The McClane Apocalypse Book Eight

by Kate Morris

  “And we can encourage the first prick to talk if we find him,” Cory adds. “What if there are more than two leaders?”

  John shakes his head and says, “I’m surprised there are two, to begin with. We may be wrong on that. Perhaps one or the other is simply the second-hand man. Most people don’t like sharing power.”

  “If it works to their benefit, they might,” Chet says.

  “True, but more than two seems like too many chiefs in the mix,” John counters.

  “Maybe the senator’s in charge, and the car dealer prick is the one supplying the men, weapons, and vehicles to do the dirty work,” Cory offers up.

  John nods, “Maybe. That’s a good theory. But why would they need the senator then? Why keep him in on it?”

  “Maybe he’s the gun runner instead of the car dealer,” Chet says.

  They all nod. There is a lot of theorizing about the highwaymen, but at least they now know that two men are likely running the group and who they are.

  “Let’s head back to town and ask around about these two men,” John says as he drops them back at their ATV’s. “Someone’s bound to know something.”

  They follow the pick-up truck back to town, and Cory is left puzzling out a lot in his mind during the silent trip. He wonders about Simon’s quiet disposition today, the highwaymen and their bizarre leaders, and mostly about Paige and his plan to win her over. If it fails, he’s not sure what else he could do to convince her to marry him.

  Immediately, they begin questioning people from town, the newly taken in survivors of other attacks, and the injured men and women in the two medical houses. None of them are as familiar with the leaders as the man that K-Dog has already questioned. Cory heads to the library to talk to Mrs. Browning, who seems to know everything about everyone. As usual, Cory finds her behind the counter in her freshly pressed, navy blue cotton dress, pantyhose, low, conservative heels and pearls. She is ever the consummate professional.

  “And what can I do for you today, Mr. Alexander?” she asks in a courteous tone.

  “I need to find articles in local newspapers or magazines about a few men, men who we think might have something to do with the recent attacks.”

  “Oh, dear. Those are quite tragic, aren’t they?” she asks, her hand pressed to her heart. She nods, smooths her hair as if a wisp of it is out of place, which, of course, it is not, and smiles agreeably. “Since you brought me a load of new books last week, I’d be happy to help. Who are these men?”

  “A former senator from Tennessee and a local car dealer, something Italian, maybe starts with an ‘S’.”

  “Let me get to work on it. It’s going to take a while, so you don’t have to wait. I don’t have computer access any longer, but I’ll do what I can. Many of our periodicals were destroyed in the fire, but I managed to save quite a bit.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. B.”

  She sends him an intolerant look, to which Cory smirks and offers a thumbs-up. She shakes her head and leaves.

  Cory also leaves but runs into the blonde who teaches school and came with a group of the survivors. He can never remember her damn name, though.

  “Hi, Cory,” she greets.

  He sends a cordial wave instead.

  “Off to school?” he asks, hoping she has her hands full with the twelve or so kids on her heels.

  “Yes, would you like to join us?”

  “Ha! No, thanks. I didn’t like school even when I had to go.”

  She smiles and laughs as Tessa breaks free of the group and holds her small hands up to him. He picks her up, of course.

  “Hey, kid,” he says as she hugs him tightly around the neck.

  “Cory,” she returns.

  He shoots the blonde teacher an inquisitive glance.

  “Yes, she’s talking more and more. Aren’t you, Tessa? You’re doing so great, sweetie.”

  Tessa buries her face in his neck and refuses to speak further.

  “Come with me now, Tessa. Come with Rachel,” the blonde says, sparking his memory. Rachel is her name. “Professor Rex is going to tell you guys a story today, a really great story about our country. You’ll love it!”

  Cory can appreciate what the teachers in their town are trying to do with the children, especially the younger ones who will never know what America was like before this all happened to it. They need to understand that it wasn’t always like this, that it was once a beautiful and great thing that weak men allowed to be destroyed. He hopes they never make the same mistakes when they become adults and inherit it.

