The McClane Apocalypse Book Three (59 page)

"Do you think he does this as well?" he asks
and strokes her through her flimsy, lacy panties. These must be new
because everything else she wears is practical cotton. She cries
out into his neck and shakes her head distractedly.

"I don't… I don't care what he does or how
he does it. He's just the neighbor. Why are we even talking about
him right now? Just do it. Just do it now, John," she begs.

"No, Reagan, there are a lot of people out
there, not to mention your grandparents," he says raggedly as her
hand strokes his length and her other grabs at his shirt.

"I don't care. My grandparents probably went
to bed anyways," she says rationalizing.

And it's all the encouragement John needs to
pick her up, wrap her legs about his middle and take her to a dark
corner of the barn where he does not put her to her feet.

"Reagan," he says as he frees himself,
pushes her panties to the side and plunges into her with a ferocity
that leaves them both hungry and insatiable for the other. And when
they are spent and breathing heavily John whispers to her as he
always does, "I love you."

She says nothing as he sets her gently to
her feet which are not covered in dirty boots or old Converse for a
change, but beige, feminine flats. Something doesn't sit right with
John that he can't quite put his finger on. His mind isn't clear,
but he feels like something is wrong between them. She has a
staggering way of making him fuzzy-headed.

"You looked so beautiful today," he tells
her and presses a kiss to her forehead as he re-tucks his
shirt.

"Get real. You don't have to say that, duh.
Obviously you didn't need to flatter me to get me to have sex with
you," she replies as she pulls her dress back into some semblance
of order.

John freezes until she realizes that he's
not talking or moving. He's learned that this is one way to get her
to stop, to slow down and interact with the rest of the humans.

She blurts, "What?"

"I said you look beautiful today, Reagan,"
he repeats. "I've never seen you… clean before or wearing shoes
that don't have horse dung on them."

"Uh, oh… thanks," she mumbles uncomfortably.
"You look nice, too. Or at least you did look nice until you came
out here."

She picks a few errant pieces of straw out
of his hair and re-buttons his shirt for him. The lightness of her
fingertips brushing against his skin is heavenly. One of the
buttons of his shirt, however, is gone. He'd like to tell her that
she'd ripped too roughly at his shirt earlier, causing it to pop
off, but he thinks better of it. Sex is still so new to her and
maybe this is just how she has to deal with it for now. He'll just
have to remove his own clothing more quickly from now on.

"Thank you very much, ma'am," he tells her
and pulls her in for a kiss, finishing it with a rub of her top
lip. Her fingers, the nails painted black or dark blue or something
completely
not
feminine, cover his and Reagan presses them
harder against her mouth. "No more kissing the neighbors, ok?"

She smiles slyly up at him and says, "If
this is how you'll punish me, then I'm going to find a neighbor
every day to kiss."

John turns her swiftly and spanks her
bottom.

"Ouch! Jerk," she grinds out in instant
anger.

She is so easy to antagonize and so fast to
get feisty.

"Oh, it can get much worse if you go
trolling for neighbors," he warns.

He rests his mouth on the back of her neck
and then presses her against the barn wall again. His hands roam
over her as he pulls her back against his front. She grinds her
behind against him and, whether she knows it or not, he's ready to
go again. Unfortunately, Reagan also has this effect on him. He
can't ever seem to get enough of her. His passion for her is
completely unappeasable which she seems to return. But he turns her
back around and kisses her swiftly.

He suggest, "Let's go back. People will
wonder where we went to."

"Who gives a shit?" she says and tries to
pull him back.

"Language," he admonishes, wags a finger at
her and tugs her along after him as she pouts prettily.

As they exit the barn, the night air blasts
him, and he is reminded once again that it's almost November in
Tennessee. "Are you cold?"

"A little," she says.

John wraps an arm around her shoulder.
However, as soon as they come into the vicinity of where the
remaining family sits at the dying fire, she jerks free before they
can see. Only Derek, Sue and the three teenagers are still near the
fire pit. Her pulling away from him bothers John more than he cares
to admit, but at least he understands why they need to be discreet
around the family for the time being.

