The McClane Apocalypse Book Five (40 page)

Simon glances around, his back pressed
tightly
against
the wall. Sam is
right beside him. Using his dagger, he pries open one of the glass
sliding doors that used to slide open with a whoosh by motion
sensing electronic controls. They sneak through and gain entry into
the hospital’s grand foyer. The Italian marble floors and two-story
entryway were probably impressive at one time. Now the hospital
just seems shabby and ready for a demo with a wrecking
ball.

Apparently looters came through numerous
times with violent abandon and ransacked many parts of this
hospital. The electronics including the wall-mounted television
players are gone from the waiting room. Someone has sprayed anarchy
messages in red and black paint on the cream-colored walls. Wires
hang down from some of the missing ceiling tiles. Simon keeps his
shotgun in front of him in a two-handed grip and she does the same
with her rifle. A stray cat runs in front of them, scaring the crap
out of Sam.

“Stupid cat,” she hisses angrily.

Simon just grimaces and gives her a
quick nod of reassurance. Sam can hear birds somewhere. They
must’ve built nests in the hospital rafters or in the
elegant
marble columns near the
information desk. Wherever they are, they seem to be happily
chirping their day away.

The last time she came on a run, she and
Reagan had seen four dairy cows in the middle of an indoor shopping
mall. They’d laughed heartily at that one. John and Simon had
missed it, though because they’d gone around a corner to use the
facilities, which meant peeing on the wall of the Abercrombie &
Fitch store. She used to shop there with her girlfriends sometimes.
Sam remembers that raiding day well because she’d been left with
sad, remorseful feelings about whether or not her friends had
survived. She’s never seen any of them in Pleasant View or around
the clinic. She often wonders about her two best friends and if
they are alive somewhere with their families.

Simon taps her shoulder to draw her
attention, pointing to a grimy door past the reception area and
gift shop. She doesn’t want to think about what the brownish-red
stain on the faded white door could be. She also doesn’t look to
their right where the skeletal remains of a doctor still in his lab
coat rest on the travertine floor. Her mother had wanted to remodel
their kitchen right before the apocalypse hit, and Sam distinctly
remembers her wanting to tear out the hardwood and replace it with
a travertine floor. Her father had said no to the whole remodel.
Sam knows that he would’ve done the
remodel
eventually. He wasn’t very good at telling
her mother no and actually sticking to it. Sam is quite sure that
her father would’ve sent one of his crews over to do the job if the
world hadn’t collapsed.

They cross in unison to the emergency exit
door that will hopefully lead them downstairs to the cafeteria
storage rooms. This hospital raid isn’t just for medicine.

Sam removes her flashlight from her backpack
as Simon eases the stairwell door open. They slip inside together
and start their descent. She stays right at his hip to keep the
light beam ahead of them. They make it down the single flight of
cement stairs to the lower level where Simon opens the door that is
marked for hospital staff, ignoring the other exit door meant for
the public. Moving slowly down the dark hallway, passing doors to
storage areas as they go, Sam’s heartbeat begins to accelerate.
It’s so gloomy in the basement of the hospital, no light from above
allowed entry into this space that probably used to bustle with
workers.

Sam tugs on the sleeve of Simon’s flannel
jacket and points to their left where she spies a sign for
cafeteria storage. He nods and backs around the corner with her
again. They pass an area that is cordoned off with chain-link
fencing.

“What is all that?” Sam asks, nodding her
head toward the large equipment and tanks.

“Boilers, heating and air-conditioning. This
would’ve been the central command area for the structure.
Maintenance men would’ve worked down here keeping things flowing
smoothly,” he explains patiently.

“Not anymore,” Sam says as she observes the
cobwebs and dust in every corner and on every surface of the
massive equipment and control center.

Simon shakes his head and says, “No, not
anymore. Let’s keep moving. I don’t think anyone’s down here, but
just in case, be on high alert.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Sam
whispers. “This place is like the setting of a hospital massacre
movie with some slasher guy with a knife and the dumb girl that
runs the wrong way.”

