The McClane Apocalypse Book Three (41 page)

He's generally a non-threatening man, but
he's still been assigned the title of hadj seven. The other evening
he hadn't argued against him and Derek, but now that his friends
are with him Rick must be feeling buoyed by them.

"The barns house all of our animals, and
we'll need them for hay storage and wintering the animals, Rick,"
Doc says patiently.

"Fucking assholes," the toothless hag hadji
girl, Amber, bites out with remarkable anger.

Kelly levels a glare on her which shuts her
up. She has the same cold, dark eyes as her son Bobby.

"Let us stay. We can be helpful, too. We can
work," hadj five, or Buzz, says.

He's a zero threat factor and seems to hang
out the most with Rick. Kelly, John and Derek have been gathering
intel on this group since they'd first set foot on the farm. With
help from Cory and sometimes Simon, they've gained a deeper
perspective of the fairly wide range of behavioral patterns within
their group. The intel includes: where the hadj pack goes on the
farm, when they go there, movement within their own group,
relationships within their group, how they treat the children and
each other, what time they usually crash for the night, when they
rise (usually late morning), and any other information they can get
on them. It's the same type of vetting that the three Rangers have
done in the past when dealing with the enemy. This is just a
different threat, but they consider them no less of an enemy.

"I don't think that is what we're looking
for," Doc tries to say nicely while also turning down the
offer.

"Fuck this! We want to stay, man. You don't
know what it's like out there. You can't just make us leave! It's
fucked up, man," says Frank, Huntley's asshole of a dad.

"We know what's out there, dude," John says
quietly. "But you don't belong here, either."

Frank levels a deadly glare on Kelly's best
friend, which makes him want to pistol whip Huntley's mouthy father
into senselessness. John now has the responsibility of baby Jacob,
and Kelly's sure that he feels equally responsible for his
brother's family, as well. He also understands John's
protectiveness over the little Doc.

"You've survived this long," Derek adds in.
"You'll all be just fine."

"There are plenty of empty farms and houses
where the rest of you could establish your own home-front," Doc
suggests.

Kelly's benefactor's tone is slightly less
patient. Kelly also notices that Herb doesn't offer up the empty
Johnson farm. Their abandoned farm is way too close to the McClane
spread for anyone's comfort.

"We wanna' stay, gringos," says hadj six,
the Latino man.

They've learned that he is a completely
schizophrenic freak. He has bizarre ticks, and the men have caught
him talking to himself when no one else is around. They believe he
is mentally unstable, to say the least.

"Not happening," John says with absolute
authority.

If Doc's patience is waning, John's is just
completely gone.

Frank steps forward, "Fine you sons a'
bitches. We'll leave! We'll get our shit together and in three days
we'll leave. Send those fuckin' kids back out here so they can
help!"

Derek steps forward, "Watch your mouth."

Frank takes a step back and looks Derek up
and down nervously. His black jeans are tight which means that he
has not lost weight during the apocalypse. It's also a possibility
that he hadn't given food and liquid to his son, Garrett, and why
they boy hadn't improved before coming to the farm. This is all
speculation that pisses Kelly off further.

"I don't think that's going to be an option,
Frank," Doc explains as he casually lights his pipe. "The children
have decided they want to stay, and we'd be happy to keep them
on."

"What the fu… That's my kid, old man. You
ain't keepin' him," Frank yells.

He kicks the toe of his dusty cowboy boot
into the gravel, causing it to spray.

"He wants to stay," John says through
gritted teeth.

"No way. That's bullsh…" Frank is trying his
damnedest not to swear since Derek had warned him. His ridiculous
rant is interrupted by Jasmine.

"Hey, if the kids can stay, why can't I? I'm
not going to cause any trouble for you, and I can cook, too,"
Jasmine offers.

Probably not like Hannah, Kelly thinks. His
dad told him a long time ago to never trust a skinny cook with his
meals. Hannah has just the right amount of curve for his taste.
This chic is a skinny crackhead.

"We're full up with the three additional
kids," Derek lies so easily.

"But I can be helpful with other things,
too," she proposes to John, who is not even looking at her but at
Hadj three, Levon.

