Apocalypsis 02 - Warpaint

me. “Yeah, sure. See you then.” I watched her walk away, thinking about how ridiculous it was that Winky was impossible to hate when I wanted to dislike her so much.
    I laid back down on the mattress, drifting off to sleep as I listened to the rhythmic vibrations of the cicadas’ song. I dreamed about losing Bodo to a tiny nut crusher of a girl and being alone in the swamp with only Peter and Buster to keep me company.
    ***
    I woke to find both Peter and Bodo asleep beside me, each of them on their mattresses. Buster saw that I was awake and immediately came over to start licking my arm. I tried pushing him away but his twisted poodle brain saw that as an invitation to play. He kept diving back in for more attention, fully focused on his lick attack. It made me wish I could bring him with me on our mission to go after the canners. Maybe I could train him to bite ankles. He’d be unstoppable.
    “Quit, Buster!” I nudged Peter. “Peter, get your pink weasel away from me. He smells.”
    Peter reached out with a sleepy arm to pull Buster in towards him, forcing him into a very close cuddle. Buster responded by turning his licking energies onto Peter’s face.
    “Ugh, Buster, what did you eat for breakfast? Anchovies?” came Peter’s muffled voice.
    I looked over at the entrance to the hut, and before I could even form a coherent thought in my brain, I screamed.
    Bodo jumped up out of a sound sleep and rolled onto his knees, yelling, “Was zum Teufel?!”
    I didn’t know whether to scream again or laugh at the ridiculous sounds that had just come out of Bodo’s mouth. My brain was short-circuiting as I stared at the gross thing in front of me.
    “What?” asked Peter, sitting up, sounding scared to death. “Please tell me there aren’t any dead people over there.” His back was to the entrance of the hut and he stayed that way, almost as if refusing to turn around and face reality.
    “No. Not a person, anyway.” I got up slowly and went over to the body lying on the ground at the entrance. I kicked it a little with my foot, just to be sure it wasn’t going anywhere.
    “Be careful, Bryn,” warned Bodo. “Iss it dead?”
    “Yeah.”
    “What?!” yelled Peter.
    “A snake,” explained Bodo. “A bigk one.”
    “It’s not that big,” said Coli, walking over from out of the trees. She reached down and picked it up, letting it dangle down by her side as she continued. “You guys coming to lunch? We’re having a planning meeting for the recon mission and stuff.”
    I eyed the snake in her hand. “What happened to its head?” It looked like it had been put down an automatic garbage disposal, head first.
    Coli nodded at Buster. “My guess is your dog happened to it.”
    I looked over in horror at Buster, whose mouth was open as he panted happily away, occasionally turning to lick Peter.
    “Uh, Peter? Buster wasn’t eating anchovies … he was eating a friggin anaconda.”
    “Gah!!” said Peter, shoving Buster off of him and jumping up. He rushed over to our pantry, pulled a bottle of water off the shelf, and poured it on his face and neck where Buster had recently been giving him a tongue bath, scrubbing frantically while looking at the snake hanging by Coli’s side. “That is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen.” He turned his ire on the dog. “Buster, what is wrong with you? Why would you eat its head of all things?”
    “I think dat’s very smart.”
    “Smart?” Peter turned on Bodo. “Smart? Are you kidding me?”
    “No, dat’s not a joke. You don’t prefer dat he eat da snake’s butt do you? Dat wouldn’t be good for me. It’s da head dat does da biting.”
    “No, I’m not suggesting Buster eat the snake’s butt . I’m just saying … chewing off its head …” He shuddered and didn’t continue.
    “What are you going to do with it?” I asked Coli, almost hoping she wouldn’t answer me.
    “We’ll eat it.”
    “I was afraid you were going to say that.” I sighed. It made sense not to waste meat, but I was starting to seriously consider the idea of not asking any more questions of the cooking crew. My meals would probably taste better if I didn’t know exactly what I was eating.
    “I’m not eating that. No way, no how,” said Peter.
    “You already have. I mean, not this snake, but other ones just like it.” She smirked, looking at Buster. “Only they usually still have the head on them when I get them.”
    Peter went still, the expression melting