The McClane Apocalypse Book Nine

by Kate Morris

  “Shit,” Cory blurts and then says. “It’s ok, kiddo. We’re gonna get you outta’ here.”

  “What the hell?” Henry yells from the doorway and pushes past Paige. He rushes over to her, too.

  “Damn,” he says.

  Sam looks down and sees what has shocked them both, these big, tough men. There is a piece of metal sticking out of her thigh on the side. It looks like the stuff called rebar but isn’t as thick. It must have come from some sort of structural piece of the stairs or railing or somewhere up high in the ceiling.

  “We need to get her to Doc stat,” Cory says in a serious tone.

  Henry presses his throat mic and demands, “We’re moving. Be ready to go in two.”

  They never give such a definitive short amount of time. It sounds funny, although it isn’t at all because the reason for his distress and urgency is due to the nature and severity of her injury. This causes Sam to panic slightly.

  Cory doesn’t even hesitate. He drops his pack and digs out a white bandage. Then he ties it off above the piece of metal and pulls tight, making a tourniquet. Sam has to grit her teeth. Having feeling in her leg must be a good sign. Or so she hopes.

  Without asking, he jams his rifle into Henry’s hands and swiftly lifts Sam into his arms. She cries out in pain, feels bad for doing it because of the look of worry it causes Cory, and bites her lower lip to keep from doing so again.

  “Easy, Sam,” he coos.

  Then he races with her in his arms as if he is carrying Mary, who is only two. He doesn’t load her into Henry’s truck. He takes her to his own with Paige, who rides in the back seat with her. Henry rides shotgun, and one of his men jumps in the bed to offer security should they require it.

  “Keep that tourniquet tight, Paige. Don’t let it get loose. If she starts gushing again, let me know, and I’ll pull over,” he orders Paige and actually peels out.

  “Yes,” she returns. “I’ve got it. Just go, Cory.”

  “I am,” he says through gritted teeth, the sound of his voice filled with stress.

  Sam feels terrible for causing all this trouble.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

  Paige strokes her head in her lap and says, “Oh, no, Sam. It’s nothing to be sorry about. It was just an accident.”

  “Hey!” she says, remembering. “I found a bunch of stuff at the riding store. I set it out for your friends to come back up and get, Henry.”

  “We’ll send someone later,” he says, turning in his seat. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure someone gets it all.”

  “Ok,” she says, feeling her eyelids growing suddenly heavy.

  “Sam?” Paige cries out with concern.

  She blinks and says, “Yes?”

  Paige exhales and says, “I thought you were gonna pass out on me.”

  “Yeah,” Cory puts in from the front seat, “she doesn’t want anyone stealing her thunder.”

  “Cory,” Paige says in a reprimanding tone.

  “Don’t make me separate you two,” Sam jokes. Then she grits her teeth and grimaces as the pain returns full force.

  Although the ride to Pleasant View shouldn’t take long, Sam is pretty sure Cory makes a new land speed record. They are permitted entrance immediately by the guards at the gate, and he drives them to Grandpa’s practice. Cory jumps out first and goes in to retrieve him. He comes out with Simon on his heels. Great. This is not what she had in mind. She wants to request a transfer to her uncle’s clinic instead but knows it is not a reasonable or logical demand. Plus, she’d have to hear a lecture by Simon about behaving illogically again, which would make her want to club him.

  “What the hell happened to her?” she hears him demanding near the truck.

  She feels too weak to raise her head and tell him to shut up, which is what she’d like to do. He irritates her so badly. Instead, she is forced to lie there and listen as his voice rises and Cory’s matches it as he tries to calm Simon. Then she is lifted from the truck, not by Henry or Cory, but by Simon.

  “Easy, son,” Grandpa says to him as Sam stares up at the rain beating down on her face and he carries her into the clinic. “We must not cause more damage. That’s it. Gently. Easy. Right through here.”

  “What can we do?” Cory asks near the doorway to the exam room where she is placed on a table.

  “Boil water. Paige will show you where and how. The stove’s already on,” Grandpa instructs.

