Blood Moon by Gwendolyn Harper (books for students to read .TXT) 📕

there wasn’t much point. It wasn’t her decision in the end.

“Come on,” Caitlin said, gently bumping Nicole’s knee with hers. “Let’s get you some food.”

* * * * * * *

After weeks of sleeping in shifts in the back of the Jeep, having a mat and sleeping bag all to herself inside a tent was better than staying at a five-star hotel.

But Caitlin still couldn’t settle in.

Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the blue nylon above her, listening to the crickets chirp.

On the opposite side of the tent, Nicole shuffled in her sleeping bag, but from her shallow, even breaths, Caitlin knew she wasn’t awake.

Footsteps approached the side of their tent, and without hesitating, Caitlin withdrew her knife from under her pillow. Just as the flap pushed aside, she sat up, only to see Booker ducking inside.

“Jesus, Booker,” she whispered. “You scared me.”

She could barely make out his grin in the dark. “Good t’know you’re still armed.”

“Always,” she said, returning the knife to its hiding spot. “Did you see anything while you were out there?”

As quietly as he could, Booker sat down and removed his boots.

“Nah, not a peep.” Scooting back, he leaned over, kissing her softly. “Any word about…”

Caitlin shook her head. “Last I heard she was still hanging in there.”

He nodded once, humming low in his throat.

Yawning, he slid his belt free from the loops and stripped off his flannel over shirt so that he was only in his grey tee and jeans. Folding everything up and setting them next to his boots, he paused and tilted his chin over his shoulder.

He always knew when she was watching.

“If you’re hopin’ for a show, I think you’re gonna have’ta wait ‘til mornin’.”

She smiled, running her hand over his shoulder and down his bicep. “Thankfully, I know what you look like.”

Booker closed the distance once more, kissing her appreciatively.

Grinning against her, he murmured, “Got me seared into your mind, huh?”

“Hm mhm.” Caitlin stroked his stubbled jaw before pulling away. “Jack, I need to talk to you.”

He stilled under her palms. “Did somethin’ happen?”

“No, nothing like that,” she said. “I… I need you to promise me something, and you’re not going to want to.”

“That’s a helluva way to start a conversation.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But I also know you.”

Turning towards her, he brought one knee up to his chest, leaning his arm across it.

“Alright, what’s this thing I’m not gonna want t’say yes to?”

In the dark, she found his right hand and covered it with hers.

“What happened today, with Carolina… If that happens to me, if I get bit, I don’t want to let the virus take me.” She studied the shadows and shapes of Booker’s face. “I don’t want to wait to turn into some mindless thing that isn’t me.”

“Cae…”

“I know, I know,” she hurried. “I don’t want to think about it either but it’s part of our reality now. If I get bit, I want to die while I’m still myself. While I still know who I am, who you are, and everyone else I care about. I want my last meal, a stiff drink, and then that’s it—lights out. No waiting around, no watching me get sicker and sicker, okay?”

Booker hung his head, but he didn’t seem defiant. If anything, she could tell he agreed on some level, as much as it pained him to imagine it.

But his silence still wasn’t an answer.

“Jack?”

“Yeah.” His voice was gravel.

“Promise me you’ll let me go out while I’m still fully here,” she urged. “Please?”

“’S an awfully tall order, Cae.”

She nodded. “I know. It’s not exactly fair. And I wouldn’t expect you to…” She trailed off, unable to finish that sentence. “I just don’t want to become a Geek. Even for a second. When I die, I want to stay dead.”

In the nighttime stillness, Booker regarded her for what felt like forever.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“Okay, songbird,” he whispered. “Heaven forbid, that day comes… You’ll call the shots.”

Desperate to make him smile, even for a moment, Caitlin held out her hand with her pinky raised.

“Pinky swear,” she said.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’.”

Lifting her chin higher, she said, “Nothing is more binding than a pinky promise.”

“Don’t think that’ll hold up in a court of law.”

“Good thing those don’t exist now.” She wiggled her little finger at him. “Come on. Pinky swear it.”

“Jesus H…” He muttered, but she could hear it in his voice—that precious curve to his lips. “Alright, alright… Here.”

Mirroring her action, he hooked his pinky around hers and let her swing their hands in a big circle.

“No take backs,” she said, feigning a serious tone. “Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Caitlin released him, only to lunge forward and clutch his face with her hands, pulling him into a fierce kiss that left them both struggling to breathe.

Easing back, with the tip of his nose brushing her cheek, Booker smiled.

“No take backs,” he repeated, voice soft.

“Damn straight.”

* * * * * * *

Carolina’s grave was dug on the other side of the tree line, marked with a simple cross made of twine and sticks.

It was a quiet service, with shared memories and a quick recitation from the bible as the people closest to her covered her body with soil.

Staying to the back of the group, Caitlin couldn’t help but feel like there were worse ways to go. At least she got to be with her loved ones, in a comfortable bed, and laid to rest like a real person instead of in the belly of some undead monster.

Not everyone was afforded that luxury.

The rest of the day was spent gathering information. Max was the most experienced with the drones and the mother-herd, so they