Apocalypsis: Book 3 (Exodus) (6 page)

“I’m not keeping secrets.  Not really.”

“Lie.”

“No, not really.”

I sighed.  “Peter.  I know when you’re lying.  You can’t just
do
it.  You have to say something like ‘not really’ to hide it.  That’s your guilty conscience talking.”  I popped a nut into my mouth and nearly gagged when it hit the back of my throat.

Peter whacked me on the back a few times.  “Okay, Sherlock.  You win.  I’m hiding big secrets.”  He acted like he was patronizing me, but I could tell by the way he was fidgeting with his basket that he was up to something.

“Listen, Peter.  I’ve had lessons in sneaking.  I can follow you whenever I want to.  So maybe it would be better for everyone involved if you just spilled your guts now.”

Peter smiled.  “I’ve seen you try to sneak before … or rather, I should say I’ve
heard
you try and sneak before.  Your threat doesn’t scare me.  It amuses me, but it doesn’t scare me.”

“Shut up.  I can too sneak if I really want to.”

“Uhhh…no you cant.”

“Bet me.”

“No thanks.  I don’t want to take your money.”

“I don’t have any money.”

“Okay, then, I don’t want to take your harmonica.”

I frowned at him.  “It’s not for sale.”

“If you bet me, it is.”

I sighed.  Peter was impossible to argue with these days.  “What’s gotten into you lately, huh?  You’re acting all … bossy and stuff.”

“I was always bossy.  You just never noticed.”

I shook my head.  “Nope.  Not this bossy.”  I shook my finger at him.  “But don’t you worry, little camper.  I’m gonna find out your big secret and then I’m going to tell the whooooole world.  Everyone’s gonna know it.”

Peter shrugged.  “Be my guest.”

I finished my meal in silence, only half listening to the awesome or not so awesome traps Paci and his buddies were planning to set out in the swamp, in the areas between the canoe rental place and here.  I was more focused on Peter’s secret life.  I couldn’t figure out what was going on with him, but I was going to, as soon as possible.  He was full of extra umph and sassiness, and I knew there had to be a reason for it, other than the fact that we’d just gone and kicked some canner butt.

Now I had two missions:  one was to find Bodo, the other was to find out what or who had lit a match under Peter’s butt and set him on fire.

***

It was several days later before I got my chance to sneak up on Peter and the little mystery he had going on.  I was lying on my mattress after lunch, preparing to take a nap, the heat making it too uncomfortable to do anything else.  I still wasn’t back to one hundred percent with my arm, even though it was healing well and the stitches were ready to be taken out.

“I’m going to take a nap,” I said, yawning for effect.

“Good.  You need it.  I’m just going to straighten up around here for a bit, then maybe I’ll join you.”

He messed around in the pantry for a while, but the whole time he was in there, I could tell his heart wasn’t into it. 
Time to trick him into showing his hand.

My fake snoring campaign worked like a charm.  He fell for it -hook, line, and sinker, sneaking off within minutes.  I kept it up until I was sure he was far enough away not to hear it anymore, and then I jumped up, pulled my moccasins on in a flash.  Heading out to follow him, I realized soon enough he was taking the path that led to the shower.

I’d been practicing my sneaking all week, learning better which leaves to avoid stepping on and the spots where I was sure to make sounds everyone around me would hear without effort.  I wasn’t anywhere near as good as Coli, but I had improved.  Maybe instead of sounding like an elephant in the swamp, now I sounded like a gator instead.  I could live with that.

I couldn’t hear Peter in front of me, so I walked as fast as I could, not worrying about a little extra noise.  Eventually, I got to the edge of the trees that ringed the area near the shower.  I hated to think I’d wasted all this effort on Peter taking a shower.  Not only was that not interesting at all, it made me feel a little too much like a pervert for my liking.

But as soon as I got to a tree I could hide behind and stopped focusing so much attention on not making noise, I saw what I’d come for - and it wasn’t just Peter at the shower.  It was someone else, too, and everyone was staying clothed.

Who is that? 
I squinted my eyes to see better, but couldn’t make him out.  It was a guy for sure - tall and broad-shouldered.  But he was in the trees on the other side of the shower, and it was too dark in there for me to see details.

