The McClane Apocalypse: Book One (33 page)

“Clamp it with your tweezers,” Doc tells her and tries to calm his friend, as well. “Easy, Guy. We’re going to get you fixed right up.”

“Got it; it’s stopped finally,” Reagan says.

“Good, hold it. I’m threading this needle,” Doc says. Mr. Reynolds is uncannily silent. “He’s going to need blood. A lot of blood. We’ll need to do another transfusion, so we will need to know types...”

“Grandpa!” Reagan screeches. “Grandpa, we’re losing him. Mr. Reynolds?”

“John, hold those tweezers. Reagan, CPR!” Doc urges. They both do as he says while Doc stitches that artery faster than John would’ve even thought possible. “Let the clamp go.”

John releases the tight squeeze on the tweezers and blood no longer gushes from it. Reagan is futilely giving mouth to mouth to Guy and then chest compressions. Doc gently pushes John away and joins her. She breathes; he pumps the dead man’s chest. They do this for longer than John can calculate and when Doc finally stops and backs away, Reagan continues.

The daughter-in-law is wailing again, her husband is sobbing more quietly and mumbling, and Chet is blessedly passed out on the blanketed carpet. Everyone has accepted this loss but Reagan. She breathes into Mr. Reynolds’s mouth again and begins another series of chest compressions. Her grandfather puts a hand on her shoulder, which she immediately shrugs off. He allows her to continue another minute and finally puts an end to it.

“John,” Doc says to him subtly. John knows what he means. So does Derek and Kelly, who carries a lantern to illuminate the front porch. Herb joins the men outside, and John grabs Reagan about the waist, physically hauling her away from Mr. Reynolds. She’s hysterical. Kicking, screaming, cursing, nothing new.

“Let me go, you son of a bitch!” she curses him. John doesn’t release her until they are on the front porch, and she swings on him, slapping both hands hard against his chest. It makes a nice loud sound, but it doesn’t hurt.

“Reagan!” her grandfather barks angrily. John’s never heard him raise his voice, especially not toward his family. It’s enough to make her stop. She’s panting, frantic, tears threatening to spill over.

“We
all
lose a patient eventually. It happens to all doctors and it never gets easier and it never hurts any less. You know all of this, Reagan. You did everything you could for him,” Doc says more calmly this time. It doesn’t help her. She’s distraught. Her hands, covered in blood, shake. Everyone is quiet for a few minutes while the men allow her some space to deal with her feelings. She turns away and walks to the other side of the porch. Derek finally breaks the silence.

“We need to get the horses back to the farm,” he says.

“Right, we can’t leave them here. Me and Kelly can go and get the horses, and you and Doc can go back to the farm in their truck,” John says to his brother.

“I’ll go,” Reagan whispers. “I’ll help with the horses. We’ll have two extras out there. You’ll need my help.”

“Are you sure, Reagan?” Kelly asks with concern. She glares at him with venom-filled green eyes.

“Let’s just get outta here, ok?” she hisses.

“Yeah, sure, boss,” John complies.

“Doc told the family when we left that we’d come home using the driveway, Derek, so you’re all clear to go home that way now,” Kelly tells them.

“I’ll go and tell the Reynolds you’re leaving. I’ll stay here until Doc is ready to go. I’ll tell them that we’ll come back in the morning to help with... burying,” Derek says.

“I’ll come with you tomorrow to check on Chet,” Doc adds. “Reagan, just come through the pasture and take the road home. I don’t think there’s any more danger tonight. It’ll be faster than riding back through the woods at night.” She sniffs and nods but doesn’t say any more.

They go their separate ways and the three of them fast walk, with their night vision goggles pulled back down, past the barns. When they come to the end of the long loafing shed, Reagan sprints to the corner of the building and vomits. Kelly turns his back, giving her privacy and walks a few feet away. John does the opposite and goes to her. Her hair is falling in the way, her braid having come loose earlier from its bun. She is also still trying to hold her rifle. John takes the rifle from her and holds back her braid and goggles. When she’s done, she doesn’t stand erect again but leans a hand against the cement block half wall. John spies a water hydrant a few feet away and leads her by the elbow over to it. He lifts the pump’s handle and carefully, so as not to scare her, takes Reagan’s hands into his own and washes the blood, or most of the blood, from them.

“Some soldier, huh?” she asks and wipes her mouth against her shoulder when he’s done.

