The McClane Apocalypse: Book Two
Read The McClane Apocalypse: Book Two Online
Authors: Kate Morris
The McClane Apocalypse
Book Two
Kate Morris
Copyright © 2014 by Ranger Publishing
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First softcover edition, July 2014
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Manufactured in the United States of America
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file
ISBN 13: 978-0692214442
ISBN 10: 0692214445
Note to Readers: This publication contains the opinions and ideas of its author. It is not intended to provide helpful or informative material on the subjects addressed in the publication. The author and publisher specifically disclaim all responsibility for any liability, loss or risk personal or otherwise.
I’d like to thank all of the fans who read book one of
The McClane Apocalypse
. This series would not be the success it is without your words of encouragement and support. Thank you for your dedication and for telling a friend.
Kate
Table of Contents
Reagan
They’ve been riding since before dawn so that they can make the hunting cabin before nightfall, but storm clouds peeking through the crowded forest ceiling hint that they might not. The horses are antsy, nervous as if they sense something is wrong. Reagan’s own mount, Harry, sidesteps and prances with anxiety which in turn puts her on high alert.
This trip to the city of Clarksville is all-important as they are almost completely out of medical supplies, especially anesthetics back at the farm. The long horseback ride is back breaking and fatiguing, however.
“Something’s up,” Reagan calls behind her to John, her traveling companion for whom she has so many confused feelings.
He’s lived at their farm for the last four months, but this Army Ranger frequently puzzles Reagan. He’s also her brother-in-law’s brother, which is why she can’t demand that he leave their farm. Derek is too dear to her as a much beloved brother-in-law and her sister is insanely in love with him. But John bothers her on a daily basis, in many different ways.
“What’s wrong with them?” he asks as he pulls his horse in beside her, along with the pack horse he trails behind his own mare.
They are also both nervous and agitated. However, John is calm just like he always is. He’s ex-military, but he’s definitely not as experienced in picking up on the signs of unspoken horse language as she has become in all her years of being around them.
“I’m not sure. Could be a deer or something,” she tells him, though Reagan is not entirely convinced since this has gone on for some time, and her horse is not quite this easily spooked.
Noises in the forest off to their left about thirty or so yards away alerts them both at the same time. It sounds like men’s voices and the rustling of underbrush. His horse actually spooks with a forward jolt, almost unseating him. John quickly pushes his mare to Reagan’s side, concealing and protecting her from harm. He is literally putting himself between her and whatever potential danger could be lurking in those bushes.
“Dismount!” he orders in a hurried whisper and urges his horse even closer to hers, forcing her to go to the right of their path into thicker foliage. “Get down, Reagan.”
She does as he says because he has more experience with this sort of thing being ex-military, but she’d like to tell him to piss off. It isn’t in her nature to follow orders from John. He annoys the hell out of her most of the time with his brazenness, bossiness and, in general, way too self-assured personality. However, as reluctant as she feels about it, she does hop down smoothly by flinging one leg over Harry’s neck and landing on her feet beside him. John’s instantly at her side, his height and physique looming over her.
“Take my horse and the other,” he further orders, his sapphire eyes flashing, to which she complies and takes both sets of reins. The pack horse is tied to his saddle so it is also securely kept still. “I’ll be back. Don’t follow me.”
And with that he’s gone, left her, abandoned her- or at least that’s how it feels. She’s scared shitless that he won’t come back or that he’ll be killed and she’ll be alone out here in the middle of the Tennessee wilderness with three horses and potential dangers, dangers like the men who’d attacked her at the college. Reagan watches him move like a panther farther away from her. His golden blonde hair catches flitting sunlight through the forest ceiling and his tight, black t-shirt strains against the musculature beneath it. His brother Derek is slightly shorter than John, but John is also bulkier and more heavily built than him. For his size, though, John is fairly silent, even with the crunching of leaves and twigs under his combat boots. If it weren’t for his brother and their friend, Kelly- all Rangers- her family would probably be dead. They could’ve been overrun and murdered at their farm like their neighbor’s father, mother and brother had been.
The mare she holds snorts and puffs air impatiently through her nose, probably wanting to be turned loose to graze or to flee to the farm for safety. They’ve ridden approximately ten miles through mountainous and wooded terrain. It’s too far to turn back now. Also, her companion is not a turn back kind of guy, she’s learned.
Shouting comes from the area of the original noise which she assumes is John confronting someone or more than one someone. A shiver shimmies down her spine, followed by a bead of chilling sweat. It seems like she should go over there and join him. If there is a band of renegades up to no good like the same ones that the post-apocalyptic world keeps spewing into this new society, then he might need her help. He could be shot, killed. The thought sends a different shiver down her spine. It’s uncomfortable and makes Reagan feel things that she pushes to the back of her mind. It’s so much easier to write these feelings off as mild concern for her brother-in-law’s brother. It would upset her beloved sister, Sue, should John be killed. Right. That’s why she’s upset at the thought of him being killed.
