s hair once they walk through his carefully laid trap. Or maybe her imagination has run wild again, and she’s just tired.

  Chapter Six

  Reagan

  Charlotte awakens her at five-thirty the next morning, and she slips from the bed quietly and carries her daughter down to the music room to be fed. John just turned in from watch duty, so she doesn’t want to disturb what little sleep he’s been getting lately. When she arrives in the pale-yellow music room, Reagan is surprised to find Simon there reading a book.

  “What’s going on? Early morning class to cram for?” she jokes and takes a seat on the chaise near the window. She still has two full bottles of breastmilk in the refrigerator, but Reagan tries to save those for when her sisters are forced to care for Charlotte when she’s gone like she’ll be gone later for the clinic day in town.

  “Yes, something like that,” he answers with a smile and pushes his glasses higher on his nose. “Just going over some of the patient files from town and cross-referencing with some research. I want to be ready when we leave.”

  “So dedicated,” she says with a smile.

  “I see that Mrs. Anderson hasn’t had her baby yet,” he says, to which she nods. “And Mr. Jefferson is still battling pneumonia?”

  “Sounds about right. What are you studying?” she asks, noticing his notepad and pen beside him on the table.

  “I’ve just been curious about some of the things I found in the red files. Plus, some of the information we’ve gathered about the new President doesn’t add up.”

  Reagan sits slightly more forward in her chair. Then she covers her daughter again with the burp cloth to conceal her naked breast from Simon. She doesn’t want him to go into an apoplectic fit of embarrassment or something. He’s a tad on the uptight side. Of course, he did deliver Charlotte, so he’s seen all the good Lord has bestowed upon her. Literally.

  “I found this book in your grandfather’s collection,” he indicates, tipping the book more toward her. “It’s a current events political book. Well, it was current events from four years ago. It’s about the President, the one who was actually elected as President of the United States before the fall of the country.”

  “Why would you care about that?”

  “It’s mostly written from a Christian Conservative perspective debunking the rumors that the President had had affairs and was pro-abortion when he was young and that his wife was involved in some insider trading deal. You know, politics as usual kind of stuff. But the author also goes on to defend the Vice President since he was supposedly a part of the insider trading scandal. The author very professionally and clearly delivers the evidence to defeat the charges.”

  “Sounds fascinating. Simon, I wonder why you’re still single,” Reagan says with unconcealed sarcasm.

  He smirks. “Hopefully not for long,” he murmurs under his breath, making Reagan grin. “Anyway, none of that is what I was digging for anyway. I was more concerned with learning about the Vice President, this man who is now calling himself the President, the man from the bunker who also wants to kill all of us. Allegedly.”

  This actually piques her interest, “And? Find anything out that could help us?”

  “The man we know as the Vice-President, now the President, is written about very extensively in here, too. He was actually a good man from all accounts from this author,” Simon informs her and taps his forefinger on the face of the book. “He was a Christian man, a strong leader in his community. He’s from Pennsylvania originally. He came from simple roots. His father was a steelworker, his mother a school teacher. He graduated top of his class and attended Harvard Law School on scholarship, was the editor for the Law Review there, married his wife when he was in his final year of law school, had the one child.
His wife died out there in the bunker along with the President and a lot of other people. It doesn’t say anything about him having socialist viewpoints. It doesn’t say anywhere that he was a megalomaniac on a power trip. It doesn’t say he was abusive with his employees or that he wanted a government-first political system. And most importantly, it doesn’t state that he ever attended military academy. I remember our car dealer in the milk house said that the senator and the new President attended military academy in New York or somewhere.”

  “Yeah, he did. I think he’s stated that more than once,” Reagan concurs.

  “Right, but that’s a very prestigious thing, being referred into a military academy,” Simon tells her. “It says in this book that he attended the same public high school where his mother taught. It says nothing about military academy. He went from high school to Harvard.”

  Something inside of Reagan shifts. She’s not sure if it’s a gotcha’ moment affect or if a puzzle piece is slowly sliding into place, but something hits her like a punch to the stomach. She can’t do anything other than shake her head with the same bewilderment that matches Simon’s.

  “Well, I was looking earlier at the stack of red files,” he explains patiently. “Some of the comments written in them stood out to me.”

  “Like what?”

  “The new cabinet members, to be specific,” he says. “I hadn’t noticed until now, but some of the titles are made up, new ones that didn’t exist before.”

  “Which ones?” she asks.

  “For instance, Secretary of Community Relations. Secretary of Interstate Communications, Chief of Supply Management, Head of Learning Center,” he states and points it out in the file, which he has marked with an orange sticky note. “There’s no such thing. He or whoever Parker’s working with or for has made up new cabinet positions to fit the new world.”

  “What makes you think he’s working for someone? He’s working for my father. Maybe he’s just getting their new community set up the way he and my father had already planned out.”

  “But Robert- sorry- your father said he didn’t remember these files. He said that they weren’t going to start a new regime, not like the new President has done. He said they just wanted to live by the Constitution, not start a whole new country. Derek asked him about this. Why would Parker go ahead and make files on people who he clearly believes would be good in an upper-level government position like cabinet members? Made up positions or not.”