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

Sobering, Nicole faced her. “Cae, have you told Booker yet?”

The pit in her stomach doubled in size.

Caitlin shook her head. “No. I can’t.”

“You don’t think he’d understand?”

“I think he’d blame himself,” she said. “And after everything he’s done for me, this is a burden I’m more than willing to carry on my own.”

“But Caitlin, he’s worried about you. It’s written all over his face every time he looks at you.”

Forcing her shoulders away from her ears, Caitlin held her stare. “It’ll be okay. It’s better this way.”

The front door opened, and Booker stepped inside, leaning his rifle against the wall.

“All quiet on the western front,” he joked. “The road’s clear and I ain’t hear any herds moving through the fields.”

He paused, placing his hands on his hips as he stared at the women sitting together.

“Y’all make up?” He asked, trying not to smile.

Bumping their knees together, Caitlin and Nicole grinned.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Nicole said.

Booker sighed, glancing towards the ceiling. “Thank you, God.” Locking and barricading the door, he asked, “Alright then, who’s hungry?”

* * * * * * *

Despite the repaired bonds, dinner was solemn and quiet. Gathered around the small fire they’d built, they ate as they stared into the flames.

Caitlin felt like she could hear the lists they’d made echoing in her head.

Pros and cons. Survivable actions and circumstances. West, South, North, East.

Nicole was right, the unknown was crushing.

But not as unbearable as stagnation.

They needed to make a choice.

Finishing their meal, they rinsed the dishes and blew out a few of the candles.

Wandering over to one of the bookshelves, Booker found a dusty hardcover of a classic and settled into a chair by the fire to read aloud.

Caitlin wrapped herself in a spare throw blanket and curled up on the sofa, sleep already weighing her down.

She’d just nodded off, listening to Booker’s terrible attempt at a British accent, when the sound of an engine revving in the distance jarred her awake.

“Did you all hear that too?” Caitlin asked, sitting up. “Or was that a dream?”

Jumping up, Booker rushed to grab his rifle. “Cae, get the revolver. Nicole, pour some water on that fire, hopefully the smoke’ll clear out before they get close.”

Detangling herself from the blanket, Caitlin bolted upstairs. Retrieving the revolver from her bag and extra ammo, she rushed back to the living room where Nicole and Booker were checking the barricades on all the exits.

“Goon squad?” She asked Booker, handing him the revolver.

Checking the rounds, he shook his head. “I dunno, they’re too far away to tell yet.”

“Regular people then?”

Glancing up at her, his brown eyes were nearly black in the darkness. “Let’s hope they’re the friendly type.”

Nicole jogged back into the living room, holding a crowbar in one hand. “Back door’s secure. Do we have time to move the Jeep?”

The engine—from a truck or SUV—answered her question, as it announced the impending threat drawing closer.

“Hide,” Booker ordered Nicole. “Squeeze in behind that couch. Don’t put yourself by any windows. If you have to move, you crawl, understand?”

Nicole nodded before doing exactly as she was told.

“Cae,” he started, pulling her with him towards the front wall. “You take this,” he said, handing her the revolver. “Anything kicks off, you cover me.”

Headlights illuminated the opposite wall just before the truck rolled to a stop in front of the house.

“Stay down,” Booker whispered, angling his neck to peek through the gap in the curtains.

Outside, two doors opened, boots heavy on the asphalt as people got out.

“I can’t see ‘em,” he admitted, still trying to get a look.

One car door closed.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice called. “Is anyone in there?”

Booker and Caitlin stared at each other in silence.

“We don’t mean any trouble,” the woman continued. “We just need some help.”

No one moved an inch.

“My brother, he’s hurt really bad.” Footsteps drew closer, pausing at the gate. “Please, you’ve gotta help us.”

The iron gate swung open, and at least two people strode onto the lawn. Whispers among them were indecipherable, but Caitlin’s gut churned at the tone.

Glancing from the revolver in her hand, to Booker’s rifle, she tugged on his shirt sleeve to get his attention. Turning the handle around for him to take it, she started to trade him for his weapon when he scowled at her and shook his head.

Nodding once at the rifle, Caitlin tapped the scope and then pointed upwards.

Trust me.

Reluctantly, Booker handed her his gun and took the revolver.

“Be careful,” he mouthed.

With the strap tight across her back, Caitlin crouched and darted up the stairs, barely making a sound.

The room with the clearest view of the front was Nicole’s, so she entered quickly, careful not to draw attention.

Thank God the window was already open.

Staying low to the ground, she made her way across the room and pulled the rifle off her back. Pressing in close to the windowsill, she raised the scope to her eye and scanned the yard.

Hurt brother, her ass. There were four people total—the woman and three guys, and none of them looked injured. One stayed back by the truck, a sharpened pool cue in his hands. One stayed in the road, a length of chain hung over his shoulder. The woman carried a machete though, and the man next to her had an ax.

Turning her head, Caitlin whistled just loud enough for Booker to hear.

Four people. Two close. All armed.

A beat of silence was followed by a reply.

Stay there. Follow my lead.

The woman climbed onto the first step of the porch, and if she got any closer, Caitlin wouldn’t have a visual.

“Please, somebody,” she called. “We just need help for my brother, please.”

“We ain’t