The McClane Apocalypse Book 4 Read Free Page B

stallion and rushes to his sister, falling to his knees
beside her. Cory rolls her on to her back as Simon jumps down and
whips off his goggles. He clicks on the flashlight from his cargo
pocket. They hadn’t even realized she’d been shot. Under the harsh
glare of the grayish white light from the flashlight’s beam, Simon
can see a lot of blood.
    Rushing to his saddle, he unhooks
his medical bag and then drops to his knees beside Cory, who is
cradling his sister’s upper torso and head in his lap. It looks
like she’s been hit in the shoulder, but the bullet does not appear
to have gone all the way through as he examines her more closely . That’s
not good. It will need to be extracted.
    “We gotta get her home to the farm,” Cory says
in a panic.
    Simon can read the fear in his friend’s eyes.
They’ve been through bad situations together but nothing like
this.
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Cor,” Simon
counters. “It’s too far to ride. Let’s get her back to the cabin
where I can work on her and get her stabilized for the trip. We’ll
have to radio the farm. Have Doc or Reagan come out to the cabin
with supplies and a truck to transport her.”
    As he is relaying this, Simon has
taken strips of cloth from his satchel and is pressing them to her
shoulder. Cory also pushes another rag tightly against it to
squelch the blood flow. Simon uses a piece of long, thin material
to tie the cloths tightly against her shoulder, wrapping it under
her armpit and knotting it. Em’s
lovely hazel eyes are wide with fear, and she’s clearly in shock
because she says nothing but stares up at them with blind
faith.
    “Let’s move,” Cory demands as he
quickly collects his horse and mounts with a wide swing into the
saddle.
    Simon carefully, gently lifts Em and then
passes her with extra care up into Cory’s lap where he balances her
in front of him.
    “Just go!” Simon tells him with new urgency.
“I’ll get her horse and be right behind you. Cory, just
go.”
    Cory wastes no time in spurring his stallion
into motion and literally races over the hill, disappearing from
Simon’s line of sight. Simon chases down Em’s frightened mare and
remounts his gelding. He gallops after Cory, not bothering to look
overly long at the two dead men on the hill who are prone and
awkwardly twisted in puddles of their own blood. Clenching the
reins of both horses in one hand, he yanks the satellite radio from
his saddlebag so that he can call the family.
    “Tango Three to Bravo One, come in,” Simon
pleads desperately. His impatience at not getting an immediate
response erupts from him a guttural and urgent groan.
    “Bravo One here. We gotcha’,” John says after
another minute.
    “Em’s been shot, John,” Simon responds. “We’re
headed to camp two right now.”
    “Shot?”
    John’s voice is disbelieving. Of
course, he’s incredulous. Nobody in their family has been injured
like this during any of their city raids. John had been stabbed
during the raid on their neighbor’s farm, but none of them have been wounded like
this.
    “Repeat sit rep . Repeat,” John
demands.
    “Em’s been shot! We’re going to camp two so I
can look at her. Shoulder shot. We need Reagan or Doc.”
    “Got it. We’ll be there within the hour. We’ll
meet you on OWR7,” John responds.
    Their code names for the oil well
roads that run like veins and arteries throughout their county and
the surrounding, rural counties tell Simon exactly where they’ll
meet. They have used these roads for the past three years to move
about, which is considerably safer than using the main roads or
freeways.
    “I’ll get her stabilized and you can take her
to the…,” he doesn’t finish. Talking about the farm on the radio is
off limits, to say the least.
    “Over and out,” John replies in a serious,
austere tone.
    Simon repeats the mantra and
spurs his horse harder, pushing him even though the gelding has
already been ridden so many hours