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

wonder what happened to him? If he’s even alive? Or if he’s—” Nicole’s voice cracked, and she swallowed the rest of her sentence down.

Standing, her red hair tumbled over her shoulders.

“Maybe hope is too heavy for you to carry, but it’s all I’ve got left,” she said, glaring at Caitlin.

“I thought you wanted to stay here,” she argued. “That doesn’t exactly sound like keeping the faith to me.”

“I’m not a fool. I know the odds, and survival is paramount, but if there’s a chance at finding my husband again, then I’ll take it.” Glancing to Booker, Nicole added, “I’m happy to stay as long as we need to regain our strength and gather supplies. But trust me, this will never be home for me.”

Silently, Booker nodded in understanding.

Pushing her plate towards Booker, Nicole said, “Here. I’m not hungry anymore.”

Her steady footfalls echoed throughout the house as she retreated upstairs, all but slamming the door behind her.

Gaping, Caitlin stared at Booker, but before she could speak, he stuck his hand up.

“Ah, don’t look at me,” he said, scooping the extra food onto his plate. “My daddy taught me better than to get between two quarrelin’ women.”

“How convenient for you,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Maybe she hadn’t been an idiot to believe after all…

Chapter Three

As dusk fell, Caitlin gathered the few hurricane lamps and candles they’d found in the cupboard and placed them around the house. If they were going to try to stick it out for a few more days, they needed to ration the generator fuel for as long as they could. Which meant no electric.

It reminded her of all the times her power had gone out in her apartment during a blizzard, and she was left reading paperbacks by the light of a scented Yankee Candle.

As she lit one of the pillar candles in the kitchen, she heard a frustrated grunt and paused.

“Nicole?” She called, stepping into the living room.

Cast in shadow, the familiar shape of her friend was hunched over, yanking on something inside the fireplace. Her hand slipped and she fell forward, catching herself on the brick as she cursed.

Approaching slowly, Caitlin watched her a moment before speaking again.

“Would you like some help?”

Nicole’s huffing breath was her only response.

Closing the distance, Caitlin sat on the edge of the hearth. She was well versed in the ways to get Nicole to talk, and patiently refusing to leave was one of the faster methods.

Fiddling with the hem of her shirt, she tried to smile. “If you’re about to pull a dead rat or something out of there…”

Nicole sighed, leaning on the side of the fireplace.

“I’m trying to open the flue,” she murmured. “I figured we could save fuel if we cook over a fire. But the lever’s jammed or something.”

“Want me to try?” Caitlin asked, already inching closer. “You always made fun of my Kung-Foo grip, but maybe I can yank it open.”

The slight curve to Nicole’s mouth felt like a winning goal shot.

“Sure, give it a go,” she said, backing out of the way.

It took three solid attempts, and a lot of swearing, but finally the flue opened, and a cascade of soot and ash poured down on both of them. Coughing, they fanned the air, trying to escape the clouds of black and grey.

“Guess we know now why the lever was jammed,” Nicole said, wiping her forearms off.

Caitlin sneezed. “Gorilla strength to the rescue.”

She thought Nicole would stand up and begin sweeping out the fireplace so they could build a fire. Instead, she found a spot on the hearth next to Caitlin, and leaned her elbows into the tops of her knees.

“You don’t really think it’s a lost cause, do you?”

Caitlin turned to look at her.

“I… I don’t know, Nicole,” she whispered. “I held onto the idea for so long. It was the only thing keeping be going there for a while. But I guess…” She swallowed roughly. “I started to feel stupid—like a kid too old to believe in Santa Claus. Thinking everyone would just be there, waiting for me as if nothing happened.”

She ducked her head, staring at the floor between her shoes.

“Being realistic just started to feel like an easier option.”

Nicole rubbed her palms over her jeans, scrubbing soot off her hands.

“I know what you mean,” she said, glancing up. “The first night I was with my old group, I laid awake all night, thinking over and over about the ‘what ifs’. What if Scott was dead? What if he was alive? What if he was bitten? What if something terrible happened to him? It hurt so much to imagine all the possibilities that… I just started to shut down. I thought about letting myself grieve for him like I was a widow, just so I wouldn’t feel buried under all the unknown.”

Caitlin stared at her friend, chest constricting with fresh pain.

“And then you found me,” Nicole continued. “And I started to think, maybe miracles can happen. What if Scott was out there looking for me?” She lifted her gaze to Caitlin’s. “I saw how you were with Booker, how unafraid you were to risk everything to get him help. It made me realize I was rolling over too easy,” she said, shaking her head. “Hope is a heavy load. But it’s the most important thing we can carry.”

The backs of Caitlin’s eyes stung as she blinked away unshed tears.

Maybe she didn’t have the strength to carry so much hope right now, but Nicole did. They could share the load for a while.

In the fading light, Caitlin reached for Nicole’s hand, ignoring the grit as she squeezed her fingers tightly.

“I’m sorry for being such a—”

Nicole’s chuckle cut her off. “If you’re one, I’m one.”

“We should get club