Bloody Sunset

by Gwendolyn Harper

  “Story time’s boring,” Desi interrupted, rolling her eyes. “And they hardly teach any of the stuff I like.”

  “Which is?”

  “Science. We only spend thirty minutes a day on it.”

  Caitlin started to smile at the little girl’s precociousness.

  “I like math too but I’m not very good at fractions,” Desi added.

  Leaning down a little, Caitlin said, “How about I make you a deal? If you go inside where it’s safe and stay there until we get back, I’ll have my friend teach you more science before dinner.”

  Desi squinted at her. “It’s not him, is it?” She asked, looking at Booker.

  With an affronted noise, Booker scowled. “Listen here, I might not be a science whiz, but I know a thing or two about a thing or two, so you better quit your judgin’.”

  For the first time, Desi’s lips started to curl in a grin.

  Looking up at Caitlin with sharp hazel eyes, she nodded. “Okay,” she said, handing the wrench to Booker. “See you later.”

  They watched as she hurried back to the school building, tight brown curls bouncing with each step. Once she was inside, Caitlin doubled over with laughter.

  “Stop it,” Booker said.

  “Oh man, she really raked you over the coals.”

  “Smart mouthed rug rat…”

  “That bit about the dipstick was genius,” Caitlin wheezed. “You should’ve seen your face.”

  “Cut it out, Meadows.”

  Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, she tried to take a breath.

  “How’s it feel to get dunked on by a ten year old?”

  Booker gave her his back, striding towards the thin line of trees. “Better watch it, or I’ll make you sleep over at Nicole and Scott’s bunk.”

  “Worth it.”

  * * * * * * *

  The shed, as it turned out, was more like a shack and while it would have been cramped, it was absolutely feasible to hold seventy or more Geeks inside.

  Booker pushed the unlocked door open, gun at the ready.

  When nothing undead or alive came rushing for them, they took a few steps over the threshold.

  “It definitely smells like a bunch of Geeks were in here,” Caitlin muttered, covering her nose.

  Inspecting the muddy floor, Booker nodded. “Some of these footprints are older than the others. Those are only a couple days old… ‘N those are from at least a week or more. See the dried spots in the treads?”

  Caitlin looked to where he pointed. The smudged shoeprints all looked the same to her, but she could see what he meant about the layered dirt.

  Glancing up, she noticed suspicious chains and hooks hanging from the ceiling.

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

  Following her gaze, he angled his head for a better look.

  “Yup. That’s blood on those,” he said, gesturing to the rust colored stains on the hooks. “Seems like our squirrel butcher found a way to lure the groaners inside.”

  Caitlin’s skin crawled.

  “This took premeditation,” she said. “Someone planned this, thought about how to execute it… Whoever they are, they’re more dangerous than we realized.”

  Examining more of the room, Booker scowled. “The only thing I can’t figure out is why. Why put themselves at risk? They ain’t got a specific target in mind, they’re just doin’ it to cause trouble.”

  Caitlin worried the inside of her lip in thought.

  “Maybe their target is all of us,” she said. “Or maybe their motive isn’t that simple.”

  “Meanin’?”

  She shrugged. “They could be trying to send a message… Like people who poison at random to prove safety standards aren’t up to par.”

  “Y’think they’re tryin’ to teach us a lesson?”

  Caitlin turned to look over her shoulder at him. “I don’t know. But I’m not sure we can rule anything out yet.”

  Making a soft grunt of approval, Booker continued following the footprints along the wooden floorboards.

  “Whoever they are, they must’ve been collectin’ groaners for weeks. Months, even,” he said. “Might be why we ain’t seen that many around the school.”

  “Lulled us into a sense of security. Made us think we didn’t have to worry about too many Geeks and then…”

  Booker groaned. “Man, I hate this sonuvabitch.”

  “Me too. We’re beyond lucky we didn’t lose anyone yesterday.”

  She stalled, the first thread of connection almost within grasp.

