The McClane Apocalypse: Book One
The McClane Apocalypse
Book One
Kate Morris
Copyright © Ranger Publishing 2014
All rights reserved; including the right to reproduce this book or portions of thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, email:
[email protected]
.
First Ranger Publishing softcover edition, March 2014
Ranger Publishing and design thereof are registered trademarks of Ranger Publishing.
For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact,
[email protected]
.
Ranger Publishing can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact
[email protected]
or contact the author directly through
www.KateMorrisauthor.com
or
[email protected]
Cover design and ebook formatting by
www.ebooklaunch.com
Author photo provided by Julie Ann Wayble
Manufactured in the United States of America
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file
ISBN 13: 978-0615990880
ISBN 10: 0615990886
Note to Readers: This publication contains the opinions and ideas of its author. It is not intended to provide helpful or informative material on the subjects addressed in the publication. The author and publisher specifically disclaim all responsibility for any liability, loss or risk personal or otherwise.
There are many people I’d like to thank for their love and support that went into creating this novel. First and foremost I’d like to thank my high school French teacher, Mrs. Christy Thorley who told me I should be an editor or writer someday. It just took twenty years to sink in, but her words always played about in the back of my mind pushing me to give it a go.
I’d also like to thank my design team at E Book Launch.com, Dane in particular, for their patience (and I’m sure it took a lot on their part) and the wonderful book cover design that Dane masterfully created for me.
And last, but certainly not least, I’d like to thank my family. My sister for her “this is better than Gone With the Wind!” cheerleading, my monkeys for their “you can do it, mom!” moments and my “John.” When I felt like chucking it in the creek, you gave me the confidence and unflagging love and support to push on.
And finally I’d like to dedicate this book to all of the brave men and women in our U.S. Armed Forces. You are the true heroes of this story. Thank you for my freedom and for keeping us all safe at home.
Table of Contents
Reagan
The end of the world doesn’t happen with a bang. It takes slightly longer than that but not by much. She is still in med school and sublimely fooled into thinking that her life will just happen along like those of her ancestors and their ancestors and so on. But it isn’t meant to be.
“Now, students, for those of you interested, you may stay after class and take a closer look at the frontal lobe. Fascinating thing, the frontal lobe, quite fascinating,” Professor Krue says in slightly distracted monotones. He was mockingly nicknamed “Professor Boringstein” in reference to the great Dr. Einstein or more likely to wittily point out the hair similarities. His Russian accent doesn’t help. A few of the students actually groan but not her.
“Yeah, right,” remarks the snarky young man beside her. “As if we wanna’ stay here and chop on these dead people some more when the whole world’s going to shit.” He is scrolling on his hand-held, looking at updates on the European stock market crash and pictures of the remnants of the French coastline and not paying attention anyway. Dr. Krue is oblivious as usual to the hushed conversation.
“No kidding, man,” adds in his male lab partner. “Four billion Chinese people are now fish bait, most of Europe is under water, the world’s in the middle of a nuclear WWIII and we’re still in med school. How stupid is this? I think I shoulda’ listened to my ol’ man and learned how to hunt... well, hunt for more than hot babes.” They both chuckle at his non-humorous joke.
Reagan McClane rolls her eyes with the usual impatience she has for most imbeciles. She tries to tune them out and listen to the professor’s lecture. No wonder she doesn’t date. Corpse dissection is more interesting than her male counterparts in this class.
They are all eager to get back to the 24 hour news stations on television or their electronic devices or their beer. The news networks have been in seventh heaven for the last month, but she has no interest in following the macabre events of world-wide desolation. No, she is a scholar through and through and dissecting a cadaver’s brain is more relevant than who is currently blowing up whom in the world.
Reagan has already taken Dr. Krue’s class before but is doing so again because she is simply out of classes to take and still has two months to go before the end of the school year. Plus, she just likes him. She also hangs out quite a lot in his lab, mostly because she only has two friends, Dr. Krue included. Many of the other students find him eccentric and annoying in his outdated ways and practices and his troll doll hair style but not Reagan. She and her friend and roommate, Uma Pengali, are teacher’s pets. They are also much younger than most of the other med students at the university at seventeen and twenty-two. Medicine is all Reagan has ever wanted to do, and she isn’t about to let the maddening current events in the world change this. Also, she never calls Dr. Krue “Professor Boringstein.” He isn’t boring at all but actually rather inspiring. Dr. Krue is also the best friend of her grandfather and has been since they’d both been young medical students themselves.
Uma wants to go out to a local, trendy coffee house this evening being the typical seventeen year old, and like a sucker Reagan had relented to her begging. It doesn’t really matter; Reagan still needs to be at the OSU hospital by six a.m. She and another med student and a young resident there are working on the pathology and mutation of airborne illnesses in the lab. It is so cool.
She blows a wayward strand of curly, blonde hair out of her face. It has once again come loose of its damn ponytail. Suddenly the door to Dr. Krue’s classroom bursts inward, slamming against the wall with a jarring crash.
“Haven’t you guys heard?” a young man in jeans and a gray and red Ohio State University jacket breathlessly shouts, interrupting Dr. Krue. His eyes are wild and excited with nervous energy. “Two new tsunamis just hit, and it’s the U.S. this time! It’s the end times, man!”
