Bloody Sunset

by Gwendolyn Harper

  “Gonna go for a walk,” he muttered. “Give patrol a hand.”

  “Jack…”

  Leaning in, he kissed her, but it felt rote.

  “’M alright, songbird,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”

  Pulling his boots on, Booker grabbed his shirt and belt and hurried out of the tent.

  Caitlin stretched out on their sleeping bag, staring at the blue nylon above her.

  He’d lied.

  Booker was anything but alright.

  Chapter Three

  It was a luxury having more than three shirts to choose from when getting dressed in the morning.

  Caitlin had gotten used to her two pairs of jeans and two tee shirts while on her own. The addition of more clothing as they’d scavenged across Mississippi and Arkansas had been a delight, especially when she found some khaki and denim shorts in her size. They made the humid summer a little easier to bear.

  Now she had enough clothing for two weeks, plus a few zip-up hoodies and a thicker jacket with a faux shearling lining perfect for autumn and early winter.

  And of course, the green plaid shirt she’d borrowed from Booker and never gave back.

  She’d opted not to stitch up the bullet hole, keeping it as a reminder to always stay sharp.

  Plus, as Nicole had told her, it gave her a Sarah Connor vibe and what wasn’t to love about that?

  Bent over her duffle bag, Caitlin continued picking through her shirts, trying to decide what would be best for the cooler morning that would burn into a hot midday.

  The tent flap behind her shifted and unzipped, but she wasn’t concerned.

  Either it was Nicole or Booker, and both of them had seen her in less than the bra and pair of jeans she wore, so her modesty was the last thing to worry about.

  Scott had taken to saying ‘knock, knock’ before entering their shared living space, as he was still getting used to being right on top of everyone.

  “Well, good mornin’ to me then,” Booker said, grinning as he entered.

  Caitlin smirked. “You’re late. I was in just my underwear three minutes ago.”

  “Don’t wound me like that, Meadows.”

  Deciding the black tank top and light wash denim button up would do for the day, she turned to face him.

  “Did you get breakfast yet?”

  Booker shook his head. “Nah, wasn’t that hungry,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.

  He tasted like spearmint and instant coffee.

  She was about to suggest he should still put something on his stomach when he took half a step back, staring at her right side.

  “What in the hell’d you do to yourself?”

  Frowning, Caitlin glanced down. “Huh?”

  Along her ribs was a mottled purple bruise the width of…

  An arm.

  Booker’s arm.

  She blinked. “Uh… Oh, I must’ve bumped into something yesterday while setting up camp.”

  “What’d y’hit?”

  Inching back, she went to pull her tank top over her head.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “Probably the edge of the bus door.”

  Booker froze, watching her dress as quickly as she could.

  “Wasn’t there when we went to bed…” His gaze shot from her side to her face, expression grim. “Cae?”

  Her breath stalled in her throat.

  “I did that. In my sleep… Last night…” His voice cracked. “That’s ‘cause of me.”

  Shoving her arms into her sleeves, she rushed forward. “It wasn’t like you did it on purpose,” she urged. “It was an accident, Booker.”

  He shook his head, lip curling in disgust.

  “Jack,” she continued. “You were having a nightmare. You can’t blame yourself for—”

  “I don’t even remember grabbin’ you,” he said, eyes dark. “What else did I do?”

  “Nothing, I promise,” she told him. “You were dreaming. You just held me a little too tight, that’s all.”

  Booker swallowed roughly, unable to look her in the eyes. “Looked like more than just a squeeze.”

  Offering a smile, she tried to lighten the mood. “Well, you’re not exactly a string bean.”

  It didn’t work.

  “Booker, I’m okay. I promise.” She started to reach for him, but he backed up.

  “I’mma go scrounge up somethin’ to eat,” he said, already making his way out of the tent. “Getcha some coffee if ya want it.”

  She didn’t have a chance to respond before he was letting the flap fall between them, essentially shutting the door.

