The McClane Apocalypse: Book Two (33 page)

John easily disassembles the piece from the rest of the thermostat using only his dagger and tosses the rest of the mess onto a desk. He’s also able to rip a good sized section of wiring from the wall and wraps it into a tight coil.

“Wow,” she whispers, and John glances briefly at her face which is illuminated by the flashlight and the thin stream of light coming from under the door.

She isn’t looking at the mercury switch or the thermometer or the cracked glass on the floor. She’s looking right at him, and her expression is one of confused wonder and something unreadable. Reagan is looking at him like she’s seeing him for the first time, and it’s highly unsettling for John. He doesn’t need her to be impressed with this side of him because there’s nothing impressive about it. It’s just his job, and he’s done this kind of thing a hundred times. Of course, he’s never had anybody with him who would be impressed unless you counted Kelly, and it took a whole heck of a lot more than this to impress the big guy holding the M60. It’s easier to just look away, so John does as he stashes the switch and the wiring in his pack.

They leave the shoe store, sprint across stopped traffic and stow the bag containing the switches and shoes on the back seat floor of the first silver sedan that John had looted. He pulls Reagan with him into the doorway of the brick building again where it is much darker so they can plan their next move. He takes the list from the front pocket of his cargos and scans it.

“We still gotta find that tractor part. Doc said the tractor store is close to the building supply store about two blocks from here. Does that sound right?” he asks and looks to her. She’s still staring at him with curiosity, and he doesn’t think she even heard the question. “You ok?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. The tractor place. Um, I think it’s over by the Home Depot and the Sam’s Club. I’m a little disoriented, so I’m not sure how far we are from there. Maybe two traffic lights?” she asks as she raises her eyebrows in question. If she was anybody else, if she was one of his fellow soldiers, he’d be furious for getting lost or confused in the middle of a mission. There’s no room in the Army for confused hesitation or messed up directions. But since she’s his girl, all is forgiven, so he just grins stupidly at her. “Sorry. It’s just different moving on foot than it is in a vehicle. Grandpa led us around when we came last.”

“It’s cool. Let’s move. Stay close, Reagan” he says with a smile, and Reagan looks away with embarrassment.

They slow jog the two city blocks, staying near the buildings for cover and using alleyways as often as possible when John spies the tractor parts store across what would have been a very busy four way intersection with five lanes on each side. Long sprigs of grass grow up through the cracks in the roads and sidewalks. It’s the most out in the open they’ll be the whole day, and he takes cover with Reagan behind a dense patch of foliage and bushes. At one time, this small spot of green in a city would’ve been aesthetically pleasing to the eye and filled in with dark mulch and seasonal, perennial flowers. But now it just looks like the cow pasture at the farm with thick, long grass and overgrown weeds and bushes that desperately need a trimming. Many of the plants have died from lack of automated, daily watering. It is the perfect cover.

Reagan was right in guessing the location, though. The tractor retailer is directly beside the Home Depot which is in the shared massive, amusement park-sized parking lot as the Sam’s Club. Both of these stores could be helpful in finding the other items they seek. A large bookstore is also in the parking area facing the other road to its east. The bookworm beside him would probably like to browse a bit in there, but they won’t be messing around with it today. John still needs to find a hobby or craft store, as well, before they leave town. This is their last day in the city, so it’s sink or swim on collecting the supplies they need.

There’s no one in sight, so he signals her to move forward through the parked cars in the middle of the road and around the ones that are, not surprisingly, on their sides. Most of the vehicles’ fuel doors stand open, leading John to conclude that the gas has been syphoned. Two of the cars they pass have corpses in them, victims of assassination most likely. They cross into the parking lot and move closer to the buildings, using the cars for cover. Just as they come to the entrance before the tractor store, John hears men talking somewhere off to their right, their voices being carried by the stone and brick facades of these big buildings. He grabs Reagan by the arm, hauling her into the farm implement store with him. She follows right on his heels before they take cover behind a display rack of birdfeeders and triple-stacked barn weathervanes meant to dress up a gentleman’s hobby farm. John scans behind them to make sure they are alone and then back toward the entrance area. He holds his finger to his lips to let her know to be silent. Her eyes belie her fear, and it upsets John that she has to be afraid at all.

