The McClane Apocalypse Book Five (72 page)

“She sure is, but don’t let that fool
you. And don’t try anything on her. She also has ears like a damn
bloodhound. She can be fearsome when she wants,” Reagan says
with
a chuckle.

“Oh, ok. Sure,” G says with a concerned
expression.

Reagan would like to talk more with
this step-sister of
hers,
but
pure and utter exhaustion has officially set in. She offers a smile
that probably comes off more as tolerant than friendly and turns to
go. Gretchen touches her arm to stop her. Reagan turns back to face
her.

“We didn’t know you guys even existed till
like three days ago on our way here.”

“Are you serious?”

“I think my mom might’ve known. I don’t know.
She wasn’t as surprised as us, so I’m just assuming.”

“I would’ve figured she knew about Robert’s
other family. Maybe she didn’t. Who knows?” Reagan speculates.

“Sorry
we showed
up like that out of the blue. It was a dick move.”

Reagan has to hold back a laugh. Oh, hell
yes. Robert deserves this kid. She’d bet anything that she drives
him nuts with her language, her defiance, her appearance.

“Our dad said his parents were dead. He never
told us he had other kids or anything,” G explains and looks at the
wall behind Reagan instead of making eye contact. “We’re just as
surprised by your existence as you were by ours.”

“What the…?” Reagan asks of no one,
especially not this young girl, who seems very
vulnerable in
this moment.

“Just one more big disappointment where
the Colonel is concerned if you ask me. Seems only right that he’d
have other kids. No sense in just
makin’
us miserable. Of course, my brother is one
of those people pleaser types. He’s a lot nicer about Robert. He
doesn’t like it when I…
well,
when I’m realistic about our dad. But I’m more used to being
disappointed in him.”

Reagan notices that G is a lot more talkative
than she was last night. Perhaps it was the rest or the fact that G
recognizes a kindred spirit in her and a mutual dislike of their
dad. Reagan can definitely relate to disappointing the Colonel.

“Yeah,” Reagan says on an exhale. This day
has to get better. It sure as hell couldn’t get worse. “Hey, it’s
not your fault. Don’t worry about it. I mean about showing up here
unannounced.”

“Honestly, I’m glad we’re here,” G says and
looks at her shoes again. “Even if nobody wants us here. It’s still
better than just being stuck with him.”

“Nobody said they don’t want you here. It was
just a shock. That’s all. Don’t feel like that. Grandpa accepts
everyone without question, especially his own blood. You’ll get to
know that about him.”

Gretchen makes eye contact briefly and looks
quickly away again. She swallows hard and frowns. Perhaps
unconditional love is a new concept to this young girl. She
certainly wouldn’t have received it from their father. His love,
which Reagan never earned, came with a lot of conditions and
restrictions.

“I’m hitting the sack for a couple hours,”
Reagan says, excusing herself.

“Sure. Yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to
interrupt.”

“That’s not a problem. We have a little boy
who’s been through a lot. We get a lot of middle of the night
visits to our bed.”

“I can tell you’re
a good
mom. I can see it in your eyes.”

Damn this kid and her seeking, light
hazel eyes. She sees too much in people. Reagan would certainly not
call herself
a good
mom, though.
Hell, the raising of Jacob had been thrust upon her. She’s probably
fucking that kid up beyond even Freud’s repair.

“Well, I also get called out a lot
for
house-calls
at all hours of
the night, too,” Reagan says, deflecting her praise and changing
the course of their conversation. Where’s Sue? Her other sister
would love this insightful, soul-searching little shit.

“Yeah, so are we. The bunker kept
mega-bizarro weird hours, and there wasn’t any light, so it was
hard to tell if it was day or night. Super freaky,” G says, showing
her age and confusing Reagan even more about the whereabouts of her
father for nearly four years. “Well, see ya.’”

Gretchen turns and trots softly up the
basement stairs, leaving Reagan to stand there feeling very
perplexed. What the hell did she mean about a bunker? A yawn
escapes her as she sneaks down the hall and into the kids’ room.
She finds Jacob asleep on a lower bunk, Arianna above him and
Huntley across the room on another
bunk
. They never know where the kids are sleeping
from one night to the next
with the exception
of
Huntley, who always sleeps in the same spot. Sue’s
kids are all over the place. Sometimes Ari sleeps in here,
sometimes upstairs by Sam. She’s a little nomad. Justin must be out
at their cabin with Sue. He’s not much better than his sister with
the sleeping arrangements. And lately, Jacob thinks he’s one of the
cool kids and insists on sleeping down here when Sue’s kids stay
over.

