The McClane Apocalypse: Book Two (40 page)

Reagan tears microscopic pieces of the peanut butter and jam sandwich and presses one to Jacob’s mouth which he opens and nearly takes off her finger. He has a couple of very sharp, small teeth in there.

“Do you live here? In this city or near...” Melissa asks.

“No, we live on a farm,” Reagan interrupts and looks at John who nods to communicate that she should keep talking to explain their situation. One of the farm rules is to never talk to anyone about the farm. They don’t need to be overrun like the Reynolds. However, Melissa Radcliff is no longer a threat to anyone. “Um, it’s safe there. We have a big family and some other military guys there, too. So it’s really safe. And we have food and crops.” This feels weird describing what she so takes for granted. She’ll never take any of it for granted again after this damn, sickening trip to this hellhole of a city.

John nods with an approving smile and continues, “And she’s a doctor and so is her grandfather. They’re really good people, Melissa. Lots of other kids to play with for Jacob and he’ll have a family that will always take care of him. There’s electricity and hot water. Her sister just had a baby, too. They’ll grow up together. And he’ll always stay on the farm with us. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.” John explains their situation more eloquently than she could have.

Melissa manages a small smile through her dry, cracked lips. She appears to have grown even paler in the twenty minutes they’ve sat with her.

“He’ll be smart like his daddy. My husband was a professor... at MIT... electrical engine... worked on space shuttles...,” she tries to finish, and Reagan understands why it’s so important to her. She doesn’t want them to forget her or her husband or Jacob’s history. “We were in Virginia visiting family when the first tsuna...” she tries to finish but can’t as tremors rack her body.

“Did you also have a career?” Reagan asks when the woman is settled again. It seems important to know some small snippet of this woman’s legacy to tell her son someday.

“Internet... computers... had my... company,” she rasps out. She’s visibly weaker than when they’d come in. “You’re so good to do this. You have kind eyes.” Melissa is looking at John.

This is something Reagan would never have considered before. She tries not to look overly long at John most of the time because it makes her feel strange inside.

“Just rest now. Don’t worry about him, Melissa. We’ll take care of him. And we’ll stay with you,” John assures her.

Reagan, and probably Melissa also know that he means until she passes. It makes Reagan swallow hard.

“Please... don’t. Don’t stay. Just take him and go. The city isn’t safe at night. That’s when the... demons come out,” Melissa says, her brown eyes pleading, frightened, and she ends on a coughing fit that brings up more blood.

John looks at Reagan who is starting to freak out a little. She doesn’t want to be anywhere near this freagin city when the “demons” come out. She’d like to be back at the cabin before that shit hit, or better yet, back at the farm which is impossible. Their nighttime raid hadn’t proved safe, and she doesn’t want to stick around and move through this dangerous city at night again. But she can tell that John doesn’t feel the same. He feels a moral obligation that’s quite obvious toward Melissa to stay with her until she dies. Nobody should have to die alone on the second floor of a stupid ass hobby store while knowing that they just gave their baby away, never to see him again.

“There... there’s a baby store close to here. Lot of things still there. I was on my way there when I was attacked,” Melissa offers.

She must know that they are not at all equipped to take care of her child and do not have anything other than what’s in her black diaper bag, which isn’t much.

Jacob grabs at the sandwich, obviously feeling that Reagan is taking too long to tear off the pieces for him. She holds his hand out of the way and feeds him another bite and then another.

“Ok, Melissa, we’ll get whatever we need to take care of him. He’ll be fine. We have horses hidden here in the city, and we’ll take him home to the farm with us, ma’am,” John tells her.

Reagan knows he is just talking with her so that she doesn’t feel so absolutely alone. She tries to sit up an inch and winces terribly. John looks at Reagan, and she knows what he’s thinking.

“Melissa, I have morphine,” Reagan says simply.

“You don’t have to be in pain like this,” John explains as he deflects the empty sippy-cup that Jacob hurls at him.

It’s strange to Reagan that he doesn’t even acknowledge the throw or the child and his tantrum, but picks him up with one beefy arm. Melissa’s breathing has slowed to an almost imperceptible rate.

