Apocalypsis: Book 1 (Kahayatle) (14 page)

Peter’s expression was priceless - kind of a cross between incredulity and disgust.
 
He just shook his head, mumbling as he walked away.
 
“As if I’m going to share my bathroom habits with her …”
 

Buster went to follow him, so I yelled out, “Buster, stay!
 
Peter has to go do a doodle.
 
No poodles allowed during doodle time.”
 
I giggled at Peter throwing his hands up in defeat.
 

By the time we got to the Everglades, I was going to be an expert teaser.
 

I waited for Peter to be out of sight before I went and took care of my own doodle business.
 
Togetherness was one thing - but certain stuff was better kept private, and this was one thing I knew I never needed to share.
 
Not even with Buster.
 

“Buster, stay!” I commanded, pointing at the wagon.
 

He happily jumped in, wagging his behind like crazy.
 

“Watch our stuff.
 
Bite anyone who tries to touch anything.”

I left, wondering if Buster would ever actually be any use to us as a guard dog that did anything but bark and lick people to death.

***

I got my answer as I was zipping up my pants.
 
Buster began barking his fuzzy head off, and shortly thereafter, I heard the sounds of somebody yelling.
 
It was a male voice, but too deep to be Peter’s.
 

I ran back to the bikes, praying I wasn’t going to have to fight off a canner.
 
I had my gun in my hand, where it had been the entire time I’d been taking care of business.
 
I was leaving nothing to chance, and literally refused to be caught unarmed with my pants down.
 
All these weird expressions my dad used to use were totally taking on new meaning for me.

I arrived at the ramp in time to see a big guy holding his hands up in surrender, while a ferocious-looking Buster held him at bay a few feet away from the trailer.

“Who the hell are you?!” I yelled, striding over awkwardly on the steep slope.

“I’m just a guy!” he yelled, but he had an accent.
 
It sounded like he said, “I’m chust a guy.”

“You’re not just a guy, you’re a thief.
 
And a dirty cannibal too, probably!”

I had arrived at the trailer, stopping next to Buster.
 
I bent down without taking my eyes off the guy in front of us to pet him and murmur, “Good boy, Killer, good doggy.”
 

“He bit my ankle.
 
I hope he hass hiss rabiess shots.”
 
The guy’s speech was very clipped as he pronounced every letter, just so and very precisely.

“What’s up with the accent?” I asked.
 

“H-what accent.
 
I don’t have an accent.”

“Yes you do.
 
It’s not ‘h-what’.
 
It’s just ‘what’.
 
And you’re putting too many esses on the ends of your words.”

“I’m Hamerican.”

I laughed.
 
“Try again, liar.”

“Fine.
 
What are you, da immigration police or something?
 
I’m Cherman.”

“German?”

“Yes.
 
Dat’s what I said.”

“What’s your name and why are you messing with our stuff?”

He smiled.
 
“You talk about your dok like he’ss a person.”

“She’s not talking about the dog,” said Peter from behind me.
 
“She’s talking about me.”

“And the dog,” I corrected.

“And Buster,” said Peter, standing next to me, holding his gun down at his side.
 
I was glad he decided to do that.
 
It looked a lot more intimidating when his hands weren’t shaking.

“Okay, fine.
 
You are a party of three.
 
My name iss Bodo.
 
I am from Chermany.
 
I came here for an exchange program last year and den the family I was staying with, dey all died.
 
Now de Internet iss down and I cannot reach my family.
 
I do not even know if dey are alife.”

I leaned over to Peter and said in a loud whisper, “He means ‘alive’.”

“Dat’s what I said,” clarified Bodo.
 
“Alife.”
 

Peter shook his head.
 
“Stop harassing the poor guy, Bryn.
 
He’s German.
 
But he speaks pretty good English, actually.”
 
Peter turned his attention back to Bodo, addressing him directly.
 
“Hello, Bodo.
 
Welcome to the United States.
 
I’m sorry you got stuck here, but you should probably know that anyone in your country over the age of twenty and under the age of ten is dead now.
 
You’re probably stuck here for life unless you know how to sail.”

“Wow.
 
Way to break it to him easy,” I said, chuckling.
 
Mr. Sensitive was getting tougher by the minute.

“I know dis.
 
Efreyone is dead now.
 
I haf been on dis highway for days, looking for someone.
 
Anyone.
 
It wass crazy in my town, so I left it.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t advise heading north.
 
There are cannibals up there.”

“I call dem zombies,” said Bodo.
 
“Dey haff dem in my old town, too.
 
I was living in West Palm Beach.”

Peter and I exchanged a look, smiling.
 

“You like zombies?” said Bodo.
 
Then he took a step back.
 
“If you are thinking about killing me and eating me, I will tell you dat it would be a mistake.
 
I am a lethal weapon.”
 
He held up his hands in a poor approximation of a karate stance.
 

I couldn’t help but snigger at him.
 
He was absolutely adorable, but so full of crap it wasn’t even funny.
 
I could have been wrong, but I felt like to be a canner, you had to totally lose your sense of humor.
 
And this guy still had his, whether he realized it or not.

“We don’t eat people,” said Peter.
 
“But we don’t have enough food to share right now.”

“Oh, dat’s not a problem,” said Bodo, sliding his backpack off his shoulder.

I held up my gun.
 
“Not too fast, there, Bodo.
 
We’ve already killed some guys who messed with us before.”

He held up his hands, palms out.
 
“I’m chust going to show you my food.
 
