The McClane Apocalypse Book 4 (50 page)

Grandpa lays a hand
on
his arm. Then
he pulls a sheet over the body and goes back to his other patient,
Andy. Reagan joins him, but Simon goes to work on someone else
needing medical care. Sam follows him, dons another pair of gloves
and gets right into administering a pain-blocking shot so that
Simon can stitch a man’s leg wound closed. This time both of their
hands shake slightly after the unsettling loss of Gavin, but they
get the man’s shoulder wound sewn and shut, sanitized and
covered.

It is after four a.m. when
they finish, remove Gavin’s body for burial later when the sun
rises, and sanitize
the med
shed. Simon’s patient also dies. Andy’s lungs
filled with blood again, and Grandpa couldn’t get the bullet
removed.

The other man who’d been
transported in the second truck had also passed, but at least it
hadn’t happened on the farm but on the ride there. The bodies will
be taken to their families, if they have any, in
town
so that they
can bury their loved ones where they would want them. The Reynolds
brothers volunteer to do it. Five men have lost their lives tonight
on a raid that was so well planned and for which they were
prepared. It reminds Sam of how fragile life still is in this mad
world. If the McClanes can be duped and overrun, everyone can
be.

Mopping up and cleaning the
shed, wiping all of the tainted surfaces, and replacing sullied bed
linens has also taken a long time. They’ve all worked together,
everyone but Kelly, who they’d
sent
inside to be with Hannah. Sue had
come out to report that Hannie was out of her mind worrying about
Kelly, even though they’d
told
her that he was fine. No
wonder.
She’s been through so
much.
They all have.

Some of the injured men go
home to their families, although Grandpa had offered them to stay
in the med shed. Two men
stay
because they don’t have much of a
choice. The chance of their wounds infecting or having
complications
was
too
great
for them to leave. Derek and Kelly take watch
patrols for the remaining hours of the night. She highly doubts
that John is going to go in and crash. They’ll all be too edgy to
find any sleep with what’s left of this night. She has no idea what
they will do with the dead bodies of the
bad
men, but Sam’s also not sure
she wants to know. One thing she is sure of is that they will never
allow them to be buried on this farm.

Grandpa and Reagan will
stay in the shed with the remaining patients. Reagan is angry and
withdrawn. She takes the loss of patients hard and usually
stays
morose and
removed from the family for a few days. John will be the only to
bring her out of it. Everyone takes the time to scrub, grab fast
showers and sanitize.
Their
hospital style surgical gowns will be boiled when
the sun comes up.

Sam stands under the
steaming hot water of the
second-floor
shower, letting the water
soothe and relax her- if that is even possible. She weeps quietly
so as not to alert anyone. Everyone is dealing with their own fair
amount of stress right now. Too many lives were taken tonight. Some
were
friends,
some were men from
town
who had
families,
and some were just lascivious
people bent on doing horrible things to others. She would never
wish them dead, though. But she’s also smart enough to reason out
the necessity of killing them or becoming their victims. She
just
wishes
that they’d never found their farm and that she hadn’t had to
participate in their killings.

After rinsing her hair and tenderly
washing her scrapes and scratches on her face, she gets out of the
shower, trying to save as much hot water for everyone else that she
can, especially since the power in the main house had been out for
a few hours. She slips into her bedroom, trying her best to be as
noiseless as possible. Pulling on clean clothing feels like a
luxury. Sam grabs black sweatpants and an old, worn out baseball
style, long-sleeved t-shirt that used to belong to her older
brother. It helps her remember him. It provides comfort as if he is
with her and embracing her in his strong, sure arms. It’s no less
painful remembering him, but she knows she must. Someday if she
ever has children of her own and the country heals itself, she’d
like to tell her children stories of her real family, the family
that had been ripped away from her and murdered in their horse
barn. However, in the wee hours of this ghoulish night, his shirt
brings her comfort.

The sound of the shower
running again lets her know that someone else is using the
second-floor
bathroom. She lights her hurricane lamp and flicks off the
light switch. They do this most times in the evening to conserve
solar power. There are simply too many people living
on the farm
to
live in electricity excess as if it will simply be there forever.
She works the towel on her damp hair, trying to remove the
moisture. So that it doesn’t soak her shirt, she pulls it into a
ponytail when she’s done. Whoever is using the shower, has finished
and gone, likely John or Reagan.

She sits on her window
ledge and looks out at the moon. In a few
hours,
the sun will rise on the
horizon as if nothing dark and menacing had taken place only hours
before. This has been a macabre night, indeed. So much death and
morbidity
have
touched their family lately that it’s hard not to feel
swallowed whole by the darkness. She’s glad that Paige is probably
fast asleep somewhere. Tomorrow, hearing of her friend Gavin’s
death will be
difficult
.

A shadow moving near the horse barn
catches her attention. Someone is standing there with their
shoulder leaning against the wall. The slumped posture is that of
someone who is filled with remorse and defeat. A reflection hits
their eyeglasses from the moonlight. It’s Simon. She must to go to
him. She cannot allow her best friend to feel this way.

She wants to catch him before he heads
out to his cabin where Paige will be staying most nights. Sam can
understand. If her brother was still alive, she’d want to sleep out
in the cabin with him, too. She grabs a hoodie and runs. When she
gets to the barn, he’s gone. However, she spots his lantern
swinging as he walks between the horse and cattle barns on the path
toward his cabin. Sam hadn’t brought her own lantern, so it’s
difficult to catch him.