  * * * * * * *

  She’d barely made it out of her tent when Caitlin collided with someone tall and solid.

  “Oof, God, I’m sorry—” she blurted out, grabbing onto the arm of the man.

  Looking up, she blinked.

  Nathaniel held onto her elbow, steadying her.

  “Oh, hey, morning,” he said.

  Caitlin’s ears burned as she stared at him. “Morning, Nate.”

  “Since when do you call me Nate?”

  His amused tone would have been sweet if she didn’t feel so horribly awkward around him.

  “I think I just picked it up from everyone else,” she admitted. “Seems like half the camp calls you that.”

  “Yeah, it just sort of happened. Not really sure how,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.

  Silence stretched as they both shifted their weight, unsure of what to say next.

  Nathaniel glanced over to the small group of people getting food and took half a step away.

  “Well, I guess I’ll—”

  “Nathaniel, can we talk?” She asked, fidgeting with the last button on her shirt.

  He gaped for a moment before nodding. “Um, sure. Yeah.”

  Wandering a few yards away from curious ears, Caitlin found a spot by one of the Reject hatchbacks and started to lean against it before straightening again.

  She didn’t know what to do with her hands.

  “I, uh…” She swallowed. “I feel like I owe you an apology.”

  Nathaniel frowned. “You do?”

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I… I mean, this was…” She took a breath and tried again. “The freaking world ended.”

  His surprised laugh broke the tension.

  “I thought about you so much when I was lost in Atlanta,” she continued. “I wanted you to be safe. I hoped you were okay. I…” She bit in the inside of her lip. “I also thought about how we were before the world fell apart. You were so good to me. So sweet and attentive. And…”

  “And I wasn’t the one,” he finished for her. “I know. It’s okay. I… I really wanted to be. But you can’t force that sort of thing.”

  “I never in a million years thought I’d be saying this, but, when you know, you know,” she said. “I guess it took a catastrophe for me to get that.”

  Nathaniel nodded, staring at a patch of dry grass.

  “I didn’t want you to think I’d just forgotten you or leapt at the chance to replace you,” Caitlin said. “And showing up at your camp after all this time, with Booker… That must have felt terrible.”

  He tilted his head, smile just shy of wistful. “It definitely wasn’t great.”

  Caitlin winced. “I never wanted to hurt you that way, ever. You deserved better. I’m so sorry, Nathaniel.”

  “I’m sorry too,” he said. “I shouldn’t have been such a passive aggressive jerk.”

  She grinned. “It was a bit rude. But understandable given the circumstances.”

  Gesturing over his shoulder, Nathaniel said, “And Booker actually seems like a good guy. He’s got a good heart.”

  “He is. And he does.” She reached for the silver bird pendant at her neck, pulling at the chain gently.

  “The accent is still throwing me though,” he teased lightly.

  Caitlin laughed. “You get used to it.”

  After a moment of much more comfortable silence
, she reached for his arm, bumping him gently.

  “So… Friends?”

  Nathaniel nodded, mirroring her action. “Friends.”

  “Thank God. Surviving the apocalypse is one thing but eternally camping with your ex…”

  Sucking air between his teeth, he cringed dramatically. “Yikes.”

  “Yikes times ten.”

  They were all smiles returning to the group, which garnered them a few curious eyebrow lifts from anyone familiar with their situation.

  Nicole and Scott however looked relieved.

  “So, you two are…” Nicole whispered to her, leaning in.

  “We’re good,” Caitlin said. “We’re better. We…” She breathed out a laugh. “We broke up during a zombie apocalypse. There isn’t really a Cosmo article for that.”

  Sipping his water, Scott glanced around. “Yeah, not to mention there’s no where to really hide from each other.”

  “Exactly.”

  Caitlin scanned the group serving themselves what looked like canned beans and sausage and frowned.

  “Hey, have you seen Booker anywhere?”

  Scott shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen him all morning.”

  Worry gripped her insides tight.

  “He said he was getting breakfast…”

  She turned, wondering if he was somewhere behind her.

