The McClane Apocalypse: Book One (23 page)

“What? Why? Go back. I’m serious,” she orders and for emphasis points her finger toward the house as if he’s forgotten the location.

“No can do, boss. Got to make sure you make it back for evening chores. I’m not covering for your skinny butt anymore,” John explains and places his large hands with the long fingers on his hips. He’s referring to when she was still recovering from the blood transfusion. She’d only needed help for one day.

“Who told you to come with me? Grams? Did she put you up to this?” she asks impatiently and reties her shoe. He’s grinning like a drunken idiot at her.

“Nope. I need the workout. We’re used to spending most of our down time working out anyways,” he explains. That sure as hell explained their physiques. “Besides, just thought I’d look after you since you saved my brother and all,” he says with upbeat enthusiasm which pisses her off. She grinds her teeth.

“I don’t need a protector. Duh, I’ve made it this far on my own. I carry a .45, idiot. What’s gonna happen to me, polar bear attack? Now go away!” Reagan says angrily, swatting her hand in the air like he’s a pesky mosquito.

“Nah, you’re too tiny for a polar bear to be interested. But Grams says you go pretty far. So from now on, so do I.”

“Oh my God! Can you seriously not tell when you aren’t wanted?” Reagan asks.

“Oh, I can tell, boss. But you aren’t shaking me that easy,” he tells her and shifts his weight onto his other foot.

“Well then, good luck, pretty boy,” Reagan says and takes flight.

After the first mile, she figures that he will give up and turn back. It isn’t like the terrain is easy to bear. They go up one rolling hill and down the other and on flatter terrain she sprints in the hopes of ditching him. But being a damn foot taller than her, he easily keeps up. Plus his military training obviously kept him in fairly good shape, even if he is on the thin side. She knew Derek better than John, and he had always been stocky. Reagan assumes that John will also put weight back on while he’s at the farm. All of the barbarians will.

Her stitches are burning and so is her side from not running for over two weeks. She isn’t about to admit it to him, but she short cuts through a pasture and takes a horse path back to the farm. She’d rather blow out a damn lung than admit to weakness in front of him of all people! Oh well, three miles is still better than zero. Her head is clear again. She can process. She can relax, and she can be on high alert for night watch.

Slowing to a walk once she reaches the barnyard, she looks sideways at John for the first time. He’s not even winded, the bastard.

“You all right, boss? How are those stitches?” John asks too loudly.

There are children and adults all around the barnyards doing their chores. Grams and some of the kids are in the garden picking from the ripening harvest. Grandpa is showing Derek the ropes with the second tractor that has a front loader bucket attached. Reagan glares at John. She sure doesn’t need Grandpa worrying about her.

“Shut up!” she hisses. “I’m fine.”

“Reagan, it looks like you’ve got some blood on your arm,” he says with alarm.

When Reagan looks down at her arm, there is indeed a thin trickle of blood streaming all the way down to her hand and plopping onto the ground, leaving a trail behind her.

“Dammit!” she swears.

In an instant, John has his t-shirt over his head and is pressing it against her arm and mopping up the trail down her forearm. He leads her quickly into the grain room of the cattle barn. The first thing that hits her is the sweet smell of corn and oats mixed with the old wood of the dusty, hard oak floor. The second thing that hits her is the sight of John without his shirt. His chest is wider than it seems when he’s wearing clothes. The muscles of his stomach ripple like sand art in a bottle. Perhaps he isn’t as thin as she’d thought. He’s just pure muscle.

“I don’t think they opened,” he says as he carefully peels back her white bandage, mindful not to touch her skin on skin. “Whatcha’ think, doc?”

“What? Oh, no, I think they’re just leaking. I don’t think anything is opened,” she answers breathily. She chalks up her breathlessness to the run. He continues to gingerly put light pressure against the stitched area until the bleeding stops. “Can you not tell my grandparents?”

“What if it’s worse than you think?” he asks.

“It’s not. It is just seepage. Nothing to worry about, ok? If you tell Grandpa, then he’s gonna put me on restricted duty for a freagin’ month,” she explains and shakes her head with exasperation. His dark eyes meet hers momentarily as he thinks on it. He is clearly at odds. “Please?” she adds softly.

