Bloody Sunset by Gwendolyn Harper (classic books for 11 year olds TXT) 📗

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.