The McClane Apocalypse Book Eight

by Kate Morris

  “It’s not war, goddammit,” Derek yells. “I got hit by a damn truck. That’s not the same.”

  “This is a war,” John argues. “It’s just a different kind than we’re used to. Instead of religious freaks trying to kill us, it’s morons trying to rule what’s left of this country. And it doesn’t mean you’re worthless. We still need you, especially for leadership. You think me or the Hulk could run this operation? Get real, man. You make the tough calls. You have the most operational leadership experience. We’re just triggers. You’ve got the brains in this outfit.”

  “Whatever, John,” Derek says with despair.

  “Let’s go,” her husband says firmly. “I don’t care if you do have a paperweight, you’re still working out with me. Besides, Sue’s gonna dump your hobbled butt for some young, hot guy in town if you don’t keep up your workouts.”

  Reagan frowns. That’s not true at all, but she knows better than to get involved in the arguments of the men or try to understand them or their strange and sometimes unforgiving way of communicating with one another.

  “Hey, sis,” Hannah says behind her, startling the hell out her.

  “Damn, Hannie,” she exclaims.

  “Whatcha’ doing?” her sly sister inquires, probably knowing full-well that Reagan is eavesdropping.

  “Nothing, going to the bathroom as usual,” she lies.

  A moment later, John comes down the hall with his brother on his heels using his crutches and scowling at John’s back.

  “Help me in the kitchen?” her sister requests.

  “Sure, let me use the bathroom first. Alien kid is pressing on my bladder,” Reagan informs her, although Hannah has already been here, done this, got the t-shirt in the baby growing department.

  As she’s washing her hands, Reagan ponders Derek’s predicament, something she and Grandpa do on a daily basis. It’s so frustrating knowing they can’t perform the surgeries he needs to correct the broken, mangled bones and ligaments in his leg. Her brother-in-law is becoming more and more withdrawn from the family as each day passes. She hopes John tells him soon before she has to. Not understanding the extent of his injuries is unfair to Derek.

  Reagan comes out of the bathroom and nearly runs down Paige.

  “Sorry,” she apologizes.

  “No prob,” Paige says. “I’m off. Going over to visit my God-son, Elijah. He’s so dang cute.”

  “He is,” Reagan agrees, having met Talia’s baby in the form of a check-up just a few days ago. He is rather adorable. “Be careful.”

  “You got it,” Paige says and leaves.

  Reagan makes bread with Hannah as Sue prepares baked chicken for tonight’s dinner. They are cooking three of the injured birds from the tornado that were not going to make it much longer. They had John kill them, and Huntley and Ari pluck them. The kids have to learn this stuff in case they are ever completely alone. It sounds horrible, them being alone or on their own someday, and Reagan doesn’t like to think about it happening, but it could. Paige was alone for a while with just the company of two friends and a toddler. Cory struck out on his own. Something could happen that could tear them all apart. The highwaymen could attack the farm next. Perhaps they will have enough men to finally best the McClanes. Or maybe Robert will adopt all of them and then ditch them, too. It could happen.

  “Right, Reagan?” Sue asks, breaking her gloomy train of thought about the kids.

  “What?” Reagan asks.

  “We need to get Sam to come over for a visit soon,” Sue repeats. “I miss her. She’s our little ray of sunshine. Now we’re stuck with you. I miss having her around all the time. So do the kids.”

  “Don’t think that’s gonna happen, maybe not ever again,” Reagan informs them, ignoring her sister’s jab. She knows Sue doesn’t mean anything by teasing her.

  “Why not?” Hannie asks with a crease in her ordinarily smooth forehead. It seems out of place, that little worry line.

  “She’s not coming back, and I don’t think she wants to come for visits anymore. She pretty much told me that the other day at the clinic.”

  “Oh, no,” Sue frets. “We need to get Simon off alone and find out what this is all about.”

  “She said that basically, she has feelings for him but that they weren’t reciprocated,” Reagan tells them. “Once when she came for a visit, she was being very elusive when Paige and I talked to her. And then she said some bullshit about wanting to live with Dave’s group because of her uncle.”

