Apocalypsis 01 - Kahayatle

faster.”
    “Too noisy.   Yes, we could go faster and farther.   But if there are actual … canners or whatever out there, we need to move more quietly.   And we need to travel when no one’s out.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, between like four in the morning and seven.”
    “That’s not a lot of traveling time each day.”
    “Better safe than sorry.   And maybe there will be places where we can alter those times a bit, like when we’re in the middle of nowhere.”
    Peter nodded his head.   “Okay.   I agree to this.   So we’re going to travel by bike, with backpacks, hauling all this stuff.”   He looked at me.   “Where are we going to go?”
    My brain was moving a thousand miles an hour, calculating variables and taking everything I could think of into consideration.   My dad had told me to go where no one would find me.   He said to make myself safe and find a few friends who’d be there to help me re-build and to watch my back.  
    “I think we should go to the mountains,” I said.   I could still remember the trip I’d taken with my dad several years before, up to North Carolina.   It was on my list of favorite places ever.
    “But it snows there.”
    “That means there’s water.”
    “It also means frostbite and difficulty finding food.”
    “Okay, Mr. Voice of Reason, where do you think we should go?”
    Peter sighed.   “I don’t even want to say it.”
    I quickly flashed my fist and forearms out in a move that was part of my basic warm-ups, finishing with a slow drawing out of my arms to the side.   “Say it, or suffer my wrath.”
    Peter looked at me, completely unimpressed.   “What in the hell was that supposed to be?   What are you … a Ninja Turtle?”
    I shook my head at him with exaggerated disappointment.   “I don’t know which is sadder - that you know about Ninja Turtles or that you don’t recognize a lethal weapon when you see it.”
    Peter snorted.   He sounded like a total girl.   “Lethal weapon?   Oh, no, whatever am I going to do?” He put his hand to his forehead like he was going to faint, rolled his eyes up into his head, and then fell back into the couch cushions.
    I nudged him.   “Tell me what you were going to say.”
    He didn’t respond.
    “Seriously.   Before I have to show you my stuff.”
    He didn’t open his eyes, but he did speak.
    “I think we need to go to the Everglades.”
    ***
    At first I was really resistant to the idea, even though I had suggested it as an alternative.   I hated mosquitoes, snakes, and gators … and probably about a thousand other nasties that made their homes there.   But Peter made a very convincing point: everyone else hated that stuff too.  
    “We need to go somewhere no one else wants to go; a place where life would be too hard for most people.   And we need a place that has food and water sources.”
    I nodded my head in resignation.   “And nothing beats the Everglades for all of the above.”
    “Exactly.   Sure, the mountains have what we need to survive.   But they’re also beautiful, hospitable, and very well-known.   That’s where other people will be going.   That’s where the canners will be going,” said Peter, shifting his voice lower to finish.   “It’ll be their hunting grounds.”
    I shivered at the idea of going to live in a place where I would be the prey instead of being the guy at the top of the food chain, hoping in the back of my mind that I would never be okay or blasé about the idea of a person eating another person.   I swallowed the sick feeling down, moving my brain to other, less disgusting topics.
    “I guess you’re right,”   I said, sighing.   “I’ll get the map.”   I went over to our pile of books as we were talking and pulled out the spiral-bound roadmap book.   I sat back down next to Peter and flipped through the pages.   “Should we stick to highways or back roads?”
    “I have no idea.”
    “Okaaaayyy.   Through the middle or down the coast?”
    “Your guess is as good as mine.”
    I smiled, scanning the pages that showed the roads near my house.   “We make quite the team, don’t we?”
    I could hear a smile in Peter’s voice when he responded.   “The best.”

CHAPTER THREE

    PETER AND I TOOK TURNS sleeping and staying awake the first night.   It was the first time I’d actually been able to sleep deeply and have a dream I remembered.   It was of my dad, telling me how to pack my bag, and me