Reagan climbs over her sleeping son and
positions her back against the wall. She stays on top of the covers
not wanting to disturb Jake further, although she’s pretty sure a
cruise missile could come barreling through the wall and he’d stay
asleep. Just listening to the children’s soft breathing and
occasional snore is comforting to her. She does this sometimes when
the shit in the world seems too unbearable. Last night had been
pretty far up there on the scale of zero to
unbearable
. She hates losing patients. Hearing
about the macabre scene at the river camp had also taken its toll
on her moral conscience. The thought of young girls, some as young
as her new step-sister, being abused sexually makes her
sick.
It also makes her feel violent, as if
she’d enjoy returning the favor of torturous abuse by dealing with
them the same way she dealt with the sick, malevolent men at her
college who’d attacked her.

She wraps an arm around her son, takes
pleasure in the even rise and fall of his bony little chest, and
tries not to dwell on the disgust and filth of the world. It won’t
be long before the tantalizing smell of Hannah’s cooking awakens
the children and they sprint upstairs like they do each morning.
That’s fine with her. The basement is dark and
cool
, perfect for sleeping when the sun is up. She
has no doubt that John will not be going to bed. He’ll stay up with
the men. She’ll probably have to force him down for a nap later in
the day. He thinks he’s a machine. She has to remind him often that
he’s not. But for now, she’ll sleep next to her little angel and
try to focus on taking solace from the simplicity of snuggling with
pure innocence and perfection and not dwell on men who are evil. Or
absentee fathers who make sudden reappearances.

Epilogue

Herb McClane

He signs his name at the bottom of the
amended document and waits for the ink to dry completely before
folding it and placing it in the top drawer of his desk. He takes a
sip of his steaming coffee that Hannah brought into his office a
few minutes ago. Somehow she’d known he was up. No wonder the
coffee was still in the back of a restaurant that Cory and Kelly
raided a few weeks ago. It’s some sort of frilly, frothy cappuccino
something or other that tastes like cinnamon and pumpkin pie spice.
He chokes it down and tries to tell himself to be appreciative, but
it proves difficult.

Herb knows he’s doing the right thing. He and
Maryanne had discussed it a few years ago before she got too sick.
Now that his son is home, this definitely needed done. He’ll pull
the kids into his office sometime soon and go over everything with
them. He does not anticipate it going well with his son. Robert has
always been a strong-willed man.

If an alien spacecraft would’ve landed in the
middle of town yesterday, he couldn’t have been more surprised. He
almost hadn’t recognized Robert when he’d stepped down from the
bus. He hasn’t seen him in nearly six years, and his son has
changed considerably since then. He’d stopped at the farm one time
on a layover. He was on his way back to London at the time. Herb
had attempted to warn him about the dangers of being too high up in
the government. His son had definitely not heeded his advice. He
enjoyed the perks of a political military career. He was always a
very driven person, even as a child. But Herb used to worry about
his son’s ambitions. He’d even given up on his medical career to
further his military promotions. Herb always believed that Robert’s
heart was never in medicine anyway. It probably wasn’t hard for him
to leave it. His appointment to general isn’t really much of a
surprise.

He’d taken the death of Maryanne very hard.
He’s glad that he brought Robert to his office last night by
themselves. His son deserved a bit of privacy away from the rest of
the family and his own family to hear the news of his mother’s
death. He’d wept sadly and sat brokenly in one of the chairs in
front of Herb’s desk. Today, he plans on visiting his mother’s
grave.

He knows that his son has been privy to
information that the rest of them need to know. Herb is planning on
calling a family meeting, like they always do, and asking his son
for some answers. Last night, Robert alluded to a sense of urgency.
Tonight, he’d like to better understand why.

