The McClane Apocalypse Book Three (27 page)

"Not sure. I'll see if he tells Cory later,"
Kelly tells them. "Do you know why he would've looked like that,
Samantha?"

"Nnn… no, sir," Sam stutters.

She is especially afraid of Kelly. Hannah
figures it is probably his size. He probably instills this fear in
most people. If only they knew his softer side, the one only she
knows.

"It's cool. No big deal. We're either gonna
get it runnin' again or we're not. But one way or the other Peter's
group isn't staying," Kelly tells them.

"Right. Let's hit it, bro," John agrees.

They are gone again in a flash. They've all
been working on putting up hay, and Hannah knows what a monstrous
job that can be. Grandpa used to have some of the neighbors' farm
boys help him with it, and he'd either pay them or split the hay
bounty with the other family.

"It's blessedly quiet again," Hannah says
and then laughs. Sam gives a short chuckle. "That's usually how the
kitchen is. I guess it's probably why I like it in here, too.
People are always coming and going. Plus, they all get happy when
Grams and I cook for them. That doesn't hurt, right? Making people
happy?"

"Yeah, it's good I suppose," Sam says.

Hannah isn't sure she means it. She's not
sure this girl has any happiness left inside.

"It's sometimes hard for people to find
happiness now. I think if we can help with that in any small way,
then we should," Hannah comments but gets no response. This girl is
reclusive when she wants to be, which happens to be most of the
time.

They work side by side cleaning the kitchen,
doing the dishes, wiping counters and cutting peppers and celery. A
cry from the music room alerts Hannah that one of the babies has
awakened from their morning nap.

"Oh, goodness. Sam, can you get whichever
one that is? I think that's Isaac. My hands are in these gloves and
covered with hot pepper oils."

"Um, sure," the girl says and rushes from
the room.

When she doesn't return after a long time,
probably at least five or so minutes which is much longer than it
takes to retrieve the baby, Hannah goes to find her. Her instincts
stop her from going into the music room, and instead she waits
right outside the door frame out of sight. She's glad that she
does.

"…it's ok, baby. Shh. Don't cry. It's all
right. See? Everything's going to be ok," Sam coos gently to Isaac
in a child-like voice.

It sounds like she is pacing back and forth.
Apparently her gentle soothing is doing the job because he isn't
squawking for his bottle yet. Hannah goes back to the kitchen
feeling just a tad bolstered by this single, simple act of kindness
from this young girl who is a virtual stranger to their family.
From what she hears coming from the music room, Hannah smiles with
renewed hope for this sad, broken girl and for all of mankind who
has been so tragically dealt a bad hand in this war on
humanity.

"We need my portable ultrasound machine,"
Doc says.

They are amassed in the dining room the next
evening, the children are in bed already, and the visitors' camp is
silent. John sits next to Reagan and the med shed has been locked
down for this. Grams is in the music room giving Isaac his last
bottle for the night since Sue had insisted on being present at the
meeting. Doc had called them all in at 23:00 for it.

"What for, Grandpa?" Sue inquires.

"Reagan and I would like to get a look at
the baby Jennifer's carrying. The fetal heartbeat is still there.
But I don't know if the baby is big enough to be viable on its own
yet. If I could get an ultrasound, we'd have a better idea of what
we could do."

"Do? Like what?" John asks.

Reagan answers beside him, "Grandpa's
talking about a C-section. We might be able to perform a cesarean
birth taking the baby out by surgery, and at least we'd be saving
the baby. Jennifer is not likely to pull through this. Nothing and
I mean nothing we are doing is helping her at all."

"How would that work, Doc?" Kelly asks.
"Aren't x-ray machines super big and heavy?"

"No, not mine. Damn it," Doc swears with
frustration and removes his glasses. "I forgot it at my practice.
Hell, I don't even know if it's still there. Should've taken the
damn thing with me when I cleaned out my office, but everything was
so hectic. I just forgot it."

Reagan interrupts, "If not, Grandpa, then we
could get one from the stat-care in town."

Doc nods with a grimace. "They do have one,
but it's not as new as mine. Not portable and not nearly as
small."

