Chapter Twenty-five

Reagan

“Almost done, babe?” John asks, peeking his head through the open door of her research room at the clinic.

“Yes, give me a minute,” Reagan returns with a smile as she looks up from her microscope.

Her husband ambles into the room, unaware that he could be bringing in an outside source of contamination. Reagan just smiles and goes back to the lens. She’s been studying diseases a lot lately, trying to prepare for the coming cold and flu season, which has proven very deadly in the last few years. She’s also been vigorously studying smallpox, but she hasn’t told anyone that.

“Is Grandpa ready?” she asks him.

John slides his hands around her waist from behind before nuzzling her neck.

“That’s not helping,” she reprimands weakly.

John just chuckles in her ear and says, “Maybe not, but it’s helping me. And, yes, he’s ready. But he said to take your time because he’s talking to the sheriff.”

“What about?” Reagan asks as she pushes a different slide under the microscope.

“The thefts we’ve had in town,” he tells her honestly before allowing his hands to fall away from her.

“Great,” she says sarcastically. “Hope they catch whoever’s doing it. I thought theft wouldn’t be a problem for a while still. And here we are with some asshole running around stealing from people already. So much for our peaceful little town.”

“Could just be someone too embarrassed to come forward and ask for help,” John offers.

Reagan can tell that he doesn’t really believe that.

“Yeah, sure,” Reagan scoffs and leans back into his wide chest. He immediately starts rubbing her shoulders. “Sounds more like an asshole who’s taking things that don’t belong to him. Sounds like the visitors all over again. Those were some real winners.”

Her husband, who smells dirty and sweaty and divinely sexy, chuckles. The deep tones of his voice draw her in like a drug.

“We don’t have any leads yet,” John says with a sigh and does not comment on the visitors.

“Even better,” Reagan returns with sarcasm and swivels in her seat to face him.

“Don’t worry,” John says, laying his hand against her cheek, the scarred one. “We’ll find them. It’s a small town. Gossip and all.”

His grin could disarm a nun. Reagan feels herself being pulled into him, into his inner warmth and comfort.

“What about Simon and the others? Any word?” she asks.

John sighs with great trouble on his mind, “No, I still think I should’ve gone over there. Just in case.”

“But I thought you guys said that Dave the Mechanic’s group could handle this with the kids… I mean Simon and Cory,” she corrects. It still feels strange thinking of them as adults, especially Simon. It seems like yesterday that he was a gangly teenaged boy with freckles, glasses and tasseled loafers. He’s pretty much still the same, minus the gangly part. He’s filled out a bit.

“Oh, yeah. He’s definitely capable of handling a small mission like this. I just don’t… I don’t know,” John laments and tugs her lab coat until she’s closer.

Reagan knows he is restless, anxious for a fight. It’s not in his blood to be a farmer, a councilman of sorts of a small town, or the husband of the town doctor. He’s not one to be forced onto the sidelines when a battle is looming. He’s itching for this fight. She feels bad that he can’t go, but they can’t afford the use of the gas. They don’t have the natural gas compressor up and running yet. They’re close, but the system needs a few tweaks.

“I know, babe,” Reagan says with sympathy, although her selfish side is glad he can’t go. When John leaves her for a mission, the tightness in her chest, the shortness of breath, the heightened anxiety she feels is nothing short of a panic attack. She can’t bear to be separated from her damn husband. She blames him for this, too. Before John, she didn’t have to worry so much. To soothe his longing for the battle, Reagan adds, “We’ll just have to find another way for you to work off all that pent-up energy.”

His eyes jump to hers, instantly playful and ready for the challenge.

“Oh really?” he drawls in that sexy tone of his. “Hm, sounds promising, Doctor Harrison.”

John pulls her closer, wedges between her legs dangling over the stool. He stoops over. His mouth lands on hers with a heat that is instant and consuming as usual. The hand at her waist moves within moments to cup her breast. Reagan winces and pulls back.

“Sorry,” she apologizes. “Think I might be getting ready to ovulate finally. I think it’s been close to three months since I last did. I’m not sure. We’ve been crazy around here. I lose track. But they’ve just been sore, so I’m assuming it’s on the way. We should be more careful right now, too. Don’t want to take any chances and accidentally get knocked up.”

“Why not?” John asks. “Jacob could use a brother… or a little sister to look after.”

Reagan snorts and replies, “No thanks. He’s got enough step-siblings at the farm. I’m not a brood mare, Harrison. And don’t get your hopes up like that anyway. It’s not going to happen for us, John.”

