Apocalypsis 01 - Kahayatle

down, rolling over part way to trap me under his fat girth.   I had only one alternative left to me, since one of my arms was trapped along with my lower body under his chest.   I closed my eyes and jammed my face into his crotch, biting down on the nearest bit of soft flesh I could find.  
    A high pitched squeal came from his mouth which quickly turned into just a loud bit of air wheezing out from his lungs.   I had one of his testicles on lockdown and was using every bit of willpower I owned in my body not to gag at the smells that were assailing my nostrils.  
    His body curled in on itself as it tried to salvage what little bit of his man parts might still be in one piece.   I knew whatever I was biting was done for, the blood from it seeping through his pants now.  
    I let go when I knew it was over for him, spitting and retching as I struggled to get him off me.   Suddenly I was freed of his weight and looked up to see the large, dark figure of Bodo pulling him off of me.   He dumped the pudgy body, still writhing in silent screams of pain, off to the side and reached down to help me up, saying nothing.
    I couldn’t stand all the way up, my retching now turning into full-blown vomiting.   Bodo stood over me and rubbed my back, then took my braid in his hand to keep it out of the mess.   He secured it under my shirt and left, coming back a few seconds later with a water bottle in his hand.
    Part of me wished it was the one full of bleach, the smell and taste in my mouth was so bad.
    “Thanks,” I whispered, my voice shaking.   Being so close to death like that had amped up my senses to near super power proportions.   I felt like I could punch a hole in the tree trunk.   Or cave that canner’s skull in with my fist.   Part of me really wanted to do it, too.   How dare he have such a stinky crotch.
    “We have to kill him,” said Bodo, softly.
    I shook my head.   “Just hit him really hard in the temple with the butt of the gun and knock him out.   We’ll decide what to do with him later.”
    “Okay.   Dat’s not a problem.”
    Bodo left me and I heard the sick sound of metal hitting bone, and then a grunt followed by silence.   Bodo was at my side again within seconds to rub my back some more.   I was finally able to stand and shrugged him off.  
    “Thanks.”
    “Yes, of course,” he whispered.   “Can I do anything else for you?”
    “No.   Just make sure that other guy doesn’t find his friend.”   I walked over to sit by Peter and Buster, who were now out from under the tarp.   I couldn’t hear the other guy at all anymore.
    “Sorry,” whispered Peter.   I could tell he was crying.   “I tried to keep him quiet, but he wouldn’t stop.”
    “Shhh, don’t worry about it.   Buster’s a dog. That’s what dogs do.   When we get to the Everglades it won’t matter.”  
    “You’re not going to kill Buster?”
    “Are you nuts?   Of course I’m not going to hurt Buster.   He’s part of the tribe, stupid.”
    “What happened?” said Peter, sniffing, now I think over his biggest fear of losing his fuzzy pink friend.
    “I don’t want to talk about the details right now.   I’m trying not to vomit again.   We just need to lie low and wait for them to move on.   They’re already moving away.   I can hear them farther down.”
    “You smell funny,” he said.
    “Yeah.   Excuse me while I go bleach my face,” I said, as I crawled over to the trailer, my stomach feeling sick all over again.   I pulled out the bleach and put a half-capful in the cooking water by the light of the stars.   Then I used that water to scrub my face as best I could.   I even rinsed my mouth out with some of it before swishing regular water around to get the bleach taste out.   I found that I much prefer the smell of bleach to canner crotch.
    ***
    The canners who were blowing up cars moved on and none of them had come back to look for their friend.   At least not yet.
    “It’s time to go, Bryn.   Or do you think we should stay longer?” asked Peter.
    “No, we need to go, definitely.   They’re going to eventually wonder what happened with Bigboy over there.”
    “What should we do with him, den?”   Bodo was squatting down, tapping the side of the gun against his palm, looking very serious.
    My lip curled in distaste.   Part of me wanted to kill the canner, but the years of morality I’d learned from my dad and the discipline of my training won out.   “We