The young people Robert brought with him to
the farm, his children supposedly, were an even bigger surprise.
Reagan, as usual, had flown off the handle, which had made
discussing it with his son more difficult. But he can hardly blame
his tempestuous, young granddaughter. Their father did leave them,
hardly ever visited, and apparently started a new life elsewhere if
he is comprehending the situation accurately. He hadn’t needed it
explained, either. Both of Robert’s children had some of his
features. There was no denying that they belonged to him. He just
doesn’t like the secrecy behind his son’s actions. Herb has always
been the kind of man to judge people by the measure of their
actions. This time, however, he fears his judgement of his own son
may possibly fall lower than anyone else. Maryanne would be very
disappointed in Robert. He’s glad she isn’t here to witness the
tragic turn of events in their son’s life.

He has no idea if his son and new family are
planning on staying on at the farm permanently, but he’ll find out
from him today exactly what his plans for the future might be. Herb
doesn’t think it’s going to sit well with the girls, Reagan
especially, if Robert wants to stay. They would definitely need to
get working on a cabin for his son and family. The wall build,
clinic days, and everything else would have to be put on hold in
order to get a cabin built for Robert. Herb’s just not sure if they
can afford to do that, either. The town’s security has to come
first right now, especially in light of the recent burglaries.

Herb stands and arches his back, trying to
work out some of the kinks. He downs the last of his
mocha-crappa-latte and grimaces. Perhaps a hot tea might be better.
The mouth-watering aromas of his little Hannah’s cooking is
permeating throughout the old bones of his house. He wanders over
to the window and leans against the frame. Movement out of the
corner of his eye catches his attention. He spies Gretchen sneaking
to the side of the chicken coop. She obviously thinks nobody will
see her there. Likely nobody would have, except for the fact that
his office happens to face that side of the property. She’s a cute
thing, this new granddaughter of his, which is nothing less than
what he’d expect coming from his bloodline. She has a feistiness
and a whole lot more defiance in her than Robert could’ve ever
handled. She reminds him a little of Reagan at that age. She pulls
a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket and lights one up.
Herb has to suppress a smile. The poor kid looks stressed out. She
leans her dark head back against the wall of the coop.
Occasionally, she shakes her head as if contemplating something
impossible. Herb finds himself feeling sorry for the young sprite.
She is clearly tormented by her own thoughts, and he can only
imagine what her young life has been like so far. Suddenly, she
panics and stamps out her cigarette quickly and stashes her pack of
smokes in between the slats of the chicken coop wall. A moment
later, her brother, Lucas, comes over to her. She just hits him
with an innocent smile that conceals her wrong-doing. Herb
chuckles. Lucas is clearly on the naïve side. Her brother seems
oblivious but also very protective of her. He must suggest a walk
because they turn to go. Gretchen happens to look up and catches
Herb watching her from his window. Her eyes grow large, but he
places a finger to his lips and sends a wink her way. She grins
unsurely and allows her brother to lead her away. They walk
together over to the horse pasture and both lean on the top board
to observe the animals. It makes Herb feel a touch of melancholy
that he doesn’t know these two, young people. They are his family,
too, and he wishes Robert hadn’t felt the need to hide them from
him. He definitely wants some answers from his son, even if he only
confesses them to him privately.

He knows he should be sleeping. If Mary was
still alive, she would’ve insisted on him doing so. But she’s gone,
and he hardly ever sleeps in their bed anymore. Too many memories.
Sometimes she visits him in his dreams. She’ll be there young and
youthful, full of vitality and dancing with him at some fundraiser
thing or another that she’d dragged him to. He dreams of her out
riding with him like he used to force her to do when they were
young, even though she was not fond of the horses. Sometimes he
sees her bringing him lunch in town at the clinic and forcing him
to take a walk with her. She was always good at getting him to slow
down. But sometimes she is just a flash. Images of her braiding
Hannah’s hair, or teaching her lessons or the two of them working
in the kitchen together, or helping Sue get ready for her wedding
will come at him like a slideshow. Other times he remembers her as
she was at the end, small and frail, like a withering leaf on one
of her rose bushes, too delicate even to touch. His favorite visits
are when they are together sitting on the swing watching the girls
play in the front yard when they were younger, back before the
world fell apart. He really hates those nocturnal visits when his
Mary finds him in his sleep. He always awakens looking for her in
their bed, searching for her hand to hold. Most of the time, he now
prefers to sleep on the leather sofa in his den for this very
reason. Too many memories.