The McClane Apocalypse: Book One (52 page)

“I don’t mean it like that. I’m not harassing you, Reagan. I just... I just like you.”

“No, you don’t! You just like humiliating me. You weren’t going to kiss me. You don’t want to kiss me and neither does anyone else,” she blurts and instantly feels like a ridiculous dork. Shit, why did she say that? Knowing something and admitting it out loud are two different things.

“Is that what you think? Really? You believe that crap? Why the heck do you think Chet was trying to get you to hang around there with him today? Your pleasant personality?” he insults.

“He was just being nice. Unlike you!” she says and flips through her journal. She’s so upset she can hardly concentrate on what she’s looking for.

“What the heck? I
am
nice, especially to you. And my intentions toward you are a whole heck of a lot more noble than Chet Reynolds or any other country boy around here who’s been pining for you for years,” he says, his voice rising as he runs a hand roughly through his hair, making it stand on end.

“Nobody’s been pining for me, idiot. And neither are you, so cut it out!” she returns in a tiff.

“Not pining for you? No, I’m not actually. That’s true. I’m not a kid, Reagan. What I feel isn’t an immature crush. I’m a man. And if I hadn’t been so distracted by your ridiculous lip I would’ve lost control and just kissed you. So there,” he ends immaturely. This weird comment snaps her head up. He’s glaring angrily at her, and the line in between his eyebrows is back, more severely creased this time.

“What the hell are you talking about? What’s on my lip?” Reagan asks and self-consciously places her hand over her mouth. Oh great, now she has something on her lip? Is it dirt? She’d taken a shower earlier. Granted, sometimes she gets distracted and doesn’t remember to wash her hair, but she usually washes herself at least. John laughs loudly. She’d like to punch him for about the hundredth time tonight.

“There’s nothing on your lip, boss,” he says and walks confidently toward her. She backs up and bumps her desk. Why does he feel the need to corner her like this all the time? He knows she doesn’t like it, but he insists on doing it anyway. She decides to just stare at his bare chest instead of make eye contact.

“But you said...” Reagan starts, but he interrupts her.

“No, you misunderstood me,” he tells her softly and reaches toward her face. Reagan leans way back. John’s hand grasps her chin, raising her face to his as his thumb rubs her top lip. It’s like his fingers have tiny needles in them because she jumps. “I’ve never seen anyone who has a top lip that’s bigger than their bottom lip before. It’s... very distracting.”

Reagan frowns at him and takes a deep breath, holding it while his gaze penetrates hers. His dark eyes travel down to her mouth where he rubs at her lip more roughly. John has one hand on his hip as if he’s afraid to touch her with both. She doesn’t blame him.

“It makes me want...,” John pauses and leans in close. He stoops down, lowering his head slowly, very slowly. His eyes bore into hers with obvious intent that freaks her out.

“Stop,” Reagan whispers hoarsely. His tone scares her. His intent scares the hell out of her.

“Don’t tell me that I don’t want to kiss you,” he warns, but at least he does step back, releasing her. “If you do, then I’ll be forced to prove you wrong. Very wrong.” Her mouth opens into a silent “oh.” He makes her feel dizzy, helpless. And this scares her the most.

“Why would you want to?” Reagan asks with stupid honesty.

“Why
wouldn’t
I would be a better question, brainiac?” he insults her and ruffles the hair on top of her head roughly. Her mouth snaps shut again as she frowns hard at him. He’s so confusing. Are all men like him? Perhaps she should’ve paid more attention in her Psych classes and not been secretly scrolling on her computer studying brain diseases instead. Maybe that’s what is wrong with him? Maybe he has a tumor.

He walks away from her, picks up the binoculars and stares out the window by her desk. After a moment, Reagan sits again and resumes studying. But she keeps John in her periphery.

“The kids really like the dogs. Did you see them giving all of them baths?” he asks her. Their arguing has not seemed to diminish his need to talk to her on a constant basis. He is such a pest. His boxers hang crookedly on his slim hips. The muscles in his shoulders flex as he moves and scans with the binoculars.

“You’ve got it all figured out,” is her snarky reply. “Your dumb dog is probably going to run off tonight, you realize.”

“Nah, she knows she’s safe here. We’ve got her back. Besides, we fed her. She’s never leaving,” John says with confidence.

