The McClane Apocalypse: Book Two (29 page)

“Need help welding it?” Kelly offers.

“Nah, Kelly. You don’t have to come over here and work. I know you guys are probably just as busy on Doc McClane’s farm as we are here,” Wayne says.

“I don’t mind. Let’s just get it done before Doc’s ready to leave,” he tells them both.

Wayne agrees to the plan with a nod and before long, Kelly and the two brothers are working on the wagon and then on the large John Deere tractor, as well.

“Don’t know why we’re still milking this many cows anyways, but I just don’t know what else to do with them,” Wayne expresses with a tinge of regret as they replace a rusted through oil pan on the tractor.

An idea comes to Kelly as he remembers the families that are now struggling for survival in the newly-formed golf course condo community. “We just set up some folks not far from here in a condo village.”

“Yeah, Derek said something about that last week when they stopped. Sounds like those women are gonna have it even harder than the rest of us,” Chet says.

“Well, John sent a husband and wife with some kids over there, too. Me and Cory got them settled in yesterday before we stopped here. There’s a man and a teen boy,” he tells them as he tightens another bolt while Chet holds the part in place.

“Yeah? That’s good. That’ll help them,” Wayne agrees with a nod as he screws more bolts in on the opposite side of the tractor’s open hood.

“Yeah, that’s what we were hoping, too. Maybe the dad and son can come here once a week and, in exchange for working for you guys, you could give them milk and cream,” Kelly suggests as he wipes his greasy hands on the rag Chet hands him.

“Oh yeah, man. That’d be great!” Chet says. His brother, ever the cautious one, nods.

“They all seem like good people. I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought they’d rob you blind,” Kelly tries to reassure Wayne. “It’s just a suggestion. You don’t have to feel obligated to help them, Wayne.”

“No, it would be great to have the extra help, Kelly. That’s for sure. We could also give them some beef, maybe some pork, too,” Wayne offers.

“Yeah, I’m sure they’d help out around here. We’ll have to keep them supplied with fuel to get here, but I think something could be worked out. Maybe tomorrow Cory and I can shoot over there and introduce you,” Kelly suggests. Chet jumps in with more information.

“We have our own bulk gasoline tank behind the barn. It holds about three hundred gallons, and I’d say it’s almost full. Wayne and I have only used a little bit of it for the four-wheelers. That’s what we take when we go out looking for supplies,” he tells Kelly.

“Make sure you take guns and leave one or two for Bertie,” Kelly tells them. “Maybe you and the new dad, Paul’s his name, can work together on that, too. There’s safety in numbers now. He seems like a nice person, and I think he’s someone you guys could rely on. Got shot by some shitheads in the city trying to protect his family, so I’d say he’s able to handle about any situation you’d run into.”

“Good. We could use the help, and it sure sounds like this Paul guy could, too,” Wayne acknowledges with a nod.

They’ve been outside for over an hour, which makes Kelly anxious since he left Hannah in the house with Lenny the “dick.” Wayne suggests they go in, to which Kelly quickly agrees, and the three of them head indoors again through the blinding rain. Once inside, they see Grams and Doc have now joined Hannah and Lenny. They talk another few moments and depart, leaving the Reynolds to their peace and quiet and their casserole. Kelly is secretly hoping that Lenny with the good looks and debonair attitude chokes on it.

“Lenny seems like a nice young man,” Grams remarks on the ride home. Kelly sits beside Hannah in the back seat again, where she fidgets with the ribbons tying her braids.

“Yes, he’s very nice. He was upset over his parents’ deaths. I was trying my best to console him, but what can anyone say to make someone feel better after something so terrible?” Hannah asks them rhetorically. Kelly bites his lip.

“I know, dear. He did seem happier just being around you, though,” Grams says, though Kelly’s sure that Hannah misses the insinuation.

She just drones on about feeling sorry for Lenny, how nice he is, how it’s so great that he’s been reunited with his family. Hannah only ever sees the good in people. It’s one of her greatest faults. Kelly would like to put his window down and wretch out it.

