Apocalypsis: Book 1 (Kahayatle) (17 page)

“So, what do we do now?” asked Bodo.

“Find some fruit, take naps, make plans.
 
Whatever,” I said.

“Let’s go deeper in the groves for the fruit,” said Peter.
 
“I don’t want anyone seeing us up in the trees near the highway.”

“Agreed,” I said.
 
“And someone has to stay here by the stuff at all times.
 
And not just Buster.”

Buster looked up at me upon hearing his name and came over, dancing around in circles by my feet.
 
I bent down and picked him up to give him a squeeze.
 
I put my face in his little shoulder, inhaling his doggy smell.
 
It was starting to grow on me - part Buster, part fresh air, and kind of comforting in a way.
 
I wished I’d had a dog before.
 
Hugging this furry pink thing now, I realized I had probably missed out on a special kind of love in my life not ever having one.
 
Buster must have been feeling the love too, because he squirmed all over trying to get into a better position to lick my face.

“Cut it out, you mangy mutt.”

“He’s no mangy mutt.
 
He’s a purebred,” insisted Peter.
 
“Come over here, Buster, where your pedigree can be better appreciated.”

I was only bent over halfway before Buster leapt from my arms to go collect his cuddles from Peter.
 
He jumped up over and over, trying to get a lick in on Peter’s chin, eventually knocking Peter backwards and taking total advantage of the situation by attack-licking him all over the face.
 
He darted in left and then right, licking when he was close, barking when he wasn’t, lunging whenever he could for a piece of exposed skin to drool on.

Peter rolled around trying to get away, covering his face and yelling, “Get away, get away!
 
Ew! Stop licking me!”
 
But he wasn’t trying very hard.
 

Buster was having the time of his life.
 
Eventually he ran out of gas, though, and sat in the grass, panting away in the shade of the tree with his little legs stuck out straight behind him, his tongue hanging out and a big doggy smile on his face.

Peter sat up and rummaged around in the trailer, getting out the water and the bowl for Buster, filling it and setting it in front of him.

“I’ll stay with the stuff and Buster.
 
You guys go find us some oranges.
 
I’m hungry.”
 
He reached over and petted the dog’s ears, causing him to flip over on his back for a belly rub.
 
Buster had no shame in his game at all and Peter seemed happy to oblige.

Bodo and I headed off into the trees.
 
It felt weird being alone with him.
 
I wasn’t worried about him attacking me or anything - neither for purposes of overwhelming me or for testing my skills.
 
It’s just that he was a good-looking, straight guy who had a quirky sense of humor and seemed to appreciate ‘girls like me’, as Peter would say.
 
It made me nervous and self-conscious.

“You don’t need to be nerfous arount me.
 
I’m not going to hurt you.”

I tried to act like I wasn’t a little freaked out by him reading my body language so well.
 
“You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

“Well, I don’t know if dat is true or not, but I’m not gonna try it anytime soon, I can tell you dat.
 
I need my hands to ride dat bike.”

I laughed.

“How about dat one?”
 
He stopped and pointed to a tree that had several bright orange fruits almost at the top.

“Can you climb trees?” I asked, my eyebrow raised.
 
“Because I can’t climb that high.
 
Not in those kind of trees.”

“I can try.
 
But really it should be you.
 
You are more little dan me.
 
Dese branches aren’t very big.”

We walked over to the tree and looked up.
 
There was one fruit that was hanging low enough that Bodo could almost reach it - almost, but not quite.
 
He jumped up several times and only barely missed it.

He crouched down.
 
“Here.
 
Get on my choulders.
 
Den you can get it.”

My eyes widened.
 
All I could think about was how bad I smelled.
 
I really didn’t want my body parts being that close to his nose until I’d had a shower.
 
Or two.

“Uh, no thanks.”

He looked up at me from his position near the ground.
 
“Why not?
 
Are you afraid of heights dat small?”

“No.”

“Okay, den.
 
What’s da problem?”

“There’s no problem.”

“Hey,” he smiled.
 
“Dat’s my line.”

I smiled back.
 
“Never mind.
 
Let’s just go back.”

He shook his head, sticking his lips out in a pout.
 
“No.
 
I’m not going anywhere.
 
Get on my shoulders and get dat fruit.
 
Don’t be afraid of da little tree.”

“I’m not afraid of the tree, idiot.”

“What are you afraid of, den?
 
Me?”
 
He pointed to his back, his face looking at the ground now.
 
“No.
 
You’re not afraid of Bodo.
 
Come on, den.
 
Get up dare.”

“No,” I said, getting frustrated now.
 
He just wouldn’t take no for an answer and I didn’t have a good explanation to give him that didn’t involve divulging my hangups.

He stood up and walked over closer to me, forcing me to take a step back to maintain a comfortable distance between us.

“We’re a family now.
 
You can tell me what da problem is.”

“We’re not family … we’re maybe in a tribe together, but you have to do more than go on a half-day bike ride with me to earn family status.”

He raised his eyebrows up and down a few times at me and smiled.
 
“Yes, but I got you dat big butt seat with da bike, right?
 
Dat was something special, I think.”

I laughed.
 
“Yeah, that was good.
 
My butt’s not nearly as sore now.”

“See?
 
Bodo’s a good guy.
 
Climb up, okay?
 
Let’s get dat skinny guy Peter some fruit.
 
He’s gonna starve to death soon.”

That was like driving a knife in my heart for some reason.
 
“Wow, you play dirty, don’t you?”

He shrugged, unapologetically.
 
“I’m Cherman.
 
We’re tough people.
 