“I told you what Joe told me,” says one of the men as they pause outside the entrance to the store. “He was in the apartment downtown and saw a dude and some fine-ass woman with guns, and he said he thought they went this way. I aint lyin’.” The man sounds to be in his thirties, maybe late thirties, and he speaks with a southern twang. John steals a quick peek. He is smaller than John and thin, lanky.

“Well fuck if I see ‘em,” says the second who sounds slightly more menacing and does not have the same accent. John risks another glance. This man is bigger, muscular and stocky like Derek. “The only chic I saw was that dead one in the Home Depot back there. Fuckin’ waste.”

“Come on. Let’s keep looking. They couldn’t have gone too far. We’ll sneak up on ‘em and take their guns, and then we’ll kill the guy and take his woman. Been awhile since we had a woman with us. If we find her, I get first dibs. My balls are killin’ me,” says the third creep with a raucous laugh.

He sounds like the leader, and his voice is deeper, more gritty and direct. The other two laugh at his little funny. John fails to find the humor. The man behind the voice is about his size and dirty, filthy, and they all three wear tattered clothing. What he is insinuating that he wants to do with Reagan is enough to make John want to blast away on his M16 with carefree abandon.

The second one takes control again. “All right, let’s circle back where we came from. They could be in that mall over there.”

John believes they are speaking of the area from which he and Reagan have just come, and he figures it gives them about another twenty minutes or so before they return.

When he glances behind him at Reagan, she is starting to scoot away on her bottom in fear while trying to maintain a firm hold on her rifle. Her eyes are wide. She’s panting and scared out of her mind. He grabs her arm to prevent her from retreating any further from him and shakes his head almost imperceptibly. John holds his finger to his lips again to tell her to be silent because even her scuffling could alert them. She swallows hard, squints at him and nods, though he can tell she’d rather run for her life. Within another few seconds, the men leave without coming into the store at all which is fortunate- for the men. Their voices fade and become non-existent from his audible range.

“It’s ok. They’re gone,” John tries to placate her, but she won’t even look at him because her eyes are fixated on the door.

Her hands shake, and she’s tense as if she’s about to spring into a full-blown sprint.

“Hey, it’s ok. I’m not gonna let them take you,” he tells her in the most appeasing tone he can manage which finally forces her to make eye contact briefly. Her breathing slows just a tad. “Let’s get what we need and get outta here.”

“Let’s just leave,” she contradicts.

“No, it’s ok. We’re fine, alright? I have to find those parts, Reagan. Just stay close. Everything’s going to be fine,” John tells her, and she finally nods but warily so.

It only takes John a few minutes to find the small tractor part they need because he guesses that most people aren’t worried about farming anymore. He takes three of them because they are small, not heavy to carry and if they need one, they may need another one again sometime in the future. John also grabs up a few other lightweight parts and stashes them, as well. They seem like items they might have a use for someday. His looting partner spots a small case of multi-purpose pocket knives and grabs three.

“For the kids,” she whispers with earnestness, and John frowns but then nods with reluctant agreement.

What strange times these are when women want to give little kids knives to carry around. Of course, she may have done this before the world fell apart for all he knows. John also snakes two more pressure switches from under the seats of two riding lawn mowers sitting on display. Lawn maintenance is a thing of the past, so he doesn’t feel too guilty over it. Reagan is staying even closer to him since the men outside had frightened her. He doesn’t mind, though, because it’s easier than looking over his shoulder for her every three seconds. She leads him to the book section where she finds a condensed softcover on using herbs medicinally and another on beekeeping. These also get stashed in the pack. Moving quickly to another area of the store where clothing once used to be, John locates a pair of jeans in a size for Kelly. It’s a good thing he’s a freak of nature because the common sizes, John’s size, are completely gone. At least he has a few more pairs since Grams and Sue had given him clothing from the girls’ brother and father.

