The McClane Apocalypse Book Ten

by Kate Morris

  “What’s wrong?” Simon asks as he drives forward and parks the vehicle against the farthest cement block wall next to a tall SUV, which will conceal their smaller vehicle.

  “I was worried that this wasn’t going to be sufficiently creepy,” she says dryly and is surprised when Simon actually laughs loudly. It causes her to smirk. He’s usually so serious.

  “Never fear, my dear,” he jokes. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “Speak for yourself,” she blurts as he does a second check of their guns. “And don’t call me ‘dear’.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” he says as if remembering. “I forgot we never finished discussing that.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “What endearment you’d like for me to use.”

  Sam doesn’t answer but turns in her seat to face him. And glare at him. He blows through his nose and grins crookedly. She raises one eyebrow.

  “Sorry. No endearments. I promise.”

  She huffs and exits the Jeep, closing the door as silently as possible behind her, which sounds extremely loud in the desolate garage. Simon does the same and joins her at the hatch, which he opens. He hands her night-vision goggles and an M4. Then he removes his sniper rifle, an M16, and grabs two extra mags for their rifles. In perfect unison, they turn to go.

  “Ready, cutie?” he asks.

  Sam doesn’t need light in the underground garage to tell that he is smiling.

  “Not finding the humor right now, Simon,” she mumbles.

  He slings his sniper rifle and the M16 and carries his pistol out in front of him. Then he takes her hand. Sam doesn’t dare pull back. She’s scared witless. She really didn’t want to take this intel trip as Derek had called it. But, then again, the only other option was going to be for Kelly to go in her place, and she didn’t have the heart to make him go instead of her. When K-Dog and Paul from the condo community found out about it, they’d volunteered to check out one of the places on the map. They will be closest to them tonight in proximity, but she’s positive that the headlights they’d seen had not been from them. They were supposed to be searching a place northeast of the city. K-Dog had let Derek know over the radio that should Simon need help, they could reach them in fifteen to twenty minutes. Sam really hopes they don’t have to make that call.

  She releases his hand when they come to the set of glass entry doors leading to cement stairs. The elevator has long since ceased to operate. Sam has to step over an orange traffic cone right past the door before reaching the stairs.

  “Let me go first,” he whispers and stays her arm.

  Sam nods. She doesn’t want to go first anyway. Then again, as she looks behind her at the vast darkness as they go up the stairs, going last isn’t preferable, either.

  “Let’s get as high as we can,” he says quietly.

  She giggles, which makes him stop on the landing of the first floor where doors push inward to what is probably the lobby.

  “What?”

  “Simon, you’re so clueless,” she points out.

  “Why?”

  Sam rolls her eyes but knows he can’t see them. “Let’s get high? Really? You don’t see how that sounds strange?”

  He chuffs through his nose. “Oh, yeah. I guess I do now that you say it that way.”

  They keep going until they’ve reached the seventh floor, which is supposed to be the top one. Besides a rat she saw through the open doorway to the fourth floor, nobody resides here. It doesn’t really matter. It’s still eerie.

  Simon pushes the steel door, then has to shove at it once with his right shoulder to get it to swing inward on what are probably stiff or rusty hinges.

  “This way,” he says, leading her down a long corridor where many items have been abandoned including chairs, papers, personal belongings, and general debris. Most places that used to house a lot of people look like this now. It’s sad really to think that people left everything they owned and fled, maybe even on foot.

  He goes to the last door on the left and tries the knob. It’s locked.

  “I’ve got it,” Sam says and squats. Then she opens her pack, removes her lock picking kit and gets to work. Within a minute or two, she has the knob turning.

  “I could’ve just kicked it in,” he says wryly.

  Sam groans softly with irritation. “Simon, we’re trying to be stealthy, remember?”

  “I don’t really think anyone would hear. This place is a ghost town.”

  “Not the whole city,” she reminds him. “Remember the headlights?”

