The McClane Apocalypse: Book One (11 page)

“Found it, Derek’s B positive, doctor,” John calls from the corner. “And I’m... AB negative, too.”

“Hm, that’s not good. We’re gonna need an O donor or a B positive,” Grandpa tells everyone.

“Why can’t I donate? I’m his brother,” John asks with desperation.

“‘Cuz, genius, you’ll kill him,” Reagan says from Hannah’s side. She’s as sneaky as Arianna, and one of the few people who can come up on Hannah unnoticed. It’s a bit unnerving. Reagan touches Hannah’s arm lightly and moves into the room. She must’ve been loitering in the hall for a while.

“You’ll cause acute hemolytic reaction, RBC destruction, possible renal failure...”

“English, please,” John asks. He’s being markedly more polite. His brother’s life is in Reagan and Grandpa’s hands and he knows it.

“You’ll kill him. Like I said the first time?” Reagan says impatiently. She is not being more polite. But, then again, she is not the Reagan that they all used to know anymore. She’s changed so drastically; she is sometimes like having a stranger around. And for some reason, John seems to get under her skin.

“Hey, Doc, he’s shaking again,” Kelly remarks. He is clearly disturbed by what he sees, too.

“There’s nothing we can do for that. It’s coming from inside. He’s not actually cold that we can warm,” Reagan tells Kelly. “What’s his pulse now, Grandpa?” She isn’t waiting for an answer because Hannah hears the bed squeak as Reagan sits beside Derek. She knows her sister is testing Derek’s pulse herself. She and Grandpa talk quietly amongst themselves for a moment. Medical mumbo jumbo that no-one in the room understands but them.

“Shit,” Reagan curses softly. “He’s not gonna make it another few hours if we don’t do it now.” Hannah hears a sharp intake of breath and a broken, squelched sob from John. She wishes there was some way that she could offer him some sort of comfort.

“I know but we don’t have everyone’s blood types, and I know I’m an A negative, Reagan,” Grandpa answers her.

“I’m B positive, Grandpa,” Reagan answers with quiet resignation.

“No way, Reagan,” Hannah cries and breeches the threshold, reaching for something, anything familiar. A hand grasps her upper arm. It’s Kelly’s. She can tell by the sheer size of his calloused palm and his quiet manner.

“Hannah’s right, Reagan,” Grandpa agrees. “You are in no position to donate.”

“Don’t start with me,” Reagan replies, impatience growing thick in her voice.

“Darling,” Hannah pleads, “you are only just healed yourself. You can’t.”

“Stop, I’m not a child,” Reagan retorts.

“What’s wrong? Why can’t she donate?” Kelly asks in clear confusion.

“Reagan, she’s right and you know it. You are still not a hundred percent, young lady. I say no and I mean it,” Grandpa declares firmly, ignoring Kelly’s inquiry. Reagan is not one to be argued with, though. She’s been bull-headed for as long as Hannah’s known her, which was their whole lives.

“I’m fine!” she nearly shouts. “I don’t need you two telling me what to do. If I want to donate blood, I’ll do it.”

“But, darling, this can’t be good. You lost so much yourself...” Hannah is quickly cut off. Reagan doesn’t speak of that time.

“Shut up, Hannah!” she hisses fiercely at her. “Look, Grandpa, either you do it or I will. And you know I can, so let’s stop wasting time arguing and get it over with. I’m going to scrub up.”

Reagan’s footsteps disappear into the adjoining bathroom, the door slamming forcefully but not loudly. And soon water can be heard.

“I don’t understand,” John speaks. There is anguish in his voice now. Derek must be looking worse by the minute. “Why can’t she donate if she matches?”

Nobody answers him. Hannah doesn’t feel it’s right to tell what happened to Reagan. It’s not her story to tell, and more importantly she’s afraid Reagan will re-emerge from the bathroom and catch her. Her sister can be quite terrifying sometimes for such a small person. Hannah says nothing and fingers the end of her long braid. She lowers her head toward the ground. It’s something Reagan taught her a long time ago about human interaction. If you didn’t want to answer a question someone was asking you, you couldn’t just stare at them like a doofus. You lower your gaze. Her sister was overly direct sometimes when she taught her things, but she remembers everything on which Reagan had ever schooled her.

“She’s been... sick,” Grandpa answers them. It’s a supplication, Hannah knows, but the truth is hard to speak of. And knowing how much Grandpa cares for Reagan and the fact that he was the one to put her back together, Hannah suspects it is all he can say on the matter regardless.

