The McClane Apocalypse Book Three (9 page)

"Can I see Garrett? Or is there anything I
can do to help with him?" Simon asks with genuine care.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think it's a good
idea to spend time in there with him. He is very ill, as you
probably know," Reagan explains. "We're doing all we can to help
him. He has an IV with strong meds running through him. The lady,
Jennifer, also has an IV full of medicine. The boy hasn't changed.
His condition is still extremely unstable. And if we've correctly
diagnosed him, then it's also very contagious."

Simon is visibly distraught at the news of
Garrett still being so ill after receiving medical care for two
solid days. His features are set in a deep and melancholy
grimace.

Cory had seemed wary of Simon at first, but
as soon as the other kid had opened his mouth and Simon's soft
voice and guarded mannerisms came out, he'd relaxed. Cory is also a
fairly good judge of character for someone so young. Of course
after the shit he'd been through to stay alive, it is no wonder. He
is extremely distrustful of the new guests, just as much as his
hard, older brother.

"Simon, they have food. Like real food,"
Huntley exclaims with the unabashed excitement that only a child
can show.

"That's good, kid. You should eat. You need
to eat, little buddy," Simon says.

Reagan notices that he does not make any
attempt to beg a plate for himself.

It used to be highly unusual for a teenager
to befriend a kid who can't possibly be much more than ten years
old. These are strange new times they are living in.

"We've got plenty. You want some?" Cory
offers.

Reagan is strangely proud of him. Cory is so
good-looking and just has a cool way about him that he just had to
have been popular in school, and yet, here he is being nice to this
obvious misfit. The fact that they are both orphans of this new
world is what Cory probably sees as linking them in any small way
together in it. The fact that they are also the only two of three
boys around doesn't hurt, either. Cory doesn't seem like the kind
of boy who would've been cruel to weaker, unpopular kids before the
apocalypse anyways.

"No, thank-you," Simon rejects the offer and
shoves his hand into the pocket of his faded, baggy jeans that are
covered in rips and tears.

The kid is skin and bones thin and looks
unhealthy. He is wearing brown leather loafers with tassels. That
was not a current teen fashion trend in any state that she knew of
anytime in the last hundred years. This kid does not at all fit in
with these people with whom he is traveling. He seems like a
congressman's kid, like he could be on the cover of a yachting
magazine or an ad for Ralph Lauren clothing, except for the dirty
gray t-shirt he wears. The dead giveaway that he doesn't fit in
with the band of hooligans is the lack of lewd tattoos and body
piercings that the group seems to have received on some sort of
bulk rate discount. John explained to her last night that some of
the tattoos the visitors sport are gang related and prison
associated. Another clue is the fact that Simon isn't eyeing up
Reagan as if he's trying to get an x-ray of her through her
clothing. Perhaps she's just being paranoid about that part,
however, since she's uncomfortable around most men. Simon doesn't
leer. He mostly looks at the ground.

"Here, Simon. I'm done," Sam says and shoves
her plate forcefully into the boy's space.

He has no choice but to take it because it
is either accept the plate or wear it on his shirt. He gives a
gracious nod to Sam who turns her back to him and sits again. Simon
doesn't sit, but he does inhale the second-hand plate of food like
it's the nectar of the gods.

"Wow, this is awesome. I haven't had food
like this since… forever," Simon acknowledges.

It pisses Reagan off that he keeps looking
over his shoulder nervously toward the camp as if he's afraid to
get caught eating.

"Yeah, that's what I said when we first came
here," Cory remembers.

"This place is really something. It's very
beautiful, picturesque even in this valley the way that your farm
is positioned in it, Dr. McClane," Simon comments.

Reagan recognizes that the boy is educated
by his tone and clear diction and the way that he motions with his
hands as if he's taken quite a few speech and debate classes in
school.

"Thanks. It's been passed down from family
time and again. How did you come to be with this group?" Reagan
asks.

"Amber out there is my aunt. She has dark
hair, the one hanging those clothes," he indicates.