“I think we’re safe,” Simon assures her.
“Besides, you’re a smart girl. If a slasher comes at us, I’ll just
follow you.”

“Maybe, but if a spider drops on me, I’m
shooting it,” she warns with serious intent.

Simon chuckles, turns around and smiles down
at her. “That’s justified.”

Sam smiles in return, trying not to
stare at his deep dimples or the divot in the middle of his
strong
chin. He has switched out his
ball cap with a black stocking cap, not to ward off the chill in
the air which is definitely present, but to cover and camouflage
his auburn hair. It’s such a shame when he covers his hair. It’s so
wavy and thick, the color so vivid. The other day she sketched a
drawing of him studying a medical book while wearing his glasses.
He was unaware of being her model and muse, or he likely would’ve
complained. He was in Grandpa’s office sitting in a wing-backed
chair. He looked as if he’d just stepped out of another century, or
right off of one of the canvasses of a Frank Dicksee painting. The
way the soft, late afternoon light was filtering through the shades
in the den with dust particles dancing about, Simon’s dark auburn
hair in contrast with his white, button-down shirt and the studious
nature of his behavior, Sam couldn’t resist a fast, outlined sketch
that she later finished in her room with colored pencils. He has
such an angular jawline and cheekbones that make him seem so
classic. He’s an interesting study for an artist’s eye. She hid
that one under her bed, too.

They come to the door marked for cafeteria
personnel and allow themselves inside. She hopes a rat doesn’t run
across her foot. A few empty boxes are tipped over in the center
aisle of shelving units which they must step around and over. Simon
is busy scanning the large room for intruders while Sam starts
looking for food supplies they need.

“Clear,” Simon announces a few moments later
after he’s returned from checking the entire room.

Buildings that are occupied
by
humans are
relatively
easy to spot. Belongings and stashes of
supplies are
typically
littered
about. Sometimes tents or sleeping bags are set up. So far in this
hospital, it’s been the way they prefer: empty and long ago
abandoned.

Sam roams around checking shelves and
stainless steel cupboards and storage drawers. There are a few
boxes of spices, but she doesn’t think that Hannah or Sue would
want those brought back to the farm. Sue makes her own spices by
growing and then drying them in the barn. This stash is probably
expired, and if not, then filled with preservatives.

She steps over a piece of kitchen
equipment that looks like it was some sort of rotisserie
style
hotdog
cooker. They don’t
eat hotdogs anymore. Nobody does. But the Reynolds brothers
make
really good
sausage. She
loves it in the fall when the hog butchering takes place. The whole
valley seems like it smells of smoking meat mixed with the
mouth-watering smell of bacon. They should start the process any
day now. As a matter of fact, they are running late this year since
tonight is technically Halloween.

Simon is making a racket in the next
aisle over as he performs his own rummaging. Sam slides open a
steel door under a countertop to reveal two sealed cardboard boxes.
She drops to her knees and pulls one out. It lands with
a heavy
thud, one end squashing her
foot. She’s able to slip it out from underneath the box without
calling for help. It’s heavier than she would’ve thought. Using the
knife from her hip, she slices the packing tape to reveal pay dirt.
This is exactly what they need.

“Simon, come here!” she calls.

It only takes a moment before he appears next
to her.

“Great job, Sam,” he praises.

“These are heavy, gosh!” Sam exclaims as she
lifts a big sack out of the box.

“That’s a good thing,” he says. “Here, let me
get them.”

Sam steps back with her
heavy
sack as Simon hefts the whole box
onto the counter. He takes her bag and places it back inside the
storage box.

“Think there are more in there, Simon,” she
notes, stoops low, and ends up crawling half inside the long
cabinet to drag another box to the opening. “Yes, there are. I
think there are four boxes in here. With eight bags of salt each,
that’s thirty-two bags to take back.”

“Awesome,” he says with excited eyes. “And
your math’s still good, too.”