  “What if that’s it?” She asked, facing Booker. “Their motive. What if they’re not trying to hurt people, what if they want to play the hero?”

  Frowning, Booker considered her words.

  “Then we’re roundin’ up the wrong list of names,” he said. “They’d be friendly and helpful, not loner types with anger problems.”

  “That matches ninety percent of our group,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I hate to say it, but we might not be able to figure out who they are until…”

  Booker held her stare. “Until what?”

  A sickened feeling pulled at Caitlin’s insides.

  “Until they stage another attack.”

  Chapter Nine

  The longer they waited, the jumpier Caitlin got.

  It was like waiting for a grenade to go off, while simultaneously trying to find and dismantle it.

  Three days without incident should have felt like a blessing, but it only felt like delaying the inevitable.

  Not that there weren’t bright spots too.

  Caitlin got to witness Matilda walk on her own for the first time, tapping David on the shoulder and pointing so he didn’t miss his own daughter’s milestone.

  He and Max beamed for the rest of the day, pride seeping out of every pore.

  And Desi… Well, she fit right in like a puzzle piece they hadn’t realized was missing.

  Sharp as a tack and wittier than any of them, she thrived on the materials Nicole and Scott taught her, never seeming to get enough. Scott finally had to break out a few of the senior level chemistry textbooks, which were a little dense, but still gave Desi the knowledge she craved.

  Slowly, they learned a little bit about her.

  Her father had been from the Dominican Republic, her mother from New Mexico, and they’d all moved to Chicago when she was three.

  Her mother got sick first, coming down with a fever that sent her to the hospital in less than a few hours. It wasn’t long after that.

  She wouldn’t say what happened to her father… Only that he got her to an Ark and that was the last time she saw him.

  Desi turned ten in that camp, alone and scared, surrounded by men with guns joking about using orphans as target practice.

  The night they found out, Booker had the worst nightmare Caitlin had seen him have in a long time.

  He awoke bellowing in anger, swinging out at an unseen enemy.

  Caitlin barely had time to react—scrambling to roll off their mat so he didn’t knock into her.

  Barely collecting himself, Booker quickly got dressed, muttering about how he was going for a walk.

  It was a long, sleepless wait for daybreak after that for Caitlin.

  At breakfast, she looked for him, but to no avail.

  Not that she was surprised.

  “Morning,” Scott said from behind her. “You’re up early.”

  Caitlin tried to smile. “Yeah, well, it was kind of a long night.”

  Immediately he looked worried.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.”

  Scott arched an eyebrow, and in that moment, she remembered Nicole wasn’t the only one who had known her for years.

  “Talk to me,” Scott said, lowering his voice.

  Scooping more fruit cocktail onto her oatmeal, Caitlin chewed her bottom lip.

  “Booker had another nightmare last night,” she said. “They come and g
o, but usually they’re worse if there’s a lot of talk about Ark camps.”

  “Does he have them on the road when you’re helping break people out?”

  Caitlin shook her head. “No. If anything he’s better when we have a job to do. Like he can funnel what he’s feeling into doing something. But the waiting…”

  Scott ducked his head in understanding. “A lot of Vets have a hard time coming home. My uncle never fully adjusted back to civilian life.”

  She looked up at him. “I didn’t know your uncle was in the service.”

  “Army,” he said. “Enlisted so they’d pay for school. He was a good man, but my dad said he was never really the same after.”

  Pausing while Scott poured himself something like looked like watered down juice, she frowned.

  “I didn’t know Booker before,” she admitted. “So, I don’t know if this is new or…” She swallowed. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter. I just want him to be okay. He’s good about managing his panic attacks, but his nightmares really get to him.”

  Glancing around to make sure they had relative privacy, Scott leaned closer.

  “Caitlin, has he ever hurt you during these night terrors?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “Well, once. But it was an accident. He just held me too tight and left a bruise. But he’s never hit me or attacked me, thinking I was part of his dream.”

