Apocalypsis 04 - Haven

why smack her on the butt?”
    “She’ll find her way back home. She just needs a little motivation to get going.”
    “Like the birds?” How come I didn’t know all these animals had such a strong sense of home? Are they so different from us, really? Does everyone and every thing need a place to call home and feel safe in?
    “Yeah, kinda. But different. Anyway, good luck. You’d better go.” Jackson bent down and picked up my shotgun.
    Katy came bursting out of the front door, carrying some leather straps with her. “Put these on! So you don’t have to hold the guns!”
    Jackson handed up two shotgun holsters. After a little bit of finagling I was finally able to attach it to my body and get the gun inside, over my back. I felt like a real cowboy outlaw now. Only one that didn’t know what the hell she was doing.
    “You sure you know how to do this?” I asked Bodo as he adjusted his holster.
    “Yes. I had many horses in my life.” He slapped the reins a little and kicked the horse in her sides, making a clicking noise with his tongue.
    There was so much about my boyfriend I didn’t know - things he hadn’t told me. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out if it was because he’d withheld the information deliberately or because I just hadn’t bothered to ask.
    I turned to watch the ranch fading behind me as we transitioned from a walk to a trot. Every face looking back at me had an expression of worry.
    I had to turn back and hold onto Bodo tighter so I didn’t start thinking about all the ways I could die.
    The jarring trot quickly turned into a gallop that threatened to throw me off the horse’s rear end. Bodo pointed the horse to the road that would take us to the highway, and in no time we were running down the shoulder of I-95, headed in the direction of Kahayatle.
    I held on for dear life, praying to my father and any invisible gods who might be listening. Please don’t let us die, please don’t let us die, please don’t let us die…

CHAPTER FIVE

    THE HORSE WAS FOAMING AT the mouth with white gooey stuff by the time we arrived at the small store that used to serve as a canoe rental place.
    Bodo got down, reaching up without a word to help me off, taking me by the waist and lifting me down.
    I had a hard time standing when I reached the ground, my butt and back were sore from the constant pounding they’d endured on our trip. I massaged my lower back through my shirt as I got my equilibrium back. I was so not in fighting shape right now.
    Bodo didn’t seem bothered by the hard ride at all. He turned the horse around, tied the reins to the saddle horn and whacked her really hard on the butt.
    The horse jumped and took off, running like a bat out of hell back towards home.
    I sent out a silent prayer that she’d make it, because this place surely was hell compared to where she was from.
    The store had been destroyed. Someone had set it on fire, and there wasn’t much left. Some of the nearby trees were also scorched.
    “Wait here,” said Bodo, running in the direction I’d seen Rob go before. In less than a minute he was back. “Da bikes are still here. I think dey are still in da swamp.”
    I walked over to the top of the bank that looked down to the docks. “There aren’t any canoes here. What are we going to do?”
    Bodo shrugged. “Swim.”
    “You’ve gotta be friggin kidding me. Swim? Are you serious?”
    He got to the bank and took his gun off, putting it up on his head.
    “The shells!” I yelled, just as he was stepping into the water.
    He tugged out the few I’d given him and put them in his teeth.
    “What are you doing?!” I screeched as he entered the water again.
    He turned to me and just frowned for a few seconds before jerking his head and turning away. He went in deeper.
    “Jesus flippin’ Christ,” I mumbled, whipping my holster off and dropping my weapon to the ground. I quickly took off my t-shirt and threw it at my feet. Next came all the shells out of my pockets, which I quickly tied up in the flimsy cotton. I put as tight a knot in it as I could and then grabbed it in my teeth. It was heavy, but manageable. I stood there staring at the river in my shorts and bra, pissed and scared to death. Several mosquitos feasted on my exposed skin as I debated entering the gator-infested water.
    I made my decision, the only one I could make really, and snagged the shotgun still in the holster from the piles of rotten pine needles. I ran back to the edge