He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from commenting to the negative about how “great” Lenny the leech is. It’s one of those moments when the old adage- if you don’t have anything nice to say, then keep your yap shut- actually fits. When he happens to glance up in the rearview mirror, Herb McClane is glaring at him. It startles Kelly, so he looks away. What the hell? Herb is the most agreeable, most likeable person he’s ever met. What has he done to earn his wrath? Doc never seems to get angry or out of sorts over anything. Kelly looks up again and Doc is still giving him the disgruntled, pissed off look as his granddaughter yammers on about Lenny and how kind he is.

Chapter Seventeen

John

“I’m going out for a shower,” John tells her as the wasted day is coming to a close. There’s only a few hours of daylight left, so there’s no point in trying to go back to the city today. The night raid proved too dangerous to attempt again.

“What do you mean you’re going for a shower? Going where?” she asks from the bed where she’s moved her books and spread them out in her usual, chaotic state.

“Gonna use the downspout for water,” he informs her with a grin. “See out there? The rain water’s running down it at a pretty good flow, so I’m gonna shower under it. Trust me, babe, I’ve used worse in the field to get clean.”

“Nice. The soap’s still over there at the sink,” she explains and points with her pen. She’s coiled her hair, which John doesn’t think she brushed today, on top of her head in a knotted, tangled mess.

“You wanna’ join me, boss?” he teases. His answer is her middle finger and an avoidance of eye contact. “You can come out and shower when I’m done if you want.”

“No way. It’s too cold out for that. I’m going to heat more water and wash up over in that corner while you’re outside. Don’t come back in here while I’m washing up, though, pervert!” she sneers as usual.

“Ok, but let me get the buckets of water for you before I go out,” John offers which makes her head snap up. Her look is surprised. Why would she be surprised that he’d do something for her, something nice? Had her experiences with the opposite sex turned her so much, made her think so lowly of men?

It takes him a while to get four fresh buckets of water pumped and two set on top of the wood-burning stove that he’s added more wood to. He doesn’t mind doing it for her, though. John just wishes that she understood the why of it. It will take a short time for the water to warm since it’s coming straight out of the ground and super cold, so he decides to get in a quick workout. He takes up position in the small area where Reagan will likely wash up and commences with push-ups.

“What are you doing now? I thought you were taking your rain water shower,” Reagan asks from the bed. She’s closed her book and is now regarding him with curiosity.

John hops to his feet and stands. “Can’t get a run in. Stuck in this stupid cabin. So I’m working out while I wait for the water to warm up. I’ll carry those buckets over here for you when I’m done.”

“What... what kind of workout are you going to do?” Reagan asks as she comes to stand closer.

She has no idea how many ways that question could be interpreted. “What kind would
you
like to do?”

“Bet I can keep up with you,” she taunts with a narrowing of her eyes.

John laughs loudly which ticks her off, of course. He can’t see her doing one-armed push-ups. She obviously didn’t get the sexual implication of his comment.

“Sure you can, half pint,” he teases.

“Maybe you can’t keep up with me, tough guy,” she says between her locked teeth. Her fury is just cute.

“Hm, ok, I’ll bite. You pick the workout, whatever you want, and I’ll... see if I can keep up,” he says, trying his hardest not to laugh again.

“Fine. Um, have you ever done yoga?”

“Yoga? Hardly,” John blurts with a laugh.

“It’s harder than you might think,” she warns.

“Uh huh, sure. You go ahead and I’ll copy you. I have no idea what to do so go easy on me, boss,” he jests to which she punches his arm.

“Ok, we’ll work on standing poses,” she says and starts doing strange moves like she’s a kung-fu master.

John follows along, surprised that he actually starts to sweat. It is a little harder than it looks, but he’s not going to cop to it being too hard. Mostly because it’s not, but more so because he isn’t telling her that she’d been right. She is bossy enough already.

When she gets to doing something called downward dog, upward dog, John about loses it. And this time it’s definitely not because the pose is too hard. But seeing her in such suggestive, sexually suggestive poses in his deviant mind is more than he can take. And forty-five minutes later when they are finished and both sweaty, John readily takes her buckets to the corner for her and dashes out of the cabin. The strange look on her face is priceless. The feeling of pure lust for her that he has is not so priceless, but more in the way of painful.