“Come on, let’s keep moving,” he tells her and they use the emergency exit as he scans the alley for anyone, any movement, especially the men who are looking for them. And there’s absolutely no doubt in John’s mind that they meant Reagan and him and not any other man and woman traveling together in this destroyed heap of a city.

If he should fail in his task to keep her safe, to return her to Doc alive, then it will be the biggest mission disaster he’s ever been on. The fact that she is trusting him with her life, and fervently so, only adds to the pressure he already feels. Reagan is the most important person in his life now, and the need to keep her safe is like a burdening weight of responsibility so heavy on his shoulders that he might as well be carrying around large barn stones the size of the ones holding up the horse barn back at the farm. It’s a burden that he gladly carries, just as long as he doesn’t fail to do so.

Behind him, Reagan trips and stumbles into him. She lets out a soft grunt-cry of surprise as John helps her straighten again. She has tripped over a piece of scrap metal of some sort that he’d easily hopped over. The metal looks like it was once perhaps a part of a car or truck, but now it is just a singed black and twisted mess like the gnarled root of a tree. If just this one, small, minor piece of metal could take her down, how is he ever going to keep her safe against predators?

“Thanks,” she says breathlessly. John doesn’t answer but nods, his mouth set in a tight line. It’s all he can manage.

Chapter Twenty

Hannah

“My goodness, I need a break. My back is killing me!” Hannah exclaims as she takes the last hot jar out of the canner.

“No kidding. Let’s take a break, Hannie,” Sue agrees. “I need to check on the kids again and make sure Isaac’s still asleep.”

“Sounds good to me. I think I’ll take Grams a cup of tea, too,” she tells her sister. Sue comes around the island and kisses her on the cheek.

“You look so flushed and pretty, Hannie,” Sue tells her. It makes her smile. It is only because it’s so hot in the kitchen, having run the canners all day.

“Thanks, Sue. I’m sure you do, too,” Hannah returns kindly and leans her head against Sue’s cheek for a moment.

“Nah, I’m sweaty and gross. You’re the only one who works hard around here and still look like you could pose for the cover of a country lifestyle magazine. Trust me, kid. You’re gorgeous. Just face it!” her sister declares and walks away swiftly, leaving Hannah to shake her head at her with disbelief. Both of her sisters are always flattering her, but Hannah most times feels like a fumbling, bumbling dork.

Grams had been tired, so they’d sent her off to sit and watch the kids while they play outdoors. She hadn’t argued too hard against it. The work around the farm has increased ten-fold with having so many extra people on it, and her grandmother is probably just working too many hours on her feet. They try to share in the workload like doing the laundry, cooking, cleaning, gardening and now canning, too. Hannah understands the importance of what the men do, as well, and doesn’t expect them to knead bread. They are doing a massive amount of physical work outside every day. It isn’t as if she can drive the tractor or heft hay bales or climb on the many barn roofs for their much-needed repairs.

Once she has the tea made, Hannah walks carefully outside, poking her cane in front of her until she comes to the rose arbor. The trip there is difficult as the two puppies assault her calves and nip at the hemline of her dress to vie for attention. She spills hot tea on her hand twice.

There is a set of wicker furniture with padded cushions on the stone patio surrounded by the flower beds that Grams has worked so many years to perfect and sculpt into her own, perfect sanctuary. It always smells so lovely here like roses and lavender, and even lilacs in the early summer. This is where she finds her grandmother, and the children’s laughter is not far off.

“Hey, Hannie,” her grandmother greets her. “Sit a moment with me, dear.”

“Sure. Brought you some tea. It’s your favorite kind,” Hannah tells her most beloved grandmother as she feels for the seat. She sits right next to her grandmother on the small wicker sofa. This woman has been such a big part of her life for so long. Hannah’s not sure what she would do without either of her grandparents in her life. It would feel so empty without them.

“Thank you, honey. Did you and Sue finish that batch?” she inquires.

“We sure did. Just gonna take a break before we get back at it. We were getting kind of beat,” she tells her grandmother who takes Hannah’s hand in her own.