We suffer and we get up and we keep going.
 
I have been told dat I am very methodical and persistent.”

“Are all Germans like you?”

“I don’t know.
 
All da ones I know are like me.
 
But not as good in da face or da body as me.”

“Of course not,” I said, laughing.
 
He was probably right, but there was no way in hell I was going to admit that now or ever.

“So.
 
You’re getting up now, right?”

“As long as you don’t mind the fact that I stink to high heaven.”

“What is high heaven?
 
Is dat your … you know … private placess?”

I nearly gagged, accidentally inhaling some drool.
 
I tried to correct him before his brain could wander any farther down that lane.
 
“Gah,
no!
 
Holy …
Kack!
… No.
 
Shit.
 
Jesus
, Bodo, it’s an expression.
 
Stink to high heaven means you smell bad.
 
Everywhere, not any particular part of you.”

“Ooooh, I see.”
 
His face turned a little red.
 
“Well, dat’s embarrassing, isn’t it?
 
I’m sorry.
 
You can slap me if you want.
 
I deserve it.”
 
He held out his cheek for me.

“No, never mind.
 
You didn’t know.”
 
The truth was, my high heavens did stink, and I was pretty sure I wanted to be the only one who knew that.

“Okay, I can solve dis problem.
 
I will get on
your
shoulders,” he suggested.

“Are you nuts?
 
You must weight one-seventy or one-eighty.”

“Maybe.
 
But you don’t want to get on my choulders and Peter is slowly starving to death right now, so it’s da only way.”

I rolled my eyes.
 
“Fine!
 
Bend over, stupid.
 
And hold your breath so you don’t smell my stink.”

Bodo pinched his nose and squatted down so I could climb up, which I did while trying to ignore the bright red heat of embarrassment that climbed up my neck and reached my ears and face.

I grabbed the orange and one other that was nearby.
 
“Okay, put me down.”

“Wait, dare’s anudder one over dare!” he said, jogging off to another tree.

“Oh my
god
, you’re going to
drop
me!” I screeched, grabbing his hair and holding onto the oranges with my forearm against my stomach.

“Get it.
 
Dare’s tree of dem.”

I made a sling out of my shirt and dropped all the oranges in, glancing down and noticing for the first time he had stopped plugging his nose.
 
“Plug your nose!”

“Oh, sorry!” he said, reaching up to pinch his nostrils again.
 
“Anudder one!” he said, starting to run again.

I held onto his hair at first but it wasn’t working, so I reached under his head and grabbed his chin.
 
I could feel stubble there and it reminded me of my dad.
 
It was strange to have a memory of my dad wrapped up in this moment with Bodo.
 
It made it easier for me to laugh along with his teasing, which I was finally realizing this was.
 
He wasn’t just a dopey German guy.
 
He was a dopey, silly,
fun
German guy.

“Get dem.
 
One, two, tree, four.
 
Now we have a picnic.”

“Fine.
 
I have them all.
 
Now put me
down
.”

“Okay,” he said cheerily, headed back towards Peter, taking long strides that reminded me of riding a horse.
 
He was really tall.

“Any day now…”

“Okay!”

We came through the last row and arrived back at our bikes and Peter.
 
Buster was barking and running around.

“Put me down before Buster tells every canner within five miles we’re here.”

“Okay, you asked for it!” said Bodo, before he reached up and put his hands under my thighs.

I only had enough time to yell, “What the hell are you…!” before I was launched up into the air above Bodo’s head.

The oranges went flying in every direction as my arms and legs sprang out, trying to find purchase with something solid and only meeting air.
 
And then a split second later, I landed, cradled in Bodo’s arms.
 
He’d thrown me up above him and caught me like a baby.

“Uh
huh!
 
How about
dat
move?
 
You like dat one, yes?
 
Like da circus!”

“Bodo, put me down, you ass.”

He inhaled strongly and made a confused face.
 
Then a face like he smelled something distasteful.
 
“You are right.
 
You do smell.”

I started hitting and kicking him in a flurry of fists and feet, no finesse to my moves at all.
 
I just wanted to get him the hell away from me and my smelly self.

He dropped my legs so I was standing and then released me the rest of the way, ducking away from me and putting his arms and hands up to protect his face and head.
 
Once far enough away that I couldn’t reach him anymore, he went running away into the trees, laughing hysterically the whole way.

Peter was dying - curled up on the tarp and holding Buster to him, laughing and snorting so hard I thought he was going to vomit.
 
Then he farted and laughed all over again.

“Holy shit, you guys have problems,” I yelled, stalking off with a beet red face to find a private place to pee and bake in my humiliation.

***

By the time I got back to the tarp, Peter and Bodo had calmed down and set out a lunch for us.
 
We each got a bottle of water, a chip, two oranges, and a dried hunk of beef from one of the army-navy meals.
 
It looked like a feast.

“Wow, Peter, this looks awesome.”

“Yeah, it’s like a real meal almost,” he agreed.

“I put my food in da trailer too.
 
You can give it whenever you want.
 
I leave it for you,” Bodo said to Peter.

I was too embarrassed to look at Bodo, so I looked at Buster instead, giving him a small chunk of my meat.
 
I noticed the guys did the same thing.
 
Buster also didn’t mind oranges, apparently.

When I finished I got up and found the square of plastic and the water bucket.
 
“I’m going to set up the water catcher.
 
I’m sure it’ll rain later.”
 
The clouds were already coming in from far off.
 
Florida could be counted on for rain every day in the afternoon during this time of year.
 
“Peter, show Bodo the bleach and the cooking water so he doesn’t accidentally drink those.”