The McClane Apocalypse Book Three (52 page)

"Right, we'd like to talk about blowing an
abattis on our road, not the driveway, but the road that brings
people here, that could bring more people here," John explains and
Reagan interjects.

"Abattis, French for… tree barrier?" she
asks, gaining a bewildered look from John. Then he points to the
word "Einstein" on her shirt and smiles. She sends him a grin of
her own. She sure as hell isn't anywhere near the level of
Einstein's genius, but Reagan can't help but blush under the praise
of John.

"Yeah, boss, French for tree barrier. How do
you know that?"

"Um, not sure. Think I read it studying
French military history when I was in grade school. I mean I didn't
take it in school as a subject. I just read a book on it from the
library. It was about the French military and their wars, so it was
a short study," she says, gaining laughter from the men again at
the friendly poking fun of the French and their poor warring track
record. "And I speak French, duh."

"Can you explain this abattis?" Grandpa asks
patiently.

"See, what we'd do is fell two trees at the
same time at an angle so that they face toward oncoming traffic,"
Kelly says. "Then we'll take down two to four more. The limbs and
branches will become a tangled mess. They won't be pushed around
when we're done. Someone would have to literally chop a hole
through them to get down our road with a vehicle," Kelly explains
as he demonstrates while intertwining his fingers. "They'll form
kind of an interlocking "V" and they aren't movable—well, not
without a tractor or some kind of equipment like that. Or a
chainsaw, which most people won't have with them."

"Right, it keeps people out," Derek says.
"No more anybody driving down the driveway—ever. Anyone that wants
to get here has to walk in. It would protect us, the Reynolds and
the Johnson farm, not that their farm matters anymore since they
left it."

"I think that's a very good idea, Derek,"
Grandpa says.

Hannah agrees with him out loud. Nobody
questions why sweet Hannah would feel this way. Kelly squeezes her
hand gently on the table and then releases it.

"And we blow the bridge from your town—not
Clarksville, the new city from hell, but where you had your
practice, Doc, in Pleasant View," John says. "It would block that
county road that leads out of town. I remember we crossed that
small bridge coming here. It's not exactly like you couldn't still
get out here from town, but you'd have to know all the back roads.
I mean we're only about eight clicks from town, but it would
certainly discourage anyone who even wanted to head west of that
town for any reason. They could take other roads if they knew them,
but once you get out onto some of the back roads in this county you
can get lost pretty easily," John finishes and Grandpa nods
slowly.

"Yeah, and anytime we want to go back to
your town, we'd just go in from one of the longer, more roundabout
ways," Derek adds sensibly.

Sue smiles at her husband from across the
table. Grandpa strokes the gray whiskers on his chin which he
hasn't shaved today. Cory and Simon sit quietly, absorbing this new
information.

"And what about our neighbors, the
Reynolds?" Grandpa asks thoughtfully.

"We can go over and tell them our plan, but
it's in their best interest anyways," Derek says. "They are so
close to the road that this will help with their security. And once
Cory and Simon fix the other radio that got busted up yesterday,
we'll give it to the Reynolds so that if they're ever attacked
again, we can get over there more quickly."

Reagan wonders why he is making the boys fix
the radio. It's not like they broke it up. John's horse did.
Perhaps it is a rite of passage kind of thing or something. Neither
of them looks surprised at hearing this, though, so they must've
already been aware of the assignment. She's going to have to
remember to ask John about it later.

"I was planning on taking the three hogs
over there next week to butcher and to smoke the meat with Wayne,
so that would be a good time to meet with them. And I want to share
the meat, as well. They've always been good, God-fearing people,
and I think we should help them as much as we can," Grandpa says.
"Reagan you can ride along and help if you'd like. You can check
Chet's shotgun injury."

"Reagan is better off here, sir. Chet
Reynolds should fear
me
and forget about God if he keeps
stalking Reagan the way he does. The leech," John verbalizes with
instant antagonism and crosses his arms across his chest, his
biceps bulging.