  “Right,” he says and closes and bars the door behind them with a chair under the knob. He also sets the deadbolt and chain.

  “This must’ve been a nice apartment at one time,” she notes as she walks around the large living room.

  “It probably overlooked the river,” he says, checking rooms quickly and then setting up shop near the wall of windows. The moon is nearly full, and the sky cloudless, which gives them ample light by which to work. “Would’ve been a nice view.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” she comments.

  “Did you come to Clarksville often with your family?”

  “Sometimes,” she replies and follows him around the apartment as they review the floor plan.

  There are three bedrooms, two of which were being used as home offices, and a master bedroom. The master also has its own, large bathroom. A walk-in closet is attached to the master bath and has what seems like an attic access panel or something.

  “Strange,” she comments aloud.

  Simon walks into the closet and asks, “What is?”

  Sam points up. “What is that for?”

  “Perhaps the people doing maintenance work in the building needed access up there. It was probably built like this so that they could get to heating and cooling, electrical, plumbing, that sort of thing. Not sure, but there is a half bath in the hallway at the other end of the kitchen. And beyond that is a utility room,” he explains as they return to the living room.

  Sam drops her pack near his and joins him in scanning the neighborhood outside for signs of life. “See anything?”

  “Not yet,” he answers, spying through his binoculars, having removed his headgear.

  Sam also places her night-vision goggles next to her pack and picks up her binoculars.

  “My dad came here a lot,” she tells him.

  “Yeah? What for?”

  She sighs, remembering her beloved father and his strong hugs and the scruffiness of his five o’clock stubble when he’d come home from work at the end of the day and embrace her. “Work. He had projects going over here, construction.”

  “Right, he was a builder,” he says. “Custom homes?”

  “Mm, yep. He always said the house he built for my mom was the best design he ever did, though. They loved that house.”

  “Yes, it was something,” he says and then lowers his binoculars to look at her. “What kind of house would you want someday?”

  “Why?” she asks, instantly wary. “I live in a cabin with my uncle on Dave’s compound. That’s all I need.”

  “I know, but if you didn’t have to live there,” he says. “And don’t worry. I’m not going to build you a house. That’s Cory’s grand gesture for my sister.”

  “I’m not worth a house?”

  Simon chuckles, “You aren’t hooking me like that, Samantha Patterson. I was just beating you to the punch. You’re worth ten custom homes. Or the Windsor Castle if you wanted. I just know that’s not your thing.”

  “No, I suppose not,” she concurs.

  “I’d be better off to find you some rare breed of horse or something.”

  She chuckles. “Ooh, yeah. That’d be cool. A Friesian. Or an Andalusian. Or an OTTB so I could jump again.”

  “Right, like I’d know what those look like or what any of those are,” he teases, to which she laughs.

  “You’d probably bring me something gross like a dissected lizard organ,” she razzes. />
  He makes a funny noise as if contemplating it. “That would be more interesting.”

  “Simon!” she blurts and playfully slaps his shoulder. “Yeah, just what every girl wants. A goat stomach or something. Real sexy, Simon.”

  “Or a microscope,” he suggests, making her laugh. “What? That’s not sexy? Science is sexy. Science can be sexy. Maybe. It could be, I think. Actually, a lot about science is the study of sexual attraction, mating, reproduction, that sort of thing. Yes, I conclude that science could be sexy.”

  Hearing the word ‘sexy’ come from his mouth so many times in the span of thirty seconds does something to her insides. The muscles low in her stomach jump. She feels a blush stain her cheeks and is thankful for the darkness that conceals it from him. She has to swallow hard and clear her voice.

  “What? Did I say something to upset you?” he asks with concern.

  Her voice comes out in a weird squeak, “What? No. Just thinking we should be searching more carefully.”

  “Alright, Samantha,” he says quietly and turns his attention back to scanning out the window. A few minutes later, he says, “So, not a horse or a dead animal part. Or a house.”

