Apocalypsis 03 - Exodus

get up and get you clean and stuff.”
    I picked through the basket, not finding anything appealing; but my growling stomach would not be ignored, and the look on Peter’s face told me he wouldn’t be either, so I took out a piece of stale bread and chewed on a bite of it.
    “So what happened? One minute I was getting up to talk to Kowi, and the next I’m cuddled up next to you and the lick master here in the hut.”
    “You passed out. You’ve lost quite a bit of blood and you were just … I don’t know. Stressed.” He avoided talking about the reason for my stress.
    “Any news?” I asked, chewing on my bread, not looking directly at Peter. “About anything … or anyone?”
    “No. No news about Bodo.”
    I was going to declare my and Winky’s intentions to go after him, but I stopped myself. Peter wasn’t going to be invited, and I could totally see him tattling on me when he found out he was being left behind. I changed the subject. “So what does Kowi want to talk to me about?”
    “I’m not sure. Maybe next steps.”
    “Next steps?” Hopefully they’re not the next steps of us being kicked out of the swamp.
    “Yeah. We didn’t kill all the canners. Some of them got away.”
    My eyes widened. “Does he want to go after them?”
    Peter shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just speculating. I have no idea why he wants to talk to you or what everyone is thinking. I’m not in the loop.”
    “You don’t sound upset about that.”
    “I’m not. I just want to live here, make some cloth, bake some bread, cook some stuff, and never see another canner for as long as I live - which I hope is a very long time.” Peter pulled Buster into his lap, allowing him to lick his hand to death. “And to be honest, I’m not all that crazy about you going out after anyone, either. I think it’s a bad idea.”
    Good thing I didn’t tell him about my Bodo plan. “Why?” I asked, sitting up straighter and picking some more food out of the basket. My appetite was starting to wake up.
    “Because. We’re never going to be able to kill all of them; and every time we piss some of them off, there’ll be more of them out there wanting to come after us. We don’t need enemies.”
    “You’re right about that. We just need to be invisible. But that’s not very realistic, is it?”
    Peter sighed. “I guess not.” He got up and went over to the pantry, absently moving things around. “I can dream, though, right?”
    “Yeah, you can dream. Maybe it’ll give us something to shoot for.”
    “Well, I know you’re happy here and all. And as far as invisibility is concerned, it’s nearly ideal. But my idea of the perfect home is not a place filled with mosquitoes, snakes, and gators.” He emphasized his point by smacking his arm and flicking off the dead, smooshed body of one of the many blood-sucking insects that plagued us night and day.
    “I hear ya. If you can think of something better, feel free to share. This is the best I could come up with.”
    Peter came back to join me, holding his hands out to help me up. “I’m not really complaining. Just whining a little. I’m allowed to do that.”
    “Yep, you are. Where are we going?” I asked, taking his hands and using them to stand up. I didn’t let go until the dizziness subsided.
    “To the bathroom and the showers. Ready?”
    I nodded. “Yeah. Just hand me another hunk of that disgusting bread.”
    Peter bent down and grabbed it, handing it to me and holding out his elbow. “M’ lady?” He was waiting for me to put my hand in the crook of his arm.
    “Okaaaay,” I said, doing as expected, smiling at how goofy I knew we looked.
    I had to admit, though - it was easier walking a straight line with Peter there to guide me. We made our way slowly to the outhouse path, with me only tripping once. I got my business done, without fainting on the toilet, pants down around my ankles; so I considered it a big success. Then we went to the shower where I struggled but eventually was able to wash most of the grime off my body. Peter took my bandages off for me and gave me strict instructions to clean the wound thoroughly. The stitches were ugly and the skin around them looked nasty. Winky was right - I was going to have a terrible scar. But I could tell the edges of the injury had started to connect, and so far, I didn’t have any signs of infection. I started to wonder what Bodo might think about my new scar, but I stopped myself. I’d cried enough