After acting as town crier, he immediately turns and continues running down the hall to inform other teachers and students. Everyone immediately breaks out their cell phones or laptops, and it quickly becomes apparent that the young man has reported correctly. The news networks are all reporting the same thing. A tsunami, even bigger than the one that hit the west coast of Europe two weeks prior, has buried the East Coast of America under ocean water. Another has crashed into many states in the south, wiping out nearly everything there, as well. News choppers are flying over the coastal region, but it looks like nothing but ruination and debris in the ocean.
Students jump to their feet, many leaving their backpacks and text books on their desks and sprint from the room. Dr. Krue doesn’t try to stop them, and soon it is just she, Uma and the professor left in his classroom.
“It would appear that many states have been affected by this latest series of tsunamis,” the female reporter on Uma’s laptop continues on a gasp of tears. “We are getting reports that New York, New Jersey, Delaware, Massachusetts, and parts of Virginia are completely covered in water. New York City is gone; it’s just gone. Can this be right? That would mean tens of millions of people are...” She is speaking to her fellow newscaster; she isn’t even looking at the camera anymore.
“Oh, my God. I was afraid of this happening,” Dr. Krue whispers in hushed tones. They listen on as the woman continues her coverage of the catastrophe.
“These seem to be the same types of tsunamis that hit China, Great Britain and France last month. Could this have been caused by the nuclear weapons that Russia, Iran, North Korea and China have all been using against each other? It has to be. It just has to be. The scientists have all proven that the nuclear weapons they used caused those earthquakes and tsunamis. Have we been nuked? Is that what this is? We don’t have reports in on that. It’s not fair to speculate, but how could this have happened? I have family in Vermont. Has Vermont been impacted, too? Was this event more than two tsunamis? We aren’t sure,” she is mostly weeping and distraught. Another reporter cuts in for her, covering for her faux pas. It is the news, after all.
“We are getting reports of rioting already in Washington, Los Angeles, Seattle, Cleveland and wide spread looting...”
The news station goes haywire and a black screen appears. The confusion, despair and fear for the future is so evident in their voices that Uma taps the side of her sleek computer a few times in the vain hope of getting it working again. She is obviously trusting in that maybe, just maybe something is mistaken in the reporting.
“You should leave. You should leave the university. It won’t be safe here much longer,” Dr. Krue informs them. He takes Reagan’s hands in his own and then hugs Uma.
“What do you mean?” Reagan asks with growing trepidation.
“But, Dr. Krue,” Uma’s dark eyes plead in desperation. “Everything will go back to normal soon, right, sir? Everything will be ok. The United Nations soldiers will keep the country safe. They aren’t all gone. They can’t be. There is some sort of mix-up. We will be safe, right?” The naked desperation in her voice is unnerving for Reagan.
Dr. Krue simply shakes his head slowly. He levels his gaze on Reagan and speaks quietly and with serious inflection.
“If New York is gone, then the UN military is gone, too. And so is the Stock Exchange, all the major banking institutions. Most of the major companies in America will fall apart, as well. Our monetary system will no longer matter. There are no measures in place to protect our banking systems against something like this,” he informs them gravely.
Uma shakes her head in disbelief, her growing panic showing clearly on her etched features. She has not heard from her family in India in over a week and that alone set her on edge lately. Reagan has been doing her best to keep her spirits up and hope alive. She had physically forced her friend into coming to class today and had promised to go with her later to that coffee shop as a bribe.
Dr. Krue continues, “We must leave here. Tonight. We’ll go home to your family’s farm, Reagan. I’ll make sure you get there. But we leave tonight. This place and... everywhere in America will no longer be safe. It really hasn’t been safe. They have just been falsely reporting on the news about the safety of America right now. Even if this hadn’t happened on our shores, it would have fallen apart. It won’t take long, either. We all watched the fall of civilization in Europe and Russia and what little is left of the Middle East. Hundreds of millions of people are dead there, and it looks as if it will be the same here. It only took days. It will be much faster here. There are people out there who have been waiting for this. The tension has been there since North Korea let off that first nuke. These people are opportunists. They will pillage and take. Take what they want. Take from whomever they want. The law will no longer be the law anymore. The police officers will abandon their jobs to take care of their own families. The world as you knew it, as I knew it, is over. The only thing you need to know now is how to survive.”
Her family’s farm is in Tennessee, a place she desperately misses all the time with the sick heartache of longing for her loved ones and her horses and the nature surrounding the large estate. It should also be safer there since it is extremely secluded and not a huge university in the middle of a big city like Columbus.
“But the military,” Reagan blurts with building dread. Her dad is in the military. Her brother-in-law is in the military. They’ll protect the country. The North Koreans, who had been operating for the past twenty years under the tutelage of the Russians, had set off a nuke on South Korea, but accidentally hit their own country to the east. The second time they made impact with their neighbors to the south. Then they went after China. They hit the ocean shores off of the coast of China and on the third try had actually made contact with land, killing millions. Of course, the British Prime Minister, under the instruction of the U.N. had launched on Iran and North Korea and for good measure fired two nuclear missiles straight into Moscow. The Russians responded by launching a few nukes of their own, firing on London and then France, not without missing a few times and hitting the ocean again. The United States jumped in to help their allies by utilizing anti-missile lasers to shoot down more than a dozen more nuclear warheads. The nukes easily explained the tsunamis which occurred one week after the beginning of the nuclear launch race, which had turned into a full fledge marathon. What has caused the tsunamis to hit here on U.S. turf, Reagan wonders? Oceanic turmoil would be her guess. Theoretically the United States should be completely guarded against nuclear penetration because of the Star Wars program. Theoretically shit like this should’ve never happened in the first place, either.