  Scott nodded. “Would you tell me if he had?”

  Her hackles started to rise, the urge to protect Booker overwhelming. She didn’t want Scott thinking Booker was violent—she’d never met a man with a better hold on his anger.

  Inhaling, she held Scott’s stare. “Yes. I would.”

  Seemingly content with that, Scott offered her a mug of coffee.

  “You know, we’ve got a pretty good selection of anti-anxiety meds from the last run you went on,” he said. “Maybe Booker could benefit from starting a low dose. Just to help him through this rough patch.”

  “Well, if I can find him, I’ll try to convince him to come see you…”

  As she turned, scanning the room once more, she spotted familiar broad shoulders and chocolate brown hair.

  “Oh wait, there he is,” she said, relief coloring her words.

  It was only then she realized who Booker was talking to and she frowned.

  She watched as Booker and Nathaniel finished their discussion and shook hands, Nathaniel offering a sympathetic pat to Booker’s shoulder before the two men split off.

  Caitlin whistled, and Booker’s head jerked to the side, gaze finding hers instantly.

  He smiled but the shadows under his eyes betrayed his exhaustion, and her heart ached for him.

  “Mornin’, doc,” he greeted Scott as he approached. Leaning down, Booker kissed her chastely. “Mornin’ to you too.”

  “Oh, there’s Alonzo,” Scott said. “I need to talk to him about something. See you in a bit.”

  Filling a mug for Booker, Caitlin asked, “What were you and Nathaniel talking about?”

  He faltered. “Oh, ya know, just shootin’ the shit.”

  “Shooting the shit with my ex-boyfriend?”

  “Y’all are friends,” he countered, taking his coffee from her.

  “We’re… friend-ish. And stop dodging the question.”

  Booker lifted a dark brow while he sipped from his mug.

  “What were you talking about?” She repeated pointedly.

  Eyeing the growing group around the breakfast foods, he tilted his head, signaling her to follow him.

  Tucking themselves against the wall of the cafeteria, Booker leaned his shoulder into the cement blocks and stared into his cup.

  “I asked Nate for a favor,” he said quietly.

  Caitlin’s stomach wobbled in anticipation.

  “Until I can… get myself under control,” he continued. “I asked if he’d keep a hold of my weapons at night.”

  “Jack…” She murmured, shifting her weight. “You’ve never once gone for your gun or your knife during a nightmare. Hell, you’ve never even tried to go after me—”

  “’S just a matter of time,” Booker muttered. “These ain’t gonna get better before they get worse. That’s how it was the last time.”

  “Last time?” She frowned. “You mean, before…”

  He nodded minutely. “When I shipped home. Every night for six months I woke up screamin’… One night I had my pistol in my hand, safety off, pointin’ it at somebody that won’t there. Thank God my girlfriend at the time was at her mom’s, otherwise…” He took a ragged breath. “I’d rather die than do somethin’ like that around you.”

  Resting her hand on his forearm, Caitlin studied his face.

  “Jack, Scott said he has some meds that might help,” she said. “He wants you to talk to him.”

  Booker tilted his head, unsure. “Cae, I dunno…”

  “I know,” she cut in. “It’s not exactly a guarantee, but he said it might help get you through this.”

  “I don’t wanna be zonked out on some sleepin’ pill each night.”

  “They’re not Ambien, they’re for anxiety. At the very least they’ll help take the edge off.”

  Booker was quiet for a long time, staring into his cooling coffee like it held all the answers.

  “I still ain’t keepin’ my weapons by our bed,” he said finally. “Not until I know for sure I won’t do somethin’.”

  Caitlin conceded. “Okay. I guess that means the revolver too.”

  Booker made a noise of agreement at the back of his throat. “I want you to keep a knife though. Put it somewhere I don’t know about.”

  “Booker…”

  “Promise me, songbird.”

  His graveled, near-desperate tone shattered her heart.

  “Okay,” she whispered. “I promise.”