So you can see I did not come here to take your thingks.”

He pulled can after can of raviolis and tuna out.
 
The last thing he took out was a tall container of Pringles.

“Holy crap.
 
You have
Pringles
,” I said, in a daze.
 
I hadn’t had a Pringle in over a year.
 
Normally, that wouldn’t be a big deal for me.
 
But right now, it seemed like a crying shame.

“I eat one per day.
 
I haff enough Pringkles for a few more months.
 
Unless I share.
 
Den a little bit less.”
 
He smiled, revealing straight, white teeth.
 
They were so not like the canner’s teeth I had seen.

“Bodo, I have to warn you,” said Peter, his voice sounding very serious and mature.
 
“Bryn here, really is a lethal weapon, so if you try anything funny, she will snap your neck.
 
She was trained by the Israeli Special Forces.
 
Do you agree not to steal any of our food or things if we let you stay with us tonight?”

Bodo nodded his head quickly.
 
“Oh yes, definitely.
 
Wow, dat’s impressif.
 
The Issraeli Special Forcess.
 
I will not touch anything.
 
And if you vant,
oops
, I mean want, I can play you my harmonica.
 
My family used to tell me dat I am very good.”
 
He smiled and said, “I’m trying to improof my accent so I can blend in better.
 
For me, it’s da double youss dat get me efreytime.”

“Dude, trust me when I say, it’s not just the double yous that are getting you, but it doesn’t matter to us if you have an accent.
 
And no, thanks, we don’t need to hear your harmonica.
 
We don’t want to attract any attention with music.
 
Maybe some other time.”

“Yeah, sure.
 
No problem.
 
Chust tell me when you want to hear it and I will play it for you.”
 
He put all the cans back in his bag.

“You stay over there,” I said, directing Bodo to a spot about ten feet below us.

“Okay, dat’s not a problem.”

I leaned in and whispered to Peter.
 
“Did you hear that?
 
It’s not a problem.”

Peter rolled his eyes and whispered back.
 
“You are so mean.
 
He’s foreign.
 
He can’t help it if he repeats the phrases he knows.”

“I’m just goofing around.
 
His accent is cute.”

“I know.
 
It totally is,” said Peter, his voice taking on a dreamy quality.

I nudged him.
 
“I’m pretty sure he’s not your type.”

“A boy can fantasize,” he said nudging me back.

Bodo went down the ramp and sat down, reaching into his sack.
 
“Do you guyss want some Pringkles?
 
I am happy to share.”
 
He held the can up behind his head.

Peter looked at me nervously.
 
“Do you trust him?”

I shook my head.
 
“No.
 
The only ones I trust are you and Buster.
 
How do we know he doesn’t have a gun or something else in that bag?”

Peter walked down to where Bodo was sitting.
 
“We want to search your bag.”

Bodo shrugged, handing it over.
 
“Go ahead.
 
It’s not a problem at all.”

Peter brought it back and went through it, while I kept my gun trained on Bodo’s back.
 

Bodo took the plastic lid off the Pringles can and took out a chip, turning sideways so we could watch him put it in his mouth.

I felt myself start to salivate, watching that chip go in; and I didn’t know whether it was the food or his cute face that was causing it to happen.
 
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and blue-eyed.
 
The stereotypical aryan European man.
 
Wowza
.

“He’s clean,” said Peter.
 
“He doesn’t even have a gun or a knife.
 
Just a can opener.”

Peter took a few steps towards Bodo and tossed the backpack to him.

Bodo held up the can of chips and shook it a little.
 
“I’ll chrade you … one chip each for something you have.”

I took four long steps down the slope and snatched the can out of his hand.

“Hey,” he said, half standing, “dat’s not fair.”

“You want to join this crew?
 
You sacrifice everything.
 
Pringles and all.”

Bodo thought for a second and then looked up, his crystal blue eyes boring into mine.
 
“You are offering me a place with you?
 
In your family?”

I looked back at Peter who shrugged in return.

I turned my gaze back to Bodo and said, “It’s more like a tribe than a family, but yeah.
 
There’s a place for you here if you agree to share with us, protect us, and not give us away to any canners … zombies.”

“I will like dat.
 
To be with your … tribe you call it.
 
And I will share my food with you.
 
I am sorry it is not much.
 
And I will protect you.
 
I think I can do dat pretty good, anyway.”

I stared at him intently, wishing I could read his mind.
 
“I swear to God, Bodo, if you’re lying to me, and you try to hurt any of us, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.
 
Do you understand?
 
I promise you I will do that.
 
That’s not a problem.”
 
And I meant it with all my heart and soul.
 
I hadn’t been able to protect my last family from the death and destruction that had raged over the Earth, but I could protect my new family from the dangers that lurked out there in the night for us.
 
And I’d do whatever it took, even if it meant taking someone’s life - even a cute guy’s life.

He nodded his head.
 
“I gif you my promise.
 
It is true.
 
We are family now, see?
 
You have the Pringkles.
 
Eat dem all if you want, even dough dey are my favorite American snack.
 
I will not hurt anyone.”
 
He sat back down on the slope and drew his knees up to his chest, resting his forearms on them as he stared down the incline.

I walked slowly backwards to join Peter and Buster, motioning for Peter to walk up higher with me.
 
Once we were near the top, so much that we had to bend down to avoid hitting our heads, I said, “So.
 
What do you think?”

“Well, he doesn’t seem crazy.
 
Just funny.”