“Then why be careful?” he asks, brushes her hair back from her forehead and kisses the tip of her nose.

“Just in case,” she says snidely and wrinkles her nose at him.

John just chuckles and pulls her down from the stool.

“Let’s grab the others and head home,” he suggests as they leave the lab room and he flicks off the light.

“Sounds good,” she agrees and clasps his hand in hers as they check the back door and make their way to the front of the clinic. “I’m kind of tired tonight anyway. We should get back before Hannah has dinner finished. She’ll be after us if we’re late. Or else she’ll get the Hulk after us.”

“Of the two of them,” John starts, “I’m more afraid of Hannie.”

Reagan laughs as he locks the front door.

“Of course you are. You’re a smart man, John,” Reagan says with a grin. “I wouldn’t have married you if you weren’t afraid of Hannie. That would’ve meant you were a blooming idiot.”

He laughs as they meet Sue and Grandpa a few blocks down the street near the main drag where the sentries are posted.

He is speaking with the sheriff, who has turned out to be a valuable ally so far in keeping the town safe and secure, minus the random burglaries. He’s a soft-spoken man with a kind disposition and an uncanny ability to talk people through their disputes and differences. He is laughing at something Grandpa had said before they arrived. Not surprising. Her grandfather is as good at making people laugh as her husband.

Static comes across the sheriff’s radio, so he plucks it from his hip and speaks a few yards away from them.

“We should get going,” Reagan says to her grandfather, who nods.

The sheriff grabs John’s arm to halt them. He extends his index finger to indicate they should wait a moment. He ends the call to whomever it was he was speaking and turns to them again.

“Someone’s at the gate for you, Doc,” the sheriff says to Grandpa.

“Who is it?” John asks, the tension causing his shoulders to rise.

“Not sure. Want me to come with y’all?” the sheriff asks.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” John answers for them.

They walk in a group to the wall with the sheriff. Armed sentries guard the towers as well as the entry gate.

“Open it,” John calls to the guards. He has raised his rifle toward the front of his body instead of slung onto his thick shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Derek asks as he jogs over.

Her brother-in-law had been working on the wall build, which seems is never going to be finished in Reagan’s impatient opinion. Derek also unslings his rifle from his shoulder and holds it at a slightly more casual angle in front of him.

John explains, “Somebody wants to see Doc.”

Both guards unlock the big mechanism, sliding the long bar to disengage the security system. Then they pull hard on the heavy steel doors on rollers and drag them to an open position. Reagan is surprised at what she sees. Instead of a person standing there, they are greeted by an older model white- or what was once white- short bus like the kind that retirement homes would’ve used to drive their residents to and from appointments.

The bus door squeals loudly as it opens and a tall man slowly comes down the three stairs, backlit by the setting sun. He takes a few cautious steps toward them.

His appearance is haggard and fatigued. He may be tall, but he’s thin. His hair is nearly all white. He’s wearing a military uniform that has long since seen better days and no longer fits him correctly.

“Robert?” Grandpa stutters unsurely.

Reagan can’t believe her eyes as the man approaches closer. There is a fading bruise on his left cheek and one that matches under his right eye. His knuckles appear scraped and bruised, as well.

“Dad?” Sue asks incredulously.

The man holds out his hand to them.

“Dad?” Sue asks again and runs into his arms, nearly knocking him down.

“Colonel?” Reagan repeats the name he most preferred.

She doesn’t join her sister in a joyful, tear-filled reunion, though.

“Robert, is it really you?” Grandpa asks.

“Yes, sir,” her father answers stoically. “It’s me. I’m home.”

“Welcome home, son,” Grandpa says and hugs her father, patting his back twice before pulling away. “Come home to the farm. We still have it in production, probably more than it ever was. You can come there with us. We were just going home for the day.”

“For the day?” her father asks weakly.

“Yes, Reagan and I still run my practice here in town. Well, as best as we can,” Grandpa explains.

Her father’s light blue eyes dart toward her. She just inches closer to John and appoints her father a stare that does not warrant the same warmth that her sister and grandfather have offered him. She doesn’t feel it, so she shouldn’t fake it. This man left them years ago to be raised by his parents. He shirked his responsibilities. The apocalypse doesn’t change that, doesn’t give him a free pass to show up now to be father of the year.

“You’ve grown up so much,” he remarks toward Reagan.

“Yeah, well, Grandpa and Grams fed us, so that’s kind of what happens to kids,” she replies with antagonism.

“Let’s go home, everyone,” Grandpa orders sternly.