Dammit.  Come out here so I can see you, Mystery Guy.
  Peter was standing in front of him, and it looked like they were talking.  After a few seconds, Peter’s arms started flapping up and down; he was definitely angry.  He put his hands on his hips next and then crossed his arms over his chest a few seconds later.  Finally his arms dropped to his sides.  His head hung down and the other guy disappeared into the trees.

Peter was turning to come back, so I pushed off the tree and high-tailed it out of there.  I forgot all about trying to be sneaky and quiet in the swamp.  I didn’t sound like just one elephant, I sounded like ten of them, but I made it back in record time.  As soon as I was in the hut, I yanked my moccasins off and threw them on the ground, dropped down onto the mattress, and slammed my eyes shut.  I tried to even-out my breathing and snore a little bit to be more convincing.  It took several minutes for me to be able to calm my racing heart down, and by then Peter had reappeared.

“That’s a fake snore,” he said from the other room.

“Is not,” I said, keeping my eyes closed.  “People are trying to sleep over here.  Do you mind keeping the noise down?”

“Next time I leave, I’m taking your shoes with me.”

I reached my arm out blindly and pulled my moccasins into my side.  “You’ll have to fight me for them.”

Peter said nothing else and my mind raced. 
Should I say something?  Should I ask him who that was?  What were they arguing about?  Is Peter sad or mad?

I had a hundred questions, but I didn’t ask him any of them because I felt a little bit guilty about spying on him.  I wasn’t sure if he knew what I had seen, but I decided it was better to wait and see what he said before I pushed him anymore.  Peter was my friend and I didn’t want to blow it.  Until now, I’d just kind of taken his companionship for granted, but now I was thinking that I could possibly do something stupid and ruin it for us.  And I really, really didn’t want to do that.

My mind spun with the possibilities of what I might have seen, but all it did was make me more tired.  Eventually the humidity and the mind-dizzying speculation won out, and I feel into a deep afternoon sleep, still gripping my boots to me tightly.  My last sensation was that of Peter coming over and dropping down onto the mattress beside me, jiggling my prone form in the process.

***

Peter was very subdued at dinner.  We were eating in the ceremonial hut with a few other people, but he refused to look at anything but Buster or his food.  I tried to crack some jokes but they weren’t working.

“What do you call a fake noodle?”

Peter sighed.  “I don’t know.  What?”

“An impasta.”  I nudged him.  “Get it?  An impasta?  That’s funny, right?”

“Sure.”  His response was without emotion of any kind.

“Okay, how about this one: What happens when it rains cats and dogs?”

“Can this be over now?”

“No.  Just answer me.  What happens?”

“I don’t know.  You get wet with dogs?  And cats?”

I shoved him again. “No, silly.  You step in poodles!  Get it?  Poodles?”  I grabbed him and hugged him close.  “Come on, Peter, that shit is funny.  You
know
it is.”

Buster got all excited over the hugging and started jumping up and down, trying to lick our faces.

“Go away, poodle!” I said, laughing at my own little private joke.  “Raining Busters!  It was raining gang busters and now there’re all these
poodles
all over the place!  Ha!  That’s funny!”

Peter shook his head at me.  “You’ve totally lost it, haven’t you?”  He stood up to leave, still shaking his head, not even a ghost of a smile on his face.

I just kept on grinning.  “Be careful, Peter.  There are poodles everywhere.  Don’t step in one.  Or
on
one.”  I fell back laughing at that one.

Buster took advantage of the situation and lick-attacked me, and I was too weak to fight him off.  “Buster, quit, you mangey mutt. 
Ew,
God, your breath is heinous.  Get away.”  I shoved him off me and tried to get up, but Buster had me down and he knew it.  My one good arm was no use against his devious plan to bathe me in saliva until I vomited from the stench and disgustingness of it.

Paci appeared out of nowhere and took mercy on me.  “Come here, you little turd.  Leave that poor girl alone.”  He grabbed Buster and picked him up, smart enough to keep the dog away from his face.  He held out a hand to me.  “Here.  Let me help you up.  You’re too vulnerable lying on the ground like that.”

Some of my humor faded.  I looked around to see who was watching us, but Peter didn’t seem to care that Paci was being nice to me and everyone else seem otherwise occupied in conversation.  I locked wrists with him and stood, taking a few moments to brush the dirt off my lap and legs.

Paci reached up and pulled a few leaves from my hair and motioned for me to turn around.