Two shots ring out, further scaring her. Reagan’s breathing becomes shallow and short as she waits impatiently with the horses. She tries to lick her lips, but her mouth is too dry with fear to do any good. This fear is almost as bad as when she’d been attacked at her university the night the country fell apart following the tsunamis and the fight for her life. The need to go to him, to go over to the location of the noise and the gunshots is almost overwhelming her natural flight instincts. This standing still doing nothing is killing her. Standing still and doing nothing for any reason is not exactly her forte.
She holds the restless horses another ten minutes before she realizes that he might not be coming back. John might be dead, after all. Reagan ties his horse, which also effectively holds the pack horse, as well, to a maple tree’s branch. She loops Harry’s reins around a fallen oak’s branch so that she can go and investigate. Her hands sweat. They even shake a little. Going over there might not be the smartest idea she’s ever had, but she has to know if he’s dead and if she’s on her own now. If so, she will have to return to the farm and explain it all to the family. Everyone would be devastated. John has had a prominent presence in her family since he came to live with them. Everyone loves him. Well, everyone except her. She can’t stand him. Sort of.
John bursts through the underbrush near her, startling her enough to make her squeak out a choked off scream. His hands are covered in blood. Even his jeans have a few blotches on them. A dark red smear marks one cheek.
“Oh my God!” she blurts frantically and goes to him.
“It’s cool. We’re ok,” he tells her so calmly. Damn him! She’d like to punch him.
“What the hell was it?”
“It was two young guys, maybe teenagers. They’d hunted a deer and only winged it,” he explains, but like a typical man, doesn’t really explain much at all. She gives him an impatient look. It’s the same look she gives him so often. He grins his stupid grin at her. “It wasn’t anything, Reagan. They didn’t have the heart to finish it off, so I did it for them.”
Like a banshee Reagan attacks him. She rushes at him and strikes him with both fists flat against his chest three or four times before he ensnares her wrists in vice-like grips.
“You scared the shit outta me!” she hisses angrily.
“Sorry, babe,” he tries but she slugs again even with her wrist captured by his. “I’m sorry, Reagan. I didn’t really want to call you over there. I told them I was alone.”
“Why are you covered in blood? Jesus, John!” she accuses with disgust and jerks free from him, stumbling back two paces, as well. She doesn’t like closeness to anyone, especially not John. The men at her college who tried to rape and kill her left her with more than the visible scars she carries on her body.
“They didn’t know how to gut it, either, so I showed them. Sorry I scared you,” he apologizes again but averts his gaze, something he’s never done. It does nothing to cool her temper. Instead, she turns away and begins unfastening the horses from their secure locations. Her hands shake even more than they did earlier.
“Where were they from? Around here?” she asks without turning. She doesn’t want to see him or his blood-soaked hands.
“Yeah, said they live about ten or so miles from here to the south. But they live outside of the city in the suburbs, and their dad’s dead. So now they have the responsibility of feeding their mom and little sisters. It was the least I could do. They’ll be ok. I told them it gets easier,” he explains.
When Reagan turns back, he’s wiped some of the blood from his hands and arms with a rag from his saddle bag. Before he stashes it again, Reagan stops him.
“Horses don’t like the smell of blood. You’d better just leave that here on the ground. It’ll make them antsy,” she explains to which he scowls and tosses it to the ground. John takes a moment to cover it with leaves and debris. He’s nothing if not fastidious about security and probably feels like someone could track them with that simple rag.
Before she mounts, she startles. John grips her slim forearm. She stares at that large hand with the long, tenuous fingers. It easily encompasses her entire arm, his thumb and fingers meeting underneath. His touch is gentle but firm. She doesn’t like it anyways and pulls free.
“Sorry,” he says when she finally meets his gaze. She knew he wouldn’t say anything until she looked directly at him. It’s an annoying habit he has, one of so many in her opinion. His dark eyes are genuinely pleading her forgiveness. Frown lines pucker at his downturned mouth and pinch at the corners of his eyes.
“Whatever,” she mumbles and turns away again. Reagan doesn’t like him standing so close. The heat of him literally permeates into her side. He doesn’t move or back up which is preventing her from mounting. This is another reason she hates John. He’s a big huge bully. Well, he is over six feet tall which is much taller than her, so he isn’t exactly huge. His friend Kelly is huge. That freak is massive like a bull. John is lanky, yet very strong. It isn’t exactly hard to be bigger than her, but he still likes to bug her.
“Tell ya’ what. You can gut the next deer, ‘kay, babe?” he says like a smartass.
Reagan turns full on to him and rolls her eyes with irritation. “Don’t be an idiot,” she verbally jabs.
“Well, you don’t like it when I leave you to do things like that, so maybe you should do the next one,” he remarks which further pisses her off.