Bloody Sunset

by Gwendolyn Harper

  She would have smirked if she wasn’t so sickened.

  “Told you.”

  “Yeah, yeah…”

  Quietly, they continued through the field into a thin line of trees. Most were saplings but a few looked at least several years old, probably planted by the school’s landscapers to help with privacy and road noise.

  The beam of her flashlight landed on another splatter of blood, much too high up to be from a Geek.

  Booker soon discovered several more dismembered rodents, their pieces dropped like horrifying breadcrumbs along an unknown trail.

  “We’re at least a half a mile out,” Caitlin said, glancing back towards the shadowed silhouette of the school. “Patrol would have seen a herd just lingering nearby.”

  “Maybe it won’t nearby,” Booker said, gesturing with his flashlight towards the narrow two-lane road that cut behind the school. “Whatcha wanna bet we’ll find more cut up critters down that way?”

  Caitlin swallowed the sour film gathering in the back of her throat.

  “Great. So there’s a psychopath out here slicing up innocent woodland creatures and using them to lure Geeks to our door.”

  She was about to turn to face him when a different shadow caught her attention.

  “Booker, is that what I think it is?”

  Taking a couple more strides forward, they both aimed their flashlights across the road.

  She could just barely make out the peak of a tin roof.

  “A barn maybe,” Booker said. “Or a big shed.”

  A knot twisted in Caitlin’s stomach.

  “Big enough to hold a herd of Geeks?”

  Lowering his flashlight, Booker stared at her.

  “Well darlin’, I think you’ve just uncovered probable cause.”

  Caitlin had never hated being right until that moment.

  “Now, the question is,” he added. “Is that psycho out here…” He pointed in a half circle to the surrounding landscape. “Or are they in there?” He punctuated his question by jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

  Towards the school.

  Towards home.

  Caitlin sighed.

  “Goddamn it.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Morning Booker!”

  “Hey Bob, how ya doin’?”

  Caitlin turned, eyeing the man who’d greeted Booker.

  As they moved through the kitchen, gathering their usual breakfast of fried ham, toast, and a spoonful of whatever canned fruit was available, Caitlin knew she was staring down every single person they came across.

  She couldn’t help it.

  Everyone, even the people she liked, were suspects.

  “Easy, songbird,” Booker whispered, leaning close. “Y’looked like ya wanted to bite Bob’s head off.”

  “Bob might be our resident psycho.”

  “Bob sings in the shower and cries when they read Charlotte’s Web durin’ story time.”

  Grabbing a mug for coffee, Caitlin exhaled fully through her nose.

  “Fine, but he’s not off the list. No one is.” Looking up at him, she frowned. “What are we going to tell people? We have to talk to Luna, Trish, Nathaniel… They need to know what we found.”

  “We’ll tell ‘em after breakfast,” Booker said, filling his own mug. “Everythin’s a little easier to handle on a full stomach.”

  “Says you,” she muttered, staring at the hunk of canned ham on her plate. “Why did I even get this? I don’t think I can eat meat after what we saw.”

  “Better try. Gotta keep your strength up.”

  “Fine, but if I start getting queasy, I’m blaming it on you.”

  As they strode over to their usual table near the far side of the cafeteria, Caitlin felt claustrophobic. Even after they lost twenty or so members before the move, they’d gained forty or more from other Arks. So many people, all with unknown pasts and clearly capable of doing what it took to survive.

  It didn’t equate malicious or sociopathic tendencies, but it didn’t put her at ease either.

  To keep herself from spinning out, Caitlin had written notes on a crumpled receipt she’d found in one of her homesteading books.

  A timeline of the Geek swarm. Who had been the first outside, who had shown up later, any details she could remember from the fight.

  It wasn’t concrete evidence but seeing as there wasn’t a court of law anymore, she didn’t think it mattered.

  They just needed a hint, a clue, something that would point in the direction of who would want to do something so horrible.

  A sharp whistle from behind made Caitlin jump, nearly spilling her coffee.

