Apocalypsis 01 - Kahayatle

would.
    “I don’t understand why you didn’t have any friends.   That’s just ridiculous,” I said, now angry at the unfairness of a world that was supposed to have been functioning just fine, before it all went to hell in a hand basket.
    “I’ve been bullied pretty much since kindergarten.   No one likes to be friends with a victim.”
    “Why didn’t your parents do something about it?”  
    “They didn’t know.   I lied about a lot of things.”
    “Why’d you do that?   Why not let them stick up for you?”
    “Because I didn’t want them to find out,” he said, his wispy voice going even softer than normal.
    “Find out what?   That you’re a serial killer?”
    “No, jerk.   That I’m gay.”
    “Why not?   Being gay’s not a death sentence anymore.   The world has changed.”
    “Easy for you to say.”
    I shrugged.   “I guess.”
    “I had a theory that most of the guys who picked on me did it because they were attracted to me and hated themselves for it.”   He smiled briefly, almost sadly.
    “Interesting.   Sick and a little twisted, but interesting.”
    “Seriously.   I mean, don’t we usually hate things that we recognize in ourselves?”
    “I think you’ve wasted a lot of time reading self-help books.”
    “Yeah, I probably did.   But sometimes thinking that made it easier for me.”
    “Didn’t teachers or other students notice?”
    “Probably.”
    “Why didn’t they do anything about it?”
    “I don’t know.   I guess they were too busy with their own lives.”
    “Pfft.   No wonder the world came to an end.   Everyone living in it was a bunch of assholes.”
    Peter laughed.   “I’ve thought that more than once.   Like this disease or virus was a giant cleansing of the planet.”
    “Yeah, well, it wasn’t a very efficient method.   It got rid of the good guys, too.   My dad was a good guy.”
    “I can tell … by the way you talk about him.   You really loved him.”
    “I still do.   He’s still alive in my head.   I hear his voice all the time, telling me to be smart and to practice my martial arts.”
    Peter smiled.   “I wouldn’t tell too many people that, if I were you.”
    “Why,” I scoffed.   “What are they going to do?   Lock me away?   I can do whatever I want without consequences now.   I’m totally free.”   I gave him a cocky look which I immediately lost at his next statement.
    “Be careful.   That’s what the canners say to themselves every night before they go hunting.”
    I sat down, totally deflated.   “Thanks a lot, kill joy, for bringing me back down to our crappy reality.”   I stuck my tongue out at him and gave him a raspberry.
    “Well, we are going to start a new world out here, a new country or whatever, and we have to hold onto our moral fiber as best we can.”
    “Okay, Father Jim.”
    “Who’s Father Jim?”
    “A guy at this church I went to a couple times.   My dad said I should try to experience organized religion in several forms, so I could make an educated choice about whether I wanted to join a church or whatever.”
    “What’d you decide?”
    “I decided I didn’t like some guy with a big red nose telling me what I was supposed to be thinking and believing.   Especially since right after services he went on to break all the rules he’d just laid down for everyone else.   They always say not to judge in the sermons and then they go ahead and judge anyway.”
    “I was never that thrilled with church either.   The one my parents went to didn’t believe gays were born this way.   They were big on conversions or whatever.”
    “Conversions?”
    “Getting gay men to go straight through therapy.”
    “A-holes.”
    “Yeah.   Pretty much.”
    “No wonder you didn’t tell your parents.”
    Peter shrugged but said nothing.  
    I guessed from his reaction that I probably should avoid the topic of parents being jerks.   Not just now but forever.   We were bound to run into other kids eventually, and we all had our baggage - things tied up in the way we had lived with our families and the things we’d seen and done since they’d died and left us here.   It was safer to just talk about the future.
    “So once we get to our final spot, what do you think we should do?” I asked.
    “Well, get shelter for one.   Food and water sources.   Supplies for contingencies.   You do realize we have potential hurricanes to deal with, right?”
    “Yeah, don’t remind me.