Bloody Sunset

  Bloody Sunset

  A Zombie Apocalypse Romance Novel

  by Gwendolyn Harper

  For Brigid

  And all the chosen family I love like wildfire

  Thank you

  Chapter One

  “Been a long time, gunny. Shame it had to be like this.”

  * * * * * * *

  Clinging to Scott’s hand, Nicole squinted through the darkness at the figures running from the large dining hall.

  They’d all heard the gunshots. The terrified screams.

  What had happened?

  “Thank God, they’re okay,” Scott said, already turning towards the bus.

  Nicole planted herself, yanking Scott back. “That’s not Booker.”

  “What?”

  As the children ran across the courtyard, the adult with them brought up the rear, holding the hand of a little girl.

  Nathaniel.

  Slipping out of Scott’s hold, Nicole ran forward. “Where’re Booker and Caitlin?”

  “We have to get them on the bus,” Nathaniel said, starting to jog past her, herding the kids to safety.

  “Where are they? What happened?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Nicole scowled. “Nate!”

  He finally stopped.

  “What happened to Caitlin and Booker? Why aren’t they with you?”

  Nathaniel’s expression was grim in the lilac dawn light.

  “Booker’s been caught,” he said. “And Caitlin’s in there with him.”

  * * * * * * *

  Caitlin swallowed, willing air into her lungs.

  “What’s the matter?” The man took a long step forward. “No hello for your old pal?”

  From her vantage point, Caitlin watched Booker assess the gun pointed at him and the man holding it. His glare was dark as flint and lethal. She’d never seen him look so close to murderous.

  “Ferguson,” Booker growled.

  He chuckled, and a chill dragged down Caitlin’s spine.

  “Gunny, you look like somebody pissed in your cornflakes.” Ferguson strolled closer, adjusting his grip on the pistol level with Booker’s chest. “Don’t know why, seeing as you’re the one who tore my house apart.”

  Caitlin’s legs shook, adrenaline screaming through her system to run, run, run.

  Ferguson tsked, giving Booker a once over. “Looking a little rough too. Guess life on the outside hasn’t been too kind.”

  Booker sneered. “Better free than a goon.”

  “Ouch. That hurt my feelings, gunny.”

  “C’mon over here and I’ll really give ya something t’complain about.”

  Ferguson laughed again. “There’s the Booker I knew. Damn, I sure have missed you.”

  With her pulse thundering, Caitlin searched for an exit strategy. If she could give Booker another moment’s head start, he could distract Ferguson, get the gun away from him, and—

  “You having fun listening over there?” Ferguson called. “I know you’re hiding. Can feel you watching.”

  Booker shifted his weight. “Ain’t nobody else there, Ferg.”

  “Don’t play that game, gunny.” Ferguson paced around an overturned table, circling to Booker’s left. “How about we all have a nice little chat together, just the three of us.”

  “Talkin’ to yourself—”

  “Shut up,” Ferguson hissed, lifting the gun to line up with Booker’s temple.

  An exit. A distraction. Anything they could use.

  Caitlin’s mind was reeling.

  “I’m going to give you until the count of three to come out,” Ferguson explained, eerily calm. “Or I’m going to splatter Booker’s brains all over this room.”

  Caitlin’s stomach dropped as the floor swooped under her.

  No.

  Booker didn’t make a sound.

  “One…”

  Pressing her shoulder blades to the pillar, she tried to breathe.

  “Two…”

  She could feel Booker’s desperate mental plea for her to leave, escape, get as far away from this cruel man with a gun as possible.

  Together, or not at all.

  That was their vow.

  Caitlin slid the safety on her gun into position.

  Pushing away from the pillar wall, she raised both her hands, pistol still gripped in her right, and stepped out from the shadows.

  The smile that crept across Ferguson’s clean-shaven face was wicked.

  “Come on over,” he said, jovial tone out of place amidst the destruction. “Join the party.”