There's bloodlust in John's eyes. Kelly's
seen it many times before in his friend. They are literally staring
each other down and the big black man's eyes are hungry for a
fight. Levon and Frank are obviously the biggest threats in this
group.

"I'm sorry, Jasmine, but the offer is only
to the children," Doc says.

"What about me? You're gonna let Simon and
Sam stay but not me?" Bobby, hadj four says.

Everyone is shocked, even the people in his
own group. Is this dickhead serious?

"I'm sorry, Bobby, but we just don't feel
like you'd be a good fit here, and like Derek said, we are out of
space for any additional people to stay," Doc explains.

He's more patient than Kelly would be. If it
had been up to himself, John and Derek, some of these people
would've already been in holes on the hill.

"That's bullshit, man. You got like a
mansion there," Bobby laments.

"Again, I'm sorry. But the answer is no,"
Doc says.

"Well, Sam's going with us. She's with me.
She's my girlfriend," Bobby boldly announces.

Kelly gives a confused look to John who
returns it. This is news to them.

"Samantha, would you come out here, please?"
Doc asks over his shoulder.

A moment later the frail, dark-haired,
porcelain doll that is Sam comes onto the porch. She stands overly
close to Doc but not Cory. This kid is almost as fucked up as
Reagan but not quite. Nobody is that bad.

"Samantha, this boy says that you two are
together. Is this true?" Doc asks quietly.

Sam looks at the ground and shakes her head
with such instant fear that Kelly is ready to shoot punk-ass Bobby
where he stands. She won't look directly at Bobby. Kelly notices
fresh bruises on her arm and a faded one on her cheekbone. Has he
been raping her, too? Kelly sure as hell hopes not.

Bobby gives Doc a nasty glower with his evil
black eyes. Kelly can just imagine the horrors that poor Sam has
suffered at the hands of this jerkoff. He's much larger than
Samantha. It would be very easy for him to overpower, bully and
harm her. Kelly feels a vein pulse in his neck.

"Get your ass down here, bitch," Bobby barks
loudly.

John stalks over and cold clocks the kid in
the jaw. He falls very hard, and Kelly's almost positive he's out
cold until he finally moves. John stands over him, and nobody moves
or speaks. Kelly is almost afraid for the kid. If John is pushed
too far, he'll simply shoot this piece of shit.

"Real men hit each other, not women, you
little prick. Stay away from her and stay away from my woman, too,"
John says fiercely.

Kelly encourages his friend to back away by
pulling on his shirt sleeve. If anyone on the farm was unsure of
his feelings for Reagan, they sure as shit shouldn't be now. He is
going to be the next one getting pulled into Doc's office,
especially if Doc saw those claw marks on John's chest. Kelly
noticed his friend wears his t-shirt again, a wise move. When Kelly
glances at Doc, the man seems calm, unfazed. Old school. He simply
tells Sam to go back inside.

"Well you ain't keepin' Simon and Huntley.
They're our family," toothless hag Amber says from the crowd.

The group has subdued slightly after John's
violent reaction. If they thought that was violent, they should see
John cornered in a house by six or seven Muslims out in the middle
of the Syrian desert.

Franks starts up again. "You sure as shit
ain't keepin' my kid. He's my kid!"

"He doesn't want to leave with you," Derek
tells the father of the year. "He feels very strongly about it,
too. Doc and I both talked with him last night. He wants to stay
here. Without you."

"Give me a break! You don't scare me, Army
boy," Frank taunts. "Just because there ain't no law I can call no
more doesn't give you the right to keep my kid."

"Frank, he doesn't want to leave the farm,"
Doc says, trying to soften the blow.

"Bullshit!" the man says and spits once.

It hits dangerously close to John's boot.
Frank had better learn to tread a little lighter with Kelly's
friend.

"Let me talk to him," Frank orders.

"No way," Derek answers firmly.

"He's my damn kid. Let me talk to him. Where
is he?" the concerned father inquires.

For being so worried all of a sudden about
Huntley being left behind, Frank hasn't once visited his sick son
in the med shed nor has he inquired after him. He also never
visited his little boy who'd succumbed to that sickness. That boy
had died with only his twin brother and virtual strangers at his
side.

