The McClane Apocalypse: Book One Read Online Free PDF Page B

anything, but she knows that he’s stabbing or slicing her because she watches the blade arc high again and again. Blood is spraying her in the face from it.
    “I told you I’d carve you up, bitch ...use a knife on me, you bitch. You think this is my first time with a little whore like you?” he hoarsely expels his words at her. He slices across her cheek with her beloved grandpa’s three inch knife. She feels that one for sure as if someone has just lit a match using her face. It’s enough to spur her back into motion and to fight through her pain, blurred vision and dizziness.
    For just a brief moment he releases her throat and Reagan is able to turn her head to the left. She spies her escape from this horrific event. It’s not the exit door or a campus security agent here to rescue her. It’s the long, sharp blade that he’d stabbed so hard into Dr. Krue’s desk. His breathing is labored as he struggles with the button of her jeans again. He’s almost unhooked it. Reagan swiftly frees the long, serrated dagger from its lodging in the wooden desk and stabs him straight in the jugular. A spray of his blood hits her in the face and hair and all over her hoodie. He is clearly startled, unnerved by her action. His lack of anticipating her has cost him his life, and he knows it. But Reagan isn’t done. She yanks it out and hits him in the center of his chest with it, as well, which doesn’t spray blood at all, telling her that his heart has stopped pumping it. His dagger is long, at least six inches, and she knows for certain that she’s killed him. His heart would have most likely stopped within a few seconds from the hit to the chest. She shoves him, and he falls sideways to the ground with a heavy thud.
    Not wasting a precious second, lest his friend become alarmed and come running, Reagan rolls the dead man over and takes his pistol from the waistband of his briefs. When she stands, her vision blurs for a moment again. Quickly brushing aside any weakness that she can’t deal with at the moment, Reagan works the slide and sees that it’s a .45 caliber and that there is already a round in the chamber with the safety off. Her throat is raw and burning, making it difficult to even swallow. But her work here is hardly finished. Locked and loaded, she listens for sounds of movement, and when she hears none, Reagan inches toward the door.
    As quietly as she can manage, she reaches up from a squatted position and works the doorknob. It barely makes the slightest whisper of a sound, but it could be one of the rusty, noisy hinges on the door to the horse barn at the farm for all the anxiety she feels over it. She takes note that her hands are shaking crazily, so she breathes deeply three times before peering quickly into the adjoining lab classroom.
    The door is still closed, and the room appears to be empty. Perhaps the struggle for her life, which had seemed to go on for an hour, had only taken a few minutes. She gets to her feet in a more upright posture and speedily crosses the room to stand behind the door. She’s hoping to catch Giant Pupils in a surprise assault of her own. And before she can even take another breath, the door swings open and in lopes the greasy-haired accomplice. He’s unaware of her and is carrying looted vending machine goodies.
    She shoots him twice from behind, causing him to fall hard, his bounty flying everywhere. His can of soda skids across the floor, spraying the room with its sugary, liquid contents. The report from the .45 is deafening in the classroom, making her ears ring. Reagan moves slowly to stand over him. He is moaning weakly so she puts him out of his misery. She’s too afraid not to. She’s too petrified to reason out that with two shots from a .45 into his back that he’s no threat anymore. But her adrenaline and absolute terror alone are pushing her now.
    Reagan wastes no time and returns to Dr. Krue’s office. She knows she has been stabbed, and she can also feel