  No sign of him.

  “He probably just went off somewhere to relieve himself,” Nicole said, but her tone wasn’t convincing.

  Even she hated being too far from them.

  “I’m going to go look,” Caitlin said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Weaving between tents, she searched for any indication Booker had left camp. Boot prints in the dirt, movement in the distance, signs the Jeep had someone inside—anything.

  And yet, she found nothing.

  “Damn it, Jack,” she muttered, looping back around the other side of tents and vehicles.

  Just as she’d peeked behind one of the larger tents used for the children, she was about to resort to calling for him when a shadow caught her eye.

  There, crouched next to the wheel of one of the buses, was Booker with his back pressed against the metal.

  “Jesus Christ, Booker,” she exclaimed, striding over to him. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you? I wandered all over camp trying to find—”

  As she approached, she saw his hands shaking violently.

  His head hung down, chin nearly to his chest, as he struggled to breathe.

  “Jack? Jack, what’s wrong?” She urged, dropping to her knees in front of him.

  He didn’t look at her. Only stared at the ground between his boots.

  “Just… Waitin’ for it… to pass.”

  Caitlin frowned, reaching for his wrists. “Waiting for what to pass?”

  “Ain’t had one in years… Guess it was bound to…” He swallowed dryly.

  It finally clicked.

  “Jack, are you having a panic attack?”

  The slight jerk of his head was all he could give in response.

  “Okay, okay, um…” She let go of him, unsure if physical contact would help or hurt. “What do you need?”

  “Time,” he admitted. “Just gotta…”

  Caitlin nodded. “Wait it out. Okay.”

  After a moment, she inched a fraction closer.

  “Would you like me to distract you?”

  As he forced air into his lungs, he considered it.

  “Y-yeah,” he murmured. “That’d be…”

  “Can I touch you?” She wrinkled her nose at the wording she chose. “I mean, like, hold your hands or—”

  “Yes.”

  Please.

  Gently wrapping her fingers around his, she looked to the cloudless sky above them and thought for a beat.

  “Did I ever tell you about the time I spilled coffee on our CEO’s wife’s Louis Viton purse?”

  Booker mumbled a ‘no’ and she launched into the tale with gusto.

  As embarrassing as it was for her as a fresh hire, nothing could have topped the drama that ensued.

  “So then, as she’s wiping herself off with cocktail napkins, her husband is dumping her purse on the conference table, saying he wants to make sure her new iPhone wasn’t ruined,” Caitlin said, already grinning at the memory. “And out pour condoms. Dozens and dozens.”

  Booker glanced up—the first indication he was coming back—and arched an eyebrow.

  “All different kinds too,” she continued. “Neon colored, flavored, every brand and texture you could dream of, and they’re all in this heap on the table on top of quarterly projections and proposals. And at first everyone is like ‘oh damn, they’re still getting busy that much after how many years of marriage? Good for them.’ But then…”

  “Uh oh…” Booker mumbled, a flash of a smirk across his face.

  “Our CEO picks up a handful and shakes his fist at his wife and goes, ‘why the hell do you need all these when I got a vasectomy three years ago?’”

  Booker coughed out a laugh. “No…”

  “Yes,” she said, still grinning. “Turns out, his wife had been sleeping with half of their Upper East Side buddies and even a couple of their handymen and their personal trainer.”

  “Damn, sounds like she had too much free time.”

  “Honestly, I was a little jealous,” she said with a giggle. “I mean, I barely had the energy to get myself off those days. I couldn’t imagine bouncing around that many beds in a day and not being totally worn out. But anyway, they started screaming at each other about his lack of attention and her spending habits and his drinking and by the time they were done they were both on the phone with separate divorce attorneys, and the wife nearly clocked me on her way out.”

  Caitlin rubbed her thumb over Booker’s knuckles, hoping it soothed him.

