The McClane Apocalypse: Book One (18 page)

“Was it something we said, sir?” John asks worriedly.

“No, no. She’s just been through...,” Doc answers but doesn’t quite. He frowns deeply and redirects the conversation. “How is it that you all deserted?”

“Everyone was, sir,” Kelly explains. “We were the last in our unit to do it. Wasn’t easy, either, sir. We took an oath to protect our country. But it’s not our country anymore. It’s not anyone’s country anymore if you ask me. The whole world’s gone to crap, and nobody seems to be able to control any of it. There’s no order left, just chaos. The President supposedly was taken to a secure location, but we hadn’t heard any new orders from him or anyone in the government in many weeks before we left.”

“Then I can’t say as I blame you. I would’ve left, too, all of us would have. You have families to protect, too. We all do and family’s the only thing that matters now,” the doc tells them all very calmly.

The rest of the meal continues on as they gladly listen to the children tell stories with their animated excitement about the animals on the farm. Any topic would be better than talking more about the depressing state of the country... the world. The mood has become morose within the McClane tribe, but they are feigning interest for the children’s sakes. Kelly guesses that Doc knew how it had become out in the world or at least had an inkling, but the women with the exception of Reagan did not know the truth of the circumstances. He doesn’t know her story, but John had told him that she was still in college when it all hit and that she’d been through a lot to get home. Join the club on that one.

The family all works together with clearing the table, except Herb who has disappeared to his study and Reagan who has disappeared to who knows where. The doc spends many hours in his study at the back of the house. Mary explained to them that he’s always been that way. She said it’s just how his brain works. He needs quiet thinking time. By the looks of the farm, he put his brain time to good use. Cory and Em also step up to help, and Kelly is glad to see them doing so well and fitting in with the McClanes.

They don’t use the dishwasher but hand wash and dry the dishes to save water and conserve energy. Mary is showing the kids the procedure and explains that this duty will fall to the four of them after each meal. She also shows Cory and Em where everything goes. They don’t argue, thankfully, but are respectful and well-mannered. Kelly is proud of them and also glad that his stepmother had raised them right. But now they are his responsibility to raise the rest of the way on his own, which is a frightening proposition. It actually scares the shit out of him.

It feels overwhelming being responsible for someone other than just himself. He’d been gone from home since graduating high school. Sure, he came back to visit whenever he could, but Kelly had never had to take care of anyone but himself and watch his fellow soldiers’ backs.

“Can I help?” Kelly asks as he comes to stand next to Hannah in the pantry. She is carefully measuring flour out of a large bin resting on a marble-surfaced counter top. There are cupboards above her with glass cut-outs for easier viewing of the items inside. The rest of the small, narrow room is lined floor to ceiling with shelving.

“Um, sure. You see those crocks over there in the corner?” she asks quietly. She’s not nervous around him. Her hands are steady, calm. Most women, he found, did not like him to stand so close and were jittery around him. It was probably his size, he’d reasoned long ago, and tried never to crowd women’s personal space. He turns to look for the crocks of which she speaks and finds nothing. The room is packed full of home-canned goods, bags of flour, sugar, canisters of grains, dried beans, jars of nuts and dried fruits and more items than he can name. But he doesn’t see any crocks.

“Hm, not seeing them. Where exactly are they again?” he asks stupidly.

Hannah patiently wipes her hands on her white apron front and reaches out for him, making contact with his chest. His pectoral muscles instinctively flex under her small palm. She doesn’t seem to care, though. She simply slides her fingers down his arm and takes his hand in hers. Kelly tries not to think of how dainty and small her frail fingers and hand feel in his giant one. Keeping one hand on the counter Hannah walks him around a corner that he didn’t even realized was there. It leads to another narrow area, making the room more of an L shape. Against the back wall is more shelving, and on the floor in front of them are two large, stone crocks.

“Do you see them now?” she teases with an ornery grin and a cocky tilt to her head. The space in the back part of the pantry in which they stand is even narrower as they both barely fit in the room.

“Are you getting sassy, Miss Hannah?” Kelly jokes right back with her. She raises her sightless gaze to him and favors him with a bright smile. At some point today, probably just recently, she’s gotten flour on her face. It’s just a smudge, but Kelly takes his thumb and wipes it away gently. Now she does startle.

