Apocalypsis: Book 3 (Exodus) (10 page)

“Wow.  Holy crap.  That must’ve been horrible for that poor girl.  And that was when we had hospitals and medical professionals and pills you could take.  Now we’ve got none of that stuff.”  I hadn’t thought of anyone with mental disorders being left alone to deal with their problems before.  I’d only considered it in the context of sociopaths who’d turned to cannibalism to survive, and they were definitely not in the same boat as people like LaShay was talking about.

“Do you think that could be Coli’s problem?” asked Paci.  “It would explain a lot of things.”

LaShay shrugged.  “How do I know?  I ain’t no doctor.  I’ve only seen one person with it, and I didn’t know her that well.  I have no idea what it was like for her on the inside - and the outside stuff I saw, was just kind of like casual bystander stuff, you know?  We weren’t really friends or anything, so lots of stuff was just gossip.”

I couldn’t think of anything else to say, but my mind was racing. 
What if Coli has a mental disorder?  Should I forgive her bullcrap just because of that?  Should I offer to help her or would that just make her more mad?  Am I in danger from her?
  I felt like a jerk, not knowing the answers to my questions.  I wished they had a library in the swamp so I could go look bi-polar disorder up in a book and learn more about it.  I had no delusions about becoming a psychologist or psychiatrist or whatever, but I felt like a complete idiot knowing so little.

“Well, whatever,” said LaShay, sighing.  “I think no matter what, everyone around here deserves a little extra forgiveness, just because of all the garbage we have to deal with.  I’m not talking’ about them demon canners, though.  They get no forgiveness from me.  But the indians here, they do deserve it.  I’m just sayin’.”

“You know, LaShay, you guys really should stop calling us indians,” said Paci.  “I don’t mean to be critical, but some of us get kind of offended over it.”

I frowned at him.  “Why?  You are indian tribes, aren’t you?  Or did I miss something in school?”

He smiled mirthlessly.  “No, I’m sure you didn’t miss anything.  They taught you that explorers like Christopher Columbus came to this country and found the native people here and called them indians.  But some people forget the fact that he called them indians because he thought he’d landed in India.  And this obviously isn’t India.”

“So if we ain’t supposed to call you indians, what are we supposed to say?”

“Most people are okay with Native Americans.  Some prefer
indigenous people.
  I’m cool with Native American.”

“They’re both a mouthful,” grumbled LaShay.  She sighed.  “But I can hardly blame you for wantin’ it to be respectful.  Believe me, my momma used to get all up in people’s faces when they called her certain things.  Like she hated bein’ called
African-American
.  She liked it simple.  She said,
Don’t call me nothin’ but American.  You don’t need to call me by my skin color or by some place where some distant ancestor might have come from that I don’t even know
.”

“What do you prefer?” I asked, curious now about the whole personal identification thing.  I had never really considered it before, probably because I was caucasian and had little information about my ancestors’ origins.

“Same as my momma.  What’s it matter, anyway?  We all in the same boat now.  Don’t matter if you’re black, brown, white … whatever.  We all bleed red, and I’m workin’ on not bleedin’ anymore for as long as I live, so help me, Lord Jesus.”

“Amen to that,” I said, smiling.  My smile turned instantly into a scowl, though.  “Oh,
ouch!
  That frigging
hurts
, LaShay!  Do you have to scrub it that hard?”

“I know, baby.  I’m tryin’ to be gentle, but it looks like you rolled in some pile of leaves or somethin’ before you came here.”  She tsked at me while she worked, frowning her displeasure.  “If I leave the garbage in there, you’re gonna get an infection.  And trust me when I tell you, you don’t wanna be losin’ no limb.”

I felt like a real a-hole complaining then, my gaze drawn to her bandaged arm, so I kept my mouth shut the rest of the time I laid there.

I stared at Paci and he stared right back, reaching up to brush hair out of my face a few times.  He was being very gentle and sweet, and I tried not to let myself feel guilty over that.  I needed a little sympathy right now, since it felt like LaShay was pulling my skin off.

“Okay,” she said, finally.  “All done.  Just let me put some ointment on this and cover it and you’ll be all set.”

“Do you need her to stay here overnight?” asked Paci.

I was too wiped out to bother caring where I slept.

“She can stay or go.  Whatever she wants.  I’ll be around.”

“Thanks, LaShay.  You’re an awesome doctor,” I said, smiling weakly.

