Apocalypsis 01 - Kahayatle

else do you have?”
    “Book on first-aid,” he said, handing me a smaller one.  
    “I have one of those already.”   I quickly flipped through a few pages.   “It’s better than this one.”
    Peter shrugged.   “Just toss it then, I don’t care.”  
    I threw it into the abandon pile - the stuff we would leave in my house for the raiders to take if they wanted it.  
    “This is a good one: Solar Power Ins and Outs.   It shows how to make an oven and heat water and stuff.”
    I snatched it from his hand.   “This one is definitely coming.”  
    I’d been taking infrequent, cold sponge baths without soap for way too long now.   The idea that I might actually be able to take a real, and possibly warm shower, sounded like heaven to me - soap or not.   A quick flip through the book showed me that we could probably put a list together of things to find along our journey that would make a lot of the items in the book buildable.
    “Our load is going to be heavy,” he said, looking at the keeper-pile.   It was much bigger than the abandon-pile.
    “We’ll find a way.   I want to get a place that’s permanent.   I don’t want to move around all the time.   I think we’ll be safer if we just take the risk of traveling once.”
    “So what … are we going to build some kind of fortress or something?   Because that’s the only way to stay safe that I can think of.   And it can’t be made of anything that’ll burn because the canners like to start fires.”
    “Well, I’m not really sure.   Let’s get this stuff sorted out and then we’ll talk about it.   Maybe with our two half-brains, we can come up with one good idea.”
    Peter smiled.   “Sounds like a plan.”
    ***
    We sat in the living room on the couch that was pushed up against the wall, looking at the neat, orderly piles of things in front of us.   The organization was Peter’s doing.   He seemed to function better when everything was just so, and I didn’t care either way.  
    My dad would have liked Peter.   I could still remember how he’d admonish me when we did our survivor training.   “Efficiency!” he’d shout, like an overly enthusiastic drill sergeant.   “That’s going to save your life, Bryn!”   I reached up absently to stick my finger through the ring on my necklace, letting it hang there for a second.   I’d doubted him before, but I wasn’t now.   We were going to have to be completely anal about using every square inch of space on our backs to haul all this crap to our final destination.
    “Okay, so here’s what we’re taking; now, where are we going?” Peter asked.
    “Well, as far as I can see, we have a few choices.   We can go to the mountains, the plains, the desert, or the swamps.”
    “Swamps?   No way,” said Peter.
    “Why not?”
    He rolled his eyes.   “I can’t believe I have to say this … snakes?   Ever heard of them?   Gators?   I want to run away from meat-eaters, not towards them.”
    I jumped up, remembering a book I’d forgotten.   “Be right back.”   I returned in less than a minute and handed Peter the small handbook that had been in my dad’s home office.
    “Oh, great,” he said, in a not-very-happy-sounding voice.   “A snake book.”
    “Yes, and it tells you not only how to identify snakes, but how to treat snake bites, too.”
    “I’m pretty sure the treatment these days is to bend over and kiss your own ass goodbye.”
    I laughed.   “Don’t be so negative.   You’re a science nerd.   Maybe you can figure out how to make anti-venom.”
    He shrugged.   “Maybe.”
    I looked at him suspiciously.   “I think, in a sick way, I just got you to consider living in a swamp.”
    Peter smiled.   “I’m not going to deny it.   The idea of being able to do something like that is intriguing.”
    I shook my head.   “You’re nuts.   You do realize that to make anti-venom, you have to milk a friggin poisonous snake, right?”
    “Yeah, but that’s the job for the assistant.”
    “Pfft.   Don’t tell me, let me guess … I’m the assistant.”
    “Well you’re definitely not the scientist.”
    I shoved him with my arm, causing him to tip over sideways.   Then I continued, “Anyway, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, we have some choices.   But regardless of where we go, I think our mode of transportation should be mountain bikes.”
    “Why?   I mean, why not motor-scooters or something?   They’re