The McClane Apocalypse: Book One by Kate Morris

open windows above the back counter and the sweet smell of late season lilacs wafts through. This is her sanctuary; this is where she is most comfortable. Her and Grams’s kitchen is the one place that Hannah always feels happiest.
    “Miss Arianna, you know better than to sneak up on people,” Hannah says to her niece who has come to perch on a stool at the island.
    “Sorry, Auntie Hannah,” her lovely, angelic voice answers. Hannah holds out a welcoming arm.
    “Come here, honey. Are you alright? Are you worried about your daddy?” she asks as she wraps an arm around the girl’s shoulders. She gently squeezes and feels her tiny head bobbing up and down.
    “You listen to me, Ari. Your daddy is so strong and such a fighter,” Hannah tells her. She squats down to be level with Arianna and grasps her slim shoulders. “Grandpa is the best doctor in this whole county, probably the whole state. So don’t you worry. You go on back outside and play with your brother. Grams will call you, or I’ll come and get you when you can go in and see your daddy, ok?”
    Arianna flings herself into Hannah’s arms and squeezes so tightly that Hannah actually has trouble breathing. She surely has a lot of strength for just a teeny munchkin.
    “I love you, Ari,” Hannah says as she breathes in the girl’s sweet-smelling scent.
    “I love you, too, Auntie Hannah,” her high-pitched response comes. She breaks free, runs from the kitchen, and the screen door slams.
    Running her hand along the counter, she comes to a divot in the marble and reaches her other hand out until she finds the handle of the pot.
    “Do you need help, ma’am?” a deep voice asks. His heavy footsteps have already alerted her to his presence.
    “No, thank you. I’m just going to take this pot to Grandpa. He may need more hot water for sterilizing.” Hannah hefts the pot, careful to keep it level and steady so as not to burn herself or spill.
    “Please, let me help. I’m going crazy here. I need something to do,” the big man pleads. Without waiting for an answer, he takes the pot from Hannah.
    “Oh, ok. Thank you, but I could’ve managed,” she says stiffly. She doesn’t like to be babied. Collecting a pile of fresh linens that Grams has brought from the upstairs linen closet off of the back counter, Hannah is ready to return to her grandpa.
    “I’m sure you could’ve. You are a McClane, right?”
    “Yes, I’m a McClane,” Hannah answers in confusion. She realizes that he’s turned to leave from the directional change in his voice. Putting her hand out until she reaches the eight foot island in the exact center of the kitchen, she follows him from the room. He wouldn’t be hard to follow anywhere. He makes a lot of noise.
    “Well then, there’s not a lot you people don’t seem to be able to do, if you don’t mind me saying so,” he answers. He also hasn’t showered since coming to the farm yesterday, and she could follow him by stench alone.
    “I guess you can say we’re an efficient sort,” Hannah agrees with a smile. Hannah has learned that his name is Kelly. Doesn’t seem right, a man his size with a woman’s name. She’s not sure how large he is exactly, but he lumbers heavily when he walks and his voice is very deep.
    Together they leave the kitchen and cross through open space and turn left. They descend three stairs into the hallway that will take them to Hannah’s bedroom suite, which has become a makeshift hospital room. Her hand glides along the railing that Grandpa installed for her years before. She’s counting off the four foot markers that are carved into the otherwise smooth wood.
    “Ha, efficient? I don’t thinks so. If the McClane clan was in charge of the Army, we’d still have a country. Not this mess we’ve got now,” he explains.
    “Well, I don’t know about that,” Hannah answers quietly. He stops abruptly, and she rams face first into his back. “I... I’m sorry.”
    “Um, oh shit. No, I’m