  Heartbreak flashed in Booker’s eyes moments before he closed them, steadying himself.

  Caitlin wasn’t sorry though. She’d never leave him behind.

  With even strides, she moved closer, never taking her eyes off the man holding a gun on her beloved.

  Ferguson whistled low between his teeth.

  “Well, shit,” he said. “Aren’t you a pretty young thing.”

  Caitlin’s skin crawled but she schooled her expression into cool detachment.

  Leaning in, Ferguson stage whispered into Booker’s ear, “Not much has changed, huh gunny? Still have a type.”

  “Let her go,” Booker snarled. “She ain’t got nothin’ to do with this.”

  Ferguson smirked. “Oh, is that so?” Eyeing her, he asked, “Honey, did he magically possess you and shoot that gun for you? Did he psychically control your every move? Hypnotize you into breaking into a federal refugee camp and kidnapping our charges?”

  Caitlin snorted. “Kidnapping. That’s cute.”

  Her tone caught Ferguson’s attention.

  “And what would you call it then?”

  “Offering people a choice.”

  His laugh was icy. “A choice. A choice between what? Starvation, illness, or getting ganked by some walking corpse?”

  She glared at him. “Better than being locked up in a prison camp, torn away from their families.”

  “Survival of the fittest,” Ferguson told her. “Their family members didn’t have the gene. It would only be a matter of time before their card got punched.”

  “What a healthy and informed opinion you have,” she said flatly. “You must make a great leader.”

  For a moment she thought he would snap on her, but then he blinked, and a cruel smirk curved his lips.

  “Whew, talk about a bitch with a backbone,” he said, chuckling.

  “Calling a woman a bitch, how original. Did you learn those comparison skills in a poetry class or are you just naturally gifted?”

  From the look Booker was giving her, she knew two things: he thought she was out of her mind, and she was on the right track to getting what they needed.

  A moment’s head start.

  Light gleamed off the barrel of Ferguson’s weapon as he took a step forward.

  “That’s one hell of a smart mouth,” he said, grinning. “I bet our boy Booker here enjoys taking advantage of that every night.”

  Caitlin all but rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, is that supposed to fluster me? Make me feel creeped out and verbally violated? ‘Cause, I gotta tell you, this hasn’t even reached the level of an average Tuesday on the L train.”

  Ferguson looked her up and down. “I can’t tell if you’re blissfully unaware or scared so shitless you can’t even think straight.”

  “Why should I be?” Caitlin curled her lip. “I don’t see anyone in this room to be scared of.”

  “A bold statement to make to the man holding a gun on your boyfriend.”

  “Then shoot us,” she said, about as nonchalantly as was possible given the circumstances. “Prove you’re the toughest man here by firing on two surrendering civilians with nearly empty clips.”

  Booker widened hi
s eyes, staring at her.

  What the ever lovin’ fuck are you doin’?

  Tilting her head a minute fraction, she hoped he could see what she was trying to tell him.

  The closer Ferguson got, the easier it would be for Booker to surprise him. Make a move to take his gun off him.

  “Civilians,” Ferguson chuckled. “You think this one’s an innocent man rising up against injustice?” He gestured to Booker with the barrel of his gun. “Did he tell you about his time in the service? About all the people he killed because someone else told him to?”

  Caitlin wasn’t fazed.

  She knew Booker had killed the moment she laid eyes on him.

  Clearly Ferguson didn’t have the same insight with her…

  “Did he tell you he was in Atlanta?” Ferguson continued. “He was there during the outbreak. I’ve never seen a grown man run faster in my life.”

  Booker’s raised right hand trembled as Ferguson kept mocking him.

  “Pissed himself the second we’re told to contain the virus. Like we weren’t a part of worse overseas. Like he hadn’t suggested worse to our COs.”

  Caitlin grit her teeth.

  “But you didn’t have a problem handling things, right?” She started. “You looked at all those innocent people and you saw easy target practice.”