  “Reagan,” Hannah warns about the swearing.

  She grins and continues, pressing her luck, “He’s royally screwed this up, whatever this was. Simon’s gonna have to fix it, not us. I don’t even know why he doesn’t want her. He hung on her every word. He followed her around the farm like a love-sick puppy for the last four, friggin’ years. And he’s more protective of her than anyone else. This relationship shit is confusing.”

  “Hey!” Hannah says with more earnest this time. Then she continues on in a sweet voice, her Disney princess Hannie voice, “I think we should speak with him. And by we, I mean you.”

  “Me?” Sue asks. “Simon and I aren’t that close. I mean, I love him and all…”

  “No, not you, Sue,” Hannah stops her.

  It takes Reagan a second to realize her sister means her. She stops kneading and stares with unconcealed surprise. “What? Me? Why the hell would you want me to talk to Simon? Duh. I just said I’m bad at relationship crap. I’d have no idea where even to start.”

  “Start at the beginning,” Hannah recommends cheerily. “It’s always the best place!”

  Reagan doesn’t reply with the sarcastic comment that’s floating around in her head. Hannah is too innocent for such a thing.

  “I don’t think we should get involved,” Reagan says instead.

  “Someone should,” Sue counters as she places the chicken in a roasting pan and covers it with a large lid. She’ll let it marinate for a few hours in a mixture of oils and spices from her herb garden, which is starting to look like an herb garden again and not like a tornado just kicked the shit out of it. Then she’ll have the guys put it on the barbecue pit out back.

  “Sure as hell not me!”

  Hannah slaps the back of her head.

  “Hey, I’m pregnant!”

  “Exactly why you shouldn’t use that sort of gutter language!” Hannah explains primly.

  “What?” Reagan asks with incomprehension.

  “The baby can hear you,” Hannah elucidates. “Do you want him to learn that kind of language from his mother?”

  “Good Lord,” Reagan says, preparing to duck.

  “One more time,” Hannah threatens a full attack and points her finger in Reagan’s general direction.

  “Babies in the womb do not learn swear words or any words for that matter,” Reagan corrects her.

  “Oh contraire,” Hannah argues. “Babies hear a lot more than you think. They like music, too. Mary used to kick like crazy when I’d play the piano.”

  “You were probably making her ears hurt,” Reagan teases. “And that was her only way of communicating for you to stop.”

  Hannah gives an exaggerated frown, an unusual expression for her dear, darling sister. Sue just laughs at their banter.

  “Back to Simon,” Sue reminds them. “I do think it’d be a good idea if you spoke with him, Reagan. He trusts you, looks up to you. It’s either you or Grandpa, and you know Simon’s not going to tell him anything that he thinks might upset him. That would kill Simon. So, if anything bad happened between him and Sam, you’ll have to dig it out. Grandpa’s not gonna be any help with this one.”

  “And I would?” Reagan asks, getting a nod. “Oh, geez. Talk about pressure. I’m not good with that sort of shit.”

  Slap! Another crack to her head.

  “Ouch!” she complains.

  “I warned you fair and square,” Hannah says in a chipper tone as she takes her bowl of bread to the pantry to rise.

&n
bsp; “So irritating,” Reagan complains about Hannie to Sue, who just grins.

  “See what you can do, sis,” Sue pleads and touches her hand. “They’re both in a lot of pain. Simon tries to hide it, but I can see how much this has hurt him- her leaving.”

  “Yeah,” Reagan says. “It sucks that you’re putting this on me, though. I’ve got better things to do than fix people’s relationships.”

  “Like what? Study gross pictures of diseases or put up your swollen ankles or throw up for the twentieth time in a single day? You don’t have a lot of choices right now.”

  “True. That sucks, too.”

  Sue nods and smiles gently before tucking a strand of Reagan’s hair behind her ear. “Yes, pregnancy is no treat, but it does have a pretty good payoff at the end.”

  “So I keep hearing,” Reagan jokes and takes her bread bowl to rest beside Hannah’s. Her sister’s looks so much more perfect than her own. Oh well, they shouldn’t ask her to step outside her comfort zone and enter the kitchen. Like John’s forte is killing people- which they’d sugar-coated but meant anyway- her specialty is positively not cooking.