“My momma was a nurse.  She was always gettin’ awards at work and stuff for being the best.  I think I might have been a nurse someday, too … if the world hadn’t fallen into a cesspit like it did.”

“Well, you’re one now,” I said, “and a damn good one, too.”

She smiled but said nothing as she smeared some goo on my leg and then covered it with some clean cloths.  When she was done she stood up with her supplies now piled in the bowl.  “We boil those bandages to kill the germs, but you still need to keep an eye on it.  Clean it with soap tomorrow and come see me if it gets any puss or red and inflamed lookin’.”

I grimaced at the thought.  The cut went from the top of my thigh to the middle of my lower leg. 
What are the chances that this huge thing won’t get infected after having soaked it in the swamp?

“Do you want to stay here or go back to your hut?” asked Paci.

“Go back,” I said, pushing myself into a sitting position.

“Here.  Let me help you,” he said, shifting around to be my human crutch.  I was glad when he didn’t offer to carry me.  I think it would have hurt too much to have my leg flopping around, and I was totally paranoid that Coli was out there spying on me.

I hobbled out of the clinic with Paci supporting me.  He pointed out various traps and lookouts on the way.

“There’s another tripwire there.  We don’t have any live grenades on it now, but we can set one up in a hurry if we have to.”

“Are any of the traps live?”

“Well, today we were making some live.  You can see we didn’t … uh … plan so well for that.”

“Any grenades live right now?”

“No.”

“Thank God,” I sighed.  “Fohi’d probably blow himself up with them.”

Paci laughed.  “I know.  Poor guy.  He’s so enthusiastic, but sometimes …”  He shook his head.

“Points for trying,” I said, wincing as I had to bend my leg to step over a log.  “But do me a favor and map out all your pits and tripwires and bring it to dinner.  I think you guys need to do a group presentation and show everyone what you’ve been up to.  And warn people to stay way-the-hell back from the edges of those pits; they are
not
stable.”

“Yeah, you’re right.  I’m gonna do that.  I’ll go talk to Kowi after I drop you off.”

“How’s he doing, by the way?”

“Good.  On his feet today earlier.  He’ll be fine.”

“And what about Trip?”

“Yeah, he’s good.  The only ones still needing a lot of help are the kids who were in the pool house.  And you’ve seen LaShay.  She’s doing the best.”

“She’s probably the most stubborn,” I said, smiling.  I liked her a lot.

“Yeah, no kidding.  I do not want to mess with her.  She’s awesome in the clinic.  No one dares whine around her.”

We reached my hut, finding Peter there doing the usual, organizing and straightening.  He came rushing out to help me, taking me from Paci and shooing him away.

“What happened?” he exclaimed, his voice full of worry.

“Long story.  Just help me to bed, would you?”

“Hey, Bryn … I’ll see you guys later.  I’m going to go talk to Kowi.”

“Yeah, okay.  Thanks for your help, Paci.  Talk to you later.”

Paci disappeared and Peter struggled to help me lie down.  I grunted with the pain but didn’t cry out.  I didn’t want Peter to feel like he’d hurt me when he didn’t have the strength to help me all the way down, causing me to fall the last foot to the mattress.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, rushing over to the pantry to get me a bottle of water.   “Here,” he said, coming back to sit by me, thrusting it in my hand.  “Drink.”

“Is that your answer to all of my injuries?  Drink a bottle of water?”

“Yes,” he said staring at me expectantly.

I took a few gulps and then handed it back.  “Here.  Take it.  I have to lie down.”  I laid back and waited for Peter to settle in beside me.  “Where’s Buster?”

“Off galavanting,” he said.  “Probably eating another snake head.”

“Good.  Less snakes to come after us.”  I grimaced as I put my hands behind my head.  Even the small movement of lifting it to get my hands under jogged my leg a little and made it burn all over again.

Once the pain subsided, I fixed Peter with a stare, looking as serious as I could manage.  “Listen … I’ve been wanting to talk to you, and now I’m injured so you have to stay and talk to me whether you like it or not.”

Peter sighed heavily.  “I had a feeling this was coming.  Do we really need to do this?”

“Just stop being a baby and talk to me.  Tell me the truth.  Are you in love with Trip?  And is Trip in love with you?”

***

Peter’s mouth dropped open for a few seconds; then it started opening and closing, as if he were talking, but no sound was coming out.