"How big are we talking, Herb?" Derek
asks.

John and Derek are both supposed to be
sleeping at this hour to prepare for their four a.m. watch shifts,
but this is infinitely more important.

"It's not much bigger than a brief case. As
a matter of fact, it's in a case. Easy to carry. I've used it on
house-calls before," Doc explains.

Kelly nods and Derek follows suit.

"How could you possibly perform a surgery
here?" John asks the inevitable.

"With what you and Reagan brought home from
the city hospital, I'd be just fine. Reagan will assist if it comes
to that," Doc adds.

Kelly nods again and says, "Ok. Let's go get
it."

His friend is a cut and dry kind of guy.
There are no wishy-washy decisions made by Sergeant Kelly
Alexander. John forces down a chuckle.

"Hold on, Kel," Derek adds as John knew his
brother would. "We need more intel. Plus, we need a plan."

"Right," Reagan jumps in. "I can take you
guys—whoever's going—and…"

"Not happening," John interrupts firmly and
gets a deadly glare from the boss. "We'll decide who goes. But one
thing's for sure, you aren't!"

Before Reagan can reply, Doc agrees with him
and expands on this thought process. "John's right, Reagan. You
need to stay here on shift in the shed with our patient. Let the
men take care of this."

"Yep, he's right, half pint," Kelly puts in
and gets a sneer from Reagan.

"How far is it from here, Herb? I mean
exactly how far?" Derek asks.

"'Bout seven miles. You'd need to go out
through the cattle pasture and catch that oil well access road.
It's rutted all to hell, but it's your best bet of sneaking out
without alerting our friends."

John knows he means the visitors.

Sue says, "Yeah, and you could come out
around the other end of town going that way. It might even be
shorter than seven miles if you go in from there. You know where
his practice is, Derek. Remember? I took you there once?"

"Yeah, I remember," his brother replies.

John's not sure he wants his brother to
leave the farm, though. He has too much to risk.

"I'll go," he puts in quickly. "Makes the
most sense."

"Well you can't go alone," Derek adds.

"I'm going, too," Kelly is quick to state.
"Let me go with him, Derek. I'm frosty, and I could use the change
of scenery."

Derek thinks a few moments, contemplating
his choices. He pulls rank on them, so they'll have to adhere to
whatever decision he makes.

"You should go tonight," Derek finally says.
"Go after midnight. Go as late as possible. It'll be a better
chance that the visitors won't see you."

John breathes a sigh of relief before
replying, "Right. Good idea. We'll go around 02:00. We'll take
Doc's truck."

"Head out through that oil well road," Kelly
concurs.

Derek frowns but nods. "That'll be fine.
I'll tell you where the practice is. Write you out some
directions."

"Wait. I'm not so sure this is a good idea,"
Reagan murmurs uneasily beside him.

She fidgets in her seat. John grasps her
hand from the table and gives it a squeeze. He does it right in
front of everyone without thinking.

"It'll be ok, boss," he says while looking
directly into her eyes. "Don't worry."

She doesn't break his grasp or the eye
contact for a long moment which surprises John. Finally her fingers
wriggle loose and she pulls free.

"I don't like it," she says as her brows
pinch together.

Kelly jumps in to help, "I'll take care of
him, little Doc."

"I wouldn't ask this of you men if I thought
there were any other options," Doc says on a weary sigh.

"It's fine, Doc. We'll be fine," John
assures him and his concerned granddaughter. "And we'll get that
machine."

"Don't worry, Herb," Derek says. "This is
what we do. Right, team?"

"Hooah," John and Kelly both reply quietly
but intensely. They reach around Reagan who sits between them and
bump fists. She swats their hands out of her way.

The meeting concludes, the family breaks up
and everyone leaves the dining room. Everyone but Reagan who stands
beside him near the door. She's staring at her feet.

"I don't even know if this is going to make
a difference," Reagan says whisper quiet.

"It's worth a shot, Reagan," John tells her.
"We have to try."

She doesn't answer but nods and swallows
hard. When she raises her gaze to his, she is also biting her lower
lip.

