Free Apocalypsis 01 - Kahayatle by Elle Casey Page B

nearly collapsed under its weight.
    “Try this one instead,” I said.  
    I’d thought they were the same weight but for some reason this second pack didn’t have the same effect on him.   It was mine, and made for long distance hiking.
    “It’s better,” he assured me.   “I’ll take this one.   After I put on more weight, we can switch.”
    “Don’t worry about it, Lancelot,” I said.   “Just get your bike and let’s go.”
    “But what about Buster?” he asked.  
    We both looked down at the fuzzy pink thing who was looking up at us with the happiest face a dog could possibly have.   He’d just heard his name, and apparently to Buster, that always meant good things.   His tail was wagging like mad, making his whole butt wiggle.
    “Hold on,” I said, letting a frustrated sigh escape me.   I rushed to my bedroom and rummaged around in an old toy box my dad had bought for me when I was five.   I grabbed the bag that was in there and came out, dropping down to squat near Buster.
    “A Hello Kitty backpack?”
    “Shut up.   It’s old.   It’s all I have.”
    “You’re going to carry Buster around in a Hello Kitty backpack,” he said.   “Why can’t I have a camera for things like this?” he asked the air around him.
    I shoved Buster into the bag when he refused to go willingly.   He poked his head out of the top as I buckled it down and strapped it to the front of me.   Buster took the opportunity while my hands were busy to lick my lips.
    “Buster, no lip licking!” I growled as I wiped his dog saliva off with the back of my hand.   “Gross.”
    “He’s kissing you … awwww, that’s so sweet!   He likes Hello Kitty as much as you do.”
    I gave Peter the stink-eye.   “Keep it up and you’re going to be the Hello Kitty commando, got it?”
    “Yes, Sir!” he saluted.   “I mean, Ma’am!”
    I grabbed the heavier backpack and put it on, grunting with the weight, fearing I wasn’t going to get very far with this thing on.   It’s a good thing we only planned to move a few hours a day.
    “Ready?” asked Peter.
    I looked around at my family room, taking in all the things around me.   My eye landed on the photo of me and my dad in the Everglades.   I walked over and slammed the frame down on the edge of the table, breaking the glass.   I pulled the picture out and folded it up, sticking it in the pocket of my jeans.  
    “Now I am.”  
    I paid little attention to the blue stain that was left behind on the frame’s backing piece.   It had rubbed off of the picture that was now in my pocket.   It briefly reminded me how my dad liked to put details on the back of every photo he developed, so we’d remember when and where it was taken - as if I’d ever forget.
    We wheeled our bikes out the door, avoiding looking at the severed head as best we could.   We climbed onto our bikes once we were on the sidewalk and took off, pedaling as fast as we could, heading out of the neighborhood to parts yet unknown.   I couldn’t help but look at the cop’s house as we rode by.   The brown X which I now knew to be the canner’s invitation to a bar-b-cue, was still on the door, looking so innocent and yet so sinister at the same time.   I wondered if I’d ever get the image of that monster looking at me out of my mind, praying I’d never see him again.

CHAPTER FOUR

    I COULD HEAR PETER PANTING behind me.  
    “Are we there yet?” he gasped out.
    “If you ask me again, I’m going to speed up and leave you behind.”  
    Buster reached up to lick me again - for the hundredth time in the last half hour that we’d been riding.   My chin was totally sticky with dog drool.   I tried not to get mad about it since I knew he thought he was doing me a favor.
    “Can we just stop for a minute?” he pleaded.
    “No.   We’re almost there.”
    “Where’s there?”
    “The army-navy surplus store.   They might have something we can use.”
    “Ha!” yelled Peter.