“Yes, you are some soldier. And a heck of a good doctor. You woulda’ made a good Army medic, boss. You helped Chet, and you tried to save their father. You did all you could. Look, this is just nerves. Happens to all of us sometimes. Happened to me plenty of times,” John explains gently. The last part is a lie, though, as nerves have never been a factor for John.

“Yeah, sure,” she says skeptically.

“Here’s your pistol. I picked it up for you,” John tells her as he pulls her .45 out of the waistband of his pants. He’d found it on the barn floor near her dead captor. She takes it from him, places it in the holster on her hip and nods.

“Thanks,” Reagan responds and looks directly into his eyes for a moment which always stuns John.

“You’re welcome. Let’s keep moving, boss,” John orders her firmly. It’s the only tactic he knows for this. Don’t stop to think about it, keep moving, worry about the details later.

“Right,” she answers quietly and they walk to the woods with Kelly. John hands her the piece of candy she’d given him earlier, and he’s not sure, but he thinks she gives a sad grin.

Together they collect the horses; Reagan shows them how to tether the horses to one another to bring along the two which Billy and Derek had ridden. They cross the pasture, pass a group of frightened dairy cattle hiding near the edge of the woods and go out a gate near the driveway. John gets the gate this time, and they are quickly on the gravel road that will lead them back to the McClane farm, their farm.

Chapter Seventeen

Sue

Ten hours later, the men have long since returned to the Reynolds’s farm to help bury the dead and take stock of the place in daylight. Reagan and Grandpa are still asleep, and the children are outdoors playing in the warm midmorning sun. They had all kept watch for their family to return the previous night and upon their arrival, had wept with joy.

“We’ll serve a late lunch today and something light perhaps in the evening. Everyone is bound to be starving when they wake up and the men come back. And by the time we even sit down for food it’s going to be close to three o’clock, I reckon,” Grams says as she feeds small pads of dough through her pasta roller which spits them out in long pale strings.

“And the men will probably crash as soon as they are done eating. We’ll have to take care of chores tonight. But Reagan and Grandpa will help, I’m sure,” Hannah says.

Sue watches her move lithely about the kitchen. Hannah is cutting vegetables for a salad, whipping up a dressing for it and dicing peaches from the orchard that she’ll put into a cobbler. Sue wonders to herself if they will always be able to eat like this. Eventually the sugar will run out and they will have to source honey from somewhere off of bees on the farm. Sue grows stevia plants in the garden for sweetening foods, as well, and will be hanging the herbs in the barn to dry at the end of the season. However, they’ll need other sources of sugar, and the raw honey will be good for combatting allergies and sickness during the winter season. The wheat will be ready for harvest within the next few weeks, and the men will learn how to cut it, grind it and turn it to flour for use under her grandparents’ tutelage.

“I don’t care if I have to do their chores for a year. I’m just thankful they made it back safe last night,” Sue says earnestly.

“Yes, thank you, Jesus,” Hannah sends up another prayer. She’d done that the whole night before, only not quite so verbally.

Hannah had sat quietly rocking back and forth on the living room floor with her legs drawn up and her arms wrapped tightly around her knees while the kids puppy-piled all around her. It was always this way with Hannah. People were just drawn to her, young and old, especially children. When Wayne and Kelly had come back for Grandpa’s help and reported the success of their mission, Hannah had gone to another room and wept quietly. Sue had found her a while later after the men had taken off again with Grandpa. Hannah has always been a sensitive person, but her reaction seemed more personally motivated. And Sue doesn’t think the worry was over Reagan.

Sue has noticed the past few weeks the interaction between her youngest sister and Kelly. He is extremely protective of Hannah, and she’d seen her sister’s cheeks blush profusely more than a few times when he talked with her. If Hannah could see Kelly, she might feel differently about him. He is the embodiment of brute, massive strength and the most physically imposing person Sue has ever laid eyes upon. All of the men are bulking up daily from the hard work on the farm and when they aren’t doing that they run, do chin-ups in the barn or push-ups out in the yard. When Sue had questioned this, Derek had explained that working out is what all of them had done all the time in the military and that most military Special Forces guys did it on their down time. Bizarre. Sue only worked out when she was trying to lose baby weight. It wasn’t something she would’ve chosen to do of her own accord. But Hannah and Kelly are definitely an odd couple, if that indeed is what they are. Most of the time, Kelly would walk away from Hannah with a confused, strange look on his face when the interaction with her went on too long. Sue believes that Kelly has some sort of indecision where Hannah is concerned. She’s never thought to ask him if he was involved with anyone like a girlfriend or even a fiancée before they came here to live, but he’d never mentioned one. Maybe it is the times they are in with the world falling apart around them or maybe it is their age difference, but he is definitely holding back. He is difficult for Sue to read, but Hannah seems to have his number, whether he knows it or not. Hannah kind of has everyone’s numbers.

