Apocalypsis 02 - Warpaint

ten yards or so when I started to lose my balance. I was too exhausted to go much farther; my body wanted to shut down.
    I got to the truck and looked inside, noticing both Kowi and Trip in seats along with several other kids from the swamp and of course the ones from the pool house. Some of them were lying in the back with their eyes closed. “How come they get to ride inside?” I said, referring to our indian friends.
    “Like I said,” repeated Peter, “injured people in the truck. You’re not injured enough. Please, Bryn.” Peter pushed me towards Winky’s hands that were reaching down to help me up at the back. “Go on top, and we’ll talk about it later.”
    The car was too crowded for me to pick out all the faces, but I didn’t see one of them that I was specifically searching for - Bodo’s. I could tell I was holding up the show trying to find him and process all of this nonsense, so I went to the back of the truck and accepted Winky’s help, climbing up to sit next to her, Jason, and Fohi. Peter came up behind me and the truck tipped to the side a little as Rob got into the driver’s seat.
    “I think we’d better lie down,” said Peter. “Just in case any of the canners’ spies are still feeling loyal and decide to take a shot at us.”
    “Where’s Bodo?” I asked, craning my neck to look back towards the canner place, but Rob was driving away, and we had to focus all of our attention on holding onto the racks that were bolted to the roof so we wouldn’t fall off onto the street. We laid down and did our best not to slam our faces on the top of the car every time Rob drove over a bump in the road. None of us spoke on the way back to the swamp.
    We reached the turnoff to the canoe rental place and I banged on the roof to be let off. Rob stopped, and Winky and I got down from the roof, using the rear bumper as our step-ladder to the ground. I waved when we were both down, and the rest of them continued on, the truck tires crunching over the gravel and sending up clouds of dry dust into the air around us.
    “Sorry, Winky, I just couldn’t do any more bumps,” I said, holding my injured forearm up in front of me with my other hand.
    “I understand. Anything I can do?”
    “I’m going to jump in the swamp and get this shit off me. You could make sure no gators eat me in the process.” We walked down the dirt road, my feet nearly dragging.
    “No problem. Just call me your friendly neighborhood gator wrestler.”
    I tried to smile, but it was too painful. It felt too wrong to find humor in our world right now.
    “What happened back there? Is everyone okay?” I asked.
    Winky shook her head. “I’m not exactly sure what happened with everyone. Fohi and Rob blew up the front of the house and got a few of the canners inside with it. The canners had a lot of gas and stuff stored there, so the place just started exploding once the grenade went off. Those were the sounds you heard. The place is going up in flames right now.” She reached up, twisting her hair into a bun and then letting it drop, keeping her eyes on the ground as we walked. “I poisoned those dogs, but only after I saw them rip into some kid. I think it was that Sean guy. They left him for the poisoned meat, and he ran off. I don’t know where he went, but he’s not with us. I saw Bodo fighting with another guy, but I had to leave because two others were chasing me and Jason. Kowi got into it too and took a slice to the gut. Everyone has knife wounds except Paci, who you saw get shot in the leg. I think he’s going to be okay if he doesn’t get an infection; it didn’t hit an artery or anything.”
    “So Bodo’s not in the truck?”
    Winky looked at me sadly. “No. He’s not.”
    “Is he … ?”
    She looked back down at the ground and shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t show up at the truck. We couldn’t wait for him anymore. Some of the canners got away and they have those spies … ”
    I shook my head, dismissing her unspoken apologies. “I know, I know …” I couldn’t even wrap my head around the idea that Bodo wasn’t with us. He had to be okay. He just has to be. I refused to accept the idea that he could be dead.
    “Did anyone look for him? Maybe he’s injured and that’s why he couldn’t get back.”
    “Yeah. We looked where we last saw him. He wasn’t there. If he ran back into the house, well …” She didn’t finish her sentence, but her meaning was becoming all too clear to