Kahayatle

“Oh,” said Bodo more quietly. “Dat’s nice dat he did dat for you. He wass a good guy, huh?”



“Yeah. He was a good guy. A really good guy.” I think he would have liked my two friends a lot. Peter, because of how strong he ended up being, even with all the adversity he’d suffered, and Bodo, because of his boundless energy and constant happiness, despite all the reasons he had to be sad.



“My job is going to be getting our food stores set up and contingency plans in place. I also like to cook,” said Peter.



“I have no idea what my jobs are going to be, other than teaching you guys how to do some krav maga.”



“You are in charch of our defenses. Dat’s important. Maybe one of da most important thingks. Without good defenses, we will be da dinner.”



I don’t know why, but his words made me feel good - like I was important to our group.



We continued on for another two hours in relative silence before Peter spoke up. “Do you guys mind if we stop? I’m tired and really hungry.”



“No, I think it’s a good idea. How about we stop at a car this time? This part of the highway seems kind of abandoned. I haven’t heard any sounds or seen any lights up ahead at all,” I said. “Maybe we could sleep on the seats or something … have a comfortable bed for a change.”



“I’m okay to rest for a while,” said Bodo.



I pulled up next to a large SUV that was parked on the shoulder. I got off my bike and walked around it, putting my face up to the darkly tinted windows, making sure there weren’t any surprises within. I don’t know what I expected to see, but I did it anyway. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.



Bodo tried all the doors and they were locked.



“Well, that’s dumb,” said Peter. “Who locks a doors of a car that’s out of gas when there’s no more gas around?”



“Someone who owned the car, I guess. Old habits die hard.”



Bodo went over to the side of the road and came back with a rock, using it to smash the driver’s side window so he could reach inside to unlock the doors.



I went over to the passenger side and climbed in, putting Buster down on the floor in the back seat. He immediately sniffed around, investigating all the parts of the car that might have crumbs for small dogs lying around.



Bodo reached over and opened up the glove box. I pulled things out of it, wondering why I’d never thought about doing this before. People usually kept all kinds of good things in their cars. This one had maps and a small flashlight, which I tested and found still worked. I stuck it in the waistband of my pants.



Peter was in the back seat. “Hey! There’s gum back here.”



He handed a piece up to me and Bodo - they were kind of sad-looking, having suffered the Florida heat for who knows how long. I stuck mine in my pocket for after dinner. “Anything else?”



“Nope. There’s a gas can in the back but it’s empty. And a blanket.”



“We’ll take the blanket. We have room on the trailer, I think.”



I got out of the car and went over to the trailer, pulling out the things we’d need for our dinner. Bodo came around to help me, and together we set up the small camp stove, the pan and got the noodles and sauce ready.



“Um, guys?” asked Peter from the car.



“Yeah,” answered Bodo, busy screwing on the canister of fuel to the stove.



“I think you should come here for a minute.”



“What is it?” I asked, busy organizing the few dishes and utensils we had, to try and make a real event of this meal.



“Just come here, please.” His voice had taken on a new urgency, so I put the things down I was messing with and walked over.



“What’s so dang important that you couldn’t just tell me …?” My voice trailed off as my brain tried to fully appreciate what my eyes were seeing. “Are those …?”



“I think so,” said Peter in a hushed voice. “No wonder the doors were locked.”



“What’s up, guys?” asked Bodo over my shoulder.



I stepped back so he could take a look.



“Whoa. Dose are tiny bombs!” he said excitedly. “I’ll go open da back.”



“Grenades, Bodo,” corrected Peter, absently, still focused on the SUV’s cargo area.



A couple seconds later the back of the SUV opened and Bodo’s eager face appeared. He pulled the blanket the rest of the way off of the black, heavy plastic case and slid the whole thing over to the edge of the tailgate, his eyes scanning the contents left and right, up and down. “Dis iss amazing. Dare’s, like, sixteen grenades in here.”



“I think there’s more underneath. It’s like two layers of them in foam.”



“I wonder why the person didn’t take them when they left the car,” I said.



“Who knows?” said Peter. “Maybe they got killed. Maybe they’re coming back soon. We have no idea when this car was left here - it could have been earlier today.”



I backed away from the car and went over to our food. “I vote we eat and get the hell out of here.” I pulled a lighter from the side pocket of my backpack and lit the camp stove, adjusting the dial on the fuel tank to make the flame high enough to boil the small amount of water we were using for the noodles. I put the noodles in the water while it was still cold, allowing them to get softer more quickly. They ended up being a little starchier this way but I didn’t care. Maybe it’ll help the sauce stick to the pasta better. I was purposely focusing on the meal instead of freaking out about the real, live grenades that were just five feet away from me.



Bodo came back over to the trailer, carrying the heavy-looking case.



“What are you doing with that thing?” I asked.



“Putting it on da trailer, of course.”



“Do you really think we should take it?” I asked, looking from Bodo to Peter.