Kelly barks a loud laugh, Derek chuckles and
shakes his head and Grandpa gives John an appraising look. Reagan's
face flames three shades of red, her eyes grow huge. She literally
lowers her head, shielding her gaze from everyone like she's
staring at a ghost in her lap.

"Shut up!" she hisses and punches his sore
leg. John is way too vocal about his claim on her. Next he'll be
lifting his leg to mark her, the bastard.

Grandpa, not one to miss a beat, simply
says, "Ohhhkay."

"Moving on," Derek says on a grin and keeps
things flowing right along. "We can also hunt deer soon, and I'd be
happy to bag a buck or two for them, as well, Herb."

"That's very thoughtful, Derek," Grandpa
says.

"And we can butcher that cow you wanted
done, Doc," Kelly volunteers. "I don't know how to unless they're
like guttin' a deer, but I'd be happy to learn and so would Cory
and Simon. Right, guys?"

"Yes, sir," the boys answer in unison.

They are coming to realize what their roles
on this farm will be. It will take every person on the farm working
together for their continued survival.

"If they haven't finished their solar
panels, I'd like to see if we can't help the Reynolds family to
build them. I'd like for them to have electricity again. Having
them for neighbors could prove to be an asset in the future. I want
to keep them as our friends," Grandpa remarks.

He looks pointedly at John who stares right
back. Shit, he sure as hell doesn't back down from her
grandfather.

"John!" Derek says firmly.

This causes John to tear his gaze from her
grandfather's. Most men don't challenge Grandpa, not that John was
necessarily challenging him. But he sure is driving his point home
about the Reynolds.

Derek continues, "That's fine with us, Herb.
We'll help them all that we can. Eventually our country will have
to be completely rebuilt, so this can be the first step that our
family takes toward that."

"Fine, we'll help them," John says with
finality that still holds underlying antagonism toward Chet
Reynolds.

Reagan's seen more times than she'd like
what happens when he loses his temper; people usually end up dead.
Plus, he'd punched Bobby just for talking down to Sam. And he'd
eventually killed that dumb kid. When she'd spied him hit Bobby on
the front lawn, though, her respect for John had soared. Obviously
he doesn't like women to be mistreated, even the ones he has no
claim on or isn't related to.

"Let's all turn in and get some rest,"
Grandpa says, ending the meeting.

"Agreed. Herb and I will take first watch,
and Kelly and Cory will take second and John and Simon will take
third," Derek says. "John, Simon's going to need taught quite a
lot, but I know if anyone can help him, you can. And in a few weeks
we'll start both guys on weapons training, basic training, hand to
hand combat, demos and everything we know," Derek announces.

Reagan watches both teens perk up. Oh
brother, why do men love blowing shit up so much?

"Yeah, and by the time you're both twenty
you'll be a couple of bad-asses," Kelly says.

Everyone laughs. That is everyone but
Grandpa who looks troubled by this. These boys have lost their
youth, and it's not something to be regained. But Sam has lost just
as much, if not more than the two boys. Having a couple more
bad-asses around the farm isn't such a terrible idea in Reagan's
opinion. They sure as hell make her feel remarkably safer on their
farm. John especially makes her feel safer.

Everyone rises, but Reagan looks at John
with admiration only to have it replaced by worry when she notices
the swelling on his eyebrow and cheek. He'd taken some pretty hard
punches yesterday.

"Before we go upstairs, I'm going to grab
some ice cubes. Your face is still swelled in a couple of spots,"
she remarks and touches his cheek and eyebrow gently.

"Yeah, didn't you know you're supposed to
duck when someone takes a swing at you?" Kelly asks jokingly to
which Derek laughs heartily.

"Yeah, yeah. You two are a couple of
comedians. I kind of had an animal the size of a one ton truck
stuck on my leg!" John argues with mock irritation toward the other
two men.

"Whiner," Derek jokes.

He and Kelly bump fists before they
depart.

As Reagan collects the ice in the kitchen,
she overhears John and Kelly talking after everyone else has gone
their own ways.

"You want me to take your watch tonight,
bro?" Kelly asks with sincere sympathy.