“You had some flour or something there, sorry,” Kelly apologizes. His thumb takes up half her small cheek.

“Oh, thanks. Nothing new for me,” she says with a soft laugh. Kelly sees for the first time that her eyes are actually two, distinctly different colors. One of them is a pale, frosty blue like the underside of a glacier, with a brown spot on the upper part. The other is a much darker blue like ocean water. “Well, back to work. You want to carry one of those out for me?”

He can’t speak. He has literally lost his ability of speech. Her face is mesmerizing, the strangely different colored eyes aside. Hannah is breathtaking. She’s petite but not in the same way that Reagan is. She’s a smidge taller than Reagan for starters. But where Reagan is a solidly packed, muscular, lean person, Hannah is slim, statuesque. She’s also quite fair. He noticed her feeding the chickens this morning with a sun bonnet on her head and sunglasses to shield her eyes. She’d looked for a moment like some fantastically rich, elegant celebrity actress on holiday or something. Her skin is so light and delicate it almost appears translucent. Her hair is a pale, silvery blonde and poker straight. Her eyebrows are also a light blonde and extremely arched like a sideways parenthesis, but her eyelashes are strikingly contrasted in pitch black. She has high cheekbones and very slanted eyes that tip up at the corners like a cat. And she’s frowning at him.

“Kelly?” she asks in confusion. He clears his voice with stunned embarrassment.

“Oh, um, yeah. I was just looking at... this... organic... granola,” he stammers as he tries to quickly read a package from the shelf beside them. It isn’t a good cover. Her mouth grimaces. Shit! “Ok, I’ll get one for you,” he tells her more firmly as he dutifully turns to pick up one of the crocks. It’s about twenty pounds or so, and he’s glad she asked him for help. This is too heavy for her, at least in his opinion.

“You see, we use this pioneer recipe that Grams found years ago...,” she explains. Kelly really doesn’t hear a thing she’s saying. Her voice is light, airy, just like her. She goes on about refilling with exact measurements of what you use or some such thing. He just likes listening to her. She’s normally a lot quieter. Fog horn Reagan and nosy pants Sue usually out-talk her. She’s the quiet observer of their group which is probably why she is also so insightful.

Kelly leans in slightly. Hannah smells sweet, flowery like a summer afternoon in his stepmom’s flower garden. She must realize that he’s closer because she takes a step back but doesn’t seem too overly upset by him. Reaching overhead, she feels for and takes down a container of baking soda and small crock that says “salt” on it. There are the familiar Braille labels on the canister, and she reads them with her long fingertips to double check she has the right items. She’s still talking on and on about flour, yeast, whatever.

There’s a small window on the far wall of the pantry, and a thin sliver of golden light filters in, bathing her in a warm glow. Her sleeveless, long white dress skims her slim calves and flows and floats around her. The apron she wears over top of the dress has tiny blue flowers on a white background. She’s almost ethereal. Suddenly, Kelly feels unclean, undeserving to even be standing in her presence. Hannah’s so innocent, so pure. And he’s... not. He’s seen the worst that humanity is capable of. And he’s killed more men in this world than he would care to confess to. He was a Heavy Weapons Specialist in the Army and could take apart, repair, and effectively use any killing machine the Army threw at him. She reaches out for him again, and this time he steps into her hand which lands softly against his chest. He finds himself staring down at that hand with the long, thin fingers and short, buffed nails.

“So? Do you?” she probes as if she’s asked more than once.

Shit, he’d not been listening very well. He’d been too busy ogling her like some kind of pervert. What had he missed?

“Do you want a haircut? Not by me, of course. You might end up looking like George- you know, our rooster?” she laughs at herself. “Grams. She’s pretty good. Used to work in a salon before she and Grandpa got married, I guess. She cuts our hair so I think she can handle your mop. If it gets much longer I’ll need to put yours in a braid, too.” She laughs again, reaches up and ruffles his hair. Her laugh is musical. He realizes that she’s teasing him and grins down at her but knows she can’t tell.