“I don’t want... save it,” Melissa says, but Reagan has already made up her mind because soon she won’t have enough light in this part of the building to even administer it.

“I’m going to give you a small dose that will help you sleep, ok? We’ll still have plenty for...,” Reagan sort of explains. Melissa nods. “Can you pull down the waistband of your pants for me? I’ll hit it in your hip so it doesn’t hurt and takes hold fast.”

She gets another nod for an answer. The woman looks like she is wearing black war paint under her eyes. She’s given up the fight for her life. Perhaps she’d given it up long before being stabbed.

Reagan pulls back on the plunger, squirts once and inserts the needle into the woman’s slim hip, giving her more than a small dose but not enough to kill her. She won’t awaken again once she’s out because Reagan doesn’t think her body will be functioning at that point before it wears off. She recaps the morphine.

“Thank you,” the boy’s mother whispers as her eyes flutter closed.

Reagan reaches for her hand, but John snatches her arm back and shakes his head at her. It feels wrong to be so cold, but he’s right. She could contract whatever illness this woman has and potentially kill everyone at the farm, especially the children who are probably less capable of fighting off disease. By the looks of it, Melissa and her husband have died from pneumonia or TB or some other sort of lung affliction. It is hard to tell what sicknesses are floating around out there.

“Let’s move, Reagan. She’s out,” John tells her after a few moments and stands, pulling her with him.

Reagan nods and steps back, tripping over her own two feet because she is staring at the dying woman and not where she is walking. John is there to right her, of course. Reagan’s learning that he’s always there. She picks up her pack, slinging it back over her shoulder and also takes Melissa’s bag.

“Leave it. I don’t want any of it with us. It could all be contaminated,” he explains.

Why hadn’t she thought of that? She’s the doctor. But her mind is temporarily distracted by all the death and violence she’s witnessed in less than a seventy-two hour period. He does grab a small photo of Jacob with his parents, placing it in her pack, though.

“We need some of that baby crap, John,” she protests as she remembers the baby items inside the diaper bag.

“We’re going to that baby store before we leave. We’re going right now,” he says with such fierce determination that she doesn’t argue as she follows him, carrying her own rifle so that John can carry Jacob.

They leave the hobby store through the back exit so that they are not visible on the street, and John scans left and then right, searching out the baby store. They use the brick wall of the building for cover.

“Do you know which way?” he asks quietly and shifts Jacob to his other hip.

Reagan feels like shit because she doesn’t. She hadn’t been home when Sue had come to stay at the farm and shopped in this once-lovely city for baby items. However, she does know that this is where her sister and grandmother did come to get additional baby items for Isaac’s impending birth. There is an electronics store across the way and a Walmart and a Target close to this area, but she can’t put a finger on the right direction for the baby super store that they need.

“Shit, sorry,” Reagan apologizes lamely. “I don’t know.” She shakes her head, and John just nods twice at her. He seems more patient than he ought to be for traveling with someone who is directionally challenged. He lays a hand against her forearm briefly.

“It’s ok. We’ll find it. Just stay really close, Reagan. It’s gonna be dark soon, and now we’re going to be here after dark.”

This thought scares the crap out of her, but she follows him as he turns left and heads deeper into the city and further away from their horses and means of escape.

They fast walk, staying close to the backs of the buildings of the strip mall, coming to the end where it opens up again to big intersections with permanently dark traffic lights and a Lowe’s parking lot. Reagan looks around but doesn’t see the damn baby store. Occasionally Jacob coos or whimpers, but he’s mostly quiet.

“Why don’t we try the Target over there or the Walmart? It’s only a few blocks from here,” she whispers looks over her shoulder, afraid that someone will sneak up and do the same to her that John did to that guy below her at the Home Depot. John shakes his head at her, though.

“No, we have to find that baby store. She would’ve already tried those others. They are probably picked clean. Let’s cross here, use those model pole buildings for cover and go north,” he orders, and she gives him a nod. There’s no way she’s gonna argue with him while they are in the city. Reagan’s more than happy to let him lead the way and make the judgment calls while they are here. He’s kept her alive this long, but she feels a heightened anxiety and fear stab at her. “It’s ok. Don’t be afraid.”