  “No, nothing,” she corrects, regaining her self-control, which is vital to containing and locking down those old feelings from bubbling up again. She lifts her chin. “I don’t want anything from you.”

  A long time passes, so much that she’s pretty sure he didn’t hear her at all. Then he finally remarks on her statement.

  “Hm, we’ll see,” he comments as if he has something up his sleeve.

  She doesn’t like this new and improved and more confident Simon. It’s so much better when he’s awkward and unsure of himself. This behavioral change in him makes her feel like she’s the one who’s awkward and unsure. It’s not a flip she likes. That’s for sure.

  “I’ve got something,” he announces. “I think I see it. Yes, this is the camp.”

  “Where? I don’t see anything.”

  “We’re just south of it still,” he says and steps very close behind her. “Turn just slightly, Sam.”

  He rotates her by placing both hands on her shoulders. One hand drops, and he raises his binoculars again. He lowers them and waits for her to locate the camp, which she does not. Then Simon places his hand beneath her chin and turns her face slightly to her right. His fingers don’t leave her, though.

  “See it yet?” he asks, his mouth just inches from her ear, his breath touching her skin in a feather-light caress.

  “Um…” she replies unsteadily and draws in and holds a deep breath. Then she sees what he means. “Wait. Yeah. I think I see it.”

  “Lights, lanterns likely,” he says and finally lowers his hand from her chin. “Looks like tents and small buildings illuminated.”

  He hasn’t moved away, so Sam dares not turn her head, or she’ll bump her face against his. She can still feel his breath hitting her cheek.

  “I’ll have to go down there,” he says.

  His statement shocks her, which causes Sam to jerk her head toward him. They nearly collide, but he doesn’t step back. Sam isn’t about to back down, either.

  “What do you mean you’re going down there?” she hisses. “No way!”

  She jumps slightly when he runs the backs of his fingers down over her cheek. Sam slaps them away.

  “Simon!”

  “I can’t tell what we’re looking at,” he says and finally steps back. “I’m gonna have to get closer.”

  “No,” she orders firmly and plants both feet.

  “No choice, Sam,” he says and lifts his sniper rifle with the big scope. Then he taps his throat mic. “Got me?”

  “No!” she says more loudly, the hollow sound of her voice causing her to jump in the echoey room. She heard him in her earpiece just fine but doesn’t want him to leave.

  “I’ll be right back,” he says and heads toward the door.

  Sam rushes in front of him and literally presses her back to the door to prevent him from leaving.

  “Sam,” he says as if he’s talking to one of the younger kids at the farm who is misbehaving.

  “Don’t leave me here,” she orders, gritting her teeth.

  He reaches out and cups her cheek. “I’ll be right back. No reason to worry.”

  “Yeah, right!” she says in a huff of impatience. “There was just a car down there in the street, Simon.”

  “It’s gone now,” he reassures her. “I’ll be back quickly. I can go faster without you.”

  “No,” she says, pouting and actually crosses her arms over her chest in frustration.

  He blows through his nose the way he does when he’s smiling at her, which he is now.

  Sam is truly afraid he’s going out the door and never coming back. Near tears, she pleads in a whisper, “Simon.”

  He slings his rifle and raises his other hand to mirror the right. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Famous last words.”

  “This isn’t a horror flick,” he lectures her, which pisses Sam off more. “One hour. I’ve got you on coms. We’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll tell Derek,” she threatens, not caring if it sounds childish.

  “He’s the one who told me to do this,” he tells her. “Neither of us felt comfortable with the idea of you getting close to their camp in case it really is Parker in charge of it. If it’s not, it could be something even worse.”

  She screws up her features in anger and defiance and feels tears brim in her eyes.

  “One hour,” he repeats and pulls her closer, his hands still on either side of her face. “Just one quick thing first.”

  “What…?” she asks and cannot stop it before it happens when his mouth touches down against hers.

