Scott nodded. “Eight hundred thousand people all over the world who are completely immune to this virus. And if I’m right…” He held Caitlin’s gaze. “You’re one of them.”
Caitlin felt numb, unable to process everything being said to her.
“What if…” She swallowed. “What if I’m just slow to show symptoms or something?”
“I’ve never seen a person with or without higher immunity last more than three or four hours before starting to show signs of infection. You’ve lasted twelve, going on thirteen,” he said. “We’ll keep you under observation just to be certain, but… Caitlin I think you might be one of the immune.”
Her skin began to tingle, and warmth spread over her, like she’d just drank a glass of champagne too quickly.
Immune.
She’d never considered the possibility. Never had a reason to.
Suddenly the luck she thought had run out came back at full strength.
Her stare dropped to the bandage on her arm.
Immune.
Caitlin looked up, directly at Booker.
Tears rolled over his cheeks, catching in his stubble.
Inhaling, she tried to steady herself.
She thought she’d break down, too overwhelmed to hold her bruised and broken heart together any longer.
“Cae?”
“Immune,” she breathed, and a smile spread across her face.
Chapter Seventeen
New Mexico
One Year Later
Fumbling with the buttons on her purple plaid over shirt, Caitlin wandered from their bedroom down the long corridor.
Voices hummed in the kitchen downstairs, and she squinted out the picture window, trying to gauge what time it was.
Everything was brighter in the desert. Morning felt like noon, noon felt like the surface of the sun, and dusk lingered for much longer than she thought possible.
“Good morning, Caitlin,” Bob greeted as he passed with a mug of boiled coffee.
“Morning, Bob,” she said with a smile. “Any of that left?”
“On the counter,” he said, heading for the front door. “Sugar too if you want it.”
“Thanks,” she called, realizing she’d put a button in the wrong hole and had to redo them.
Rounding the corner, she was met with a chorus of ‘good morning’s and smiles from the handful of people finishing their food.
“Hey sleepy head,” Nicole teased, bumping her in the shoulder. “You finally decided to join us, huh?”
Caitlin gave up on the top button, leaving her grey tank top mostly showing.
“Booker didn’t wake me,” she said. “Again.”
Nicole grinned. “Yeah, he told me to let you sleep in.”
“Everybody’s going to think I’m the laziest member of this group if he keeps that up.”
Handing her a clean mug, Nicole shook her head. “I don’t think anyone would ever call you lazy.”
Pouring half a cup of coffee from the stainless-steel kettle, she considered adding a spoonful of sugar but decided against it, always considering where she could save and ration, despite the luxury they were surrounded by.
Desi’s mention of her grandfather’s farm outside Santa Fe had stuck with them for weeks. She wanted to go back, if not to live, then to see if maybe her elderly grandfather had survived the outbreak.
The journey had been hard, and nearly impossible at times, but as they rolled up to the gates of the property, it was all worth it.
Caitlin admitted, when she heard ‘farm’ she’d thought it would be a humble piece of land with a small house and maybe a barn.
She hadn’t expected the hundred and twenty acres of a pecan farm, or the neo-Spanish architecture of the giant ranch house at the top of the hill.
And the sturdy wrought iron fences and added chain link surrounding the perimeter? Well that was enough to send everyone’s hearts aflutter.
Desi’s grandfather, Chuck, had held on but his health had rapidly declined once his medicine ran out and the town had become overrun.
She got to be with him for a few more days before he passed in his sleep under Scott’s care.
His last words were to Desi, telling her to stay. To build a life again.
With everyone.
“You want something to eat?” Vanessa asked, stirring the eggs in the pan. “I promise there are no shells in them this time.”
Caitlin smiled. “Thanks. I’m just going to stretch my legs first.”
As she rounded the granite topped island in the center of the kitchen, she caught Nicole reaching on her tiptoes for a mixing bowl.
“Hold on, I’ll get it,” Caitlin said, setting her mug aside. “No need for you to go wrenching your back again.”
Backing up slightly, Nicole sighed, and placed a hand on her swollen belly. “Remember when I was spry? Lithe? Light as a feather and fast as the roaring river?”
“I think you’re describing a Disney character,” Caitlin said, retrieving the bowl and closing the cabinet. “Besides, little Bridget or Liam in there is going to be very impressed with their mama no matter how many talking animal sidekicks you have.”
“Promise me you’ll remind them I dealt with puffy ankles and heartburn for months just for them.”
“Daily, and with accompanying musical numbers,” Caitlin said, handing her the kitchenware before picking up her mug once more.
Wandering around the carved wooden table, she said hello and good morning to several people before stepping out the front door onto the wide covered porch.
Their little enclave was already wide awake, the sounds of hammering and sawing filling the air.
The ranch house was the largest home Caitlin had ever seen, with eight bedrooms and several offices, dens, parlors, and a large formal living room.
But even with that much space, which they’d done a good job of divvying up the first month of living there, having so many people right on top of one another got old very quickly.
That’s when construction on the first cabin began.
David, in his previous life, had been an architect, and he’d been eager to use his skills to benefit the group. The cabin