“Yeah, we get that a lot around here,” Reagan says and cocks an eyebrow at him pointedly. He just grins, damn him. A lock of his hair falls over his forehead, giving him a boyish innocence. John Harrison is far from innocent, though.

“Right,” he agrees and goes back to watching out the window. “Talked to the men, your Grandpa included, and we’ll leave the day after tomorrow. Me and you.”

“Another decision made without consulting me. Fabulous,” she remarks with sarcasm. Sometimes she’d like to stab him with her pencil.

“We were just waiting for my shoulder to heal up and it’s right as rain. You did a great job with it, Reagan. Probably the best stitch job I’ve ever had,” he praises her, and she squirms in her seat. “Doesn’t pull or anything.”

“Goody,” she retorts on a long yawn.

“You should go to bed, sweetie. We’ve got a ton of stuff to do tomorrow to get ready,” he tells her gently and glances her way. She just glares at him. She’d been planning on going to bed, but now she has to force herself to stay awake another half an hour just so that he doesn’t think it was his idea.

A while later, Reagan drags herself to her bed, where she collapses from exhaustion. John has already gone to bed, but he tosses and turns. She clicks off the last light on her wall and covers herself with a sheet. Although, she is beat, bone weary tired, she can’t sleep. The bodies of that dead family in the barn keep playing in her mind’s eye.

“Ha... have you seen a lot of dead people like that?” she asks in the dark. Maybe he has fallen asleep.

“Yeah,” comes his reply after a few long seconds. “Can’t sleep?”

“It was just kind of disturbing. Sick. They were... a family,” she says quietly.

“The only thing I can tell you that helps is to not think about it. Sometimes you gotta lock that stuff down. Put it somewhere where you don’t have to deal with it and move on,” he says. His voice is thick with emotion and something akin to regret.

She knows how to do this. She’s done it for the past, almost, six months.

“Yeah,” she answers him.

“Get some sleep. We’re going to need all the rest we can get for this trip,” he tells her. “Good-night.”

She doesn’t answer. It’s too personal to talk to him like that, too intimate. He doesn’t push her to respond or say anything else, but she knows that he doesn’t go right to sleep because he still tosses and turns. It is bad enough that she has to share a room with him, but she isn’t about to start whispering sweet tidings in the dark to him. She needs to put her feelings for John in the same place she is going to put the images of the dead family.

Chapter Twenty-five

Sue

“It’s not that we’re trying to get away, Grams. We’ll still be here on the farm,” Sue explains for the third time at breakfast, though her concept doesn’t seem to be catching on too well with her grandmother.

“We would just like to raise the kids in our own home. And it would free up space here and make less of a burden. Anyways, it could take us a really long time to even get it built,” Derek butts in, trying to help.

“I just don’t understand why you want to live back there. You’d be so far from the family. Would it even be safe?” Grams asks. Derek smiles at Sue and takes the lead.

“Actually, Grams, it would be better for the security at the farm. If anyone should try to come in from the back of the property, they’d have to get past me first,” Derek explains.

“It’s not the worst idea, Maryanne. Derek’s right. If anybody were to find our riding trails, they could follow them right in to the farm,” Grandpa agrees.

“We could use lumber right here on the farm. Chop down logs now and let them sit for a while to dry out,” Kelly adds helpfully.

“We wouldn’t even have to stay there every night. Maybe stay there most days of the week and come here the other days. But it might give the kids a better sense of normalcy,” Sue tells them.

“And the fresh spring is out there that we could tie into. We’ll need plumbing supplies eventually but not right away. We could get a good start on it this fall and winter and try to finish it in the spring,” Derek says.

“It’s worth some thought,” John says. Sue figured his brother would argue, but he must see the sense in it. John is nothing if not practical when it comes to security.

“We could eventually build cabins out there all around the perimeter, and me and John could live out there, too. In case things don’t get better any time soon,” Kelly offers.

“You don’t feel like you need to do that, Kelly. You’re welcome to stay here in the main house as long as you want,” Grams says.

“Thank you, ma’am. But Derek’s right. We’ll eventually need to move out of here. This is your family’s home, not ours,” he returns.

“Kelly, you are family now, son. Without you, Derek and John and Cory, too, we would have a difficult time around here. There’s just too much work for us. Before this happened, we were ok. The practice mostly kept me busy, and I just hobby farmed. During harvest time, I would let a few of the neighboring farmers take half the hay or grain for their labor. But this is work on a whole new level. We need your help,” Grandpa tells them.

