Apocalypsis 01 - Kahayatle

Peter, looking around.
    “I’d like go in deep enough that we can’t be seen from the road.   But not too deep.   I want to be able to sneak over and watch the highway without having to go too far.”
    “Go four rows in,” suggested Peter.   “I’ll stay here and tell you if I can see you from outside the grove.”
    “Okay.   Come on, Bodo.   Let’s go find a spot.”
    “Okay.   You’re da boss.   Show me da way.”
    I wheeled the bike in deeper, looking up at the trees as we went, hoping to see some fruit.   I saw a few up high in the trees, which meant I’d have to climb to reach any of them.   There were plenty of rotted ones on the ground, but they didn’t look edible.   The earth smelled wet and almost sour as our feet trod across it and stirred up the scents.
    We stopped four rows in and waited for a few minutes.   Eventually Buster let out a small half-bark, letting us know that Peter was coming; he broke through the trees in front of us a few seconds later.  
    “This is perfect.   I couldn’t see you at all after the third row.”
    We set up camp, using the tarp to cover our bikes and the trailer, and I dug out another one to sit on so we wouldn’t get wet on the damp ground.   We were under a tree that had the highest branches, hoping it would not only block us from sight but also shade us from the worst of the sun.
    “So, what do we do now?” asked Bodo.
    “Find some fruit, take naps, make plans.   Whatever,” I said.
    “Let’s go deeper in the groves for the fruit,” said Peter.   “I don’t want anyone seeing us up in the trees near the highway.”
    “Agreed,” I said.   “And someone has to stay here by the stuff at all times.   And not just Buster.”
    Buster looked up at me upon hearing his name and came over, dancing around in circles by my feet.   I bent down and picked him up to give him a squeeze.   I put my face in his little shoulder, inhaling his doggy smell.   It was starting to grow on me - part Buster, part fresh air, and kind of comforting in a way.   I wished I’d had a dog before.   Hugging this furry pink thing now, I realized I had probably missed out on a special kind of love in my life not ever having one.   Buster must have been feeling the love too, because he squirmed all over trying to get into a better position to lick my face.
    “Cut it out, you mangy mutt.”
    “He’s no mangy mutt.   He’s a purebred,” insisted Peter.   “Come over here, Buster, where your pedigree can be better appreciated.”
    I was only bent over halfway before Buster leapt from my arms to go collect his cuddles from Peter.   He jumped up over and over, trying to get a lick in on Peter’s chin, eventually knocking Peter backwards and taking total advantage of the situation by attack-licking him all over the face.   He darted in left and then right, licking when he was close, barking when he wasn’t, lunging whenever he could for a piece of exposed skin to drool on.
    Peter rolled around trying to get away, covering his face and yelling, “Get away, get away!   Ew! Stop licking me!”   But he wasn’t trying very hard.  
    Buster was having the time of his life.   Eventually he ran out of gas, though, and sat in the grass, panting away in the shade of the tree with his little legs stuck out straight behind him, his tongue hanging out and a big doggy smile on his face.
    Peter sat up and rummaged around in the trailer, getting out the water and the bowl for Buster, filling it and setting it in front of him.
    “I’ll stay with the stuff and Buster.   You guys go find us some oranges.   I’m hungry.”   He reached over and petted the dog’s ears, causing him to flip over on his back for a belly rub.   Buster had no shame in his game at all and Peter seemed happy to oblige.
    Bodo and I headed off into the trees.   It felt weird being alone with him.   I wasn’t worried about him attacking me or anything - neither for purposes of overwhelming me or for testing my skills.   It’s just that he was a good-looking, straight guy who had a quirky sense of humor and seemed to appreciate ‘girls like me’, as Peter would say.   It made me nervous and self-conscious.
    “You don’t need to be nerfous arount me.   I’m not going to hurt you.”
    I tried to act like I wasn’t a little freaked out by him reading my body language so well.   “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”
    “Well, I don’t know if dat is true or not, but