  “Mr. Alexander!” Mrs. Browning says, rushing toward him from the library’s main door. “Wait up, sir. I have something!”

  Cory and Rachel turn toward her as she catches up to them. She hands Cory a newspaper, the page turned and folded back to reveal a story at the top.

  “I believe this might be one of the men of whom you were speaking,” she says, pointing to the article.

  A man is featured in a picture with a caption below it. He is standing next to a blonde woman, presumably his wife by the tagline. They are dressed impeccably. The smiles on their faces couldn’t possibly be any more forced or fake.

  “Senator Warren Armstrong and wife Kitty,” Cory reads aloud. He flicks his wrist to adjust the paper as it attempts to bend over. Tessa whines. “Sorry, kid. Hold still.”

  She whines again and quickly looks away, hiding in his neck.

  “What’s the matter with her?” Mrs. Browning asks and rubs Tessa’s back. “What’s the matter, little one?”

  “Bad man,” she whispers against Cory’s ear.

  “What?” he asks, unsure of her meaning.

  “Bad man. Bad man. Bad man,” she repeats as if her vocabulary skills have been reduced to that of a skipping record.

  She points with her tiny, thin index finger at the black and white photograph of the senator.

  “Him? He’s a bad man?” Cory asks.

  “Bad man,” she repeats and nods vigorously. “Kill Papa. Kill Mama. Kill Sissy.”

  “He killed your papa?” he asks her, hating the terror he sees in her young eyes.

  She nods with even more vigor this time.

  “He did that? He killed them?” Cory prompts.

  This time she shakes her head, “Bad people kill Papa.”

  What a piece of shit. This man ordered her family to be murdered, and whatever Tessa has been through, she heard the kill command come straight from the mouth of the “charitable senator” as the article describes him at this fancy gala to raise money for the ASPCA organization. This man who supposedly cared so much about animals has absolutely no problem ordering the murders of hundreds of people to keep himself and his group alive another day. He had her mother, father and whoever ‘Sissy’ might have been murdered. Cory can only imagine that it was an older sister, probably still under the age of ten years old.

  “Ok, kid,” Cory says. “I’ll take care of him. Don’t you worry about that.”

  She nods and rests her soft little cheek against Cory’s chest.

  “I’ll bring her back later, Rachel,” he tells the blonde, who is always looking at him like a fresh piece of meat. She nods, clearly shaken by this turn of events. “Thanks, Mrs. B.”

  “I will go back and find more. I’ll search all day if I have to, Mr. Alexander.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be down at the clinic most of the day. Send someone to get me if you find anything.”

  “I will,” she says and leaves.

  Rachel also leaves with the children. Cory carries Tessa with him back to the clinic where he shares the information he’s learned with the rest of the group. John goes off to radio it in to Dave to see if he can find out anything from the people he has also taken in who survived the highwaymen’s attacks. Simon is doing his rounds with the injured in the medical house, and Reagan leaves to give him the update.

  Everyone disperses, high on this new information and eager to dig up more. He is left with only Tessa and his thoughts as sh
e sleeps on his chest and he studies the article some more. The sound of her soft breathing his only comfort as he memorizes every line of the senator’s evil face. The ridiculous article is nothing short of a bullshit piece of ass-kissing journalism full of high praise about the senator and his cold-eyed wife.

  It also names a few of the donors who made rather large donations to the Senator’s wife’s cause. Right there in black and white is the next name in their puzzle. Tony Romano of Romano Motors out of Nashville. Cory wonders how legit any of the contributions to the wife’s cause were and if they actually made it there. He may have been a simple kid from the Midwest, but he understood a lot about shady politicians from listening to his dad. Romano and the senator may have met at this charity gala, but they might’ve actually have known each other before. It still gives him something to work with. He’ll head over to the library when Tessa wakes to share this information with their librarian. She’s bound to turn up more dirt on these two jackoffs.