"Want my .45?" she asks.

Nothing she says surprises him much anymore.
He just chuckles once and pats the pistol on his hip.

"Got it covered, kid. And before you say it,
I'll take two extra mags," he reassures her.

"Take a shotgun, too," she prods.

John just smiles at her and chucks her under
the chin.

"Ok, boss. I'll take plenty of firepower,"
he confirms and takes her hand.

Reagan frowns at him and says, "I'm serious,
John. Our town fell fast. Kind of like everywhere else, I guess.
But it was torched pretty badly and there were a lot of scummy
bastards from the big cities moving through there. It could be as
bad as Clarksville."

John raises her hand to his mouth where he
places a kiss to her soft palm which causes her to pull away.

"Noted," John adds more seriously.

He's very familiar with how bad it is
everywhere. He'd been to many of the remaining areas of the country
mid nose-dive and he'd been deployed to help keep the peace, which
had failed terribly. He'd taken her a few weeks back to the city.
He's been in war zones for the last twelve years. He's ready for
this trip. He just doesn't have to fly halfway across the world to
get there.

"Send me off with a kiss?" he queries with a
grin and gets an immediate, testy scowl.

Reagan roughly jabs her bony index finger to
the center of his forehead. It doesn't hurt, and instead John
throws his head back and shouts laughter.

"Get your head in the game, idiot," she says
in a huff.

She spins, leaving John standing there
laughing.

A little after two a.m. Kelly and John sneak
through the back of the property with Doc's pick-up truck. Nobody
at the campsite stirs. Derek and Cory are both keeping watch until
they return. They both have a short barrel shotgun, their M16's and
John packs his .45 on his hip. Kelly's holster holds a 9mm Beretta
model 92.

They use Derek and Doc's handwritten
directions to make their way using the back roads least traveled,
some of which are just gravel. It doesn't take long before they
reach the small town where Doc had his practice, the family went to
church and Reagan and Sue had attended public school. Kelly is
driving and slows the truck to less than twenty miles per hour as
they come toward the main drag of the town. They're moving
northeast on Pleasant View Road. They know that this road will
eventually turn into Church Street, the road where Doc's old
practice is located.

This town is small, much smaller than
Clarksville. So far, it's completely deserted, not the worst thing
ever. Kelly kills the headlights and they slow even further. The
gibbous moon is nearly full, making it much easier to see by. They
pass a few abandoned homes, another condo community where no lights
are lit, and three fast food restaurants. A baseball field where
children once dreamed of making it to the majors has not been mowed
the entire season. It resembles the cow pasture back at the
farm.

No cars move about. No humans scurry to and
fro like furtive rodents as they had in Clarksville. This is
decidedly different from that city he'd taken Reagan and some of
the bigger cities he's been through since the apocalypse. The truck
slows to a crawl as they pass not one, but two pharmacies. One have
them has been nearly burned to the ground. Some of the homes are
also burned out. They are moving toward a more industrial area
where the business district must be situated. Kelly veers around
abandoned vehicles in the middle of the short city streets. A few
appear to have been torched out.

"Look there," Kelly whispers and points to
their left through the windshield.

John spies what his friend is showing him.
There is a very faint, yellow glow coming from a two-story home
with a wide, wrap-around porch and gingerbread trim. It is likely
candlelight. But he sees no movement whatsoever. It makes John
realize how important this small town would be to the McClane
family and why Reagan and Doc would want to come here to set up his
clinic again. There are bound to be others trying to survive. They
will need medical care. They could need it now.

Kelly pulls down his night vision goggles
and John follows suit. They are used to the dark and moving around
in it. This isn't their first rodeo.

"Up there," John indicates with his right
hand. "There's the feed mill. I see the grain silos."

"Yep, that's it," Kelly agrees.

He pulls the truck into the other lane, not
worrying overly much about non-existent on-coming traffic.

"Let's pull around back and leave the truck
there," John suggests. It's always good to have an exit strategy.
Leaving their mode of transportation right outside of Doc's
practice could get it hotwired and stolen should anyone notice
it.