The McClane Apocalypse Book 4 (75 page)

“Oh, bullshit,” she swears,
using one of Reagan’s favorite
curses
. Simon’s sister also
sometimes swears,
although Sam knows that he doesn’t like it. His dark blue eyes
grow huge.

“Hey!” he says more loudly. “Don’t
talk like that. That’s crude talk. You don’t need to use that kind
of language, young lady.”

“So? You’re not my boss, Simon. You’re
also not my big brother, either. You’re supposed to be my
friend.”

“I know I’m not your
brother or your boss. You don’t have to tell me that.
I
know.”

His tone is
pained
as if he
harbors some
deep
secret.

“Forget it,” she says, turns away and
tears the picture out of her portfolio. She tosses it to the
ground. “I’m going back to the house.”

“Wait. Don’t go, Sam,” he
says.

Simon snags her arm, which
halts her at once. He’s a lot bigger and stronger than she is, so
the task is not difficult for him. Sam is not fond of new men being
around her and is generally distrustful of most men. She hadn’t
taken too well to Gavin at first, but he’d
ended
up being
a nice
person. She trusts the
men on the farm, but that’s about it. Her past does not allow for
youthful naivety when it comes to men. But she’d trust her life to
Simon. She knows he’d never hurt her, except for, perhaps, her
feelings as he has done so now.

Sam swings around to face him. She
liked it better when they were eye to eye. Now she has to look up
at him.

“You’re
very rude
today. I don’t want
to be around you,” she retorts in a huff.

“I’m sorry,” Simon apologizes. “Don’t
be angry.”

“How can I not be angry? You’ve
insulted me, Simon!”

“I just didn’t like that picture. I
don’t look like that, not at all.”

“Yes, you do. I don’t understand. It’s
a mirror image of you, Simon. What are you talking about?” Sam
pleads. He hangs his head slightly, refusing to look at
her.

“Don’t build me up to be something I’m
not, ok?” he asks in a desperate plea. “I’m not anything worth
drawing in such a manner.”

“What?” Sam asks with a frown. “You
are to me.”

“Don’t say that, Samantha,” he
says.

He uses her full name when
he’s being superior or
condescending,
and he knows how much she
hates that. If Grandpa wants to call her Samantha, then that’s fine
with her. He never uses anyone’s nicknames. But Simon knows she
doesn’t like it when he tries to lord over her like he’s so much
older and wiser. He’s only a year and a half older than her for
goodness sake.

“You’re my hero, Simon,” she confesses
softly. Sam lays her hand against his cheek where there is a fine
stubble coming in. Sometimes in the winter he doesn’t shave at all
and grows a short red beard. She doesn’t like the beard. It hides
too much of his beautiful face and fine bone structure.

“No, I’m not,” he says and turns away.
“I think we both know that’s not true at all.”

Sam, not one to be put off
by him, walks in front of
Simon,
which stops his retreat. How can
he feel that way?

“You are,” she insists.

“Don’t say stuff like that. You know
what I mean,” he says more forcefully.

“I don’t care. I still think of you as
my hero, even if you refuse to think of yourself that way,” Sam
admits and places a hand against his chest to prevent him from
going around her.

Simon grabs her shoulders and gives
them an irritated squeeze. He doesn’t hurt her, but Sam knows that
he’s becoming frustrated.

“Just stop talking like that. Stop
drawing pictures of me like that. Don’t ever call me your hero
again, ok? We both know that I’m not. If I was any sort of hero,
that… stuff never would’ve happened to you.”

Sam flinches. She doesn’t
mean to, but it happens. She doesn’t really like to think
back
to
that time with the visitors.

“You did everything you
could, Simon,” she says softly and refuses to meet his gaze. She
studies his worn out
work-boots
instead. He doesn’t say
anything more. A second later she feels him pull her in where she
rests her head against his warm chest. She raises her eyes
to meet his finally
. “You’re still my hero.”

He smirks angrily, shakes his head and
places his hot palm to her left cheek. His expression reads so much
barely concealed emotion that Sam cannot tell what he’s
thinking.

“Sam,” he whispers.

His eyes are sad and confused when
they meet hers. Simon’s thumb strokes over her cheekbone. She
doesn’t dare say what she’s thinking. She’s content to stand there
for all eternity waiting for him to talk to her if need be. He
opens his mouth to speak but shuts it again much to her
disappointment.

Then he says, “You mean so much to me,
but I don’t want you to look up to me like that.”

“Too late,” she remarks with a bit of
sass. “I already do and I always have.”

Simon scowls. He slides his
hand into the hair at the base of her neck and pulls her forehead
to forehead with him.
The
breath
of his soft sigh brushes against her
nose and mouth.

“What am I supposed to do with you?”
he asks rhetorically.

Sam’s insides turn to mush at the
husky timbre of his voice. A lock of his hair falls forward and
rests against her cheek.

Paige calls
loudly
as she
comes over the crest of the hill, “I found this bush and it had
some pretty big blooms on it!”

Simon jumps away from her
and lets his hand fall to his side. He goes into instant calm and
in control mode. This is how he
normally
acts,
and it completely aggravates Sam. He walks
straight over to his sister and takes the plant from Paige’s slim
fingers all while not making eye contact with Sam.

“You have a lot there, sis,” he
says.