“Yes, sir,” John and Kelly both answer.

“We don’t want you boys to ever leave,” Grams says solemnly.

“Maryanne and I have talked about it quite a few times, and we would like it if you agreed to stay here as long as the country is like this. Now I know you don’t have ties to our farm, but we’d like to not have to worry about the girls and our great-grandchildren when we’re gone,” Grandpa says. Sue frowns hard. This is not an uplifting topic.

“Grandpa, you two aren’t going anywhere,” Hannah says nervously. Grams squeezes Hannah’s hand.

“But it seems to me, John, like you and Kelly fit in just fine here. And I know that Derek doesn’t want either of you to leave. Someday maybe there will be something more to hold you here,” Grandpa says. What a sly, old fox he is. “But for now, I’d just like you to think about making this your permanent home. It would give me peace of mind knowing that you’ll stay on with the kids and help Derek.”

“Yes, sir,” Kelly answers again and looks sidelong at Hannah, who is unaware of his gaze. His expression is full of dissonant emotion. He looks away from Hannah and frowns and then glances back as if he can’t bear to tear his gaze from her for more than a second or two.

But John on the other hand is an open book. His stare is direct and pointed right at Reagan, who glares at him nastily. That relationship is as screwed up as Hannah and Kelly’s. Sue is glad she has Derek. He is so constant and steady and easy to read. There are no barriers between them, nothing to hold back their love.

“I think cabins in the back of the property would be a good idea. But I don’t think all of you should go there or at least not all of you at the same time. The main house is the one that could be attacked, so it needs the most defense if one should occur,” Grandpa says.

“I agree,” Derek admits. “Someone from our group should always be here.” Sue knows he means the military men. They all know what he means. Women, children and two retirees aren’t exactly intimidating.

“Agreed,” Kelly says, and John repeats it.

“Tomorrow John and Reagan travel to the city, so everyone needs to give them your lists. They will get what they can. And if you can’t get anything because it’s too dangerous, John, then just don’t even try,” Grandpa tells the group.

“Yes, sir,” John answers and looks at Reagan again. She’s unusually quiet and mostly pushing food around on her plate. Sue is genuinely worried about her leaving the farm.

Everyone is quiet, contemplative. Everyone is feeling the dread of them leaving and being put in danger or worse. John, Derek and Kelly worked before dawn on explosives out in the barn and then rigged them in the back of the property. There are now four demolitions something or others that will go off if someone tries to approach the farm from the back. The driveway is fortified with additional barbed wire farther down the lane as well as at the end. Derek and Kelly also helped John to make pipe bombs of some kind that would detonate after they are thrown, much like a grenade. They feel safer at least that John is leaving them with this small amount of extra fire-power advantage.

The meal concludes, and it’s once again time to feed Isaac and start the duties of the day. Sue is going to pump her milk and store it in the fridge so that Grams and Hannah can feed him later while she picks corn with the kids and then cleans out the chicken coop. When she’d lived in Kentucky, near the Army base, she’d paid babysitters to watch the kids so she could go get in an hour at the local gym. But there’s no need for that anymore. The exercise at the farm is from the time their feet hit the ground in the morning until they go to bed. It will slow down in the winter, though. At least she hopes so.

Sue knows that Hannah has a special meal planned out for this evening for John and Reagan to send them off. It’s been decided already, mostly by John, that they’ll leave before dawn before everyone awakens so that they can get to the hunting cabin near town before it gets too dark again. The goodbyes will take place before everyone goes to bed tonight.

As if on cue, Isaac squawks from the other room. She picks up her baby son from his pile of blankets on the floor, his makeshift cradle. Sue carries him to the music room to her favorite rocking chair that overlooks the back of the farm. It’s one of the few times of the day that she has alone with him. Normally everyone fights over who gets to hold him next and even the children take turns holding him while they sit on a sofa. Em seems especially fond of him. Grams and Hannah get him most of the day because they are in the house the most. Even Grandpa snags him when he can. Of course, he uses the excuse that he’s just “checking” him even though he declares every time that he is normal, healthy and growing just fine. Isaac has had more of these well-baby visits with Grandpa than Em and Justin combined with her previous pediatrician.