  Cory holds the small girl close, stroking her back and her hair occasionally and thinking about what the child of him and Paige would’ve been like. Would it have been a girl or a boy? Would he or she have favored Paige? Would she have had red hair and freckles? What the hell kind of father would he have been? That thought terrifies him, so he focuses his attention back on the article again.

  He hadn’t even known she was pregnant. It scares the shit out of him that she could’ve died during that miscarriage and he wouldn’t even have known what she was going through. Reagan was obviously in on the lie, but he doesn’t blame her, especially if Paige swore her to secrecy. He just feels terrible that she went through it without him. It was his fault that she got pregnant in the first place. They weren’t careful enough. She was probably pregnant when they went on that run and she passed out in front of John and Dave the night of the tornado. So many things could’ve gone even worse in this situation. He’s just thankful she’s still alive. He doesn’t care if she can never have children. That doesn’t matter to him. All he wants is Paige.

  He wasn’t lying to Herb. Cory really does have a plan, one that he’s been working on for quite a while, months. It’s just taking a lot longer to implement because of everything that’s been happening. Soon, it will be completed, and hopefully, it will help him to win her over. There’s only one clear outcome to Cory, and that’s making Paige marry him one way or another. Getting this all approved by Simon is another thing. He’s also working on that project. A few more sleepless nights are nothing in the long run if it means that he can be with her.

  He glances down at the article again. This piece of shit government employee’s days are numbered. He is a murderer, a thief, and basically a typical politician. Unfortunately for him, the rules of the game no longer apply. He will not be protected by the laws that once governed their great nation. He will not live in the comfort of whatever mansion he used to dwell with security alarms, armed guards, a brownstone in D.C. where he stashed his mistresses, and private jets. He has a reckoning coming his way, one that Cory intends to personally deliver if for no other reason than the fact that he made this little girl an orphan.

  Tessa stirs but doesn’t awaken because he begins gently rocking in the rocking chair on the front porch of the clinic again. Tonight might be a good night for another ambush.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Simon

  It is near dusk, and they have been set up for nearly two hours on a dirt and gravel, rutted, rough road that has been encroached by the surrounding forest. It runs parallel to the main road where they have flagged it down with warning signs. They are hoping to squeeze the highwaymen into this enclosed, narrow back road. Fog is setting in, as well, which isn’t going to help them. He doesn’t think they’re going to show tonight. They may be holding back because they’ve met resistance in a few of their plans to rob and kill people. Dave had called in again to report a similar attack southwest of Nashville that he’d heard about from newcomers when he went to his own town this afternoon. If this report is right, the highwaymen should pass by them if they need to head northeast to get back to their base camp or camps.

  He is working in tandem with Cory tonight, hiding in the forest, thankfully having removed the hot ghillie suit a few minutes ago after the sun started its slow descent.

  “Here’s your food, bro’,” Cory says, handing him a paper sack.

  “Thanks,” Simon replies taking it and sitting in the dirt behind a tall oak. There are large boulders and shale rock sticking out of the side of the hill in front of them that will provide cover if needed. Even without the monkey suit, he’s still dressed to blend in wearing all black from head to toe. This is where they will dine this evening. It’s normal. They’re used to it. He pulls out a flatbread sandwich with sliced roast beef nestled inside with arugula and some sort of sauce that Sue makes. The girls have also sent along mason jars full of baby redskin potatoes quartered and baked with bits of bacon and parsley and green beans. The carbohydrates will give them a slowly released energy to pull a long nightshift if they need to. There are peach scones for dessert and peach-infused iced tea to drink. Simon is particularly fond of peach season at the farm. Some mornings he’ll walk out into the orchard, pick a few peaches and sit under a tree eating them. It’s a good breakfast eating those sweet fruits while watching the sun rise over the trees.

  “A meal fit for the gods,” Cory remarks as he plunks down on a fallen tree’s thick trunk.

  “So now you’re polytheistic?” Simon asks with a smirk.

  “Are you kidding me? That kind of talk would get you an extra hour in Doc’s office on Sundays,” Cory jokes.