There is just the slightest
touch of unsteadiness in his voice, a wavering hesitancy that he
doesn’t
usually
display. He takes the two huge bundles of plants from Paige.
It isn’t hawthorn, but it is apparently something he can
use.

“Good find,” he remarks.

Sam doesn’t miss the look on Paige’s
face. She’s looking at them both, back and forth between them
suspiciously. Simon begins stuffing the leafy foliage into his bag,
which is overflowing. He still won’t look at her.

“I found more than that up over that
ridge,” Paige tells them.

Her clothing is dirty and dusty. She
looks sweaty as if she’s been working hard while Sam sat drawing
and then arguing with Simon. It makes her feel guilty.

“I’m going to take this back and get
started. We can call it a day,” Simon tells them.

“Wait, I want to go back up there and
get some more,” Paige argues.

“This is plenty for now,” Simon
concludes.

“All right, fine, Mr. Bossy Pants,”
his sister jokes, earning her a frown of disapproval from
Simon.

They walk together, talking about the
family, the progress on the wall and the harvest that will start
soon. Simon is distracted and not looking at her as they come down
a short hill. She catches him tucking the discarded picture of
himself into the front pocket of his satchel. She hides her grin
from him.

Sam tilts her head back, soaking in
the warm sun. It’s not going to last forever, unfortunately. Soon
the wet season will once again be upon them and then winter. There
is so much to be done before then.

Simon’s sister brings up the radio
feed, “Do you think they are going to draft all able-bodied young
men like you, Simon?”

He shakes his and says, “No, it’s hard
telling what they want. I don’t see how they could enforce
something like that since we’re not exactly a fully functioning
country anymore.”

“It might help, though,” Paige says.
“If the military men out there come together, maybe they’d be able
to get the power restored or water treatment plants back up and
running.”

“They wouldn’t call the military in
for that, sis,” he informs her.

“Why not? What do you mean?” Paige
asks.

“They’d use the men and women who
worked for those places to restore power and water. If they are
calling in the military, then they need a military for
something.”

Sam narrows her eyes and looks
away.

“What do you think, Sam?” Paige asks
her next.

Simon’s sister has her hair
in a loose braid that is untangling. Her khaki shorts were borrowed
from Sue, and her brown tank top came from the tub of clothing the
men recently found in a house in Sam’s old neighborhood. She’s so
earthy and
pretty
. They’ve become such fast friends
that she hopes Paige never leaves the farm or gets separated from
them.

“Me?” Sam inquires. “Um, I don’t know.
Maybe they just need help building something.”

They both look at her
strangely and continue talking without asking her opinion again.
Good. Let them think she doesn’t know what she is talking about.
Sam has no intention of telling either of them the entire message
she’d
heard
on the radio. She’s never telling anyone on the farm the
entire message and why the new government really wants former
enlisted personnel to show up and report
in to
the three new centralized
military bases. She’ll never tell them because the men, her new
family
members
and adopted brothers, may decide to listen to the President’s
dictate and leave the farm. Later tonight when everyone goes to
bed, she plans to sneak downstairs into Grandpa’s office and
sabotage that damn radio so it never works again.

Epilogue

Herb McClane

Not able to sleep as usual, Herb rises
right before the men leave on a search mission. He plods through
his dark house to the kitchen in his pajamas and house slippers,
careful not to make noise and disturb the children.

“’Morning, Herb,” Kelly greets him.
“Did I wake you? I was trying to sneak out.”

“No, no, Kelly,” he answers the big
man. “I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d brew some coffee. Want a
thermos to take with you?”

“Is it the stuff we brought back a few
weeks ago from Nashville?”

Herb turns on the lowest wattage light
over the kitchen sink and fills the glass carafe with water from
the tap. “Yes, it’s all we have. Ran out of the good
stuff.”

“Think I’ll have to take a hard pass
on that one, Doc,” Kelly jokes as he pulls on his Army issue boots
and grins.

“It’ll clean out your guts. That’s for
sure,” Herb jokes as he scoops the grinds and pours them into his
Bunn coffee maker.

“No thanks, I’m good. I like my guts
the way they are, sir. On the inside,” the other man
jokes.

A moment later, Simon comes through
the back door.

“Good morning, Simon,” Herb
acknowledges the young man.

“Oh, hey,
good morning,
sir,” Simon says,
clearly
surprised to find Herb up in the
middle of the night. He says to Kelly, “Think it’s gonna
rain.”

“Should we call off the
mission?” Kelly asks
with
a smirk as he finishes lacing his
boots.

Simon’s gaze jumps to Kelly’s and he
quickly amends his weather report with, “No, sir. Not at all. I’m
ready when you are.”

“Good thing, Professor,” Kelly tells
him.

Herb knows that Kelly was
just giving Simon a hard time, but the young man is so
serious
and
doesn’t take well to sarcasm.

Kelly adds, “Gonna need you up high
this morning. Got your rifle?”

“Yes, sir,” Simon answers
as if he’s still in
basic
training and Kelly is his commanding officer.
“Where are we headed?”

“Nashville again. Gonna go a little
further this time. Heard some chatter that maybe their leader made
his escape and went over that way.”

“Sounds good to me,” Simon replies as
he packs .308 ammo into his rifle magazine.

“Your sis awake out at the
cabin?” Kelly
inquires
after Paige.

Simon answers, “No, thank God. If she
was awake, she’d be nagging me not to go.”

Kelly chuckles softly, “Probably right
about that. She’s a firecracker, that one.”