The McClane Apocalypse Book 4 (32 page)

“No, no,” she’s quick to
explain. “It’s not anything like that. I just thought
since
maybe that
kid Cory isn’t out there with you that I could just stay there. I
mean if he comes back, I’ll move back out. I know it’s your place…
and his. I don’t mean to barge in. It’s just that I missed
you.”

“When,” he mutters to
himself mostly and sets a crate on an exam table.
“
When
he comes
back.”

“Oh, right!” she corrects. “Sure, when
he comes back. I could…”

“Yeah, sure,” he offers. “I’d be glad
for the company out there, but it’s not as comfortable as the
house. We don’t have a full bathroom with a shower or a tub or
anything. It’s rustic. You’ve seen it. Just a toilet and a
sink.”

“I’m cool with that. Simon, I’ve had
to go to the bathroom in the great outdoors for much of the last
four years. Your cabin is awesome as far as I’m
concerned.”

Simon gives her a grin that reveals
his adorable dimples.

“All right,” he says with a nod. “It’s
up to you. If you end up not liking it, then you could go back to
the big house. I won’t be offended.”

When Paige meets his gaze,
she is dumbfounded by how adult he is now. There is no trace
whatsoever of the young teenager she’d left four and a half years
ago to start
college
in Georgia. There is even dark reddish stubble on
his cheeks, which had surprised her the first time she noticed it a
few weeks back. His square jawline is hard and
strong
, a
dent
prominent in the center
of his chin. There is still just the slightest hint of boyish
charm
about
his face, but he is mostly
serious
and diligent. He’d
been
so naïve and
carefree back then. He’d hung out with his
very small
circle of friends and
went to comic book conventions and studied science with a passion.
He was always close
with
their mother. To say that he
was
a momma’s boy would’ve
been an understatement. Paige can’t even comprehend what Simon had
been through when he’d lost her. They haven’t broached that subject
yet. Paige isn’t sure she’s ready. She’s not sure if she’ll ever be
ready. She doesn’t think he is, either.

“Thanks, bro,” she teases
about getting her way and nudges her shoulder playfully against
his. He doesn’t return it but grins down at her as if he is being
tolerant. Her smile slides away as he shows her where to take the
items and what
needs to be
distributed
to which room.

“I’ll be right back,” Simon tells her.
“Gotta get the wood-burner fired up ‘cuz the practice is too
cold.”

“There’s a wood-burning stove here
like the one in your cabin?” Paige asks and stands out of his
way.

“Yes, John and I installed it since
there isn’t any other way to heat the practice in the winter,” he
tells her.

Paige is dumbfounded by her young
brother’s newfound skills. She offers to help carry firewood from
under the back overhang, but he declines it. Once again, she just
stands in a corner and watches the McClane family march about in
military fashion readying their clinic for the day’s work. She
fidgets with the leather ties on her right wrist.

A short time later, John
exits through the front door and calls out the instructions to the
awaiting patients. Mostly he’s telling them to mind their manners
and not try to skip
line
or they won’t receive care. Simon goes through the
crowd and hands out numbers on slips of papers so that
order
can be
maintained. Chet stands guard on the front, overgrown and dead
lawn, and John takes up
post
on the corner of the porch. He’ll allow people to
come in one at a time until three exam rooms are full. Once
patients are filed back out, he’ll allow more in. It’s a system
that seems to work for the family, and more importantly, helps to
prevent chaos. She feels
bad
for them,
though
because the temperature has to be
hovering at less than forty degrees.

Paige shadows Simon for a few hours as
they take care of people who are ill with everything from fevers,
sore throats, children’s earaches and tummy troubles to rashes. He
explains that they are hoping for a reprieve soon from the seasonal
illnesses since the weather is starting to improve.

Later she moves over to
Reagan’s exam room and offers help. They examine pregnant women.
Reagan stitches up three different men who’ve cut themselves and
did piss poor patch jobs on themselves. That had been
completely
unpleasant. Two of the men had infected wounds. Paige had
averted her eyes. They don’t have the capabilities to do an x-ray,
although they do have dim lighting from the solar panels that the
men installed a few years ago on the roof. The x-ray machines pull
too much on the power source and do not get used. Reagan explains
that every once in a while either she or her grandfather will use
an ultrasound machine for a pregnancy that they suspect could be a
problem.

“Mrs. Wagner, you’re doing
just fine,” Reagan tells her patient and
notates
on a chart.

The charts are just pieces of paper
that will go in a file folder when they are done in the exam
room.

“Your baby’s heartbeat is
strong and steady,” she says as she presses her stethoscope against
the woman’s distended abdomen. “Keep up with the vitamins. I know
you were sharing with your sister, but she’s not pregnant. You are.
So quit sharing. You need the extra nutrients right now. She’ll
be
fine
without them.”

“My sinuses are so stuffy and
miserable. Can I get some of that tea that Dr. Simon makes?” the
woman with the dark blonde hair says.

She’s thin but still seems
healthy. She looks a hell of a lot better than some of the pregnant
women that Paige had run into on the road. Hell, she looks better
than Reagan now, who is still slowly recovering from her illness.
Although she doesn’t know Reagan that well, Paige has taken to her.
There is something about her, something about the sadness that
Paige can see in Reagan’s eyes that
make
her seem like something of a
kindred spirit. Sam is the same way, but she knows how to hide it
better.

