Blood Moon Gwendolyn Harper (reading books for 7 year olds .txt) 📖

he nodded, she continued. “Have you come across many others?”

“Mostly just scavengers,” Debbie said over the lip of her cup. “We’ve managed to keep them out, but we’ve had a few close calls.”

“How many of you are there to defend this place?” Booker asked.

“Myself, Debbie, and two of the camp counselors,” Jorge said. “And Travis stepped up to the plate pretty quickly.”

“Five of you caring for a place this large, and a group this big?” Nicole frowned. “That’s a difficult task under the best circumstances, let alone now.”

Jorge’s smile was wistful. “I’ll admit, we’re stretched thin. But we’re holding on.”

The knot in Caitlin’s stomach doubled.

“This might sound… a bit outlandish,” Booker said, leaning his elbows on the rickety plastic tabletop. “But we’re looking for a larger camp. Some place fortified, away from the cities.”

Debbie and Jorge shared a solemn look.

“The Ark camps won’t take anymore people,” Jorge said. “And if you get too close… They treat anyone outside their walls as infected, even if you’re still human.”

Booker nodded. “Oh, we’re well aware,” he said. “Had our fair share of run ins with extermination militias.”

“We’re not looking for refuge there,” Caitlin told them. “We’re just trying to find its location.”

Debbie scowled. “You’re looking for a place you know you can’t get into?”

Glancing from Caitlin to Nicole, Booker hesitated.

“We have a theory her husband might be in that camp,” he said, tilting his head at Nicole. “They’re from New York. Happened to be in Georgia at the time of the outbreak, but her husband was still up north. Last she heard from him, he was on a bus to an Ark camp, but since the north east was overrun…”

“You think they moved the camp?”

Booker shrugged. “Maybe. They set up Arks all around the country, so there’s no guarantee he’s in one near us, but…” He folded his hands in front of him. “It’s worth lookin’.”

Jorge shook his head. “I’m sorry, we haven’t heard about one of those being in Arkansas.”

“Remember that last group of scavengers that came through a week ago?” Debbie asked, facing Jorge. “They tried to break in through the front door. When we held them off, they asked if we were the Rejects.”

Caitlin sat up straighter in her seat.

“I thought they were delusional,” Debbie continued. “But they just kept asking if we were the Rejects, yelling they had skills to offer the group…” She blinked down at her cup of water. “It didn’t dawn on me until later that they must’ve been looking for another camp that was taking people in.”

“Any idea where these Rejects would be?” Booker asked.

A noise from behind made them all turn.

“Donald?” An elderly woman with thinning white hair shuffled into the kitchen. “Donald, are you going to fix the faucet?”

Pushing her walker along the tile, she zeroed in on Booker.

“Donald, they’ll be here any minute, you have to fix the faucet.”

Standing, Debbie hurried to the woman’s side.

“Lucille, he’s not here to fix the sink,” she said, tone soothing. “He’s a guest.”

“Donald, you have to…”

Debbie sighed. “Sorry about this,” she whispered. “She’s been battling dementia for years. She thinks any man under sixty is her late husband.”

“Donald is never late,” Lucille commented, inching closer. “Are you, dear?”

Curled, arthritic fingers stroked Booker’s shoulder. He looked up at her, bewilderment fading into tenderness.

“’Course not,” he said, taking her hand in his. “How’s about you show me where that faucet is so I can take a look.”

He stood up, never letting go of her hand. When Debbie started to say he didn’t have to, Booker put her at ease.

“My granny was the same,” he murmured to her as he kept pace with Lucille. “Sometimes it was just easier to go along with what she said.”

Caitlin watched as Booker offered his arm for the woman to hold as she took slow, wobbling steps back towards the main room. Glancing over his shoulder, he grinned at her.

“Don’t get jealous now,” he said with a wink.

She laughed. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

Still smiling, she faced forward.

“It’s good to see kindness has survived in some people,” Jorge said, sipping his water.

Caitlin inhaled deeply.

But would kindness help them survive?

Chapter Eight

Leaning her shoulder into the wall, Caitlin watched as several of the younger children played a made up game she guessed had to do with keeping a dragon or monster away from their pretend pile of gold. They spun and swiped at the little boy flapping his arms like wings as he ran, and they all giggled each time he missed.

She didn’t know how, but they’d managed to retain some of their innocence amidst the horror.

“Cute, aren’t they?” Debbie said, walking up next to her.

Caitlin smiled. “Very.”

“You should see them at bedtime though. Then they’re all little terrors.”

“They still have a bedtime?”

“We’re trying to keep some normalcy for them,” Debbie said. “Even if we’re all sleeping in the middle of a church on ratty foam mats and afghans.”

Glancing around the room, Caitlin said, “I can’t get over how long you all have managed to survive here. And without losing anyone—”

“Oh, we lost people,” Debbie cut in. “Quite a few. Most we don’t even know what happened to.”

Caitlin swallowed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…” She looked to the floor. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay.” Debbie patted her arm gently. “It’s easy to see a group as large as this and think we’re untouched by tragedy.”

The front door creaked open, and Booker returned carrying his rucksack. Helping Jorge with the barricade, the two men talked for a moment, but Caitlin was too far to hear what was said.

Weaving past a cluster of children, he strode closer.

“Found that medicine for Kyle,” he told Debbie. “It yanked my ass outta the