  “Sorry,” Nicole said, already sitting down. “I didn’t think that would be loud enough to startle you.”

  As Scott took a seat across from them, Caitlin offered a weak smile.

  “It’s not you,” she said. “It’s me.”

  Nicole shot a concerned glance at Booker, who gestured for her and Scott to lean in.

  “We found evidence that somebody staged the groaner attack yesterday,” Booker said, voice low.

  “What?!” Nicole and Scott exclaimed in unison.

  “Shh, don’t…” Booker waved his hand at them. “We ain’t told any of the officials yet.”

  “What kind of sick freak would want to bring rotters down on top of us like that?” Scott asked, features pinched in disgust.

  Caitlin sipped her coffee slowly. “The same kind of sick freak that bisects squirrels to use as Geek bait.”

  Nicole’s hand flew to her mouth. “No.”

  “Yes.”

  She and Scott stared at each other horror.

  “Guys, this is bad,” Scott said. “Do you have an idea of who it could be?”

  Booker shook his head. “It could be anybody. We ain’t even sure it’s someone in our group. It could be some fucked up Scavenger playin’ a game.”

  “Some game,” Nicole muttered.

  “Right now, everyone’s a suspect,” Caitlin said.

  “The odds are, it’s someone we know,” Nicole said, glancing around at each of them. “People with these kinds of… predilections tend to target people they’re familiar with. They’re antisocial, have a huge chip on their shoulders, feel like they’re owed something, and when they don’t receive it, they lash out.”

  Caitlin scowled. “That could still be any number of people. I mean, how many of these guys have we seen lose their temper?”

  “That’s just it, they might not be a particularly angry person, or even have outbursts. There have been plenty of documented cases of sexual predators or serial killers who, by all accounts, were kind, loving, generous people.” Nicole tilted her head. “Until the cops found bodies in their crawlspaces, of course.”

  An icy shiver ran down Caitlin’s back.

  “Great. So we’ve got some wannabe BTK living with us.” She shifted in her seat, staring out at the crowded tables around them. “Anybody else longing for a dusty farmhouse in Mississippi right about now?”

  Scott snorted from behind his cup. “Not me, thank you very much.”

  His joke caught them all off guard and everyone chuckled.

  Reaching over to take his hand, Nicole grinned.

  “Fair point,” she said.

  Booker nudged Caitlin’s elbow, getting her attention.

  “Y’said you had a bad feelin’ about Seth…” He said, keeping his voice down. “D’you think he’d be one of these antisocial types?”

  Caitlin furrowed her brow in thought. “Maybe. But he was fighting along side everyone yesterday. He even…” She trailed off, unsure if she should tell Booker the rest.

  “Even what?”

  Taking a deep breath, she finally said, “He saved my life.”

  The color drained from Booker’s face.

  “I got tripped up by a Geek,” she explained. “It was pinned, and it couldn’t bite me, but its grip was strong. While I fought it off, two more closed in. I wouldn’t have had time to kill the
m both… One would have got me. And then suddenly… They hit the ground. And there was Seth, holding the smoking gun.”

  The hard set of Booker’s jaw made her own ache in sympathy.

  “Shoulda been there,” he said hoarsely.

  Caitlin reached for his forearm, hand clasping him right over his Marine Corps tattoo.

  “You had no way of knowing,” she told him. “You said yourself you didn’t even know I was outside in the courtyard.”

  Booker grunted at the back of his throat, gaze lowered to the table in front of them.

  “Hey,” she whispered. “I’m right here. Don’t torture yourself with what-ifs. You wouldn’t let me do that, would you?”

  After a beat, he finally looked up.

  “Guess not,” he said, the barest hint of a smile toying at his lips.

  “Exactly. If I can’t sulk, neither can you.”

  “Is that under the ‘even distribution of assets’ part or the ‘in happiness and in sorrow’ part?”

  “Both,” she said simply, reaching over to snag a piece of canned pineapple off his plate. Popping it into her mouth, she added, “Welcome to marital bliss, baby.”