Reagan knows he doesn’t want to get into this in the middle of the street in town. He’s always been a private person. Airing their dirty family laundry on Main Street isn’t exactly going to please him, and he knows how she feels about the Colonel.

“I’m with some people,” her father says.

“Oh?” Grandpa asks.

“They’re with me,” he explains.

Her father must catch the look that Derek shoots Grandpa because he quickly expands with, “They’re safe. They aren’t a danger.”

John and Derek also exchange a look. Grandpa will have to be the one to authorize the new people onto his farm. It is, after all, his farm. And her father is obviously road wary enough to realize that they aren’t going to just take in strangers without them being vetted by him.

“How many?” John asks, earning an expression of curiosity from her father as if he is wondering who John might be.

“Just three, four counting myself,” the Colonel answers. “A woman and two young people.”

“We’ll make some room at the farm until we can figure this out. Others have stayed on the farm until we were able to find them an empty house in town. I don’t see a problem,” Grandpa says, looking for similar opinions from John and Derek, who both nod.

Reagan isn’t as sure of this plan. For all she could care about her withered-looking old father, he could stay in town. He’s obviously had a tough go of it since the country fell because he damn near looks older than Grandpa.

“Yes, sir,” the Colonel answers her grandfather.

“Just follow us, Robert,” Grandpa says. “We have some of the property booby-trapped, so it’s dangerous unless you go in the right way. If you get lost from us, just go in behind the Johnson’s farm on that oil well road. That’ll bring you all the way in to the back of our farm now. The road’s completely blocked. This is the only safe way in.”

“Got it,” he agrees and heads back to his shitty bus.

He follows them back to the clinic where they pile into the truck. Derek drives with Sue wedged between him and Grandpa in the front seat. John and she ride in the back seat together where he clasps her hand tightly. He knows she needs his strength right now. He always knows when she needs him and when she just needs him to back off.

The three in the front talk animatedly about the return of Robert. Sue seems happy. Derek is non-committal but probably happy for Sue, and Grandpa is rationing his comments with great conservative reserve.

“Hannah will be so glad,” Sue says.

Reagan just rolls her eyes out of view behind her sister’s head.

“You ok?” John inquires, his forehead pressing close to her ear.

Reagan nods and whispers so that the others can’t hear, “It’s just weird. He hasn’t been home since Sue got married. He’s never even seen their kids. And now what? We’re just supposed to usher him and a busload of people onto the farm? Where the fuck’s he been? We thought he was dead.”

“Let’s just hear what he has to say, babe,” John says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and squeezing gently. “It took Paige a long time to get home to Simon.”

“She’s a kid,” Reagan hisses. “He’s an adult man, a Marine, no less. And why now? Why didn’t he come home sooner if he could have?”

John just frowns and shakes his head. What can he say? There isn’t a good excuse for not coming home to the farm.

She glances periodically over her shoulder, spying the one working headlight of her father’s bus in the foggy distance. They arrive at the farm, and everyone gets out. Kelly immediately comes off the back porch with his shotgun raised in a defensive manner. John quickly goes to him to explain as others file out of the house and barns to greet them and inspect the new vehicle. Huntley gets the scoop and runs for the house, probably to announce the newcomer to anyone still inside.

Her father comes down out of his bus again and stands there looking around at the place. Outlines of other figures are almost visible through the dark tint of the bus’s windows, but nobody else comes out. Reagan notices what can only be a wide smear of blood on the side of the white bus. It’s not fresh, but it’s still there, nonetheless. He is still looking at the house, the barns, the back porch which no longer matches the rest of the porches because it had been burned and rebuilt. If he feels any sort of disappointment in how they have kept the farm running, then that’s too damn bad. Reagan would like to point that out to him. That’s when she notices the cane in his right hand that he’s using for support. Grandpa must notice it at the same time because he steps forward to speak with Robert.

Hannah comes onto the back porch, allowing the screen door to slam uncharacteristically loudly. Huntley follows protectively behind her.

“Is that my Hannah?” the Colonel asks with a smile.

Kelly is at her side in a second, helping her down the porch stairs. He guides her closer until she is within a few feet of their father. She doesn’t say anything or offer a hug or touch, which is strange for Hannah.

“Your traveling companions must be hungry, Robert,” Grandpa says with a cordiality that the rest of them just don’t feel, except maybe Sue.

“Yes, sir,” he acknowledges with a nod. “We’ve been on the road for months.”

“Yes, I would imagine,” Derek says kindly.