Is he crazy? She’s been afraid since they left the farm over three days ago, and it hasn’t let up once, except for yesterday when they were able to stay put in the cabin and wait out the rain. Nothing seems to scare him, but Reagan is pretty much afraid of everything now. She didn’t always used to be like this. Then again, she also hadn’t had to worry about being raped or murdered on a daily basis when she was just a simple nerd college student.

They cross the parking lot, crouch momentarily behind one of the storage sheds and then the next one, and sprint behind the cover of a popular chain Mexican restaurant which has the dead smell. Reagan thinks that this is probably its former smell, as well. Jacob squeals loudly and paws at John’s face which he ignores. It’s so surreal seeing him in this military mode that he goes into with such fluid automation. She follows obediently after him as he makes his way to the front of the restaurant where they crouch in the cover of prickly bushes with burgundy leaves, and overgrown, decorative, tall grasses that sprout purplish plumes out the top. The building actually has poison ivy vines growing up the side of it. Many of the buildings Reagan’s seen have similar overgrowth taking hold and setting down roots on their exterior walls.

“There it is,” John says and points, without extending his arm, across the next street and to their right.

The baby bulk superstore extravaganza with the non-glowing neon lights sits between a toy store and a women’s maternity wear retailer. All they need now is an adult novelty book store and they’d have the whole deal covered, conception to toddlerhood.

“Yep, got it. Think I should lead?” she volunteers and gets a condescending scowl which pisses her off because she had been serious. He is carrying a freagin’ toddler. He even rolls his eyes at her.

“No, I want to make it out of here alive,” he sneers with a grin, pissing her off further. Reagan squints at him.

He takes lead as she follows again, and they make it to the stupid baby store in one piece. He opens the front door cautiously, and they go inside. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around, but Melissa had been right. There is still a ton of merchandise in this store.

Reagan grabs the first large diaper bag she spies, and together they pack it full of diapers and a bunch of random clothes- after she checks the size on Jacob’s tag because they have no idea what sizes babies wear or would even need where that’s concerned. Reagan even finds a small case of baby food in jars and dumps the gross-looking containers into her own backpack. It weighs it down considerably, but she doesn’t want to complain because she knows John’s pack must weigh forty or fifty pounds and he is carrying his rifle and Jacob, too. John spies a baby carrying device that hooks onto the parent’s shoulders and takes it, as well.

He signals for her to follow as they will leave through the rear to be more cautious. However, the front door swings inward with a light clatter as it clangs against the wall. John instantly hands her Jacob and sends her behind him as they back down the aisle toward the cement block side wall of the building that houses tall shelving units full of car seats. Jacob unfortunately doesn’t understand the necessity to be quiet and starts pitching a fit. John gives her a look. What the hell does he want her to do about it? She doesn’t know anything about kids! She bobs up and down, bending at the knees in a springing motion which seems to work. When her nieces or nephews, including the new one, started to fuss, she just passed them back to their mother. But she’s seen Sue and Grams do this to settle them. Jacob sticks his thumb in his mouth and lays his downy head on her chest. This must be his nap time or some shit.

John takes her toward the back exit swinging doors and squats with her. He signals the “be quiet” sign with his finger to his lips and the flat hand up and down sign to “stay put.” Then he stands again and retreats toward the unknown intruder or intruders. It doesn’t take long before Reagan hears them.

“Hey, hey, don’t shoot us, please,” a man pleads with John.

John doesn’t converse with him, and Reagan is left to speculate as to whether or not he has killed the man with his knife. It wouldn’t surprise her. Nothing he ever did anymore would be surprising after what she’d seen him do this morning to those three men, two of whom she’d witnessed firsthand. Reagan had killed two men in self-defense at her college and six more the night of the Reynolds farm attack, but she’d never beheld anything like John’s attack of those men in Home Depot. It was as if he was performing the pre-choreographed dance steps to some intricate killing tango. He was in control, efficient, graceful and deadly. It had scared the shit out of her.