“Ugh, why did you do that? You’re playing me, woman. I’m not as stupid as you think. But all right, I won’t say anything,” he agrees and removes his shirt from her arm.

“Thanks,” Reagan quietly replies.

“Not so fast, boss. If I agree to not ratting you out, then you agree to letting me tail you,” he bribes smoothly.

“Why? Don’t you have anything better to do with your time?” Reagan whines. John shrugs noncommittally.

“I don’t know; I guess I just feel responsible for you now. You did save my brother, remember?” he reminds her. Reagan lowers her eyes. She’d just as soon not have people mention things like that. Praise and appreciation are meant for attention hounds and that just isn’t her.

“I don’t need your protection, though. I’m a big girl. And you
don’t
owe me anything

“Big? I don’t think so,” he chuckles as she frowns up at him. “And that’s probably part of my problem with you.” He has a problem with her? Well, too damn bad. Her problem with him trumps.

“You don’t seem big enough to take care of yourself. Even with that .45 as your constant companion. There is a remote possibility, remote, that people could find this place and if you’re off on one of your runs or rides by yourself, then you aren’t safe. Nobody should be alone, not for anything. Kelly and Derek and I have already talked about it. Kelly’s going to look after his brother and sister and Hannah. Derek’s responsible for Sue and his own kids and that leaves you. So who’s gonna look after the girl who saved my brother’s life? Yep, that would be me, so don’t bother arguing.” He finishes his statement with decided finality which irritates Reagan to no end.

“Give me your stupid shirt,” she demands. Reagan is surprised when he simply hands it to her. “I’ll wash it myself. I don’t want anyone to see the blood on it.”

“Thanks, boss. Wanna’ do the jeans, too?” he asks with a laugh, his dark eyes amused. She rolls her own eyes at him and shakes her head.

“I’m just covering my own ass. I’m not your wife, stupid,” she complains.

“Whatever you say, shorty. Now if you’re done whining and nagging like a wife, then let’s get to work on chores,” he jokes. It’s not in the least bit funny, so she scowls deeply and scuffs her Converse on the floor.

Reagan pivots on the ball of her foot and enters the cattle barn to start evening feedings. When she turns around, John is right on her heels.

Chapter Eleven

Sue

The next family meeting doesn’t take place until the third week in July, nearly four weeks late. But the entire group has been busy as beavers around the farm, and the second cutting of hay was delayed due to two solid weeks of torrential rainfall. The rain had made chores and gardening a pain, but they had persevered. The last of the hay was finished and put up yesterday and even Derek had been able to help by driving the tractor while the other men had thrown bales. With any luck they will get a third cutting of hay this summer so the animals will have their food all winter long.

There is a debate going on at the table between no other than John and Reagan. Nothing new there. They are arguing over whether or not Reagan should do her morning patrol alone. Grandpa is set against it. Basically everyone but Reagan is set against it. For weeks John has been Reagan’s near constant shadow, and she’s sick of it and letting everyone know.

However, Sue is having trouble concentrating because she is feeling more of the same contractions that she has felt all day. It’s nearly five p.m. and the kids have interrupted twice complaining of starving to death. Normally family meetings take place after the children are all put to bed, but today Grandpa had insisted on doing it before dinner and evening chores because of Sue’s impending labor.

Her contractions started yesterday and were sporadic at best. But around ten a.m. this morning they had become more intense and closer together. This one is making her forehead sweat as she rubs her hand around and around on her giant, distended abdomen under the table.

Grandpa is the only one who knows what’s going on. Derek is as oblivious as he was when Justin was born, and he’d been in Iraq when Arianna was born. Her pregnancy with Justin had gone overdue, but this little one is apparently ready to make an early appearance like Arianna. Dear Lord, she sends up a silent prayer, don’t let this child be like Reagan, too! Grandpa had told her to keep mum on the contractions, or Reagan would physically throw her down on a bed.

“Next topic! We’re behind with the garden and need to get some of those crops picked. Canning is essential if we’re to make it through the winter season,” Grams says putting an end to Reagan’s complaining. “The green beans and carrots are ready now. We should be able to get another picking off of them before the season’s over. We also need to get four more rows from the greenhouse planted in the newer part of the garden.”