  “What can I do, Dr. McClane?” Henry asks next.

  Simon snarls as he pulls on a new gown and ties it in the back, “Haven’t you done enough?”

  Grandpa answers Henry with kindness, though, “You may help Cory. I’ll probably send you both for tools or supplies as I need them. For now, we have what we need in here.”

  Sam realizes she is in the surgical suite, the one they’d finished last year so that they could perform minor surgeries. This is what her uncle wants to replicate at their clinic. Sometimes they go well; other times not so well. And there is usually a considerable amount of pain that comes in this room as they do not have a plethora of anesthesia.

  Simon begins cutting her jeans free as Grandpa pulls off his white lab coat.

  “Are we looking at an entry and exit, Dr. Murphy?” Grandpa asks patiently.

  “Yes, sir,” he answers. “It punctured through the ITB, possibly caught some of the sartorius.”

  “The iliotibial band? Good. That will be easier to heal from, less ligament and tendon damage. Once we remove the foreign object, the wound site will need to be repaired,” Grandpa instructs. “We’ll thank our lucky stars if it hasn’t struck the femoral.”

  “Yes, sir,” Simon says tightly.

  She can see his blue eyes behind his glasses and above the surgical mask. They are troubled and keep sneaking nervous, furtive peeks at her face.

  “I’ll be back,” he says to Simon. “Get her ready, Dr. Murphy. Prep her for minor surgery and administer local anesthesia at the site. I’ll send for a nurse.”

  He leaves, and Sam is left with just Simon.

  “Are you in a lot of pain?” he asks and rushes to her head where he strokes her hair.

  His demeanor has completely changed from a moment ago when Grandpa was in the room. He isn’t professional or stoic or even angry like he was outside. He’s worried and, by the looks of it, freaked out.

  “A little,” she lies. It’s excruciating.

  “Your pupils are wide, wider than normal,” he says gently and strokes his thumb over her brow. “I know you’re in a lot of pain. I’m going to make it go away, ok?”

  Sam nods, feeling slightly better knowing she’s in good hands, his and Grandpa’s. Simon has treated a lot worse injuries than this before. Of course, it wasn’t she on the operating table, so this feels a lot more horrendous to Sam.

  She tries to hold still as Simon removes her jeans, which are now sliced to shreds. Lying in front of him in her underwear might be embarrassing under different circumstances. Or perhaps under very different circumstances, it might not be a terrible thing at all. He doesn’t even seem to notice she’s half dressed. His manner is professional and calm as he removes her jacket, too. It was cold out this morning, so she’d dressed for the weather. Now she feels hot, stifled. She’s wearing a turtleneck and hoodie, too, so she unzips the hoodie, and Simon removes it for her.

  “You doing ok?” he asks softly.

  “Great,” she says and catches full sight of her leg. It turns her stomach and makes her feel like she might vomit.

  “Easy now. Just breathe,” he cautions and lifts the hem of her shirt.

  “No!” Sam cries and tugs the hem down.

  “Sam, this has to go. Contaminates,” he reminds her. “I’m just your doctor right now. Remember?”

  She nods, sways and feels like passing out, almost wishes she could to spare her from this pain and humiliation. Simon carefully but swiftly whips the turtleneck over her head and tosses it away. Then he pulls her arms through a
hospital gown.

  “There, sanitary,” he says as if he finds some relief in knowing she isn’t soiling her wound with germs.

  “Mr. Perfectionist,” she teases and then winces at the pain in her leg.

  “Where you’re concerned, yes,” he says firmly. “Just lie back, Sam,” he says and presses a hand to her shoulder and one against her back and helps her. “I’m going to administer the xylocaine.”

  “Just save it for someone else,” she says, trying to be brave and think of their patients first.

  “Not a chance,” he retorts.

  Sam takes a deep breath, knowing it stings, when she feels the cold wetness of the alcohol-moistened cotton ball.

  “Pinch,” he says right before plunging the needle into her leg near her wound. “And another.”

