Apocalypsis 01 - Kahayatle

why bodily functions were so entertaining to me right now, but I decided not to fight it.   I was getting totally high from the brain chemicals and I wanted more.
    “Come on,” said Peter, leading Bodo away.  
    Bodo cast a few bemused glances back my way, making me think that I’d probably shown him one of the uglier sides of my American personality, but I totally didn’t care.   If he couldn’t like me for me, he could go join Celia at her shell shop.  
    My laughter faded out, tempered a little by the idea of Bodo leaving to be with another girl somewhere else.   My stomach felt a little funny, and not in a good way.   Is that jealously I’m feeling?   Weird.   I’d never really had that feeling in relation to guy before - probably because I’d never really had a boyfriend or wanted one so bad that I let thoughts of competition bother me.   The only thing I can remember being jealous of in the past was someone’s krav maga level.   Interesting .  
    I wasn’t sure if I was pleased or distressed by my growing feelings for Bodo.   It made me uncomfortable that they seemed to have a life of their own, completely out of my conscious control; but they also made me happy in a way.   I pictured what it would be like to kiss him and felt my face going pink.   I quickly brushed the thought out of my mind.   The last thing I needed to be doing was mooning over some guy who was probably only playing around when he asked for hugs.   Unrequited crushes sucked.   I’d had them before, so I knew.
    A few minutes later, after I’d cleaned up our lunch mess, Peter and Bodo returned with Buster at their heels, the expressions on their faces telling me something big was up.
    “Bryn, you have to come see dis,” said Bodo, holding out his hand to help me up.   “Come on.   We’ll show you.”
    I took it and stood.   “What is it?”
    Peter walked back the way he had come.   “Just come on.   You’ll see.”
    I followed behind the guys, trying to keep up in my slippery shoes.   I could hear gross squishing sounds as my weight pushed water out of all of their crevices, making me wonder what would happen to the skin of my feet if they stayed wet all the time.   Are they going to be permanently pruned?   Start to rot off?
    before I could contemplate the full magnitude of that awfulness, a structure appeared.   Rising up out of the swamp was a shack.   Actually, it was more than a shack.   It was like a full-fledged hut, with a palm-thatched roof and poles holding it up above the water and everything.   The only thing it was missing was walls, which probably didn’t matter much because it was so damn hot and humid in here, they would have just blocked the breeze anyway.
    “What the heck?” I said, walking up to stand next to Bodo and holding onto his arm to keep from slipping down into the roots that were woven beneath my feet and keeping us suspended over the water.
    Peter whispered, “See the paintings on that post over there?   I think this is indian land.”
    “Yeah,” whispered Bodo loudly.   “Dose are da kind of doodles I wass talking about.”   He gave me a quick frown before looking back at the structure.
    I stifled a laugh.   “Is it empty?”   I prayed it was, because we had stupidly left all of our weapons back at the canoes.   I had no sooner gotten that prayer completed when I heard a voice behind me that made my hair stand on end.
    ***
    “Who are you?”
    Buster was barking his head off, running over to get in between me and the newcomer.
    I turned slowly to face him, my eyes nearly bugging out of my head at the sight that greeted me.   I felt like I’d been transported into the pages of my high school history book.   I reached my foot out and hooked it around Buster’s chest, dragging him back to me and then shoving him farther over so Peter could pick him up and try to quiet him down.
    “Wow,” said Bodo, taking in the guy’s shaved head and the tribal tattoos that covered his chest and arms, obscured only by a small vest made out of some kind of cloth that had bright designs woven into it.   “Now dat’s what I call some warrior doodles.”
    Peter cleared his throat while he held the dog’s mouth shut.   “We’re not a threat to you.   We just came here looking for a place to live.   Away from the crazy people.”   Buster struggled a little bit, some muffled barks making their way out.
    God, how I prayed this guy wasn’t one of those kooks …