“And we need to finish doing the raspberries for jam. So I think if the kids can pass their morning chores on to someone else tomorrow and just pick, then we may get enough berry jam put up, too,” Hannie puts in.

“Yeah, that berry jam you served this morning is really good, Hannah,” Kelly compliments.

“That’s strawberry jam, Kelly. But you were close,” Hannah says with a smile. John and Kelly both chuckle.

“Sorry, city kid here. If it didn’t come from the store or a fast food drive through window, me and my dad were outta luck. Until my stepmom came along. But she wasn’t much different than we were because she worked a lot,” he explains.

“We’ll make a country boy out of you yet, Kelly,” Grams tells him.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kelly concurs.

“And after morning chores we can help pick, too,” Derek adds in helpfully.

“That’s good, boys. We can use all the help we can get. If we can get caught up in the next week or so, then we’ll be ready for a trip to the city,” Grandpa says.

“Good, I’m ready to go whenever you are, Grandpa,” Reagan blurts.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea this time, Reagan,” Grandpa counters and glances to Sue.

“Why not? We were ok the last time. Fine, I’ll go by myself,” Reagan says stubbornly. She’s such a hard ass.

“No way, shorty. You aren’t going to
any
city by yourself. It’s not safe enough. Even with me going, too, which I am, it could get dangerous,” John tells her firmly.

“Look, stalker boy, back off. I don’t need you following me. You’ll just slow me down,” she argues.

“Nope, it’s not safe. And I’m getting better at riding. Heck, by this time next year I just might be better than you,” he teases gently and nudges her arm with his elbow. It enflames her. “But you aren’t going without me.”

“It’s safe enough, damn it! And don’t tell me what to do, jackass,” Reagan says sharply to John. “I’m sick of you...”

“Reagan McClane!” Grams warns in a deadly tone. Reagan had better be careful or Grams will give her duties in the kitchen, the worst possible punishment for her. Reagan warily looks away like a sulking puppy that’s just been scolded.

“John, I believe that a trip to the city again is going to be imperative very soon,” Grandpa explains calmly.

“But, sir, I’d rather just go with Kelly,” John debates. He glances at Reagan who sneers back.

“You don’t even know the way there, genius,” Reagan chides. Why does she dislike him so much? Johnny had always been kind and considerate and he is with Reagan, too. He’s even more so with Reagan and also more patient than anyone could expect since she is so rotten to him. She’d just yesterday seen her sister griping at him before their morning patrol ride, and John had simply laughed, following after her.

“I’m sure we could find it, boss,” he tells her. Why does he call her that all the time? Well, she is bossy. He’s got a good point.

“Yeah, Doc, me and John could find it,” Kelly adds in.

“I think you probably could find it. However, I’m not sure I like the idea of both of you being gone from here at the same time. Not that I want Reagan in harm’s way in the city. It wasn’t that bad the last time we went. There was only one incident, and she handled it better than I did. So as far as that goes, Reagan can handle herself. But if John is with her, then I wouldn’t have to worry about her. And she knows the way better than anyone. But if you leave, too, Kelly, and we have a problem here, then it could turn quickly if we were overrun by marauders,” Grandpa explains thoroughly. He looks briefly to Sue, who nods to him.

“So it’s settled then?” John asks expectantly. Reagan is in a full-blown pout, arms across the chest, toe tapping, eyes rolling dramatically. Everybody but John ignores her. He never ignores her sister. He’s always looking at her, even when she doesn’t realize it. He always seems fascinated by her or something.

“Yes, I believe so. If anyone-
other than Reagan
- has a better argument, then please feel free to share. But I think this is the best decision for the group,” Grandpa pauses and when nobody says anything he continues. “It’s a two day trip. By the end of the first day, you’ll be about out of daylight which is when we chose to go into the city. It may be safer to go in there in the morning. You’ll have to make that call when you get there, John. When you go into the actual city, you’ll leave the horses tied in the woods a ways back so nobody gets any ideas about stealing them. When you leave and head back, there will be an abandoned hunting cabin where you can stay for the night. Reagan and I have taken some provisions out there and cleaned the place up a bit. She’ll be able to show you where everything is. Could’ve been an Indian squaw I think. She’s a good little tracker if you ask me.”