“I need to go to my shed. I’ll need the right supplies for this,” her grandfather explains to the men. Kelly automatically volunteers to go with him and help. Before he leaves, Kelly leads Hannah to a chair and puts her hand on the back of it. It’s a thoughtful thing to do and not something most people who don’t have a blind relative would even think to do.

“What would he need from a shed?” John asks her.

“Oh, it’s not really a shed like that. It’s a building out back where Grandpa keeps medical supplies and equipment. He’s just always called it “the shed.” It’s a no-no to go in there, though. He’s very orderly,” Hannah explains. John is quiet.

“Why can’t she donate? Is something wrong with her?” John persists.

“Wrong with who?” Sue asks from the door. Hannah had heard her coming down the hall before she reached the door, but she hadn’t expected her to sound so terrible. She is clearly exhausted, not good for her and the baby.

“Your sister,” John answers. “She wants to donate blood to Derek, and your grandfather doesn’t want her to. And neither does Hannah.”

“Oh, that. Why does he need blood?” Sue probes, deliberately ignoring his question about Reagan. She walks by Hannah, squeezes her shoulder and passes on to the bed.

“I guess he thinks Derek has lost too much blood and if we don’t get him some then... then...” John’s voice cracks.

“Oh my God,” Sue gasps and begins to quietly sob. “No, not after he made it so far. He made it home, John. It’s not fair.”

“Hey, he’s gonna be ok,” John offers lamely. Nobody in the room believes this.

Reagan emerges from the bathroom and stalks purposefully toward the bed area again.

“Look out, Sue. I need to do some prep before Grandpa comes back,” she says forcefully. No quiet requests from her sister. Sue rises and comes to kneel on the carpet at Hannah’s feet, resting her head in Hannah’s lap. She strokes her sister’s silky, thick hair soothingly.

“Why is he shaking like that?” Sue asks. John relays to her what their grandfather has explained to him.

Hannah can feel the front of her lawn dress getting wet from her sister’s tears.

“You two should leave,” Reagan says coldly. “This isn’t the most pleasant thing to watch. Not you, Hannie, but take Sue and get her something to eat.”

“No, I want to stay,” Sue argues.

“Get real, Sue. You pass out when you get the freagin’ flu shot, and I’m not picking your fat ass up if you drop over in here. Maybe after you pop that squid but not right now,” Reagan snarls gruffly. Hannah can only imagine what John is thinking of Reagan’s crass comments. You just had to know Reagan to know she doesn’t really mean it. Hannah also knows that she’s trying to clear the room out and get Sue to go somewhere else in case things go badly. She may be blind, but she’s not stupid.

“She’s probably right, Sue. You’d better leave. Go get some rest. I’ll come and get you when it’s over, ok?” John offers kindly. Hannah can’t see him, of course, but she imagines he has a kind face. The love he feels for his brother is evident. And if there’s something Hannah understands, it’s sibling adoration.

He crosses the room to them, helping Sue to her feet. She can tell he is giving her sister a hug. But he urges her and Hannah from the room immediately after.

She and Sue go back to the kitchen, passing Grandpa in the hall. Grams is in full swing making a giant breakfast for everyone, and Hannah can smell sweet rolls baking. It is bound to be a long day, either way it goes with Derek. It has always been Grams’s theory that with food comes love, and she’d done her best over the years to show her love through her cooking. Sure, she was rough around the edges, but her love for her family shone through in the homemade cooking she provided for them. Cinnamon and sugar, sausages, frying potatoes and of course, lots of scrambled eggs permeate the kitchen. Hannah is glad to be back in the comfort of her kitchen where she ties her apron around her waist and quickly picks up a knife to begin cutting up fresh strawberries. A bounty no doubt Grams had the children pick this very morning.

“He’s in the Lord’s hands, Sue. You know this,” Grams offers gently.

“I know, Grams. I’m just so scared,” Sue answers with a quiet sob.

“Here, love, have some warm milk. It’s good for the baby,” Grams says as the glass clinks in front of Hannah to pass along to Sue at the end of the island. She’s not so sure if Reagan and Grandpa would agree with Grams’s medical advice of warm milk being good for an unborn baby, but she also knows they’re smart enough not to argue with the woman. Hannah smiles gently for the first time in two days.

“This is so good, Mrs. McClane,” Kelly says from the island. Grandpa must have told him to get something to eat. From the sounds of forks, Hannah can tell that the kids are flanking him.