"Where have you two been?" Sue asks
suspiciously.

Sometimes John would like to strangle his
sister-in-law if only he didn't love her so much.

"Uh, checking the goats," Reagan lies
awkwardly.

She snatches up a blanket and won't sit on
the glider rocker with John but on a single seat two chairs
away.

"Oh? Wasn't Chet out there with you
earlier?" Sue asks with mischief.

"Yeah, what was up with Chet, John? He
looked sort of… different when he left with his family," Derek
points out.

His brother is even more mischievous than
his meddling wife. Surely the punch hadn't bruised the neighbor
that fast. Apparently his brother had noticed anyway.

"Must've tripped," John mutters to his
brother who nods knowingly.

"Gonna be an easy hunting season, it looks
like," Derek comments, purposely changing topic.

"Yeah, Simon and I saw a huge heard of deer
up in the top pasture the other morning," Cory says excitedly.

"It'll be like shootin' fish in a barrel,"
Derek comments with a laugh. "Maybe not next year once more people
have to start hunting for food, too. I think we'll always be ok
here, though."

"We could always catch some and build higher
fences and just raise our own," Simon offers, and the men nod and
agree reflectively. "My mom grew up on a small farm up in Northern
California, and her parents had deer. They'd sell venison to people
in the area and to expensive restaurants."

"Had you heard from them after California
got hit?" Sue asks, but Simon shakes his head with a frown. "Do you
have any other family, Simon?"

"I have a sister. She's two years older,
though, and was in college, Georgia Tech. That's kind of why I went
with my aunt. I thought maybe if I got close enough, I'd just take
off and try to find her on my own. The last email I was able to get
through to her I told her that I was going with Aunt Amber, and we
were coming to this area to find your farm. Your Uncle Peter told
us the name of this farm and your town, so I emailed it to her, but
she'll probably never find her way here I guess. I don't even know
if the email got through. I was gonna try and get to her, but once
we lost cell service and internet capabilities there was no way of
contacting her. So now I don't know where she is."

"I'm sorry, Simon," Sam offers quietly, and
he nods at her with a grimace.

"What is your sister's name?" Cory asks
kindly, though they all know she is likely dead.

"Her name's Paige and she has long, dark red
hair. She's kind of tall just in case she ever comes down the
drive, so try not to shoot her," he says with a faint chuckle.

"Sure thing, man," John agrees, and they all
nod solemnly because the likelihood of Simon's sister ever making
it to their farm is about a million to one odds. Everyone at the
campfire, including Simon, knows it.

After a few more minutes of conversation
about hunting again, Reagan excuses herself and tells everyone
she's turning in. Not caring what anyone thinks, John follows her a
few moments later.

They lie in the dark, in their respective
beds because Reagan hasn't invited him to actually sleep with her
even though Jacob is in his crib in the closet. She fully expects
him to go back to his tiny twin bed when the sex is over.

"That was a great day today, don't you
think?" he asks her, trying to pry information from that brain of
hers.

"Sure, I suppose so. At least we didn't have
to shoot anyone today. That's good."

"Hannah seems really happy," John says
pointedly. He doesn't point out that the shooting could've been
Chet's fate if he'd kept up his behavior with his woman.

"Hm. Well, that's Hannah for you," Reagan
answers noncommittally.

"Yeah, but I mean she's happy because
they're married now," he tells her with heightening irritation.

"If that's what she wanted, then I'm glad
for her," Reagan answers.

"The wedding ceremony was really sweet. They
seem like they're both going to be able to relax now," John
hints.

"Unnecessary if you ask me but nice enough,"
she replies and turns toward him in her bed.

"What do you mean it was unnecessary? The
wedding?"

"Yeah, the wedding. I think marriage is
stupid, but if that's what Hannah wants, then so be it," she
replies with certainty.

"I don't think marriage is stupid at all.
And they won't have to sneak around and hide their feelings for
each other anymore. If you love someone, you should marry them.
That's kind of how it works, little Einstein," he teases.