  His voice sounds more distressed now as if he finds the idea of sticking her uncomfortable.

  “One more, Sam,” he says.

  This time she does not feel the sting of the prick or the solution going in. The localized area must be numbing up.

  “Last one, honey,” he says, surprising her at the endearment. He never talks to patients like that. Not at all. He is serious to the point of being stoic sometimes. “Feel that?”

  Sam looks down at the needle sticking out of her flesh and the blood all over the exam table and the six or eight-inch-long piece of metal poking through her skin and nearly swoons. It’s different when the wound and injury and pain are in one’s own body.

  The room starts spinning.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” she says quickly.

  “Give me ten seconds,” he assures her and turns his back to her to go to the counter behind him.

  He returns with a shot full of some sort of solution.

  “Whatever that is, save it for our patients,” she tells him.

  Simon smiles behind his mask. She can tell because it softens his eyes and causes tiny wrinkles to sprout at the corners of them.

  “Pinch, ok?” he says after he swabs her shoulder.

  “What was that?”

  “Phenergan for the nausea and it’ll help you relax,” he says. “And we’ve got plenty of it, so don’t worry.”

  Within seconds, Sam is feeling sleepy, the pain in her leg is gone, and she no longer thinks she’s going to puke all over the exam room. She wonders how much he gave her. Her body feels floaty and warm. Her eyes grow heavy.

  “It’s ok,” he says. “Just relax. Sleep. You’ll be fine.”

  Sam sighs and lets the medicine lull her into a euphoric, fatigued state, not that she could stop it from happening. It’s powerful stuff.

  Simon is setting up an instrument tray near her side and busying himself with getting ready while Grandpa must be overseeing the instrument sterilization and collection of rags or whatever he’s doing. Her mind is having trouble focusing on cohesive thoughts.

  His back is to her, but she knows he isn’t walking away because he doesn’t want her rolling off the table and plopping onto the hard floor. Sam reaches out, misses and tries again. She tugs his surgical gown, which causes him to glance over his shoulder at her.

  “Feeling ok?” he asks.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she says, her words sounding funny and slightly slurred.

  “Me, too,” he says and stops what he’s doing to turn around and lean down over her.

  He uses his small pen light and shines it in her eyes, which irritates her. She waves his hand away and ends up hitting Simon’s chin instead. He gently takes her hand into his and holds it down.

  “Sorry,” she babbles.

  “How are you feeling now?” he asks again as Grandpa comes back into the room dressed in matching surgical clothing like Simon.

  “Tired. What time is it?” she mumbles and realizes that she might not have said the words out loud. Oh well.

  Sam hears them talking to someone else, probably a nurse. She looks to her left and sees Paige. She’s not a nurse. Grandpa laughs at something. She tries to itch her nose but realizes that Simon still has her hand in his. He glances down at her again, uses their clasped hands to stroke her cheek and offers another smile behind his mask. His eyes look troubled, though. She can tell. She knows him better than any other person on the planet. She sees fear and worry and vulnerability there.

  Sam wants to reassure him that everything is fine, that she feels fine now, but the words come out garbled. She thinks perhaps he gave her more than anti-nausea medicine. She feels happy, light, and free.

  “You’re my best friend,” she says, or attempts to say, before closing her eyes. “I love you.”

  Her eyes fall closed right after he smiles and says something back that she does not quite catch. Her eyelids become way too heavy to open again.

  Chapter Ten

  Simon

  He startles awake from a nightmare about his sister being killed in a car accident on a night out on the town with her girlfriends in Arizona. Simon blinks hard at his strange surroundings and tries to control his breathing, thinking about his old life, the life that is now gone. In fact, he is in the back of the clinic, a low wattage lamp on a small stand next to his cot the only illumination in the dark room. He rubs his eyes, checks his watch, and sits up. It is nearly midnight. On the other side of the room, Sam is resting peacefully thanks to the medicine Herb administered after her surgery.

  Flinching from the memory of her wounded and in pain and all it had entailed, Simon stands and walks over to check on her again. She is still asleep, slightly warm to the touch, and her bandage is clean. All good signs.