He stands in his combat boots butt naked to the world and washes himself, his hair and then uses the bar of soap to scrub out his clothing which he’ll hang on the line by the fire. The boots will dry overnight in front of the stove. Unfortunately, he’s forgotten to bring himself a towel, but he heads back to the cabin door, knocking before he goes inside for fear of being shot by a potentially wet, possibly naked Reagan. However, she calls for him to enter. When he peeks inside he can see that she’s dressed in the same sweats, but a different t-shirt. It’s a black one this time. Is she color blind or something? Is that the reason for the black, gray or white? Of course she could wear nothing and look great in it. Perhaps he should suggest that.

“I forgot a towel,” he says from the half-closed cabin door. He’s getting rained on, but at this point it doesn’t really matter much. At least he feels clean.

“Here,” she says as she extends him a towel. “Where are your clothes?”

“I’ve got them right here,” John tells her.

“Give them to me and I’ll hang them so you can towel off,” Reagan offers and grabs the bundle, retreating with all of the wet items, including his boots. “Good grief, you’ve got big freagin’ feet.”

John chuckles as he dries himself near the door inside the cabin, after he locks it. Then he rummages until he finds clean clothing. “It’ll be good if we can get some clothes tomorrow for me and Cory and Kelly. Even with rotating the clothing Grams found, I’m constantly running out.”

“Aren’t we going back tonight? The rain seems like it’s starting to let up,” she remarks.

“No way, boss. That was too dangerous last night. I’d like to return you to your grandpa without any bullet holes in you,” he tells her. He’s joking, but after the words leave his mouth, he feels a pang in his gut. He doesn’t like to think of her in danger. Ever.

“Ok, you’re the boss on this mission, I guess,” she says with annoyance as she rings out his last sock and hangs it beside the other items, hers included.

“I’m the boss? Really? Can you say that again?” he teases.

Reagan scowls deeply at him and purses her full lips in answer. He doesn’t like it when she does this because it draws his attention toward those lips. Just like his attention had been drawn there this morning when he’d almost kissed her. What the heck had he been thinking? He’d wanted to kiss her so badly, has wanted to forever. And he’s not so sure she hadn’t been touching him. There aren’t any spiders in this cabin that he’s seen. Being in the Army for so long, in combat for just as long, he’s learned to be on high alert at all times, and someone touching his back when he is asleep is enough to instantly jolt him out of a slumber. If she had, indeed, touched him, why had she?

“What’s for dinner, not-the-boss?” he jests as he comes closer to the stove. Reagan has added another log for which he’s grateful. The rainwater had been chilly.

“Whatever you make, duh. I’m not your little woman,” she scoffs and shakes her head.

“Well, you are little and you are definitely a woman. But you’re not
my
little woman,” John agrees and then adds, “yet.”

“
Ever
, you mean,” she corrects which makes him chuckle.

Oh, if only she knew what he had in store for her future. He is bound and determined to have Reagan, even if it takes him a lot longer to get the job done. She is all he thinks about. She is all he’s thought about since he first met her.

“Ok, not-the-boss, how about soup? Is that what this is?” John asks as he holds out another jar of home-canned goods for her inspection. She just shrugs. Right, not that kind of woman. If it was a severed organ suspended in stabilizing fluid, John is sure she’d know what it is.

After they finish the masterpiece meal in a jar, courtesy of Grams and Hannah, they go outside to feed the horses, although John offered to do it alone. The rain has finally slowed to a light sprinkle, the sun is almost completely set, and he is hoping tomorrow will prove dry. They can’t afford to stay another day at the cabin. Their food and supplies at the cabin will be depleted without having gotten everything they need from the city, and those Starbucks cakes are great, but they aren’t going to be what they need for another full day.

“We should hit the hay soon. I want to get up around four and head in. If it’s raining, you can stay here and I’ll come back for you if it stops,” he tells Reagan as he turns his boots around to dry on the other side.

“You keep trying to ditch me, but you aren’t leaving here without me,” she warns as she packs things away for the night. John just chuckles at her.

“Ok, babe. I get it. You don’t want to be away from me for even a second,” he jokes, knowing it will peeve her. “Hey, I don’t blame you. I’ve seen you looking at me.”

“What? When? I wasn’t looking at you,” she is way too quick to rebut.