  Nudging him gently, she waited for him to lock eyes with her before pressing closer to kiss him.

  Silently, she poured as much emotion into each move of her lips as she could.

  Caitlin had been through hell before most people had even seen their first PG-13 movie. She knew pain, terror, and despair intimately, like they were woven into her genetic code.

  No matter what Booker thought of himself, she knew he was her gift from the universe. Her reward for persevering. Her pay out for surviving then and surviving now.

  A few bad dreams and sleepless nights weren’t going to scare her away. Not when he stared at her like she built the world and blessed it at the same time.

  “How d’you do that?” He asked, pulling back a fraction to grin at her.

  Caitlin furrowed her brow. “Do what?”

  “Make even the worst day seem like honey and roses.”

  She smiled, trailing her fingers over his stubbled jawline to the spot his pulse fluttered beneath the skin.

  “Must be a natural born talent,” she said, grinning as she leaned in to kiss him again.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat behind her made them jump.

  “I’m so sorry,” Sister Agnes said. “I hate to interrupt.”

  “S’alright, Sister,” Booker said, ears going pink. “Everythin’ okay?”

  Sister Agnes frowned. “I’m not sure,” she said. “But… I think there’s something you two should see.”

  * * * * * * *

  Following Sister Agnes into the frozen courtyard, Caitlin absently wished she’d thought to bring gloves as well as her jacket.

  “I like to take a morning walk while I pray,” Sister Agnes explained. “It helps me clear the cobwebs before starting the day’s tasks.”

  She led them towards the break in the fence, stepping through it.

  “I was just about to finish, when I noticed something odd…”

  “More cut up squirrels?” Booker asked.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Not a squirrel.”

  As they approached the foul perimeter of bodies, Caitlin thought she saw what Sister Agnes meant.

  “At first, I
only saw one, but then I spotted the others, and… well,” she slowed, gesturing for Booker and Caitlin to look for themselves.

  Six different Geeks, all gutted. Their insides pulled out, stretched across their torsos. Some had piles of organs neatly stacked next to the corpse, like pieces of a children’s game about to be put back together.

  “Christ,” Booker hissed. Wincing, he turned to the nun. “Sorry, Sister.”

  “Don’t worry, it was my first thought as well.”

  Caitlin stepped closer, staring at the grotesque scene in front of her.

  “I’ve seen vultures and crows pick at Geek bodies,” she said. “But this…”

  “This ain’t from a couple of birds.” Booker scowled. “Animals eat what they scavenge. Only humans do somethin’ like this.”

  Looking down, Caitlin tried not to react to the excised heart laying on the frostbitten ground near the toe of her shoe.

  “Okay,” she started, breathing evenly. “Let’s think about this. What reason other than utter depravity would someone have for cutting open six Geeks?”

  Booker and Sister Agnes shared a puzzled glance before looking to Caitlin.

  “Searchin’ for somethin’,” Booker said finally. “Might’ve been lookin’ to see if one of these groaners ate a person in the last few days.”

  Sister Agnes nodded. “We did lose people a few weeks ago. Amanda, Lawrence, Trey… Perhaps one of their loved ones was looking for answers inside the bellies of these things.”

  “But we found their bodies,” Caitlin countered. “Trey had turned, but Amanda and Lawrence… We knew what happened to them.”

  “Grief does strange things to the mind,” Sister Agnes said. “Maybe someone wasn’t satisfied with that.”

  “Then why not cut open the others?” Booker asked, turning to look at the rest of the corpses. “Why only play Frankenstein with these six?”

  Sister Agnes wrinkled her nose as she glanced around. “They’re at the top of the stacks. And they’re the least… mangled.”

  “Fresh groaners do have more to work with,” Booker said with a nod.

  Turning in a slow circle, Caitlin scanned the surrounding area.

  The hair on the back of her neck stood up—a sickening chill running through her much like the night she felt someone watching her and Booker in bed.