Sam chuckles, “Ha, it was never good.”

Simon grins at her, hefts two more
boxes onto the counter and says, “This is a priceless find. We were
really
low
. You’ve got an eagle
eye.”

Sam ignores his praise and keeps looking for
other supplies in the same cupboards. Unfortunately, the salt is
the only find so far.

“How are we going to get all of this to the
Suburban?” she asks with a frown as her light flickers. Sam hopes
it doesn’t go out all the way. A few taps to her palm seem to do
the trick.

Simon sighs and says, “Can you cover me?”

“Yes, sure I can,” Sam says confidently. “You
know that.”

“I can get one box at a time, but I can’t do
it while I carry both long guns.”

“Simon, that box must weigh a hundred
pounds,” she tells him.

“I think it’s only about sixty, maybe
seventy-five,” Simon corrects her nonchalantly.

“That’s kind of a lot, Simon!”

“We heft those
hundred pound
sacks of grain at the farm, hunt and
drag back deer and just about anything else. I’ll be
fine
. I just need to know if you can
cover us both while I’m carrying these. We’re gonna need to make a
few trips.”

“Got it,” she says. “I’ll cover us. Don’t
worry.”

“If we run into trouble, I’ll drop this stuff
and take back my rifle. I’m gonna leave the shotgun hidden down
here somewhere,” he tells her as he unslings the twelve gauge.

“Here, Simon,” Sam says and pulls his arm.
“We can hide it over here.”

She leads him to the next aisle where the
metal storage shelving is actually still intact. Sam kneels down
and waves him to follow.

“Under here,” Sam shows him. “Slide it
under here. That’ll hide it. Nobody’s down here in this basement
level anyway. It’s not like anyone would look under this when there
is so much to
look at
elsewhere.”

Simon lays his shotgun on the floor and
pushes it under the shelf. There is barely room to get it to
fit
under
the tight
space.

“That should work,” Simon says as they rise
again. “Let’s get moving. We’ve got a lot to do. I found some boxes
of sugar, too. This is going to take a lot of trips. We have about
four hours till we need to meet up with Cory and Paige and get
settled in for the night.”

“Well, what are ya’ waitin’ for, then?” she
teases, getting a slightly irritated grin from Simon. She lowers
her voice and mimics the men with one of their favorite phrases,
“We’re burnin’ daylight.”

“Aren’t you being a little sassy pants
today?” he asks with a hand on his hip.

Sam just hits him with a brilliant smile and
shrugs her shoulders. “Ready, Professor?”

“Let’s start,” he answers.

Sam feels an enormous amount of stress,
but she tries her best to conceal it from Simon. She will need to
keep both eyes open and watch for anything and everything that
could be a potential danger. It’s her job to keep them safe in
order to get these
vital
supplies
back to the farm.

He hands over his rifle with a forlorn
expression on his face. Simon hefts the box onto his shoulder,
keeping his shooting hand free for his sidearm. Sam tries not to
let him know that his rifle is heavy on her back. His long-range
rifle is heavier than many of the other weapons at the farm. She
doesn’t want him to worry about her. He has enough to be concerned
about with trying to carry the heavy box of salt. The family will
be ecstatic about the find. They use salt for many things like
making cheese, preserving meat, and even medicinally.

This time, Sam leads the way back out of the
basement. She’s balancing her handgun and the flashlight as they
ascend the darkened stairway. She prays that nobody comes at them
from above. Unfortunately, on the second flight up, a rattling from
somewhere above on another floor crashes down upon their ears
through the deafening silence.

“Stop!” Simon whispers. “Kill the light.”

She doesn’t need told. Sam has the
light turned off before he even finishes his sentence. They both
press back against the wall so as not to be seen
by
anyone who might come into the hall above them.
Simon has put the box down and drawn his pistol. Sam squats down.
They wait for a long time. Just as she is about to suggest they
keep moving, the rattling noise comes again. It sounds like someone
is trying to open a locked door.