The pregnant patient can’t be more
than thirty. Her husband, Roy, is hovering just outside the exam
room door. He’s a big burly dude, not one to mess with in Paige’s
opinion.

“No!” Reagan
retorts
. “Don’t
drink any of that crap till you pop out this kid! It has licorice
root in it. If you’d drink too much and overdose yourself, it could
stop your heart
...
or the baby’s.”

Her bedside manner could
use some softening, but Reagan seems like a good doctor. She
also
seems
really young to even be one. Simon told her that Reagan’s some
kind of mega genius or something. He’d worried and worked around
the clock with Herb to heal her from the flu. His feelings for
Reagan are apparent. Sam had told her that Simon had saved Reagan’s
life from their awful, psychotic cousin Bobby. When she’d pressed
Sam for more information, the girl had just smiled and turned
away.

“Oh!” the woman exclaims with fear.
“Oh, ok, Dr. Reagan. I won’t drink any of that until after the baby
comes.”

“No!” Reagan snipes again.
“Not then, either. You’ll be breastfeeding. Once you’re done, then
you can go back to drinking it. Your stuffy sinuses are just from
the pregnancy. A lot of women complain of it. Just flush them with
some warm water. You can also place a warm washcloth on your face,
too, or humidify your house by
placing
a bucket of water near your heat
source with a wet towel hanging out of it. It will draw the
humidity into the air. That should give you some relief, but no
weird teas or herbs!”

A few minutes later, Reagan helps her
patient carefully down from the exam table. She’s nearly eight
months pregnant and a bit awkward. Paige notices a bead of sweat on
Reagan’s forehead. She wonders if this long day is too much for her
new friend.

“Now, I’ll see you again
in….”

“Everybody
get
down!” a shout
interrupts Reagan. It sounds like her
husband,
John. Paige feels a pang of
fear deep in her gut.

A moment later, gunfire
comes from outside of the building followed by more than one woman
screaming and then return fire. Reagan rips off her face mask,
something they all wear. She also pulls her gown away and tosses it
to the floor. Paige pulls her own mask down away from her
mouth
but lets it
rest against her neck. Reagan eases toward the door in a hunched
over position. She pulls it open so that the doting husband can
enter to protect his pregnant wife. It sounds like a war zone out
there. Shouting and gunfire
continue
to pop off, some rapidly and
some in single shots. Some of it
sounds
like it is smacking into the side
of the practice. The sound of shattering glass exploding into
millions of shards comes next. Paige is
fairly
certain
that some or all of the windows of the building
are being shot out. Her heart is pounding so hard she can hear it
in her ears. The acidic bile
that
comes with uncertainty and fear
rises in her throat. This is the time that she’d
normally
start
running. Only a few seconds have passed, but it feels like a
lifetime. Her flight instincts are kicking into high
gear.

Simon comes
racing
toward
their room. He has Sam by the hand. Her pretty blue eyes are wide
with fear. The pistol
from
her hip is in her hand.

“Sam, stay here with Reagan and
Paige,” he orders and pushes the girl into the room with
them.

Paige wants to shout
at him
to come
back. She wants to grab her brother and run, get the hell out of
this war zone.

Behind him, Dr. McClane
holds a shotgun. He’s still wearing a white lab coat. The irony of
his appearance is not lost on Paige. They both leave them before
anyone can even
retort
an argument to the contrary. Paige wants to run
out of this building with her brother, convince him to escape with
her through the back door. Apparently running isn’t in the McClane
family
vocabulary,
or her
brother’s
.

Sam huddles with her against the
inside wall of the office while Reagan stays near the half open
door. Sam still holds a pistol, but Paige notices that her small
hands shake.

The husband says, “Stay
down! Stay
low
in case a bullet comes through the wall.”

They obey and squat lower as more
shouting and shooting ensues. Car tires squeal. An engine coughs
and sputters and then dies.

“Fuckers!” Reagan hisses as she peers
around the corner, holding her own handgun.

The young doctor is about to breach
the doorway when Sam calls out to her.

“Reagan, no!” she shouts. “Stay here.
Please don’t go out there.”

The doctor with the vibrant
green eyes glances worriedly at her and Sam and then at the door
before deciding not to go through it. She and Sam are the only
protection that any of them
have
should those people in moving war
machines, formally known as automobiles, get into the building.
Paige’s palms sweat. Perspiration runs down her forehead and also
trickles down her back. She wants out of here. This feels like a
trap being in this building.

Gunfire follows again before the
sounds of more than one vehicle speeding away reaches
them.

“What’s going on, Dr. Reagan?” the
husband of the pregnant woman asks.

“Not sure, Roy,” Reagan answers
him.

Paige notices that he’s drawn his
knife. It’s a serrated style with a long blade. He looks like he
could be quite crafty with it. She’s had to use a similar weapon
before, as well, but Paige certainly has no wish to do so
again.

A second later, John blasts into the
building and appears at their doorway. His wife throws herself
around his waist, hugging him close. He doesn’t return her embrace,
but nor does he push her away. He’s too busy digging something out
of his pocket. His eyes are troubled.

“Charlie Tango to Alpha Company,” he
shouts into the radio. “Charlie Tango to Alpha Company.”

His tone is impatient and loud, not
something Paige has ever heard from him before.

“Alpha Company, go ahead,” Derek’s
voice comes over loud and clear.

“Charlie Tango under attack, three
wounded, one casualty,” John shouts.