It is a little after one in the afternoon, and there is plenty to be done. When Sue finishes breast feeding Isaac, she puts him in his bassinet which is conveniently located just off of the kitchen in the family room. Most days she spends her time in the gardens picking vegetables, plucking dead leaves and weeding right alongside the kids, who she supervises. Hannah and Grams keep an eye on Isaac for her since they are most of the time in the kitchen and indoors. He is such an easy, quiet little guy. At night he is even sleeping about five or six wonderful hours before needing another feeding. After family dinner each night, the children dote on him like he is a baby doll, fighting over who got to hold him next. The adults aren’t much better.

“Good morning, Grandpa,” Hannah says, breaking Sue out of her reverie. How does she do that? Sue hadn’t even heard him moving around.

“Good morning, Hannah, Sue. We need a family meeting tonight after dinner,” Grandpa says from the door. His gray hair is sticking up on end, and he is in need of a shave.

“I would think so,” Sue says.

“Yes, we would like to be kept abreast of what’s happened during the last twenty-four hours, too,” Grams says. “Would you like a snack before we eat lunch later, dear?”

“No, I’m just going to sit on the back porch with a coffee and watch my great-grandchildren,” he reflects somberly. He plucks a ball cap from a hook in the hall and covers his head with it.

Losing his friend the previous night had been harder on him than he wanted to let on. But Sue knows that her grandfather had been friends with Guy their whole lives. They’d both eventually taken over their fathers’ farms and had grown up in this valley together. Sue watches as he puts on his never-in-fashion, raggedy slip-on shoes and takes the mug of coffee from Grams’s proffered hand. When Sue makes eye contact with Grams, she watches the smile on her grandmother’s face turn downward.

“I’ll go sit with him,” Sue offers. Grams nods with appreciation and goes back to her noodle making.

“Want some company?” Sue asks as she sits by her grandfather on the wide lounger. “Gonna rain later it looks like.”

“Hm, I think you’re right,” he reflects quietly. He takes Sue’s hand in his own, and they sit there in companionable silence for about an hour watching the kids playing and occasionally wave to them. Children can be a balm for the soul and sometimes words just get in the way of the healing.

“Let’s walk down to the kids together, Grandpa. I’ll pull you a chair over by the garden. The kids and I should try to get an hour of picking in before we eat,” Sue offers to which her grandfather accepts.

Once they are in the garden, Sue instructs the kids which tomatoes, peppers, cukes and zucchini to pick. They each have their own bucket or basket. Cory has come to enjoy his time with her in the garden, and he actually talks sometimes with her. Although, he did say he much preferred hanging with Kelly in the cattle barn to picking vegetables.

“Is this a good one, Mama?” Arianna asks in her delightful little voice. She’s holding an already picked tomato in her outstretched hand. All of the kids know not to pick the greenish ones. But sometimes, they’ll find a dark spot or a worm-infested tomato which freaks out Arianna and fascinates Justin.

“Yep, that’s a good one, peanut,” Sue tells her and kisses her sun-warmed forehead. She’s so tanned and golden from many hours of outdoor play. “Tell ya’ what. Why don’t you take them over to Grandpa and have him check them? He’s pretty good at that, too.” She wants to get her grandfather engaged and not dwelling on his deceased neighbor.

She checks on Justin, who is picking cucumbers an aisle over about ten yards away. He’s become a good helper and knows not to pick the ones that are too small. She also knows that at the age of seven, he wants to feel a sense of responsibility for something around the farm so that he can emulate the adult male role models running around brandishing guns and muscles and bravery. If ever a boy were to grow up with a strong male figure in his life, then Justin’s one lucky kid because he has five counting Cory. She kisses his cheek as he shows her a cucumber. Some of these will be used for pickling. Some will be eaten for dinners and Grams will mix them with sliced onions and a marinade of vinegar, water and sugar.