  She sits at the island and munches on a celery stalk, earning a snooty look from Sue who is busy chopping them.

  “It’s so sad,” Sue says out of the blue, her brown eyes downcast. “I always thought I’d throw a baby shower or bridal showers for you guys someday. Now, look at us.”

  “Neither of those is something I’d need to be done for me if this all hadn’t happened,” Reagan informs her sister.

  “Sure you would have,” Hannah corrects with her usual optimism.

  “No, I had no intention of marrying or having kids,” she reminds her. “You two should know that better than anyone.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Sue counters. “If you would’ve met John at our house sometime, I don’t think he would’ve let you stay single for long.”

  Reagan snorts but secretly wonders what would’ve happened had she met him under different circumstances. It was bound to happen. His only brother was married to her sister. They would have run into one another, and likely many times. The only reason they never had was because John was always deployed when she went to visit Sue and Derek, and she was busy in medical school. She knew of him, but that was all. Reagan doesn’t even think she ever saw a picture of John at their house. Now she can’t imagine her life without him.

  “Doubt it,” Reagan says. “John wasn’t ever going to leave the military, not like Kelly would’ve. He was bound to be a lifer.”

  “So?” Sue says. “Doesn’t mean you wouldn’t have met. Then we would’ve had to wait and see what happened. I bet John would’ve given it up for you.”

  “Most definitely,” Hannie concurs with a nod.

  She’s not so sure. John was a career military man, a natural born killer, something he doesn’t necessarily like being but something at which he excels. He is in his element in this world the way it is now. He never would’ve fit into a suburban husband role where he mowed the lawn on the weekend, grilled food for friends and family, and went on the occasional hunt in the fall. It would’ve stifled him.

  “No matter,” Sue says. “He’s got you now. And he made it stick, too.”

  Her sister points to Reagan’s stomach with her paring knife and smiles. Then she goes back to work, now chopping potatoes. Reagan just grimaces.

  “You seem like you’re feeling better this last week,” Hannah speculates.

  “Yes, not so bad,” Reagan reassures her. “Only took me to almost eight months to get there!”

  “You always did do things at your own pace,” Sue says with a laugh.

  “Usually at high speed,” Hannah teases with a sly grin.

  Reagan rolls her eyes and groans at their criticisms.

  “Why don’t you go and lie down, sweetie?” Sue suggests.

  “I’m fine,” Reagan says.

  “Then go rest and put your feet up,” Hannah says. “And study your books. We’ve got this, and they certainly don’t need your help outside.”

  “I think I’m being evicted,” Reagan remarks with a grin.

  “Yep!” Sue says brightly. “Go rest. That’s an order.”

  Reagan sends her a salute and climbs the stairs to her bedroom on the third floor and silently wishes it was on the first floor. The muscles in her groin ache by the time she gets to her room, not before she pit stops in the bathroom again.

  She takes up a perch with a book on infectious diseases of the blood on the balcony in a soft chair John put out there for her. Male laughter draws her attention to the equipment shed. She can see Kelly jabbing his fists toward John, who is deflecting. They spar like this a lot. John explained that it keeps them fresh. She worried they’d hurt each other, but so far, no broken anything or stitches. Luke is doing pushups on the ground beside Derek, who is also pumping them out. John goes over to her new brother and pushes his booted foot down on Luke’s back. Luke jumps to his feet and begins punching at John with as much skill as Kelly just had. John deflects this time, ducks and comes up swinging. Luke blocks and connects with his right against John’s cheek, causing more laughter. They are all loud and boisterous, obnoxious and raucous. Even Derek laughs. It makes her heart lift just slightly, even if he only laughs once.

  Chapter Seven

  Sam

  She’s been forced into his company for the last five days and would very much like to avoid Simon for the next week, although that is not likely to happen. Sam is sad tonight because Cory is leaving in the morning. They worked all day again at the cabin and made a tremendous amount of progress. She’s had time in the evenings to hang out with Cory and was thankful that Simon did not join them. They played cards a few times with Henry and another woman named Dylan who sleeps in the same bunkhouse as Sam. She’s pretty sure Dylan wanted to do more with Cory than just play cards, but Sam doesn’t think he’s interested in her. At least it hadn’t seemed that way to Sam. Dylan, on the other hand, had drilled her with a hundred questions about Cory, of which she’d tried to deflect.