Reagan spots the woman of whom he speaks.
Kelly had not been impressed with this woman yesterday and he'd
made his opinion of her known.

"Uh, yeah, I see her," Reagan says with a
nod. Amber looks like a real piece of work.

"My parents are both dead. Well, my dad may
not be actually. He was a senator from our state. But he was in
London on business when everything went bad, so he had no way of
getting home and we hadn't heard from him or his staff in over four
months. We all heard about London being bombed. I don't know…," he
trails off sadly.

"I'm sorry, Simon," Reagan acknowledges and
lays a hand briefly to his sinewy, thin forearm.

"Mother and I held a private memorial
service for just the two of us at our home. We needed,
she
needed the closure. My mom was a surgical nurse and was killed
shortly after it all fell apart when the hospital where she worked
was raided. I told her to stop going to work, but she wouldn't.
Most of the doctors and nurses left and never came back. But she
felt a responsibility to try and help people. Some of the workers
were still going but not many. I went to the hospital to look for
her when she didn't come home. There were fires everywhere. They'd
been raided. I found her, though…"

His eyes tear up, but he forces them not to
fall. He glances away for just a moment and then back at them.
Reagan feels sorrier than she can say for this orphaned kid. She
also feels sorry for his dead mother because what almost happened
to her at the university is probably what had happened to Simon's
mom. She's learned a lot about some types of men since the
apocalypse started. She's learned that some of them are beasts.
She's also learned how John deals with them.

"I'm very sorry, Simon," Reagan says with
much understanding.

"Thanks. I guess everyone has lost someone
since this all started. My Aunt Amber lived nearby, and she took me
with them even though we really never had much to do with her
before or were around her family very often. She was my mother's
sister, and I don't believe they got along very well. We didn't
have any other family in the area, though, so I was kind of stuck.
I thought about just staying in our home, but I had nothing to
protect myself, no guns, no weapons of any kind. I didn't figure
I'd last too long."

"What about your dad's family?" Cory asks as
he finishes his breakfast, setting a completely empty plate on the
platter.

His plates are always empty. He is
definitely a growing boy. Reagan just grins. She hopes the family
can always grow enough food to take care of everyone on the
farm.

"My dad's family was all from the New
England states, and so they are likely dead, as well. We didn't
hear from any of them after the first tsunami. I had a sister but…"
he doesn't finish.

Reagan figures that it's because it is too
difficult for him to discuss. These kids dealing with shit that is
so beyond their years is enough to make her wince.

After a long pause, Simon continues, "When I
first went with Aunt Amber, it was just her and her son and two of
the guys. We met up with the other caravan later. They knew each
other or at least some of them did anyways," Simon answers openly
and honestly.

Reagan has hope that she can pry more
information from him.

"What about those men? Who are those men?
I've counted five, not counting our worthless uncle and the other
teenager Bobby that Huntley told us about," Reagan inquires.

"Yes, that's correct. Bobby is my cousin,
Aunt Amber's son. There's Frank, he's the twins' dad. Buzz, he's
the bald one with the tattoos, kind of short. He's not so bad most
of the time. Then there's Levon and Rick, they're the African
American men, and they are cousins, I believe. They were friends of
Buzz, who is your great-uncle's friend. Rick's cool, but Levon… he,
he can get kind of crazy. Then Willy, the Mexican man who is quiet
and, well, he's just different. Then there's just me and
Bobby."

He says the last name with open derision and
looks at Sam who, in turn, looks away.

"I'll take Huntley back in to sit with his
brother if you don't mind, doctor," Sam suggests.

Reagan nods to her. What was that all about?
Is Bobby some sort of bully or something? And what did Simon mean
that Levon could get 'crazy?'

"How dangerous are they, Simon?" Reagan asks
point blank. They don't have time for social trivialities.

Simon doesn't immediately answer and sighs
heavily instead. He looks toward the campsite again and clams up.
He is being cautious for some reason, a reason Reagan would like to
understand better. The other teen boy Bobby is coming toward them,
and Simon quickly hands Cory the plate.