  His smirk became sultry as Booker leaned in, claiming her lips in a kiss that warmed her to her bone marrow.

  Pulling back, he brushed his nose across her cheek, leaving a trail of more kisses up to her temple. Leaning away a fraction, he caught her eye and winked.

  Caitlin made a mental note to reward him later.

  Turning back to her breakfast, she scanned the room and saw a familiar dark head of hair several tables away.

  Seth sat mostly by himself at the end, poking at his food as he stared openly at Caitlin.

  She thought he’d look away like he often did.

  That time, however, he just nodded once, waving to her slightly with his fork.

  Caitlin offered a half smile back.

  She didn’t know what Seth was… Creep, psycho, or unfortunately awkward.

  But a small sliver of her felt like she owed him, and that was a dangerous cliff to stand near.

  * * * * * * *

  Trish scowled, folding her arms. “No. No way.”

  Trying not to gape, Caitlin glanced to Luna, then Nathaniel, then Steve.

  “But… We found evidence.”

  “You found dead rodents. That isn’t exactly proof of what you’re saying happened.”

  Booker leaned forward on his elbows. “I know it ain’t the most pleasant thing to think about your own people, but I’m tellin’ ya, those squirrels won’t bit. They were cut. By a knife and a human hand wieldin’ it.”

  “You should take his word, Trish,” Nathaniel said. “Booker’s a talented tracker and hunter. He knows this kind of thing.”

  “If what you’re saying is true, that means we have a malignant entity in our group and no way of finding out who it is,” Trish said. “How are we supposed to fix that? Vote on whether or not to interrogate every single person here?”

  Luna sighed, pushing her hair off her face. “You said it could be anyone but that there’s probably some… personality clues?”

  Caitlin nodded. “Nicole said they’d be antisocial. Maybe good at hiding their rage, but they’d definitely find ways to lash out—like the Geek attack. They’d feel… entitled. Angry that they’re not getting what they want or what they think they’re owed. Probably wouldn’t have many friends…” She glanced around at the group. “We could start brainstorming a list of people who fit that broad description and then narrow it down.”

  “How?” Trish asked, tone still sharp. “Follow everyone around like they’re criminals?”

  “Look for evidence,” Caitlin countered. “Talk to people on their work details and then have a conversation with them. If we feel like they’re shady, we can grill them harder.”

  Trish stood up from the table, pacing the short length of the room. “I don’t like this ‘we’ you’re tossing around.”

  She’d never gotten angry with the woman, but Caitlin was nearing her limit.

  “Fine, someone else who you think is fit can do all this. But what Booker and I saw wasn’t some one-off thing. The person who gutted those animals to lure Geeks to us is only going to escalate and then we’re all going to be wishing we’d done something sooner.”

  Steve leaned back, catching Trish’s eye. “Just hear her out, Trish,” he murmured.

  The atmosphere in the lounge was like a balloon about to pop.

  But instead, it deflated as Trish exhaled slowly.

  “We are so over our heads,” she muttered, gaze dropping to the floor. “But okay.”

  Steve turned back to Caitlin and Booker. “I’ll start pulling some guys aside to talk,” he said. “Maybe we’ll have some names for you by the morning.”

  Luna furrowed her brow. “Were any Rejects police before the outbreak?”

  Caitlin had a sinking suspicion most police officers were gone—dutifully showing up in towns to help, only to get taken out by a Geek or turned into one.

  She kept that thought to herself.

  “We could ask,” Nathaniel said. “But for now, I think we need to keep this to ourselves.”

  He looked to the small group seated around the table.

  “We can’t let a panic start,” he added. “We’ve all seen what people are capable of when they’re terrified.”

  Booker nodded. “Y’all should know we told Nicole and Scott this mornin’.”

  “They’ll keep it to themselves,” Nathaniel said. “But I’ll talk to Scott just to be sure.”

  “I think we need to tell Sister Agnes too,” Caitlin said, shifting in her seat. “She needs to keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior of parents or someone hanging around the kids too much.”