“Yeah, Grams makes the best biscuits in the whole world!” Justin exclaims with innocent adulation.

“I would have to agree with that one, bud,” Kelly concurs with the boy. “I haven’t eaten like this in... man, I don’t know when. Maybe close on a year now?”

“Well, you eat up. You’re too skinny. I can tell. For a boy your size, you should weigh more,” Gram tells him. Hannah rolls her eyes. Again with the doctorly advice. This is slightly confusing for Hannah. She’d assumed Kelly is older, but it’s hard to tell. Grams pretty much calls all men under the age of fifty “boy.”

“Yes, ma’am, you won’t have to tell me twice. Right, Cory?” Kelly prompts his young brother.

“Yes, Mrs. McClane, this is good. Thank you so much,” Cory says with unbridled excitement. “Since mom and dad...” The young man doesn’t finish his sentence.

Kelly had come to the farm with his two siblings. They are quite a bit younger than him, Hannah can tell by their withdrawn mannerisms. Cory sounds like a teen, and the younger sister hasn’t said more than a few words since they’d arrived. They had all slept in one of the basement bedrooms. She had also slept in the basement as Derek was in her room. But in the middle of the night, she’d gone back upstairs to her grandfather’s first floor study and made good use of the leather sofa there. It had made her too edgy sleeping somewhere unfamiliar. Normally, she can count her steps or feel for certain familiar objects to find her way around. But not last night. She thinks Kelly had stayed in the same bedroom with the kids until they had fallen asleep. They had probably been too scared in their new surroundings.

“Oh, you don’t have to bother with the Mrs. McClane stuff. Just call me Mary or you can call me Grams. Everyone else does,” she says with feigned irritation. Hannah knows the older woman relishes in her title of being everyone’s Grams. Even Hannah’s friends from church had called her grandmother this.

“Justin, don’t play with your food. Let’s just finish up and we’ll go out on the swing-set for a little while, alright?” Sue admonishes.

“Mommy, is Daddy gonna die?” Arianna asks out of the blue. The whole room goes silent.

“Arianna, don’t speak that way,” Hannah hushes her. “What did we talk about earlier? Your daddy is big and strong, and Aunt Reagan and Grandpa are right now helping him, ok? Just send up an extra prayer, honey.”

“Ok.” Arianna’s simple answer stops the talk of everyone discussing whether or not Derek will die. Sue is quiet, and Hannah knows she is unable to speak anymore. She also doesn’t think her sister is eating anything. But her children apparently finish because she excuses them and takes her children out the kitchen screen door after everyone scrapes their dishes.

“How you doing, Em? Aren’t you eating?” Kelly asks after his little sister. She doesn’t answer, and Hannah assumes the girl is pushing her food around on the plate from the scraping sound. “Come on, Em. You gotta eat, sweetie.”

“Yep, he’s right! You ever gonna ride one of those big, dumb horses out there, then ya’ gotta eat,” Grams chimes in. She’s never been much of a horse person, always preferred her chickens like Hannah. But apparently it’s a good motivator because Hannah can hear the scraping of another fork against a plate. “Miss Reagan teaches all the kids to ride. Or my husband does. So ya’ better eat so you can get strong. Those crazy, old horses will toss your skinny little butts right off in the dirt!”

After a few moments, Kelly adds a quiet, “Thanks, Mary.”

Grams, not one for praise, doesn’t answer him. Hannah smiles to herself again. The kitchen is full of the sounds of people eating, cooking, pots clanging. It’s a good sound. It’s familiar. Hannah lowers the blade of her knife, point to the floor and turns to put it into the sink behind her. She turns back, feels for the stone cutting board again and scoops the strawberries into a large bowl which she retrieved from a cupboard under the island. Then she takes them around the island to the back marble counter, behind where the hungry diners are still eating. Reaching overhead, she feels the cupboard handles until she reaches the number three cupboard where the sugar is kept. She knows it’s the number three cupboard because Grandpa has tacked Braille into each of the wooden handles. It is how most things in the house are labeled.

“That’s pretty amazing,” Kelly observes as Hannah comes back around to where she was before to stir in the sugar. She’ll let them soak a while, soften and sweeten to perfection.

“What’s amazing?” Hannah asks. Sometimes, well most times, she misses things.

“I think he means you, dear,” Grams offers. Hannah freezes, her hand still in mid-air as she is reaching for the water faucet handle. She feels a full blush come up her neck and into her cheeks.

Clearing her throat she says, “Um, no. I don’t think so. I’m just cooking with Grams.”