Her father leans into the open door of the bus and calls to the other people. One by one they file out, all three of them. They appear healthy and well kept, in stark contrast to her father. The woman’s dark hair is nearly black, touches of silver threaded through the strands at her temples. Her hair is pulled back into a neat, tidy bun. Her long dress comes almost to her ankles and reminds Reagan of something a schoolmarm would wear. She is tall and thin but seems healthy, which is good because they don’t need any more germs brought to the farm. The boy is maybe in his early twenties or so and neatly dressed and turned out. He looks like someone her father would’ve had working under him in the Corps, like a young cadet. He is very tall and handsome. The girl is younger, perhaps early teens. She also has the dark hair of the other two, but it is cut into a short, pixie style. She is not dressed like a cadet. Her clothing is grungy and looks to be so on purpose. She wears torn jeans and a black leather jacket that is too big for her over a man’s flannel shirt. Her hazel eyes regard Reagan with caution.

“Sir, I’d like you to meet my family,” the Colonel says.

Nobody says anything. Everyone just stands there trying to pick their jaws up off the ground.

“This is Lucas, my son,” her father says.

Grandpa extends his hand to the young man’s already outstretched hand. Lucas has impeccable manners, nothing short of what the Colonel would expect if this is his son.

“And my daughter, Gretchen,” he says.

“Just G,” the girl corrects, earning a frown from her father. “Nobody calls me Gretchen, just him. Everyone just calls me G.”

Reagan almost laughs. Gretchen obviously feels the same about the Colonel as Reagan does.

“Nice to meet you, dear,” Grandpa says.

Reagan can tell that he’s in processing overload; they all are. It’s like the world tipped just a little off its axis while they were at the clinic today.

“And my wife, Lucille,” her father introduces his supposed wife.

The woman shakes Grandpa’s hand and greets him with a cordial smile. She must feel out of place.

“Wait just a goddamn minute,” Reagan says.

“Still using colorful language I see,” the Colonel remarks with a tight frown.

“Since you haven’t been a part of my life since I was Sue’s second to the youngest’s age, I’ll refrain from feeling put in my place by you, dad,” Reagan says with a glower of budding hostility.

Her father frowns harder. This is the same frown that would’ve caused fear in Reagan’s heart when she was a little girl.

“How old are you, Lucas?” she asks of her father’s son.

“Um, hello, ma’am,” he stammers uncomfortably and extends his hand which Reagan refuses. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”

“Don’t call me ma’am,” Reagan corrects angrily. “We’re supposedly related. How old are you exactly?”

“Reagan, that is enough of the interrogations,” her father warns.

“Excuse me?” Reagan counters. “Tell me this is an orphaned family you’ve adopted. Tell me this isn’t really happening and you aren’t related to these kids by blood, Robert.”

“I said that’s enough, young lady,” he states slowly. “This is my family. You need to settle down.”

“Uh-uh, I don’t think so. You aren’t getting off that easy. You think you can come home after how many years and stake a claim here and set up your family here like you have a right to?”

Everyone falls silent at this. John takes a step forward, a little closer to her, assertively showing his relationship to her.

“Oh, yeah! This is my husband,” she states angrily and indicates with her hand toward John. “And the big guy? That’s Hannah’s husband. And they have a kid, and so do we. And Sue has three now. And we have a farm full of orphans. Some are even gone on a run getting supplies for us. Oh, and they’re about to get into some shit with some dirtbags tonight, into an all-out military scale battle, but you wouldn’t know that now would you? No, because you haven’t been around too much for the last fifteen years or so. And no fucking wonder. You’ve got a whole new fucking family, don’t you, pops?”

“That’s quite enough now,” Robert says with his own amount of anger aimed at her.

Sue asks, “How old is Lucas, Dad?”

She has apparently caught on to the point that Reagan is trying to get across.

“I’m twenty-three, ma’am,” Lucas answers and looks at his feet.

Reagan is sure that the young man has no idea what is going on. He just knows that it is something bad and uncomfortable.

“Holy shit!” Reagan shouts to the heavens and hits her father with a venomous glare. “Wow, you are a real piece of work. Did you even wait for Mom’s grave to get cold, you bastard?”

Grandpa comes over and rests a hand gently on her forearm. Then he looks at his son, fully expecting an explanation.

“Don’t speak to me that way. I’m your father. Show some respect,” he disciplines.

“Respect?” Sue whispers and turns her head away to shield her face.

“I loved your mother…”

Reagan snorts and laughs loudly at him.

“I did,” he insists. “But when she got sick, I just… I couldn’t…”

Reagan interrupts him in a lower tone and spits, “You’re so weak. You ditched us. You ditched mom when she needed you the most.”