  His cold amusement cracked.

  “They were a threat,” he snapped. “Thousands of possible infection sites. Dozens had been bit or scratched and were hiding it, getting on to transport vehicles to an Ark camp. Can you imagine? Putting that many people at risk ‘cause you’re afraid to die?”

  “And what about the people who never even knew? Never had any idea what was happening until their planes were getting shot right out of the sky.”

  Ferguson shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. If you were there, you’d have seen—”

  “I saw plenty,” she cut in. “The people on my flight were normal, healthy, innocent people and your bosses decided it was better to slaughter everyone than to give us a chance at escape.”

  For a moment she thought he was going to carry on with his ‘it wasn’t personal, it was just orders’ bullshit.

  But then his stare narrowed on her, lips parting in surprise.

  “You were… on one of those planes?”

  Caitlin briefly felt out of control, like slipping on ice without something to grab onto.

  Gaze darting to Booker, she found her footing again.

  “I’m a walking, talking miracle,” she sniped. “And you’re just a jarhead hired gun who can’t believe he got bested by a couple of rejects.”

  Anger flashed in Ferguson’s stare as he took another step closer.

  “At least I stayed. At least I pulled my shit together and got people to safety. All those people you supposedly freed? They’re alive because of me.”

  Pressing the muzzle of his gun against the back of Booker’s right ear, Ferguson sneered.

  “More than I can say about you, huh gunny?”

  Booker’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed roughly.

  “You’re right. I saw what they—what we were doin’ and I couldn’t take it. I ran.”

  “Abandoned your post,” Ferguson said. “Abandoned your men. Your friends.”

  “We lost ourselves over there, man,” Booker said, voice rough. “We weren’t people out in that desert, not after all the shit we did. By the time we made it back, I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. Comin’ home, I wanted more, I wanted somethin’ better—”

  “You think I signed up to be a baby killer in Atlanta?”

  “Coulda left,” Booker told him simply. “Coulda picked your own soul over their fear, their greed—”

  “You—” Ferguson shoved Booker’s head with the end of his gun, keeping it jabbed into his skin. “—Don’t get to lecture me on righteous behavior, when you’re the one who left us behind.”

  Suddenly, Caitlin understood a missing piece of the lethal puzzle in front of them.

  Ferguson didn’t hate Booker. He was envious. And he was hurt—abandoned by his friend and brother in arms during possibly the worst moment of their lives.

  He’d counted on Booker, looked to him for guidance, and when he was left amidst chaos, Ferguson shut down.

  A new opportunity presented itself.

  “Do you like being here?” Caitlin asked, stepping forward. “Do you actually like dumping people out of your camp to fend for themselves? Testing a highly volatile drug on children? Being nothing but a man in a uniform with a gun?”

  Ferguson stared at her like she’d just spoken Latin.

  “What?”

  She inched closer. “Is this all you really want out of your life? To be some asshole politician’s goon? Or are you doing it because that’s the only choice you think you have now?”

  He smirked at her. “Like you said, I’m just a jarhead hired gun.”

  Caitlin shook her head. “That doesn’t have to be the case. Not if you don’t want it to be.”

  For the first time, she could see him considering her words.

  “There’s nothing left for me,” Ferguson said. “Not after everything…”

  “That’s what we all thought,” she told him. “But we’re choosing a different path. The world ended, but that doesn’t mean we have to give up on ourselves.”

  Ferguson shifted, and the muzzle of his gun eased off Booker’s head.

  It was only a millisecond’s worth of time, but it was enough.

  Caitlin had just opened her mouth to speak again—to continue arguing her case for Ferguson’s soul—when Booker reared back, elbowing him in the jaw.

  Knocked off balance, Ferguson flew into a nearby gurney, toppling over.

  “Cae, run!” Booker shouted.

  But she couldn’t.

  He leapt over top of Ferguson, stomping on his wrist until he released his weapon and Booker could kick it away.

