Warpaint (Apocalypsis #2)

Warpaint (Apocalypsis #2) Page 5

“Okay, not always, but when he does get in trouble, it’s not minor trouble. It’s major.”

“True.” Peter clanked some cans around on the shelves before saying, “So what’s the deal with you guys, anyway? Are you like, romantically involved?”

I chuckled. “Romantically involved? What the heck does that mean?” All I could think about was a candlelight dinner at a restaurant - a pretty ridiculous idea considering where I was and what the world was like right now.

“I don’t know,” he said, coming over and sitting next to me, gathering Buster into his lap. “Are you boyfriend and girlfriend?”

I sighed. “I have no idea. It’s confusing.”

“Why? What’s so confusing? He likes you. You like him. Seems pretty simple.”

I turned my head to look at Peter and Buster, busy playing the you-can’t-lick-me because-I-move-my-face-away-too-fast game.

“Well, for one, I can never tell if he’s serious or joking.”

“Uh-huh. Well, that kiss you got today seemed pretty serious.” Peter gave me a sassy look, challenging me to deny it.

I smiled, trying hard not to, but failing. “Yeah, that was kind of serious. But all the other times he seems like he’s goofing off. Like today he told me he wants to be Mr. Bryn.”

Peter giggled. “That’s kind of cute, actually.”

“Shut up,” I said, feeling my face go red.

“Well, even if he does joke around a lot, I know he likes you. I can tell these things.”

“Oh, so you’re, like, lovelorn-advice-column-guy?”

“No. I’m more like psychiatrist-with-lovesick-girl-on-the-couch-guy.”

“I’m not lovesick,” I said, firmly believing it. “I’m just … I don’t know. Worried or something.”

“Worried about what?”

“Him. His past. His intentions. Our future. You. Choose any of the above.” It was depressing, really, hearing it said aloud. It should have been so much simpler than this. The world as we knew it had ended. There was no more high school drama, no more parents hassling us to do our homework or go to bed or stop texting. But life was even more complicated now, not to mention dangerous.

Peter frowned. “His past … the future … me? What are you talking about?”

“Well, first of all, I have no idea where the hell he came from.”

“He already told us that. Germany. And West Palm Beach.”

“Yeah, but he’s been alone for, what? Six months or longer? I mean, what’s his deal? Why was he alone that day we met him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe for the same reason I was.”

“He didn’t lose a sibling to the canners. He would have told us that. And a guy like him? Mr. Happy Guy? He should have had a flock of people around him, right? Or am I crazy?”

Peter sighed. “No. You’re not crazy. It is kind of weird, but I like him. I’m sure he has a rational explanation that will make your worry seem silly.”

“Maybe.”

“Do you really think he has a dark past? That he did something bad? Because if you try to tell me you think he’s a reformed canner, I’m gonna slap you silly.”

“Bigger men have tried, pipsqueak, and failed. Miserably.”

“Yeah, well, bigger men might not resort to titty-twisting like I will.”

I barked out a laugh. “What did you just say?” I sat up suddenly, still laughing, crossing my hands over my chest protectively. “You’d give me a purple nurple?”

He shrugged. “I’ve learned to do whatever it takes to get a bully to leave me alone.”

I help up my hand, hunched over and nodding. “Respect, my friend. Respect.”

He gave me a high-five, smiling shyly.

“I think you need to come to my next training session.”

“When is it?”

“Five minutes. With the girls.”

“Fine. I’ll go. I’ve already organized our pantry eight different times. Either we need more food or I need a bigger job. Otherwise, I’m going to go nuts in this place in under a week.”

I got up on my feet and held my hands out for him to grab. “Don’t worry. I’m sure there’s plenty for you to do around here. We just need to find out what our places are in the tribe. That’ll all be figured out at dinner, I promise.”

“Good.” He stood with my help and then wiped his hands off on his jeans. “Ew. Sweaty.”

“Sorry.” My body was still humming in high gear, and the stifling heat and humidity sure wasn’t helping cool me down. I glanced over at the swamp, trying to figure out how desperate I’d have to be to swim in it.

“I saw a snake in there today,” said Peter, looking off into the water. “It was creepy.”

I guess that answers my question: I’d have to be really, really desperate.

His comment made me think of the gator we saw before. “Not as creepy as that gator momma that was coming after you.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Except that was more terrifying than creepy.”

“Totally.”

We heard someone approaching and both turned to greet our visitor.

“Are you ready to go?” asked a scowling Coli, appearing out of nowhere, silent until she was practically on top of us.

I rolled my eyes at Peter out of her view before turning back. “Yeah. You training with me today?”

“Unfortunately.”

At least she’s honest. “Good,” I said as I walked by her. “I’ve been looking forward to kicking your ass for a while now.”

I heard Peter sigh behind me as he struggled to keep up with my pace. I didn’t check to see if Coli was following. She needed to learn that I was going to win at the intimidation game. If I let her get away with being a pain in the ass, she was going to get herself hurt and maybe someone else too if we were really unlucky.

