Apocalypsis 02 - Warpaint

joking and companionable to cold and obstinate like this. It made me question how much I really knew him. I felt like I couldn’t trust the read I was getting on him - like maybe it was the German thing or the cultural differences that were throwing my radar off.
    “I was aroundt.”
    “Around where? You weren’t here at the huts. You weren’t at the training session with the guys.”
    “Just around. Around da swamp. Why do you care so much? What do you think I’m gonna do? Run away?”
    “Well, you do, Bodo, don’t you?” I was getting cranky now. “You do runaway. You disappear and we have no idea where you go.”
    “I wasn’t aware dat I had to ask you for permission to make a doodle.”
    “Oh, don’t give me that crap. You know you weren’t out going to the bathroom.”
    “How do you know dat?”
    It was a stupid question but it went along with the whole stupid conversation. I was sick of it. “Whatever, Bodo. Keep playing like it’s me and not you. See how far that gets you.”
    “I don’t want to fight with you, Bryn. But dat doesn’t mean you are going to be da boss of me all da time. I’m a bigk boy. I don’t need a mudder.” He sat up straighter.
    I just ignored him, talking to Peter instead. “So what do you think we should say to them about our roles here?”
    Peter looked worriedly at Bodo, but answered me anyway. “Well, I’d like to offer myself to help with the chores, whatever they are. I guess they have someone cooking, someone cleaning clothes, someone raising food. Probably other things, too. I could help with any of that.”
    I smiled. “I know you could probably clean the hell out of this swamp if they let you.”
    “No, thanks. I’m not really into the whole snakes and spiders thing. I was thinking more like cleaning huts.”
    “What about toilets?”
    “Uh … no.”
    “Okay, so you’re going to tell them that you’ll clean huts but not toilets.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Good luck with that whole picking and choosing thing.” I turned to Bodo. “So what about you? What is your offer going to be?” I was trying to be all mature and act like I wasn’t still pissed at him for being a jerk.
    “I’m gonna grow some stuff. Some tomatoes. And maybe I’ll be an alligator farmer.”
    I laughed. “An alligator farmer? What are you talking about?”
    “Well, what do you think you’ff been eating all dis time?”
    I looked down at my plate, and said weakly, “Deer meat?” I looked up at him, hoping he’d confirm my guess.
    “The udder day, maybe. But dat is alligator tails right dare.” He pointed to the piece of meat that tasted like watered-down chicken to me.
    “Oh. Geez. I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
    “What’s da problem? Meat is meat.”
    I instantly felt sick to my stomach and faint. I glanced over at Peter to see that his face had gone white.
    “That’s not true,” I said, dead serious, staring at Bodo.
    Bodo looked at Peter and then me, confused. “What? What did I say? Why are you looking at me like dat?” After a couple more seconds, his face changed and he said, “Oh, okay. I know what you are thinking. Of course, meat is not always meat. Sometimes it’s a person’s body part and den of course it’s not okay. I am sorry, Peter, I wasn’t thinking about dat. It’s not in my head like dat.”
    “Don’t worry about it,” Peter said in a strained voice. “I know what you meant.”
    Bodo ran his hands through his hair in a frustrated gesture. “Dis whole conversation is going in a bad way. I want to fix it. I don’t like for you guyss to be mad.”
    “Fix it by telling us your secrets,” I said, point blank. I was tired of the games.
    Bodo sighed and then stood. “Never mind. It’s useless,” he said, before stalking off.
    “What was that all about?” asked Peter, watching him go.
    “I would really like to be able to answer that question, Peter. I really would.” My mind was going a million miles an hour. “I know you don’t want to hear me say it. But after his meat is meat comment, I have to.”
    “Bryn…” Peter was shaking his head.
    “What if he is?” I said in a loud whisper. “What if he was a canner before he met us? What then, huh? He can’t stay here if he’s one of them.”
    “He’s not one of them. He couldn’t have been. He’s too … nice.”
    “Yeah, but nice and hungry maybe sometimes don’t mix. Maybe sometimes the hunger wins out over the niceness.”
    Peter thought about it for a