  Simon chuffs and nods. They eat for a while in silence, and Simon would like to believe that the rest of their night will go so peacefully.

  “Hey, where was Sam?” Cory asks around a mouthful of food. “I didn’t see her when I got to town today. I thought she was working with you at the clinic. Did she go back to the farm with Reagan?”

  “No, she left,” he states, trying to hide his anger.

  “Oh,” Cory says quietly. “I see. That makes sense now.”

  “What does?”

  Cory hits him with a surprised look and says, “What? Oh, nothing.”

  “What makes sense?”

  “Nothing. You just seemed in a pissed off mood earlier. Sam going home to Dave’s compound would probably explain it.”

  “She doesn’t belong over there.”

  Cory shrugs and says, “If it’s what she wants, bro’, I don’t know how you can stop her.”

  “She’s too young to know what she wants. Or better yet, what she needs. She’d be safer at the farm.”

  “I don’t know about that. They’ve got a hell of a lot more manpower over there to keep her safe.”

  He glares into the distance, still remembering her ridiculous letter he awoke to find on his bedside table. Cory has no idea how truly angry he is right now, and how frustrated that he can’t take a truck and go get her.

  Cory adds, “But if you want her to come back to the farm, just tell her.”

  “I have. Many times. She’s being bull-headed and headstrong. She’s like talking to a brick wall.”

  His friend chuckles, “Yeah, most women are. You just don’t have a lot of experience with them yet. They’re all like that.”

  “Probably,” Simon agrees.

  “She’s not that young, though. Samantha is very intelligent, too. And from what I’ve seen and heard, I think perhaps she has more than just her uncle that is pulling her toward Dave’s compound.”

  “Don’t remind me. That son-of-a-bitch is the one that drove her back there in the middle of the night!”

  Cory winces at Simon’s use of crude language, not used to it. Simon isn’t, either, but it feels good to lash out. He hates Henry. It’s official.

  “How do you know that?”

  “She wrote me a note. She said she wasn’t coming to the farm anymore or town to the clinic.”

&
nbsp; “What? Why?” Cory asks with obvious concern. “You guys have a big fight or something?”

  Simon sighs. Telling him the truth is not an option, but he doesn’t want to boldly lie, either. He’s not good at deception, and it always makes him feel horrible to do so. He does it all the time with Sam, but he tells himself it’s for her own good.

  “She’s…mad at me or something. I don’t know. She’s being irrational…as usual.”

  “So apologize,” Cory merely states.

  “What do you mean? You don’t even know what she’s mad about.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Women like us to apologize. When they know we feel like shit because of whatever it is or isn’t that we’ve done, it makes them feel better. They like apologies. It’s how their brains work. Even if you didn’t do something to piss her off, just apologize.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “No relationships are simple, Simon,” Cory says as if he is the guru of love. “But when we’re wrong, and in the eyes of all women we’re always the one who’s wrong, then it’s up to us to eat a little crow.”

  “Look alive, people,” Kelly says into their earpieces.

  He returned to town to go with them after John dropped his wife off at home. Dave sent extra men to the farm, and they also left two of Robert’s men there, as well. Kelly has more experience than any of Robert’s men anyway, so Simon is thankful for him being on their team in case things go south, and Wayne Reynolds came to help, too.

  They both toss their food items into their bags and set them aside. Simon jumps to his feet and spies through his rifle scope.

  “We’ve got a car inbound. High speed,” Simon says to Cory as he watches a blue sedan speeding toward their roadblock, throwing gravel and mud everywhere.

  It careens down the road and slides to a jarring stop a few yards from the back end of the McClane family’s pick-up truck. The hood is up to make them appear as if they are having car troubles again. Simon and Cory are helpless on the top ridge of the hill as they watch Kelly and John interact with someone in the driver’s seat behind the wheel of the sedan. A few moments later, they are quickly waving the people past them and around another parked car and some debris in the road. Then the car is speeding away as if the devil himself is on their rear wheels.