"Well, there you go. There's the flaw in
your theory," she tells him.

She says this like he knows what the heck
she's talking about. Most of the time he has no idea what the heck
she is talking about. Sometimes he wishes that Reagan had come with
an instruction manual.

"Where's the flaw?"

"Love. It's a scientifically proven fact
that love is just endorphins being fed to the brain that emit
feel-good feelings, and that's why people think they're in love,"
she explains so efficiently, yet so irritatingly.

John springs out of his bed and goes to her,
kneeling beside Reagan's bed. He'd like to shake some sense into
her but figures that .45 is under her pillow.

"Look at me," he orders her and grasps her
chin in his hand. "Endorphins or not, I
do
love you. I'm not
just saying that because it makes me have feel-good feelings or
whatever science nonsense you just spouted. I've been with
women—you know that—and I've never had this feeling with any of
them, Reagan. I know what I feel is real. I do love you."

She doesn't say anything but stares hard at
him. She is lit only by the moonlight coming through the windows
and French doors, but there's still enough light that John can see
that she clearly doesn't believe him. Figuring it's best not to
press this further tonight, John places a tender kiss to her mouth
and returns to his own bed. She needs time to get this all worked
out in her science brain and he'll give her some but not
forever.

Two months have passed without incident or
attack or any more death, and the family has settled into familiar
winter time routines that involve animal care, schooling the
children, hunting and occasionally trading with the neighbors. The
men go out each morning and work for long hours on the construction
of the first cabin that will belong to Sue and Derek and their
kids. It's actually coming along better than Reagan would've
thought given their limited resources, but the ingenuity of the men
on the farm seems to know no bounds. They've made short runs to
surrounding neighborhoods for building supplies that include: hot
water tanks, plumbing and electrical supplies, and doors and
cabinets for Sue's kitchen. Derek is predicting that by late spring
the new cabin will be ready for them to move into.

They've only lost power twice so far at the
farm and had to heat the massive house with the wood-burning stoves
in the basement, but it had only lasted for one day each time.
Thanksgiving and Christmas and birthdays have passed, usually
without much more than a simple birthday cake and maybe something
small that she and John had confiscated from the city trip. But
nobody seemed to care. They are together, safe, have a roof over
their heads, protection thanks to the men, and food in their
stomachs. These seem to be the only things that matter anymore.
Even the younger kids didn't notice that for Christmas they didn't
get the latest video games, electronic gadgets and plastic packages
from China filled with toys that would likely break by the end of
the day. Grandpa, Cory and Kelly built doll furniture and a doll
house for Em and Arianna to share and a wooden train set for
Huntley, Justin, and eventually Isaac and Jacob. The children were
ecstatic over these simple gifts.

Cory and Simon have become very familiar
with chopping and splitting firewood and on most days do so without
dragging their feet too slowly out the back door. It's hard, back
breaking work, and Reagan doesn't envy them, nor does she volunteer
to take either of their places. But whenever firewood is used to
heat the house it has to be replaced in case the winter season is
long and hard.

Most of Reagan's days are kept busy watching
Jacob while John is out with the men either on patrols or working
on the cabin. She's also overseeing teaching Sam, Simon and Cory
high school level sciences. Cory and Sam don't have much of an
interest, but Simon shows a lot of promise and he's a smart kid,
catches on quickly. Cory would much rather be tearing something
apart, putting it back together and improving it like Grandpa does.
Most of the time he dashes right after lessons and goes out to the
cabin to help on the build. And Sam is all about drawing, music and
horses. She frequently rides and is learning piano from Hannah. She
even brought her own riding boots and apparel from her old house.
She's fitting in well with the family and opens up a little at a
time, mostly to Sue who has this influence on people. Sam had shown
Reagan and Sue a photo album of her family and talked about each
member while crying. Reagan has her doubts that Sam will be alright
someday. Hell, Reagan is having her doubts that she will ever even
get over her own traumatic ordeal.