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks, though," John tells
him.

Their level of commitment to each other is
deeper than most marriages Reagan has ever known, and she can tell
that Kelly is genuinely concerned about John's injuries. Kelly,
naturally, doesn't have a scratch on him.

Once they are upstairs, John goes to their
closet and starts taking measurements with a tape measure which
Reagan hadn't even seen him pocket. He never rests, though he needs
to, especially after the week they've had. She joins him in there,
and her cold, bare feet are glad to be on carpeting finally.

"What are you doing?" she asks as he
stretches the metal tape out from side to side in the closet. He
hobbles over and looks around in the back of the room.

"Taking measurements. I'm thinking that we
could get Jake's crib in here when we get one. Then we'd have more
privacy," he tells her like he's just giving her a grocery list to
run errands and not talking about the obvious reason for their need
for privacy. "Oh yeah, there's plenty of room."

"I didn't say I wanted to do that. You can't
just go and make this decision without asking me. This is my
bedroom," Reagan complains at him.

"It's my room, too, now, so I get a fifty
percent say, boss. And I'd like to not sleep in a bed that my feet
hang off the end. I'd also like to be able to make love to you
whenever I want," John answers so matter of fact.

He just keeps taking his ridiculous
measurements as if nothing is unusual with this conversation.

"Hey! You don't get sex from me whenever you
want. I have a say in
that
, too!" she says as her voice is
starting to rise in pitch. John stalks right up to her with his
limp and kisses her dismissively on her forehead.

"I think it works out in your favor when I
want it, so you shouldn't complain," he turns away.

Reagan huffs and clenches her fists in
frustration. He's such a chauvinist sometimes.

He replies without turning back to her, "And
I told you it's not sex so stop calling it that."

"Whatever. Do what you want. Here, you need
to put this ice on your face," she tells him and grabs his forearm
to get him to hold still. "I should've looked at your leg last
night."

"I don't need that," John says and dodges
her hand. "I could show you some other uses for it, though, if
you're interested."

"What do you mean? Like what?" Reagan asks
confusedly. John raises one eyebrow at her and then chuckles as she
still continues to look at him with confusion. "Here, put this
on!"

"No, I'm not a child. I'm fine. Just got
banged up," he argues.

John drops to his knees where he pulls out,
from the bottom of his closet space, the rucksack that they'd taken
to the city.

"What are you doing now? Would you quit
moving, so I can look at your leg and ice your face, damn it?"

"No, I'm busy," he replies assertively.

He dodges her hand and pulls out the boxes
of rubber bands they'd taken from the hobby store.

"Hey, I meant to ask, why do you guys want
the boys to fix the radio?" she inquires as she kneels beside
him.

"Because they have to learn to work together
and not rely on us for everything. We're not gonna' be around
forever to take care of them," John says.

Reagan's stomach does a sickening flip. John
simply continues on like he hasn't said something devastating and
horrible.

"I couldn't find these. I thought they were
in the other bag, but nope," he says about his rubber bands and
stashes them back away again.

"Lie down on your back so I can look at your
leg," Reagan demands, wanting to put his morbid comment about
croaking someday behind her. Surprisingly, John actually lies down,
shocking her to the core. "Oh, good," she says uncertainly. Reagan
has him raise and bend and flex his leg and then works his hip,
feeling for anything out of place. He winces twice and then scowls
at her.

"See? I'm fine, hon'," he says so
easily.

Reagan hates it when he calls her this, or
any endearment for that matter. She frowns at him, still kneeling
on both knees near his hip.

"I don't think anything is dislocated or
broken, but you're going to be sore as hell for a few days. You may
have ruptured a few tendons or ligaments. Maybe just take it easy
for about a week," she orders and meets his gaze.

"Only if you are gonna stay in that bed with
me for the next week. If not, then I've got projects to work on,
babe," he tells her.

His wicked grin ignites a flame within
her.

Reagan clears her voice and looks back at
his leg again. "What the heck are the rubber bands for? You never
did tell me," she asks as she feels along his tendons and his inner
thigh.