I don’t know why I expected all the girls to act angry and defiant like Coli and Celia. Most of them were shy and a lot more laid-back. Some of them smiled shyly when I approached, and others just avoided eye contact.

I wanted to ask them how Celia was doing because I was worried about her and thought it was something we all had in common and could talk about, but I decided to wait until we were done. I needed them to be focused on the training and not their injured friend.

Might as well get started, then. I rubbed my hands together and clapped them once before speaking.

“Peter is going to be my partner today, since he’s the odd man out.”

“Oh goody,” he said.

I shot him an angry look and he immediately got with the program.

“Sorry. I’ll behave.”

I turned my attention back to the group. “I’m going to teach you my two favorite moves today. These will be the ones you’ll use most often, probably. I’ll show you with Peter in slow motion, and then you can practice with a partner.”

I reached over and pulled Peter to me before facing them to explain. “First, the easiest move. The one that will save your bacon more than anything. I call it the nut crusher.” I turned back to Peter. “Peter, spread your legs.”

He put his hands over his crotch. “You must be out of your mind, Bryn. Did you spend too much time in the sun today?”

Some of the girls giggled.

“I’m not really going to kick you. Just relax. You can keep your hands there if you want.” I looked at the girls. “Most guys will not expect you to go for the balls right off the bat. They expect you to struggle, not fight, or run. But the most important thing is not to telegraph your moves ahead of time.”

“Come at me,” I said to Peter, taking two steps back to put some distance between us.

“What?” He looked confused.

I waved my hands, gesturing for him to come to me. “Walk towards me like you’re going to attack me.”

He took two tentative steps forward, his hands still cupped over his crotch, causing more giggles to erupt from the group.

“Geez, Peter. Could you be any less threatening?”

He looked like he was about to faint in fear. “Hey! My balls may be small, but they’re sensitive!”

I laughed. “Who said anything about small balls here?”

I didn’t mean for that to be a joke, but the laughter was nearly out of control now. I pinched the bridge of my nose for a second, trying to think of a way to get us back to something resembling a serious session, and also trying to keep the smile off my face. I could hardly expect them to be serious if I couldn’t be.

“Okay, fine,” I said. “I’ll attack you. When I get close, don’t look at my balls, look at my face. Lift up your hands like you’re going to slap me, but balance your weight on your back leg a little.”

He looked at me totally straight-faced and said, “I’m sorry, but you lost me at, ‘Don’t look at my balls’.”

I gave up. The laughter had gotten to the point that some of the girls were gasping for air. “Bring it in, Peter. Let’s just sit down and talk, first.”

He came walking over, still cupping his nuts, earning him new respect from the girls. He was our new funnyman, brave in the face of badass Bryn, renowned buttkicker. I had known that I would have to use different tactics with the girls, but until Peter had started his comedy routine, I hadn’t realized how different. I was mad at him at first for ruining my setup, but quickly changed my mind as I realized this would be better. I just hoped I could pull it off and not just turn the whole thing into a big emotional, angry mess.

“Alright, so, everyone get your breath back and I’ll go over a few things with you.” I looked around and saw that for the most part, they were in control. The only one not laughing at all was Coli. Of course.

“I’m going to talk to you about some serious crap. Not because I don’t like goofing around or having fun and want to throw a wet blanket on you, but because the reason we’re doing these exercises really is serious. It could mean the difference between life and death for many of you. Or your friends or family.”

That got their attention, at least. Now it was time to go for the gut.

“You all know how seriously hurt Celia was.” I looked around at their faces, the laughter now completely gone. Some of it was replaced with sadness and some with anger - possibly at me.

“When I first met her, she attacked me with a baseball bat.” I waited for that to sink in. Some of the girls nodded, apparently approving of her tactics.

“But here I am. I arrived on your doorstep a few hours later. Did any of you see any lumps on me?”

“I saw a bruise on your shoulder,” said Coli with attitude.

“Yeah. Because she missed my head, where she was aiming, even though she snuck up behind me and was only three feet away. Want to know why she missed her target?”

No one answered, but I could tell they were waiting to hear what I had to say.

“Because she telegraphed her move. It’s pretty hard not to when you’re holding a weapon that big. Still, she should have been able to crush my skull three times over, or at the very least, knock me out. But she missed because I’m trained to read body language and I’m fast.”

I looked at all of them in turn. “Someday, you might be attacked by a canner … a kid who wants to make you his next meal, like what happened to Celia. The question is, are you going to go down? Are you going to be seriously injured or killed? Or are you going to be the one taking people out?” I searched their faces, talking as earnestly as I could. “Just because you’re girls, doesn’t mean you have to be victims. Do you get what I’m saying here?”

Heads were nodding, reluctantly. It was clear that I needed to get their leader over on my side, and by the way they kept stealing glances her way, I could tell it was pain-in-the-butt Coli I had to impress. Ugh. Why can’t life ever be easy for a change?