  “D’ya get in trouble for it?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. In fact, the next day, I had flowers on my desk from the CEO. The card said it was a thank you for inadvertently showing him the truth, but I think he was just trying to get into my pants as revenge against his wife.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  Booker looked up at her through his lashes. “Did it work?”

  Letting out a surprised laugh, Caitlin swatted his arm. “Of course not. He wasn’t my type. Plus, he sent me roses, and I hate roses.”

  “Y’do?”

  “I’m more of a dahlia girl,” she said, smiling at him. “Not that it matters now but—”

  “It matters.”

  Squeezing her hands, Booker took a deep, even breath and exhaled slowly.

  “Thank you, darlin’,” he murmured.

  Leaning in a bit, Caitlin said, “I’ve got you, Jack. No matter what.”

  As he blinked, she could see the glint of unshed tears in his dark brown eyes.

  “Do… Do you want to talk about what happened at the Ark?”

  Booker started to shake his head, but she pulled his hands closer, urging him to look at her.

  “Maybe not now,” she continued. “Maybe not for a day or a week, but I think we should.”

  “Won’t change anythin’,” he muttered.

  Caitlin shrugged. “It’ll change how you see yourself.”

  He stared at her, dubious, and it broke her heart.

  “Remember when you told me about Atlanta? Remember how you said you were afraid of me seeing you as a monster?” She ran her thumb over the notches of his digits. “I see you, Jack. And there’s nothing monstrous about you.”

  The ragged breath he let out hit her behind the ribs.

  “I snapped his neck,” Booker said, voice graveled. “He was my friend… I served with him, and I—” He cut himself off. “He might’ve joined us. Might’ve decided t’come with us and I didn’t give him the chance. I took that from him.”

  Caitlin bit her lip in thought.

  “Maybe,” she said finally. “Maybe he would have
. But he also might have turned on us. There’s no way to know. And you can’t spend your life wondering and hating yourself for doing what you had to.”

  “I didn’t have t’kill him.”

  “And I didn’t have to kill those two guys in the pharmacy,” she said. “But I did. It’s the reason I’m sitting here now, with you.” Pressing her thumbs into the backs of his hands, she said, “We made our choices, Jack. And they kept us alive. I’ll never be sorry about that, and you shouldn’t be either.”

  She thought he would argue with her, or possibly agree, echoing his sentiments to her weeks ago about killing as many people as it took to come home.

  Instead, Booker shifted his shoulders against the side of the bus and cleared his throat.

  “Ferguson… He saved my life,” he said, barely above a whisper. “In Afghanistan, he… We were in a bad spot. Away from our vehicle and under fire. I’m on the com, tryna get us some help, and Ferguson he just taps me on the shoulder and yells, ‘I’ll cover you, gunny,’ and takes off. I thought the bastard was dead. I mean, that was a kamikaze dive if I ever saw one. But it worked. It gave us a chance to get outta there. And just when we were sure he was gone for, there he is, sauntering back up like he’d been resurrected.”

  Caitlin studied Booker’s face, silent as he let the words spill out.

  “It wasn’t the last time he saved my ass either.” Booker’s gaze dropped to the ground. “And in Atlanta… I told him. I told him I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t be apart of somethin’ that… Not again, not after…” He shook his head. “Ferguson said he’d come. He said he’d bail out with me, just to give him a day to get his shit but… I could hear it in his voice. Like how we all talked to guys in our platoon threatenin’ to put their service weapon in their mouths. He thought I was losing it. And maybe—yeah, maybe he woulda come with me, but I couldn’t wait. So, I ran. I ran and I left him behind and look what happened.”

  “None of what Ferguson did afterwards was your fault, Booker.”

  He scowled up at her. “You heard him, you heard what he said. I abandoned him. The man who saved my life. I left him in that zombie infested hell hole to fend for himself.”

  Caitlin tightened her grip on his hands.

  “Ferguson wasn’t some innocent civilian who needed protecting. He was a grown man who allowed himself to believe taking orders was more important than helping people. He might’ve saved your life, but that version of him was gone long before we broke into that Ark.”