“I did the best I could,” her father admits.

“You left!” Reagan shouts through a haze of hatred. John pulls her closer and wraps his arm securely around her waist.

“But I’m back now,” he says pathetically and hangs his head.

“Where have you been?” Sue asks.

Their father looks relieved for a break from her questioning. Reagan doesn’t care. She’ll get back around to that line of interrogation soon enough.

“When things started getting bad,” the Colonel starts, “I was sent up to Colorado to make sure the President made it there safely.”

“Did he?” Derek asks. “Because we had so many mixed reports even before we were released from service by the general.”

“Yes, he’s alive,” he says. “He was air-rescued out of D.C. at the beginning. Some of his staff made it. A few senators. That’s about all. The rest were killed.”

“And that would’ve been right after, around March or April maybe? Then what?” Sue presses.

Her sister is holding her husband’s hand very tightly. Reagan knows how upset she is about their father’s appearance and, more importantly, about the appearance of his new family. What was just a short while ago a happy reunion for Sue has turned dark and depressing so quickly.

“I was ordered to go to Texas, but I couldn’t,” he tells them.

Derek says, “The last we heard of you, you were heading northwest. Did you go that way?”

“Yes, Derek, I did,” he answers. “That’s where my family was. I led a unit up there and left them to find my family once we got close enough.”

“What?” Reagan asks with even more disbelief. This story just keeps getting worse. He ditched his men, too?

“I had to, Reagan,” he answers rather testily. “I got word to Lucille, Lucy, that she should get the kids and head to a cabin we owned outside Portland. I knew it was gonna’ be a crapshoot if she’d even make it. Things were falling apart fast.”

“No shit,” Reagan says. “Things fell apart fast for a lot of us. We all could’ve used some help.”

“I’m sorry for whatever struggles you’ve all been through,” he says. “But I knew you’d all make it here to the farm. My wife and children didn’t have anywhere like this to seek sanctuary.”

“Where were they living before the fall?” Sue asks. “We thought you were working in Germany.”

“I was, for a short time,” he answers. “My family lived in Tacoma. I mean Lucy and Gretchen were living there. Lucas was in Seattle. They met up and traveled to the cabin where I did meet them. It took a while for me to get to them, but we were prepared. We were sort of prepared. We had some food stores and supplies up there in the cabin. We were all right for a while.”

“With no thought at all to your entire other family?” Reagan drills.

“That’s not true,” Robert argues with fatigue. “I had no way of communicating with you at that point. I knew my parents would be here for you. I knew Derek would make it home to Sue and their kids.”

“He almost didn’t,” Sue says softly.

“And it looks like you are all doing a whole lot better than most folks out there. A lot better than we were,” her father says.

Grandpa steps forward, snapping out of his quiet trance and says, “Why don’t we go inside and discuss this later after you’ve all had some food and rest?”

“That sounds great, Dad,” Robert nods with agreement. “There is so much more I have to tell everyone before it’s too late.”

“Before what’s too late?” John asks.

Grandpa interrupts and says, “Let’s just eat dinner and let them get showers. Then we’ll talk once the children have gone to bed.”

John nods, but Reagan can tell that he’d like to further question her father and get to the bottom of everything.

“It looks like Hannah’s been cooking with Mom again,” Robert remarks.

Little does he know yet that their grandmother has passed away. She knows how Grams always had a soft spot for her only son. Nobody breaks the news to her father that his mother is dead. The smile on his face is too hopeful.

“I sure am glad to see you again, Hannah,” Robert says to her little sister, who just stands there beside her giant warrior wringing her hands in her pale blue apron.

“Colonel,” her sister says, lifting her chin just a notch with nothing less than a haughty disdain. “I suspect we’ll need a few more places set.”

And with that cool greeting, Hannah turns and allows Kelly to help her back to the house. Kelly doesn’t come back out. Everyone else slowly files in. Reagan notices that her father’s new family doesn’t bring in bags, luggage, boxes of supplies, backpacks, nothing. Even Paige and her friends had packs full of their valuables, which hadn’t been much. They seem unsure of themselves. The kids whisper to their mother, who mostly looks at her feet and shakes her head. It almost makes Reagan feel bad. Watching her father hobble slowly on his cane with his son’s help also almost makes her feel bad. And then she remembers that his son is almost the same age as Hannah and that her father was likely unfaithful to their mother during her darkest hours at the end of her precious life. So many times over the last four years she has wished for the comforting words or touch of her mother. She’s never once wished for her anything from the Colonel.