“Go ahead,” I prompted him.  “You can say it.  What? …  Yes? … No?”

“Gah, no, yes,
no
… geez, Bryn!”  He stood up quickly, leaving for the other hut.  He was moving cans around now, organizing and reorganizing, his hands almost a blur they were moving so fast.

“Hey!  OCD-boy!  Stop that crazy crap and get over here.”

His hands quit moving and rested in mid-air, a can of beans in each one.  “Bryn…”

He was clearly frustrated with me, but I refused to let it dissuade me from my mission of uncovering all his secrets.  “You know all my junk, Peter.  It’s only fair I know yours.  Now get over here and take care of me because I’m injured in case you haven’t fully appreciated that yet.”

Peter put the beans down on the top shelf, completely disregarding the careful order he normally prized above all else.  That was how I knew how distressed he truly was.  He shuffled over and sat down next to me, his entire body slouched so far over, he was nearly bent in half.

“Hey, little camper … what’s wrong?  Why the long face?”  My dad used to say that to me all the time when I was little.  And Peter looked so damn young right now it was pitiful.

“Nothin’,” he mumbled.

“Do not make me get up and execute Operation Cuddle Peter right now.  I’d get nasty blood and goo all over the both of us.”

He held up his two forefingers in the sign of the cross.  “Stay back, demon woman.”

I closed my eyes, speaking in a very calm voice, hoping it would make it easier for him to talk to me.  “Talk to me, Goose.  Tell me what’s up.  What’s going on in Peter’s world?  Why were you having a clandestine meeting with Trip in the woods by the shower?”

“We were just talking,” he said softly.

“About what?  ‘Cuz whatever it was, it was making you upset.  I could tell by the way you were flapping your little wings all over the place.”

“I wasn’t flapping my wings.”

“Yes, you were.  But don’t change the subject.  What were you doing and what were you talking about?”

Peter sighed heavily but didn’t respond.

I snuck a peek out of one eye and saw that he was looking off in the distance, twirling a leaf in his hands.  I closed my eye, hoping if I waited it out a little longer, he’d cave.  I was rewarded about a minute later, and good thing too, because I’d almost fallen asleep.  Being patient was tiring for me.

“We were talking about the tribes, actually.”

“And …?”

“And … us.”

“Us?  As in you and him?”

“Yes, as in him and me.  Or me and he.  I don’t know.”

“So like … are you guys … cuddle partners now?”  I couldn’t keep my eyes closed anymore.  This was getting too juicy.  I turned my head to see his reaction.

“Not exactly,” he said wryly.

“Why not?  Failure to launch?” I asked, not even sure what that meant, but it sounded good.

Peter smiled.  “You are such a dork.”

“Yeah, so sue me.  Now tell me what I want to know or suffer the consequences.”  I held out my hands making a lameass karate move.

“Fine.  We had a moment or whatever.  And I thought it meant something, but he apparently didn’t.”  Peter shrugged.  “That’s about it.”

“Oh, bullcrap that’s about it.  No way, dude.  Tell me everything and leave nothing out.”  I stared at the ceiling and wiggled a little, pointing my toes.  “I’m ready now.  Hit me with it.” I held my hands out like I was about to start meditating.

He said nothing so I turned my head and stared at him.  “Go on.  I’m ready.”

“Seriously.  I’ve told you everything.”

I slapped my hands down on the mattress.  “
Dammit
, Peter … if you make me get up, I’m going to be very cranky.  I’m on the injured list and you are making this way more difficult than it needs to be.  Now fess up!”

He giggled.  “Easy does it, there, harpy.”

“Oh, no.  Huh-uh.”  I shook my head.  “You did
not
just call me a harpy.”

“Okay, you’re not a harpy.”

I tried to flip over on my side, but winced with the pain, giving up and flopping down on my back.  “No, as a matter of fact, I’m not.  I’m a friend who cares about you and needs to analyze your situation to the ninth degree, which I cannot do without all the facts.”  I reached over and grabbed the front of his shirt.  “So dish, baby.  Out with it.  Believe me, it’ll cleanse your soul.  You’ll feel lighter than air when you’re done.”  I let him go, waiting for his response.

“I’m pretty sure it’s to the nth degree, not the ninth degree.”

“Maybe in your world it is, Mathboy, but in mine, there are nine degrees of analysis, and this one merits the highest level.  So go.  Tell me.”