"Thanks for the food. I'll come back later
if I can," he murmurs quickly and leaves them.

He meets Bobby about halfway across the
yard, and the other young man shoves Simon almost knocking him down
as he barks commands at him and calls him "prep school boy." Simon
hunches his shoulders, returns the ball cap back to his head and
goes back to the camp.

Cory and she exchange a look of
understanding, and Cory nods. They return to their assigned jobs
without discussing the shoving of Simon as no words are necessary.
Reagan highly doubts that it is simply cousin rivalry that is going
on with those two boys. If anything, the current screwed up world
events should've brought them closer together. Bobby could be a
problem.

A short time later as Reagan is caring for
the sick again, she has time to reflect on everything that has
transpired and her short conversations with the kids. Simon had
gone back to his camp, after being insulted and ridiculed by the
other boy. She'd watched as he resumed his chores, which looked to
be carrying more water from the barn, helping the women with
laundry and cooking and anything else they ordered him to do.

Neither Reagan nor Cory failed to notice,
however, that Bobby, had openly disliked Simon either being with
them or that he just didn't like the McClane family in general. Why
would any of them be hostile toward her or her family? They are
letting them stay on their farm for a while. It's strange to
Reagan, but none of them seems appreciative of this fact. Bobby had
taken a second to send a few nasty looks toward everyone standing
outside the med shed. He had even taken two malevolent steps toward
them until Cory had picked up the rifle again that he'd just rested
against the wall of the building. This time it had been enough to
make the other boy turn and walk back to his camp. This time.

At the end of the day, after chores and
after dinner, John takes his sack full of explosives making
equipment and Reagan to the back of the horse barn where he can
work in secrecy on his demos without the prying eyes of their new
friends. Reagan had given the whole accounting to the family of the
information she'd gleaned from Huntley, Sam, and a new kid that
John hasn't met yet named Simon, who sounds bookish and awkward
which aren't the worst qualities to have anymore. John has left the
outer lights in the main aisle turned off, and he and Reagan are in
the back of the barn near the tack room where he's laid out most of
his loot on an ancient, oak work table covered with scratches and
divots. Three single light bulbs illuminate the work surface
they've established.

"This is a lot of crap," Reagan
observes.

She rubs the back of her neck, trying to
massage out the kinks of fatigue.

"You tired, boss?" he asks her with genuine
concern and a frown.

"No, I'm just tense because I missed my run
this morning," she answers nonsensically.

"And you just pulled a fourteen hour shift
watching over patients in our medical facility. It's ok to be
tired. You don't have to do this, either. If you want to take Jacob
upstairs and go to bed that's cool," John offers, and she shakes
her head.

Sue and Hannah have been on Jacob duty all
day, and John had only seen him briefly at dinner where Reagan had
held him this time. The kid likes her, or at least he likes
grabbing fists full of her curly hair. He can't blame him. John
would like to do the same thing, but not for the same reason as
Jacob who likes slobbering into it. John's reasons for wanting to
sink his fists into Reagan's hair are a lot more lascivious in
nature.

Reagan had changed again after dinner
because Jacob had smeared the front of her shirt with mashed
potatoes and gravy, though she'd changed into sterile, clean
clothes before it, as well. John had realized during dinner how
much they need another high-chair so that they don't have to wear
most of Jacob's meal, and a crib would be great so that Reagan
doesn't have to have bony baby elbows and knees in her back and
side all night.

When they'd all come in for dinner, sweaty
and dirty from cutting hay and firewood, welding a section of steel
in the milking parlor that had worn through, doing the evening
milking and feedings and also taking turns all day on patrols and
spying on the visitors, Sue had announced that dinner was to be
corn on the cob, mashed potatoes and meatloaf. She told John that
she'd found out what his favorite meal was and had requested it
from Hannah and Grams that morning just for him, which was very
thoughtful. When he'd asked her why, she'd just smiled and walked
away. He hadn't understood her and still doesn't, but heck, he's
never understood most women. His dear sister-in-law is certainly no
exception.