Read The McClane Apocalypse: Book One for Free Online

blood running down her cheek and onto her neck. Dr. Krue has a small room attached to his office with medical supplies should one of his students accidentally cut themselves in class using dissection tools. Once she’s in his office, she takes in how much darker it is than in the classroom. Squinting into the dark recesses of his office, she rushes over to his supply room and trips over something, falling and hitting her head on the hardwood floor.
    “Shit!” she curses to the empty room. What she wouldn’t do for a flashlight. Along with everything else she’s gonna have a huge bruise on her forehead. Not the most unbelievable part of this day as she is not known for her grace. That would be her sister Hannah’s department. The pistol is still secure in her tightly fisted grip, which she will not relinquish again until she gets home. She comes up onto her hands and knees and turns to see what had tripped her, only to gasp in horror.
    “D... dd...doctor? Dr. Krue?” she whispers, her lower lip trembling. She crawls on all fours to where her mentor, her teacher, her friend lay in a puddle of his own blood. His eyeglasses are on the ground near him, and he is dead of an apparent blunt trauma wound to the back of his head where the blood has pooled. Her tears will not be held back. They fall and fall and she doesn’t care in this moment as she heaves through her ravaged throat. When she presses her hand to the side of his face, Reagan notices that she leaves smudges of her own blood there and it saddens her to tarnish his beloved face so. He deserves her tears. He deserves to be mourned. He was a great man, and he was willing to do whatever he had to get her home safely to her family. Her grandpa is going to be devastated. They had been so close, and Dr. Krue had been to the farm many times.
    Reagan hastily wipes the tears off of her face, and with grim determination she decides that she won’t let his sacrifice for her go without merit. She drags herself to her feet again and feels her way into the anteroom, pushing open the wooden door. Her foot kicks something that skids around, something metal. To her relief, it’s a flashlight. Dr. Krue must’ve been in here with this flashlight looking for something or gathering medical supplies when he was come upon by the scum in the other rooms. She clicks it on and relief immediately floods her while the light immediately floods the area. And, more importantly, she no longer has to feel around in the dark or be afraid of it. There are no windows whatsoever in this small room, either, but she knows it fairly well as she’s been in it quite a few times retrieving items for Dr. Krue. There is a dividing, metal shelving unit running down the center of the room and floor to ceiling built-in shelves along the walls. Stumbling along, Reagan rushes to the shelves that she knows have on them the things she’ll need. She grabs a few packages of gauze, a needle and stitching thread, stitching glue, antiseptic, antibiotic cream and three packages of self-adhesive bandaging and shoves them in the wide, kangaroo pocket of her hoodie. She isn’t sure to what extent that she is injured, but she also salvages a handful of clotting powder in small packets.
    Reagan moves farther into the room and around the corner to where the single serving pouches of antibiotics and pain relievers are kept under lock and key. There are also vials of shots available for medical care when a student would be more seriously injured. It had only happened twice to a student while she had been under the tutelage of Dr. Krue. She had been excited at the time to assist him in administering stitches and a pain shot injection into the wound site. She plans to use the butt of the pistol to smash the glass, but what she sees horrifies her. She has been blocking this mentally as if that alone would make it not be true.
    She has found Uma, her only friend close to her own age at this college. Clearly, she has been