  Steve turned to her, confused. “What do you mean?”

  “Children are easy targets,” she explained. “Especially the really young ones. They’re trusting and easily manipulated. If this person is escalating, they might try to do something.”

  He looked baffled and Caitlin simultaneously wanted to roll her eyes and pat his cheek.

  Some people truly lived much softer lives than they realized.

  “Trust me,” she said, voice firm. “Not everyone sees children as precious gifts to protect. All they see is what they can get from them.”

  Under the table, Booker gently took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of her knuckles.

  “We’ll talk to Sister Agnes before her class starts,” Luna said with a nod.

  As everyone dispersed, Caitlin still felt as though she’d eaten gravel for breakfast.

  “How’s about we take a second look at that shed,” Booker said quietly.

  “You think there might be something else inside?”

  He tilted his head. “Maybe. Might find a clue as to who used it last.”

  It was better than wandering the halls, sizing every person up who passed by her.

  “Let’s go.”

  * * * * * * *

  Exiting out the back, Booker hoisted his rifle by the strap further onto his shoulder.

  “Shoooo…It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here,” he exclaimed, rubbing his hands together.

  “Why is always a witch that’s cold? Why does the woman have to be painted as a frigid hag?” Caitlin shut the door behind them quietly. “Why can’t it be ‘colder than wizard’s ballsack’ or something else just as crude and illogical?”

  Booker chuckled. “I don’t think the people who come up with these things really put too much thought into it.”

  “What a surprise, the sexists don’t put thought into anything.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re gettin’ fired up over somethin’ this stupid.”

  Caitlin exhaled and a cloud appeared in front of her face.

  “No but it’s distracting me from the cold.”

  Passing by the short line of vehicles, a shadow near their Jeep caught both their eyes, and Booker motioned for her to stop.
/>
  “You see that?” He whispered.

  “Yep.”

  The clang of metal was undeniable.

  “What in the hell…” Booker muttered, already jogging over. “Hey! Hey! What’re you doin’ to our—”

  Brown curls bounced as the perpetrator scrambled out from under the Jeep and got to her feet.

  Booker and Caitlin pulled up short.

  “Desi?” Booker frowned. “What’re you doin’ over here?”

  With a wrench in one hand, and a grease smear across her tan cheek, she looked like a mini car mechanic.

  “I was just fixing your muffler,” Desi said nonchalantly. “I heard it rattling the last time you drove back to camp.”

  “You…” Booker looked from her to the Jeep and then back. “Now how in the hell would you know how t’do somethin’ like that?”

  Desi shrugged, oversized corduroy jacket bunching around her shoulders.

  Caitlin arched an eyebrow at her. “You didn’t just wake up one day knowing how to fix cars.”

  “My dad taught me,” she finally said, voice quiet. “Before…”

  Immediately, Caitlin’s heart broke.

  “Sweetheart, it’s dangerous to play under cars,” Booker started.

  “I wasn’t playing,” Desi countered with all the conviction of a grown up. “I fixed your muffler and I was about to change your oil when you found me.”

  “Change my… Now wait a second, I change that oil regularly.”

  Desi lifted a dark brown eyebrow. “That’s not what your dipstick says…”

  Caitlin snorted so hard she thought she’d blow a blood vessel.

  “Hey,” Booker exclaimed. “I ain’t gonna stand here and get lectured at by a fourth grader.”

  “Fifth,” Desi corrected. “And you need to use higher mileage oil from now on. Your engine will thank you later.”

  Biting the inside of her cheek so she didn’t howl with laughter, Caitlin struggled to inhale.

  Crossing his arms, Booker glared down at the little girl. “Y’think you’re smart, huh?”

  “I’m just good at fixing things,” Desi told him. “Always have been.”

  Steadying herself, Caitlin cleared her throat.

  “Desi, does Sister Agnes know you’re out here?”

  When she didn’t answer, Caitlin took it as a no.

  “It’s dangerous for a kid out here by yourself,” Booker added. “Y’should be inside, learnin’ or goin’ to story time—”