  The two men bellowed as they fought, fists landing against vital tissue and bone. The sickening sounds of a skull against metal or tile flooring was interspersed with curses and more yelling.

  With a knee to Ferguson’s ribs, Booker swung once more, breaking the other man’s nose.

  Grabbing him by the front of his uniform, Booker hauled him up and slammed him across the side of one of the tables.

  “Jack!” She shouted, just as she saw his two bloodied hands grip Ferguson’s head.

  She never realized the sound of vertebrae snapping would be the same as crunching ice between your teeth.

  Wobbly and limp, Ferguson’s neck folded over, the weight of his head too much for broken bone to hold.

  Booker released him, letting his lifeless body fall to the floor in a heap.

  With a heaving chest, he faced her, eyes glazed over.

  “Y’okay?” He asked, voice barely human.

  Caitlin nodded. “I’m fine, Jack.”

  Taking several strides forward, she reached for him.

  “C’mon, we have to go.”

  His hand was slick with blood as she took it in hers.

  Together, they bolted for the double glass doors.

  * * * * * * *

  The sky had turned from inky black to deep lavender, announcing the coming dawn.

  Caitlin’s heart was in her throat as they ran.

  Where was everyone?

  Tugging on her arm, Booker led her around a different building, avoiding the patrol path of any lingering guards.

  “Booker, where’s the bus?”

  She heard the diesel engine, the hydraulics hissing as it was driven away.

  Wait…

  “No, no, no,” she muttered, speeding up. “They’re leaving.”

  “Clock ran out,” Booker said, trying to keep up. “They must’ve—”

  “Caitlin!” Nicole screamed, hanging out of the back of a different bus as it drove past. “Booker, c’mon!”

  She didn’t have the time to question why there were two buses in their
possession now.

  Not when a third engine—a sound she’d grown to associate only with destruction—was revving closer.

  A Humvee.

  A goon squad was coming for them.

  Grabbing Booker’s forearm, Caitlin dug her nails in and hauled him with her as she sprinted.

  They could make it. They could reach the bus.

  They just had to run.

  Machine gun fire clipped the corner of the nearest brick building, and Caitlin tried not to scream.

  “Go, Cae,” Booker shouted, twisting to fire off a couple shots at the tires.

  It didn’t do much to slow the Humvee down.

  “Guys, hurry!” Nicole yelled, leaning dangerously far out with her hand outstretched for them to grab.

  So close.

  So close and yet so far away.

  “Run, Cae, go on!” Booker told her, nearly shoving her towards the bus.

  She knew what he was doing, and it wouldn’t work.

  “Goddamn it, Jack,” she snapped, reaching back and grabbing him by the arm again.

  This time she swore her nails drew blood as she forced him to keep up the pace.

  She wouldn’t let him sacrifice himself in some piss-poor attempt to slow down an extermination team.

  Together, or not at all.

  Another round of machine gun fire whizzed by their heads, ricocheting off the bumper.

  Nicole ducked but never retreated.

  “Caitlin, jump!” She yelled. “Jump!”

  With a strength she never knew she possessed, Caitlin pulled Booker forward, partially slinging him into the open bus backdoor.

  The Humvee fired on them again, and a searing pain shot through her left arm.

  As Nicole dragged Booker in, Caitlin scrambled to find something to grab—the door handle—and leapt.

  Her feet were barely off the ground as the door swung, hitting the metal siding, and bounced. Caitlin clung for dear life, left arm in agony from the effort.

  Then something had her by the waist, yanking her off the door handle.

  She started to scream until she realized she was being hoisted into the bus as it sped across a grassy courtyard.

  Caitlin’s teeth clacked together as she landed on her back, letting out a yelp. Something or someone was partially on top of her, pinning her.

  “Goddamn it, Meadows.” The heavy mass moved. “What in Christ almighty’s name were you doin’?”