  The day is over, the sun set, and she’s hanging out in the horse barn watching the baby foal frolic in the sectioned off part of the long barn away from the other horses. His spindly legs crack her up. He trots with a sharp attitude around the small pen as if he is king of the world. Wait until he gets out to the big pasture with the other horses. He’s in for a surprise. He’ll learn his place in the proverbial pecking order soon enough. A few of his auntie mares will set him straight.

  “Sam,” Henry says behind her.

  “Hi,” she greets cordially.

  “Boy is he cute,” he remarks with his southern accent hanging onto the word ‘cute.’

  “Yes, all legs and no sense yet,” she says with a smile.

  “I’ve seen you working with him,” he admits. “I’m not as familiar with horse training as you. I’m glad you’re here.”

  She offers the slightest of smiles.

  “Can I speak with you?”

  She turns to him and nods. “Of course.”

  He frowns and sighs first. “I should’ve said this sooner, but I wanted confirmation of what I assumed.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I like spending time with you.”

  Sam frowns, not sure where he’s going with this. “Ok, I like spending time with you, too. Playing cards at night in your house has really helped me feel like I fit in around here.”

  Henry shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “No,” he says, touching her arm. “I’m not saying this right. Sorry, I get a little tongue-tied sometimes. What I mean is that I’ve seen you around him, around the Professor, I mean, Simon.”

  Sam feels the air leave her lungs and the room become narrower like a hallway at the sound of his name.

  “Am I right in assuming that you two are or were together?”

  Sam just frowns and doesn’t answer. There is no a
nswer for this question.

  “I apologize. That’s none of my business…”

  “No, we’re not together, Henry. Simon’s…well, Simon’s just…he’s a friend.”

  He doesn’t look like he believes her, so he just nods. “I don’t want to be presumptive, but I assume you aren’t together now or you wouldn’t have moved over here.”

  “We’re not a couple,” she repeats for clarity.

  “Right,” he says. “I wanted to make sure.”

  “Ok, well, now you know,” she says, beginning to feel angry about this conversation. She’s not necessarily angry at Henry, but Sam doesn’t like it that other people speculate what they must see between herself and Simon. He doesn’t want her. He’s made that clear. She doesn’t want to look like a fool when people find out that they aren’t together. Her feelings, the ones for Simon, are so difficult to conceal. She’s going to have to work a lot harder doing so.

  “Good,” he says with a smile.

  Henry has a kind smile, friendly, open, less guarded than other men she knows. He’s quiet, but when he’s around his friends less so. He laughs a lot with them, and Sam knows how loyal he is to them, as well. She believes he feels a lot of responsibility for the people on his farm, even the ones who weren’t fellow soldiers or friends before the fall. He feels responsible for people like her, the women from the sex camp, and anyone else that comes to reside on the compound.

  “Do you like it here then?” he asks.

  “Yes, I like it just fine. Thanks for asking.”

  Sam wonders if he worries with equal fervor about the individual comfort of all the people living on his farm. If so, he’s going to get an ulcer. He and Dave have taken in a lot of people.

  “I want you to be happy here,” Henry says.

  “Ok,” Sam returns and looks back at the foal, who is nursing on his mother. She isn’t happy on this farm, but she isn’t about to tell him the reasons for her unhappiness. Finding her friend hanging from the rafters had devastated her. Reese’s suicide was like the pinnacle of Sam’s already growing depression. She’d been forced back to the farm for a visit, which had turned into a disaster of epic proportions. First, she’d quarreled with Simon. Then he’d kissed her, which had left her confused. She doesn’t understand why he does things like that when he clearly does not want to be with her. Is he just lonely? Then the tornado had destroyed parts of the farm. She just felt melancholy when she’d left Grandpa’s farm. Then her friend killed herself because she hadn’t felt she could go on.