"You aren't talking to anyone," John
asserts. "He's staying. You're leaving. That's final."

"This is fucking bullshit," Amber cries
angrily.

She tries to rush forward at John, but Rick
smartly holds her back. At least one person in this group is
halfway intelligent. Frank begins pacing back and forth in
frustration. If Huntley belonged to Kelly, there wouldn't be enough
men with guns to keep him from getting to him.

"What is it going to take, Frank?" Doc asks
super cool and collected.

He's had this figured all along, Kelly
realizes. The hadj pack looks from person to person within their
group as a few of them mumble to one another. Frank argues a second
but stops when Great-uncle Peter suggests something. They nod. The
others nod.

"We want food and guns," Uncle Peter
says.

Doc looks to Kelly.

"No guns," Kelly calls out to the crowd.

"You want our kids and you think we ain't
getting' guns in return? That shit's not happening!" hadji girl
rants.

Where is Reagan when they needed her? She
should've been allowed to come out.

"Yes," Kelly answers absolutely.

"This is even bigger bullshit," Frank
swears, his voice rising in pitch.

"You keep mouthin' off and I can provide you
with a bullet instead," John offers with clear intent.

The other man shuts up, which is smart on
his part.

"We'll agree to food and perhaps one bottle
of antibiotics but no weapons," Doc says from the porch.

Kelly knows that Doc is offering the
medicine to placate for the guns. It's a tactically good move.

Doc adds, "And we'll give you back your
weapons that you arrived with when you go."

John and Kelly have already removed the
firing pins from their weapons anyways, so they are essentially
returning non-functioning guns.

"Yeah, pills, get pills," Bobby whispers to
the other men. "I know they're hoarding drugs, man. They gotta be.
They're both doctors. They gotta have drugs here on this farm."

"We need more than one bottle. We need
painkillers, too," Levon demands.

He even shifts his weight from foot to foot
as if the prospect of free drugs is exciting. He and Bobby exchange
grins.

"Fine, I'll package them myself," Doc
agrees.

Kelly's starting to get pissed at these
demands. They aren't in the position to make demands. They are more
in position to get shot. They brought sickness to the farm that
could've killed them all had Reagan and Doc not known how to take
the proper preventative measures against it.

"And some of them peaches your women have
been canning," the Mexican demands and then smiles weirdly.

His greasy black hair is disgusting, and he
bobs his head and blinks rapidly—some of his many strange ticks.
He's certifiable. How the hell does he know the women have been
canning peaches? They'd finished with that weeks ago when the
visitors had first come to the farm. Had he been sneaking around in
those early days?

"Enough!" John barks. "We'll package two
crates of food, painkillers and antibiotics and that's it. And we
keep the kids."

His friend is getting low on tolerance and
for John it means his finger is getting a little hairy on the
trigger.

"Bargain," Uncle Peter says.

The uncle extends his hand for a shake,
which nobody takes.

"Fine, fuckin' take my kid," Frank yells
loudly. "I didn't ever like those fuckin' Injun kids anyways.
Wimpy, whiny assed little brats. Injun blood is probably what made
the other one too weak to fight off the sickne…"

Frank's speech is cut off as Derek rams the
butt of his rifle into his soft gut. The guy doubles over onto his
knees and vomits after he catches his breath.

"I couldn't take any more of that," Derek
says.

He looks to Kelly and John, shaking his head
as if he's hoping they aren't upset. John just purses his lips and
nods, and Kelly shrugs as if to say: who gives a shit?

"Yeah, you guys are real tough, aren't you?
With your guns?" spouts off hadj three, Levon.

The biggest guy in their group has been
eyeing up Kelly's best friend for a tussle since the meeting had
first started. Kelly is perfectly willing to take one for the team,
though. Not that John would need his help. Levon's pale eyes are
full of rancor.

Kelly hands his rifle to John and also the
pistol on his hip and steps forward.

"No guns on me," he taunts the other
man.

For a second, the other man looks stupid
enough to take Kelly up on his offer to kick his ass, but his
cousin Rick stops him. Levon looks from Kelly to John and then to
Derek as if sizing them up.