The McClane Apocalypse: Book One Read Free

start grabbing what they deem as a few essentials. There seems to be general chaos, loud music and noise coming from the narrow hallways but nothing that couldn’t be heard on any normal Friday night at such a large university. This is not the average Friday night at any university anywhere.
    There is a small picture of herself and her two sisters sitting on her shelf near the window overlooking the dorm’s courtyard. She tucks it securely inside her dark blue E=MC squared hoodie in her bag. They look so goofy and young and innocent in the photo. The picture was taken of the three of them on the farm, all sitting or standing on the wooden fence enclosing the horse paddock. Reagan is sticking out her tongue- for which Grams had scolded her- Sue is smiling broadly and Hannah is simply grinning as if she was keeping a good secret. It is the same demure smile Hannah always gives.
    Next, she grabs her toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant and clean socks and underwear from her drawers. She also throws in her emergency kit which contains five maxi pads, a bottle of aspirin, sunblock and other ridiculous items that she’ll probably have no use for.
    “I can’t believe this is happening, Reagan,” Uma whispers, her voice cracking.
    Reagan notices that her roommate’s small, dark hands are shaking. “Hey, don’t worry. We’re gonna be fine. It’ll be ok, Uma.” Uma begins crying. Reagan hopes that she will have some sort or any kind of soothing reassurance on Uma as she hugs her close. She doesn’t deserve to be so afraid, not with her not knowing about her own family’s well-being. After a short while, her friend pulls back.
    “I’m going to try one more time before we head back to meet Dr. Krue to phone my parents or chat them or whatever I can. I have to know they are all safe, Reagan,” Uma explains shakily.
    “Sure, that’s fine, Uma. We have some time. I’m gonna just close up everything here and sneak down to the student lounge to see if I can’t raid the vending machines for snack food or drinks for the ride,” Reagan tells her as she starts putting things that might be thought of as valuable under their beds or in the back of their dresser drawers. If things don’t turn out the way Dr. Krue is predicting, then she wants to come back to the university as soon as possible to resume her studies and research.
    A half an hour later, she leaves their room to hunt for sustenance, but the first lounge she comes upon has already been vandalized. A few of the tables have been overturned, and someone has drawn some graffiti on the far wall, a few choice words about the Dean, who Reagan had always found to be a pleasant enough woman. She climbs to the fourth floor of their dorm and stops in another student lounge area where she manages to salvage one bag of pita chips, a small package of trail mix and a single bottle of water. The vending machine has been completely knocked onto its side, the glass broken out from a likely well-placed kick of a foot. She’d stupidly brought her student debit card which now seems silly.
    After deciding against going up another floor to find what is sure to be a similar and fruitless bounty, she straps on her backpack and begins descending the stairs that will take her back to her room. She consults her watch and is surprised that almost three hours has already passed since leaving Dr. Krue. A small group of young men burst into the stairwell and bump into her as they ascend. They smell of alcohol and marijuana, and one of them makes a lewd pass at her. But Reagan doesn’t notice anything malevolent in their behavior. Maybe Dr. Krue is just over-reacting. Then she hears breaking glass and a woman’s scream from somewhere far overhead in the stairwell. Maybe his assessment is spot on. Reagan pauses only a heartbeat before sprinting back to her room.
    And less than an hour later, Reagan’s life will never be the same again. Tests, research projects, Gross Anatomy or fancy coffee drinks