“If we leave them, they could be used against us some day. I agree with Bodo here. We need to bring them with us, even if we’re just going to bury them somewhere.”



“Bury dem? No way, don’t be crazy like dat. We can use dese in case anyone comes to our new place. You said it yourself. Da canners can go get da military stuff. Now we have some military stuff. It’s perfect. Don’t worry, it’s not a problem, I’ll make room. I’m very good with organizing thingks.”



I shook my head. Boys and their war toys. It reminded me about reading George’s journal. I made a mental note to get it out the next time the sun came up and we were stopped, so I could start getting a grasp on what type of situation we might find ourselves in. Maybe some old war veteran would have something to say about using grenades and defending ourselves against a crazed enemy.



***



We ate our pasta dinner and got back on the road, traveling for a full six hours before finally stopping to sleep. We were nearly to our destination, the changing landscape around us becoming more lush and wet. Off in the distance we could see what looked like small bodies of water, and fewer instances of towns, at least on the west side of the highway.



I pulled George’s journal out of my backpack while Bodo walked around putting the tarps down and over our things. Peter was busy playing with Buster and laughing at his antics. Bodo and I had an unspoken agreement between us that we did the heavy lifting and manual labor - Peter was still way too skinny for my liking and tired easier than we did. He’d been really cool, trying to keep up, not wanting to slow us down. We did what we could to make our breaks more comfortable for him.



I turned the pages of the journal randomly, noticing George’s careful script that never seemed to falter or become sloppy like mine always did when I wrote for longer than five minutes at a time. My fingers had always been much more comfortable on a keyboard.



He hadn’t organized the book in any particular order. It seemed as if he’d done the work over a period of time, writing things down as they came to mind. In one section he talked about his friends - who he was serving with in the army; in another he discussed the process they used to dig latrines - bathrooms, I guess.



I read aloud so Bodo and Peter would be able to comment when I was done.



“It is important to remember that attack can come from any side. A smart enemy will approach from the place you are least likely to expect; this means, it could even come from your own friendly territory. For this reason, it is important to shore up defenses in every direction, and expect the unexpected.”



“Well, that’s encouraging,” I said.



“It’s goodt advices,” said Bodo. “We will need some kindt of lookout that can see in all directions.”



“I guess that’s why in all those war movies they have those towers at the prisons - so you can see anyone trying to escape no matter where they are. And on pirate ships too.”



“Yeah, but in the war movies, the lookout tower is the first thing that’s blown up.”



“Keep reading. I like what dis guy is saying.”



“If your manpower is low, due to injury or simply unavailability, you may not have enough bodies to adequately guard your position. Use whatever methods you have at your disposal to act as early warning systems. A popular method used during the most recent wars is land-mines.”



“Too bad we don't have any land-mines,” I said sarcastically.



“We haf grenades. They can be attached to a wire that pulls da pin out. I’ve see dat in several movies.”



Peter nodded. “Trip wires. Totally done all the time in jungles.”



I shook my head. “We’re missing the critical piece - wire.”



“We have clear fishing line,” corrected Peter. “I don’t think it has to be metal.”



“I guess you have a point - so long as we don’t need the stuff for fishing.”



I went back to the book and flipped through some more pages before stopping to read another passage.



“One of the biggest problems you will face is boredom. Hours will be spent doing nothing, as you contemplate what the enemy might be doing and when they might strike. Sometimes there is no intel and other times the intel is inaccurate. The important thing is to use your free time wisely. Train, train, train. Practice hand-to-hand combat. Make weapons. Build your stores. Play games with your comrades. But never give in to the boredom and do nothing. Down this path lies insanity.”



Those words sent chills up my spine.



“He’s right, you know. There are people going crazy right now, all around us. I don’t know if it’s boredom doing it or just desperation, but it’s definitely happening,” said Peter.



“You got that right,” I agreed. Canners came to mind, and Sissy and Jimmy too a little bit. I could see how a life spent inside of a Cracker Barrel could lead someone down to crazytown.



I looked through the book some more, noticing that he had sections on making weapons and traps, but deciding to study them later. I was tired and needed a break from thinking about dying, killing, and defending myself against zombie attacks. I thought about the days when my biggest worry was a chemistry exam.



“What are you smiling about?” asked Bodo, looking at me from across the tarp.



I leaned over and shoved the book back into my bag. “Oh, just how my biggest concern used to be a chemistry exam - and now it’s whether I’m going to die tomorrow or not.”



“Kinda puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?” asked Peter.



“I don’t know. Call me crazy, but I kindt of prefer dis world to da last one.”



“Yeah. No doubt about it,” I said, “you’re crazy, alright.”



“But don’t you agree? I mean, here we chust survife with our brains and it doesn’t matter who you know or how much money you haff. You just work hard and think about how da world works and you can survife. You can make friends and it doesn’t matter what your clothes are or what kindt of car you are driving. Da food is more healthy and da air and da water is better.”