  Simon takes a seat in the folding chair beside her and writes on her chart his observations. Then he slinks quietly from the room to stretch his legs, leaving the door cracked open slightly so that he can hear her. Cory is sitting in the lobby of Herb’s practice when he reaches it. He is wide awake, perched on the arm of the sofa, and watching out the front windows with his rifle propped on his knee. He spins at the sound of Simon’s footsteps.

  “Hey, man,” Cory greets and walks over to him.

  Near the door, Damn Dog is resting with her head between her front paws. He takes her with him sometimes on missions and runs. Sometimes he thinks Cory likes that dog better than most people. Simon would have to agree with him on that matter. Plus, the dog is loyal and has sharper ears than anyone else he knows. She raises her head to acknowledge Simon’s presence but goes right back to guarding the door.

  “Still here?” he asks Cory.

  His former friend smiles and says, “Nowhere else to be. Didn’t think you’d appreciate it if I stayed down the road with your sister in the same house.”

  “As long as you don’t mind me sniping you on the way there,” Simon gives it right back.

  Cory chuckles softly and asks, “How’s she doing?”

  “So far so good. We’re watching for signs of tetanus and infection.”

  “Was that metal in her leg rusty?”

  Simon shakes his head. “No, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t miss a small spot of it. It would only take a miniscule amount.”

  Cory nods with a wrinkled brow as if he, too, is worried about Samantha. Damn Dog growls low in her throat and sits more erect. Outside, two patrolmen ride by on horses, their hooves clip-clopping on the road. They are wearing rain slickers, so Simon cannot see their faces. They probably work for the sheriff as deputies.

  “Good girl,” Cory praises as she trots over for a petting.

  It is still raining outside, and they have the wood-burning stove lit in the back, which warms the whole clinic. Cory has also been keeping that going, as well. Herb went home to the farm for rest hours ago for the first time in days. He has worked tirelessly with Robert’s team treating the sick children and has made huge progress, especially in the last twenty-four hours. The new concoction of medicine is working, and everyone sighed a giant, collective breath of relief when he announced it. The children in Hendersonville are also receiving it and showing good results.

/>   “What the hell happened out there?” Simon asks of their venture today, which he only briefly heard about because he was too busy treating her.

  “Nothing,” Cory answers. Then he reiterates the fact since Simon glares at him with disbelief. “Really, bro. She fell. She fell coming down a set of stairs.”

  “How? How come he didn’t catch her?”

  “Simon, it was an accident. Henry wasn’t even with her.”

  This is confusing. “Who was?”

  Cory shrugs and says, “Nobody, I guess. I wasn’t with her. She went with Henry. We all paired up. Everything was going just fine…”

  “You left her alone?” he demands with hostility.

  “Yes, I told you we paired up. I was keeping an eye on your sister. Everything was going fine.”

  Simon interrupts, “Until she fell down a flight of stairs and ended up with a piece of metal through her damn thigh.”

  “Yeah,” Cory says and runs a hand through his damp hair.

  Cory has also been walking the perimeter and keeping an eye out just in case. It is hard to let their guard down when one of their own is unable to fend for herself.

  Cory continues and says, “I don’t know what went wrong. All I know is that Henry said he took a load out to the truck.”

  “Why’d he leave her alone? That’s fucking stupid.”

  Cory actually flinches at Simon’s use of foul language.

  “Sorry, I’m just very angry,” Simon apologizes.

  Cory nods and says, “I understand, bro. I am, too. You don’t leave anyone alone on a run, not even for a minute. I know Sam can be persuasive, but he shouldn’t have left her alone. I didn’t know he did. It’s just not a good idea. He knows better, so I’m confused how this happened, too.”

  “You better not have left Paige alone.”

  “I didn’t. But that’s cool that you say so,” Cory comments in an asinine tone. “Doe this mean I’ve got your permission to hang around Paige more?”

  “You’re hilarious. You’re lucky John said she could go with you. If it were up to me, I’d have said no.”