Blood Moon by Gwendolyn Harper (best sales books of all time .TXT) 📗

got anything to help you,” Booker’s voice announced. “We’re outta supplies. Ain’t got no more food. Whatever you need, it ain’t here.”

The woman glanced back at the man by the truck. He shook his head and she pressed on.

“Then maybe just shelter for the night,” she said. “We’ve got food. We’d be happy to share.”

Caitlin watched the man with the ax move towards the main window, craning his neck to look for giveaway shadows.

“Y’all don’t come any closer now,” Booker shouted through the door. “We ain’t got nothin’ and we don’t want anything of yours. I think it’s better if y’all just keep headin’ down the road, find somewhere else to hole up.”

Through the scope, Caitlin saw the woman grin as she looked to the others in her group.

“You’re sure keeping a tight hold on this place for a guy who doesn’t have anything worthwhile…” She crept onto the porch and Caitlin lost sight of her. “Makes me think you’re a liar.”

A long, silent pause was followed by a high whistle.

Aim left.

Confused, Caitlin adjusted her grip on the rifle and steadied herself.

Booker whistled again.

And down.

Down? Down at what?

Still, she aimed and waited.

“I ain’t a liar,” Booker called. “Only thing I’ve got is my attack bird.”

The group outside froze in bewilderment. Turning to each other, they gestured as if asking what the hell to do.

But Caitlin finally knew.

The woman on the porch cleared her throat. “Your…what?”

“My attack bird,” Booker repeated, before whistling once more.

Now.

Fast and firm, Caitlin squeezed the trigger, and a single bullet tore through the weathered porch roof and into the floorboards. By the way the woman screamed, she guessed she hit about a foot away from her.

“Now that was just a warning shot,” Booker yelled while the people outside scrambled to find out where they were being fired upon. “But she’ll do more than that if you come any closer.”

“Hey, fuck you man!” The woman shouted.

Another whistle.

Again.

Caitlin finished ejecting the spent shell and aimed.

The second shot clipped the railing, wood splinters flying across the porch.

One more.

She made it count.

Swinging the barrel over, she aimed for the guy by the truck, only instead of putting his torso in her crosshairs, she focused her sight on the side mirror next to him.

With a final squeeze of the trigger, glass and metal shattered, sending the man tumbling back in fear. A sliver lodged in his cheek and he hollered in pain.

Everyone outside began to panic, rushing for cover.

“Fuck this, c’mon,” the woman yelled, hauling ass to the truck.

The men followed suit, climbing over each other to get in and slam the doors before they were shot at again.

With a roar of their engine, the group took off, taillights disappearing into the night.

Caitlin exhaled fully, slumping against the wall as she lowered the rifle. Her ears rang from the shots and her arms shook with the reverberations, but she didn’t care.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation.

Standing up, she carried the rifle with her downstairs, pausing a few steps above the first floor.

Pushing the safety on the revolver back into place, Booker slid it into the back of his belt and grinned.

“Your ‘attack bird’?” Caitlin asked, arching an eyebrow.

Booker shrugged, still smiling. “It was the only thing that came t’me.”

Shaking her head, Caitlin descended the last three steps. “We should really work on your improv skills.”

Crawling out from behind the couch, Nicole stood and brushed her hands off.

“Guys, I think that was a sign,” she said, glancing at both of them. “We should keep moving.”

Something loosened behind Caitlin’s sternum.

They wouldn’t be trapped by indecision any longer.

Chapter Four

None of them slept.

As soon as they were sure the group wouldn’t be doubling back, they started gathering their supplies. Canned food, jugs of water, dry goods, even paper products that weren’t too bulky got stacked up in the living room for Nicole to organize.

Caitlin took to searching for clean linen, blankets, and extra clothing. They might’ve been in the middle of summer, but depending on where they landed next, autumn could feel more like winter.

Carrying an arm full of sheets out of one of the guest rooms, she nearly collided with Booker’s chest.

“Whoa, easy, songbird,” he said, steadying her by the shoulders. “We’ve got time. No need to rush.”

“You’ll forgive me if I’m not gonna take that bet,” she said, giving him a wide berth as she stepped around him.

“Hey, you need help lookin’ for gear?”

Tossing her hair over her shoulder as she headed downstairs, she called, “Like I trust your taste in clothes.”

The living room was starting to look like a discount store, supplies lined up and stacked by necessity and size. Nicole muttered to herself as she took inventory on the kitchen notepad, scribbling as she looked each piece over.

“You can take the scientist out of the field…” Caitlin teased as she added her finds to the pile of sheets on the end of the sofa.

“I just want us to have an accurate count of everything. It’ll make supply runs easier too.”

Caitlin planted her hands on her hips as she scanned the room. “Think we’ll need towels and rags for anything? The upstairs closet is filled with them.”

“Bring them down and I’ll start picking through them,” Nicole said. “We can’t take too many ‘cause they take up too much space, but we’ll see.”

Nodding, Caitlin turned and went back upstairs.

She expected to hear Booker searching the bathrooms for anything viable, but as she passed their room, she spotted him sitting on the edge of the mattress, head hung low.

She skidded to a stop, concern twisting in her stomach.

“Booker? What’s wrong?” She asked, hurrying towards him. “Are you lightheaded?”

Before she could reach