Apocalypsis 03 - Exodus

fighting someone off, I don’t know. Maybe he was injured. But he’ll find a way to get back, anyway. You know him. He’s stubborn.”
    I grabbed Peter’s forearm hard enough to make him flinch, but he didn’t pull away.
    “What if he is injured? And if we don’t get back there, he’ll die from it!” I wanted to run to the canoes immediately. I didn’t care that it was pouring rain, that my newly stitched wound was bleeding again, or that I didn’t even know where they were keeping the boats and paddles or the bike or truck I would need to get back to the canner place.
    My desire to run must have shown in my eyes, because Peter stepped in between me and the path leading to the water, grabbing both of my upper arms and staring me in the eye. He shook me hard one time.
    “No. You are not going back there. You are staying here and waiting. And if he comes back, good. If he doesn’t, oh well, we move on. That’s how it works here.”
    I looked at him, aghast. “What’s wrong with you, Peter? We’re talking about Bodo. He’s … he’s … family .” I searched Peter’s face, wondering if he’d gone crazy in the middle of all the fighting, or had somehow lost his grip on reality. But all I saw there was firm determination.
    “Nothing’s wrong with me. It’s called loss and you have to deal with it. Now, come on. It’s getting dark and I don’t want to get stuck out here with the snakes.”
    As if on cue, a red and black serpent slithered across a set of tree roots very near to where we were standing. I should have stepped away, but my instincts weren’t working like they should have; I just stood and watched it go by. Luckily, the snake had somewhere to be, and ignored both of us in favor of finding cover under a nearby clump of plants.
    “Ick. Come on.” Peter grabbed my hand and pulled.
    I stopped fighting and followed dumbly along, lost in thoughts of Bodo and what he might be doing right now, wondering if he were alive or dead, injured or healthy. A piece of me hoped he was injured, because otherwise if he were alive but not here, it was probably because he was choosing not to be. And I didn’t want to think about what that might mean about us .
    ***
    I woke up the next day feeling hungover. I’d only ever done that once -drank too much beer taken from a friend’s fridge during a party and severely regretted it the following morning-but it wasn’t something I ever wanted to repeat. Today’s throbbing headache mixed with the dampness that seemed to pervade every inch of my world was making me feel nausiated.
    “Here. Drink this,” said Peter, standing over me, handing me a plastic bottle of water. “And Coli told me to tell you to chew on this.” He handed me a small stick.
    I frowned at him. “You must be smoking something if you think I’m going to chew on a piece of bark sent over from that witch.”
    Peter smiled. “Back with the living, are we? And it’s not a piece of bark. Or maybe it is, but it’s like aspirin, she said.”
    “Shut up,” I said, snatching the bottle of water from him and gulping it down. I refused to chew on anything Coli sent over. One minute she was insulting me, the next she was offering me medicine. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to deal with her mood swings.
    Peter left the sleeping area and came back with a basket of food, setting it down next to my mattress. I leaned over to look in, seeing some bread and fruit inside. I had zero appetite, so I pushed it away.
    “You have to eat. That injury isn’t going to heal if you starve yourself.”
    “Who cares,” I said, lying back down, turning my back to Peter and Buster, who’d wandered in from somewhere and looked like he was thinking about diving into the basket.
    “No, Buster,” admonished Peter, “this is not for you. It’s for Cranky Buns.”
    I ignored Peter, but Buster was not so easy to blow off. He climbed over my middle and landed on my injured arm, looking for access to lick my face.
    “Get off, Buster, you idiot! You’re sitting on my arm!”
    Peter reached over and plucked Buster away, carrying him out of the hut and disappearing into the trees. I heard him talking to the dog as he went. “She’s just sad, so we’ll give her some space to work it out…” I lost the rest when he got too far away.
    I lay there feeling sorry for myself, crying for Bodo and wondering if I were ever going to see him again. I couldn’t forget that the last time we’d had a private