  Simon kisses her softly, leisurely, as if he has nowhere else to be, not even on direct orders from his commanding officer. His mouth moves on hers as if he’s done it a thousand times. Then the kiss deepens, and he pushes his tongue between her lips and his hands shift from framing her face to settling on either side of her waist. Sam lets out a soft cry against his mouth, which seems to encourage him. His hands slip beneath her short, wool jacket and grip her waist as if he is afraid she’ll fall backward. The way he’s kissing her, exploring her mouth so thoroughly, she just might.

  He ends their kiss as abruptly as he started it, which leaves her just as stunned.

  “One hour,” he says and moves her out of his way by squeezing her waist, his hands having never left it. “Lock this door. Double lock it, Sam.”

  She is too stunned to answer, so Sam just nods and does what he says after he has gone through it. She also props the chair back under the handle the way Simon had it. But she stands there with her back against the heavy, metal door still reeling from their kiss. How can he be so unaffected? He seemed so cool as if it was nothing moving for him at all. Is that true? Perhaps Simon has been sewing his wild oats with other women since she left the farm. It has been a long time, months. He could’ve had a girlfriend for a while. In the time she’s been gone, he could’ve had many. For some idiotic reason, that thought makes her cheeks burn but not from embarrassment this time. They burn from irritation and jealousy. Plus, he has no right whatsoever to kiss her like that. She has let him know how she feels about him. It’s ridiculous to think he has so much confidence in himself that he feels it’s just fine to kiss her apparently whenever he wants, as if she belongs to him, as if they are a couple. Henry doesn’t even do that. She’s glad for it, too. He has also never attempted to kiss her the same way Simon does. She has to stop herself from wrinkling her nose at the idea of kissing Henry like that. Henry is a good man. He is patient and kind and shares his feelings with her openly. She just really hopes he never tries to kiss her like Simon just did. Simon kisses her as if he is tattooing his very own brand on her lips. It makes her angry, extremely angry. And something else, too. After a moment of thinking about Henry kissing her like that, Sam shoves away from the door and crosses t
o the window again.

  She consults her watch, marking the time of half past midnight so that she knows when he should be back. After staring through her binoculars for sight of Simon, Sam doesn’t find him.

  “Where are you?” she blares into her throat mic, not caring if it hurts his ears. Good. “I can’t see a damn thing out there.”

  His smile is evident in his voice when he answers, “Language, young lady.”

  She’d like to say something worse but doesn’t.

  “Where are you?”

  “Down to your right. See me in the intersection?” he asks.

  Sam spots the green laser he’s waving around in a circle.

  “I see you now,” she tells him.

  Simon asks with humor still lingering in his deep voice, “Like what you see?”

  “Don’t be an ass,” she reprimands.

  “That’s it,” he whispers. “No more hanging out with Cory for you.”

  Sam smirks despite her annoyance. Simon has a way about him that irritates and humors her at the same time. He’s so frustrating.

  He keeps going, and every once in a while, she’ll catch a glimpse of him moving through the parking lots and down streets. He crosses the river, using a bridge that she hopes is still safe and disappears into the woods. Then she cannot see him at all, which makes her uneasy.

  “I’m getting close,” he says softly into his mic. “I see the lights.”

  “Be careful,” she warns and strains to see any sign of him.

  Time passes slowly as she waits to either see muzzle flashes or Simon running back toward her. He goes silent, which she knows is a must in this sort of situation. Just a visual on the laser would be good. Or one of him heading back across that bridge. Neither comes, and the tenseness of the situation starts getting to her. Sam glances over her shoulder more than once.

  “Simon,” she whispers.

  He doesn’t answer, which heightens her anxiety, so she begins pacing between the rooms glancing out the various windows facing the river. It feels like hours have gone by. She looks at her watch again. Nearly one-forty. He’s been gone already the full hour. He should be back any minute now. She should see him any second. However, when she says his name again into her mic, he still doesn’t answer.