“Simon,” she whispers in the near
dark.

He immediately stops and turns toward
her. They meet in the middle where Sam notices that his hair is
still damp, too. He was probably the one in the shower. He and Cory
don’t have a full working shower in their cabin yet. It was on
their to-do list before Cory left.

“What are you doing out here?” he
asks. “You could’ve fallen. Let me take you back to the house, Sam.
You’re going to get sick with your hair wet like that.”

She just shakes her head. “Are you all
right?”

“Yeah, I’m…”

“Simon, talk to me,” she
interrupts and places a hand on his sinewy forearm. She tries not
to flinch at his frown. He doesn’t answer but stands there a moment
and then regards the heavens. She knows he won’t break his
cool
reserve to
let his feelings loose and discuss them with her. “Come with
me.”

“Where?”

“Just come,” she softly demands and
takes his hand, leading him to the cattle barn’s hay
loft.

Sam climbs the stairs ahead
of him while he holds the lantern. When they get to the top, she
sets the
lantern
on an ancient, wooden trunk. The little kids in
the family like to play up here a lot. She even spies a Barbie doll
and a small stack of marbles laying near the trunk.

“Sit,” she says and takes her own seat
on a hay bale. He just stands there, so she tugs his hand until he
sits beside her. “Is Paige in the cabin?”

He shakes his head and bites his lower
lip. “No, she’s still in Grandpa’s old room.”

Grandpa sleeps most nights in his
office at the other end of the big house. She knows it’s just too
difficult sleeping in the room that he’d shared for decades with
his wife. Sam can’t even imagine the grief he must feel.

“Does she know?” Sam asks.

“No, she’s sleeping,” he returns.
“Reagan gave her some painkiller for her headache. She’s
out.”

“That’s what I figured,”
Sam says
with
a nod.

He removes his glasses and rubs his
eyes tiredly. Talia had taken it so hard, so they know that Paige
will, too, that their friend and travel mate for so long is dead.
Gavin is dead. Just thinking the words is painful.

“I don’t know how I’m going to tell
her, Sam,” he confesses softly. “They were really close. She’s
going to be devastated.”

“You just do,” she says
firmly, but quietly. “That’s how you tell her. You just have to be
honest and break it as soon as she awakens. It’s not going to make
it easier
on
her if you try to hide it.”

He shakes his head but not because he
disagrees. “It shouldn’t have happened. John said that he found him
back behind the cattle barn.”

“How’d he get back there? He was
supposed to be at the front of the house.”

“He told John that he
chased a man down that he saw
sneak
away from the pack. He was afraid
the guy was gonna burn down the barns because he had a Molotov
cocktail. He shot him, but the
guy
shot Gavin first. He tried to get
back to the house but couldn’t.”

“Oh, that’s so
terrible.
I feel so bad for
him.
He was out there hurt with nobody to
help. He saved our barns. He did a very heroic thing.”

“Yes, he did. But it
shouldn’t have happened. He shouldn’t have been out there,” Simon
says
on
a
scowl.

“It did, and somehow we
just have to go on from here,” she says, trying to soothe him. “We
always do. We fight and we try to survive. That’s what we do.
That’s all there is
now,
Simon. All we have is each other, and we have to
hold on to that.”

His eyes meet hers, and Sam tears up.
She squeezes his hand.

“I’m sick of it!” he exclaims
angrily.

This surprises Sam that he would
become angry. He’s so even-keeled and tempered. They even tease him
sometimes for his mild-mannered ways.

“I’m sick of all of it.
I
’m sick of
everyone dying,” he rants with venom.

“We’re all here, Simon.
We’re safe and
…
”

He interjects with a crude
laugh of hypocrisy. “Safe? Are you kidding? My sister was almost
killed tonight. Gavin
was
killed. We lost men. We could’ve lost this
farm
…
”

“But we didn’t…”

He stands and jerks his hand away from
her. Sam follows him to the hay window where the moonlight spills
in.

“We could’ve! Don’t you get
it?” he asks with acidity and swipes a hand through his unruly
auburn hair. “People were killed. People from our own damn farm
were killed
…
”

He never swears. She knows now how
deeply he is troubled by tonight’s events.

“It’s not your fault,
Simon,” she tries and then rubs his arm, which causes him to yank
back. “Is that what this is about? You think the men in the shed
died because of you? Come on, Simon. That’s not fair. You know how
this works
…
”

“No! I mean, yes, I’m upset about
that, but that’s not all,” he says as he turns to face
her.

His bright blue eyes dance with
agitation and excitement.

“Your sister?” she
inquires. “She’s going to be just fine, Simon. Don’t worry so hard.
You’re going to make yourself sick over it. She’s
alive
and that’s
all that matters.”

“Damn it, Sam,” he swears
again. “No! That’s not what I’m upset about. I was
upset
, sick even,
when I saw from a distance that Paige was being held at gunpoint.
But that’s not what made me feel a violent rage, a helpless rage so
white hot that I thought I was going to have a heart
attack.”

“The farm? Is that it? It’s secure
again, Simon,” she implores and places a hand on his bare chest. He
must’ve forgotten a clean shirt because he only wears a blue-jean
jacket with nothing under it. “The farm is safe. Everyone is safe
again.”

“You!” he nearly shouts and then
groans.

The only reason he doesn’t shout his
answer is because he partially says it through his gritted teeth in
a seething rage.