“Sure, might be nice to get cleaned up. My beard could use a good trim, too,” he admits nervously. But all he can think about now is her hair. Instead of Sue’s wavy, mahogany locks or crazy ass curls like Reagan’s which fit her, Hannah’s hair is smooth and straight, neat. And she always keeps it in a braid or a bun at the base of her neck. The finer hairs around the nape of her neck have escaped this morning and twirl gently against her skin from the cross-breeze coming from the kitchen windows.

“Good,” she answers and turns back to her task. “Now you can put the crock back, and we’re done in here. Grams and Sue will make the butter and separate the milk. So we’ll need to clear out so they can get in here to work. Kind of crowded with too many people back here. Especially with you in here,” she giggles.

Man, he’s in trouble. As if someone as good and clean and sweet as Hannah McClane would ever want a disgusting brute like himself. He sets the crock back in the corner quickly.

“Uh yeah, I’d better go see if I can help the guys with something now,” Kelly says quickly and then squeezes past her to leave. Best to squash those kinds of feelings before they start.

Chapter Ten

Reagan

Almost two weeks have gone by since the arrival of Derek and his motley crew of vagabonds. Grandpa is calling a family meeting in the formal dining room, and Cory is left in charge of the children who are playing in the hay loft of the barn due to the rain. The dining table seats twelve and all of the adults have assembled and filed in, between their morning and evening chore times. Everyone has in front of them a notepad and pen or pencil because they keep track of things like livestock breedings, projects that need done and fun, new things like bullet reloading, ammo stock counts and gun cleaning schedules.

“Maryanne and I have called this meeting to discuss the matter of our new guests,” Grandpa opens the meeting. “Here at the farm we try to do things judiciously and as a family unit. I’ve already taken the time to get a feel for the opinions of the girls.”

He pauses and John and Kelly look at one another nervously.

“What Herb is saying is that when this all started we had decided not to let anyone but our own family stay here. You understand, I’m sure. There would be too many mouths to feed and people to house if we allowed anyone who came here to stay. It sounds like a terrible thing to say, but...” Grams explains with regret etching her voice. She twines her gray braid around her fingers.

“You don’t have to explain, Mrs. M. We understand. Derek’s family, we’re not,” John jumps in.

“No, you don’t understand, John,” Grandpa says. “We’ve decided to put it to a family vote. If it’s unanimous and only unanimous, then you are welcome to stay on. And the children, of course, would stay, as well. I believe that having you and Kelly here would be a very valuable asset to our family. And the children are just another blessing, as all children are.”

“So, girls, let’s put it to a vote, alright?” Grams adds. “All those in favor of John, Kelly and the kids staying with us permanently at the farm raise your hand. All those not in favor don’t raise your hand. It has to be unanimous.”

Hannah and Sue quickly raise their hands, followed by Grams and Grandpa. Reagan sits still with her hands in her lap. Her hair drips a fat, cold raindrop onto her arm. She’d been on patrol when the rain had set in all of a sudden. Galloping back to the barn had only worsened her situation as mud had splattered onto her. She needs a damn shower and here she sits in this stupid meeting. Sue is glaring at her.

“Are we unanimous?” Hannah asks with calm expectation.

“Not yet we’re not,” Sue growls out.

Reagan sends a contemptuous look John’s way and reluctantly raises her right arm. The relief that washes over him and Kelly is obvious. They’d clearly been worried about this exact thing happening. And why wouldn’t they? They don’t belong here.

Grandpa slaps his hand on the antique, oak table and announces happily, “Good! Now that that’s done and over with,” he looks pointedly in Reagan’s direction, so she decides to bite her fingernail and resume scowling at John instead. She gets dried mud in her mouth. Damn him!

“Do you even want to stay? I had just assumed you would, John, because of Derek. I know your parents...” Grandpa explains. Their parents were both killed six years ago in a car accident during a fierce blizzard in the mountainous region around Denver where they lived. Derek had told her about the accident a few years ago when he’d come home on leave to visit.

“Yes, sir. We both want to stay. Kelly’s got no family left, either, and we’ve both talked about it already. He’s responsible for his brother and sister and needs somewhere safe to be with them anyway. We’re really lucky to have a place like this to come to. We’re grateful to you and your whole family, Doc,” John says with solemnity and glances Reagan’s way. Reagan rolls her eyes at him, and he visibly startles. Good.