Apocalypsis 02 - Warpaint

Chapter One

    I WOKE UP BEFORE THE sun, unable to ignore the high-pitched buzzing of the mosquitos near my ears anymore. Even in sleep, they managed to annoy me. I still had some bug repellent left, and I had sprayed it on generously just before drifting off; but that didn’t stop their hovering. The first thing I was going to do when I saw one of our indian hosts was ask how they managed to keep them away without the store-bought stuff. The bottle I had wasn’t going to last forever, and living in the Everglades where the mosquitoes outnumbered the humans about eighty billion to one, made the idea of going bare … unbearable. I couldn’t deal with the idea of having escaped the teenage cannibals that were running around in my old neighborhood, only to die from an overdose of mosquito toxin here.
    I looked down at the arm that had flung itself across my lap. Bodo. My hot German friend who might actually be my boyfriend now. I still wasn’t exactly sure what our relationship was. Last night he kissed me. It had only lasted a moment and didn’t go any further than that, but he’d dropped a lot of hints when we were traveling from central Florida to the Everglades, about maybe us being together someday. Together together.
    I’d had boyfriends before, but nothing that ended up getting serious or that made me feel more than just a little bummed when they’d decided they’d had enough of my hectic schedule or my interests that weren’t all that girly. I’d learned pretty quickly that not many guys were cool with the idea of a girlfriend who was half their weight but could kick their butts. I’d never dated another krav maga enthusiast. Maybe that was my problem.
    That’s one thing that made Bodo different. He seemed to get a huge kick out of watching me do my thing. He’d even managed to figure out the best way to calm me down when I was stressed - engaging me in a little fight therapy. I was going to have to get going with the training of Bodo and everyone else here really soon; I couldn’t expect him to keep volunteering to get jabbed and thrown around by me whenever I was cranky. He at least needed to learn how to fight back a little.
    I picked his arm up by the wrist and gently moved it back over to his mattress, being careful not to wake him. We’d had a hell of a few days getting here, and a full night’s sleep hadn’t been a part of our reality for a long time even before that. I glanced over at Peter on my other side, noticing that he was still asleep, too. His mouth was hanging open with a glob of drool under it. Buster, my old neighbor’s nearly naked poodle, was sleeping under Peter’s arm, all splayed out on his back, his fuzzy underparts exposed to the world.
    I smiled as I stood, thinking about how simple Buster’s life was and trying not to be jealous. All the way down from Orlando to the Everglades he’d ridden in my bike basket, his tongue hanging out in the breeze. On the river, his biggest contribution had been to run back and forth in Peter’s canoe, barking at noises and invisible threats. Now that we were here, on the land of the Miccosukee indians, inhabiting one of their chickee huts, he spent his time begging for food scraps, barking at birds, and running around licking ankles. Compared to what I had to do, this was less than nothing.
    “You’re up early,” said a voice from outside the hut. It was Kowi, chief of the Miccosukee tribe who’d been hosting us for more than a day now, generously feeding and clothing us, even though we’d invaded their territory without permission.
    I joined him just outside the living area of our hut. It had two parts: the one that held our mattresses and the one that had our pantry and an open space for sitting. “Couldn’t sleep anymore with all the mosquitoes buzzing around,” I explained.
    “We’ll get you some smoke sticks. They keep them away pretty good and last all night.”
    “Thanks. I’d appreciate it. I’m not a fan of mosquito bites.”
    I could see the glow of his white teeth as he smiled. “You picked the wrong place to live if you’re sensitive about that kind of thing.”
    “Yeah. Tell me about it.” Unfortunately, mosquitoes, snakes, and alligators were the best reasons I could think of to come here. It meant that the teenagers-turned-cannibals that had moved into my neighborhood and elsewhere would be less likely to follow me and my friends.
    “I came to see if you were ready to talk about schedules. Sounds