I turned and stood there embarrassed while he brushed my back off for me.  He stayed away from my butt, and for that I was glad.  I probably would have taken off sprinting if he’d so much as flicked it at that point.

I turned back in time to see Paci bending over and putting Buster on the ground.  He scratched him behind the ears a couple times before releasing him.  “Now go away and bother somebody else.”

Buster wasted no time following Paci’s orders, running over to the nearest girl with food in her hands.

“Doesn’t anyone ever feed that mutt?” I asked.

“Three times a day he gets choice bits from the kitchen.  I’ve seen him eat every last scrap, too.  I can’t believe he’s not twice his size by now,” said Paci.

“It’s all the nosing around and lick-attacks that he does that keep him so trim.”

The conversation stalled and I felt stupid, standing there talking about Buster.  And I was still worried someone was going to see me talking to Paci and call me a slut over it.  “Okay, well … thanks for the rescue.  I’ll see you later.”  I started to walk away, but Paci held his hand out, catching my arm.

“Do you mind if I walk with you?  I wanted to talk to you … about the defenses we’ve done so far.”

I hesitated only for a second.  “Okay.  Sure.”  I left the eating area used by the tribe and walked back towards my hut.  Paci followed until we were out of everyone’s earshot and then moved to walk next to me.  I couldn’t tell if he’d done that on purpose or not.  I felt weird thinking we were sneaking around.

“So, what’s up?” I asked.

“Nothing, really.  I just wanted to walk with you for a minute.  It seems like we’ve never really had a chance to talk.  You’re always around other people, and I’ve been busy setting up defenses with Jeremy and the other guys.”

I wanted to ask him a lot of questions, but no way was I going to say,
Why do you want to talk to me now when you never did before? 
It sounded too pitiful and could possibly be misconstrued as flirting.  I bent down and picked up a stick, flinging it into the trees.  I hated that Coli had caused me to question every single thing I did or said near a guy now.

“You’re mad.  Is it at me?” he asked.

I glanced at him and then faced forward again.  “No.  Not at you.”

“Who then?”

I sighed.  “It doesn’t matter.  Really, it doesn’t.  I’m over it.”

“Is it Coli?”

“How’d you know?”  I gave him a half-grin.

“She’s a pain in the ass to everyone.  But she saves her worst for you, for some reason.  What’d she say to you that day that you beat her down?”

“Ha!  I’d say she’s the one who did the beat down, not me.”

“Well, I saw her limping around the next day, so she didn’t walk away at a hundred percent.  What’d she say?”

I shrugged.  I really didn’t want to tell him, but it was eating away at me that she’d called me those names. Maybe Paci would have some insight and could make me understand it from a guy’s perspective.  I’d been too embarrassed to tell Peter about it, maybe because a piece of me had been afraid he’d agree with her.

“She called me a slut.”

Paci laughed really loud.  “She
what?”
  He stopped walking, his laughter disappearing in an instant, as soon as he saw my sad face.  “Seriously?  She called you a slut?”

I nodded my head.

“Oh, man.  If she were here right now …”

“Don’t worry about it.  I’m over it.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, all seriousness now, but the threats against Coli were fading away to reveal concern.  “I knew something was bothering you.  I
knew
it.”

“You watch me too closely.”  The minute the words were out of my mouth, I felt like a freak again.  He did watch me all the time, but I shouldn’t have said anything.  I didn’t want things to be awkward between us.

“Does it bother you?”

“It didn’t before.  But ever since Coli said that …” I shrugged.  It wasn’t his fault she’d called me a slut.

“Don’t let that rag decide how you feel about stuff, Bryn.  She’s not worth it, believe me.  She does nothing but cause trouble everywhere she goes.  Even her own brother was glad to see her leave the Creeks before.”

“That can’t be true,” I said, caught up in the gossip. 
Who’s own family wouldn’t want them around in times like these?

“Serious as a heart attack.  She was constantly ragging on him, Trip, everyone over there.  She’s nothing but negative, angry, unhappy, bitchiness, twenty-four-seven.  Even her own boyfriend can’t stand her half the time.”

“That’s awful,” I said, now seeing her in a slightly different light.  I’d found love and acceptance here with these people, and they weren’t even my own family. 
What would I do if the only family I had left rejected me when the world came to an end?