Apocalypsis 01 - Kahayatle

football and your nice shiny SUV and off-res parties, Jeremy, but you have to remember the basics we all learned when we were little kids in school.”
    “Even we learned those stories,” I said.
    Jeremy had nothing to say in response.
    Trip stood up and said, “Maybe we all agree that together we’re better off - stronger - as a nation rather than individual tribes.   But that doesn’t solve our biggest problem.   Who’s gonna be chief?”
    Everyone looked from Kowi to Trip, the tension growing with every second.  
    I watched the two of them.   They were both big, proud, teens - almost men.   And maybe this virus that killed our parents was dead now and wouldn’t kill us when we turned twenty, so they would grow to lead these people as they got married and had families.   It didn’t make sense to sacrifice all of that for silly things like pride and egos.
    “I think you should both be chief.”
    “There can’t be two chiefs,” said Trip.
    “Why not?”
    “Because someone has to make the final decision; someone has to have the final say,” said Kowi.
    “Fine.   Have a council, and majority rules.”
    “They’ll just do what they did before we split,” said Coli.   “They’ll each have their people side with them and it’ll just be a split decision all the time.”
    “Have a fifth member,” I suggested, at the end of my list of brilliant ideas.   “That way there will always be one tie-breaker.”
    “Who’s it going to be?” asked Jeremy.   “If it’s Creek, they’ll vote Creek.   If it’s Miccosukee, they’ll vote Miccosukee.”
    I threw up my hands.   “I don’t know!   Geez, can’t you guys just come up with a solution?”
    “I have one,” said Coli, standing now, her brightly-colored dress blazing with its designs.   “Why don’t we let one of the white kids be the tie breaker if we need one?”
    You could have knocked me over with a feather when those words came out of her mouth.   I waited for the arguments and yelling, but they never came.
    “Fine with me,” said Trip.   “She already proved to me she’s capable of fighting.”
    “Fine with me, too,” said Kowi.   “We need her skills.   If we tie her to us more permanently, she’ll have no choice but to help.”
    “Hello … I’m standing right here.”   I shook my head.   “And I already told you I’d train you.   You don’t need to appoint me as a tie breaker.”   I wasn’t even sure I wanted that kind of responsibility or permanent connection to these people.   I was happy just being a three-person tribe.
    Voices rose as everyone discussed the pros and cons of having a white girl, namely me , involved in their day-to-day decision-making.   I couldn’t blame the people who had negative opinions on the matter - our American history classes had made it abundantly clear that the white man had been viciously unfair to the Native Americans in years past.   They probably figured the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.
    I wasn’t sure which way the decision was going at that point, but I knew exactly when it changed in favor of bringing me and my friends on board.
    A sound broke through the many voices buzzing with discussion, and filtered into our collective consciousness.   First it registered in my mind as a moaning or a crying.   I thought it was the wind and then maybe an animal.   But then the weeping took on a very human tone, and Buster’s barking made it obvious that whatever it was, it was nearby and he didn’t like it.   He took off, racing towards the water, howling his butt off.
    Several people followed, using the sounds of Buster’s hysteria as their guide.   I stood back with Peter and Bodo, waiting to get news from those by the water of what was happening.
    We heard screams a few seconds later, not just from one person but several.   Some were crying hysterically.   Guys were shouting, and those who had remained with us, ran towards the others.
    Peter grabbed my arm.   “Canners!” he said in a choked voice.
    “Shhhh, it’s not canners.   They don’t take boats into the Everglades moaning and crying.”   My own reasoning sounded hollow to my ears.   The truth was, canners were the first thing that had jumped into my mind too.   They were like our boogie men, but real and alive and looking for us.
    A group of indians came up the pathway from the direction of the water.   At first, all we could see was a crowd, but then as they got closer to the