Apocalypsis: Book 1 (Kahayatle) Read Free

and the babies.
    “No.   Even split, fifty-fifty.   I need the calories.”
    “Fine.   Whatever.   What time?”
    “One hour.”
    I shrugged.   Dinner for breakfast.   But it was still early enough that I felt relatively safe going out of my house just to my yard.   And at this point, I was no longer recognizing foods as appropriate for certain times of day.   I ate when I was hungry, and I ate what was at hand.
    “See you then.”   I left his house without looking back, not really worried that he was going to shoot me in the back.   He knew I had pasta now, so I was a valuable friend to have.   At least until it was gone.
    ***
    I cooked the pasta using the gas stove in my kitchen, using as little water as possible.   Since entering survivor mode, I always drank the pasta water after it was done cooking, even though it was pretty gross.   It was a precious resource I couldn’t afford to dump down the drain.   Today I put it into two glasses - one for me and one for the kid living behind me.
    An hour after our meeting, I snuck out my back door, now doubly nervous about being seen.   I still wasn’t completely convinced this kid was telling the truth about his sauce, and it was getting closer to the time that the raiders would be waking up.   I had to be back inside before anyone came looking in my windows.
    I got to the fence and whispered, “Are you here?”
    “Yes,” came his response.
    I held up the bowl of rigatoni that I had cooked, bringing it level with the top of the fence.   “Here’s the pasta.   Put the sauce in.”
    I heard some noise on the other side of the fence and then something hit the side of the bowl.  
    A few seconds later he said, “There.   I’m done.”
    I pulled the bowl back down, and sure enough, a big blob of sauce sat on the top of my sad-looking noodles.   I smelled it and nearly swooned at the tomatoey goodness.   I didn’t care one bit that it was cold.
    “Do you have a bowl?” I asked.
    A plastic cereal bowl with a built-in straw on it appeared at the top of the fence.   I poured half of the pasta inside it and passed it back over, wondering if he’d slurp the sauce up when he was done with that straw.   My dad would have written that off as a germ catcher and something to be avoided.   Straws were a bad idea if you were trying not to die of food poisoning and had no way of washing them out well.
    “I have water for you too, if you want it.   It’s kind of starchy since I cooked the noodles in it.”
    “I’ll take it,” he said in a quiet voice.
    I passed the small plastic cup of water over to him and felt, for the briefest of moments, a tremble in his hands as he took it from me.
    “See ya,” he said.
    “Wait!” I said, not even sure why I wanted him to hang around.   Being outside and not inside guarding our houses was risky.   If anyone caught a whiff of our meal we’d be toast.
    “What?   I have to get back inside.”
    “I know, me too.   I just wanted to ask you what your name is.”
    “Peter.   What’s yours?”
    “Bryn.”
    “Bryn.   Is that short for anything?”
    “No.   Just Bryn.”
    “Oh.   Okay.   See ya, Bryn.”
    “See ya, Peter.”
    I returned to my house to eat my breakfast of rigatoni and sauce, scarfing more than half of it down before I’d even reached my back door.
    ***
    It was five in the morning the next day when I happened to look out into my backyard and saw Peter’s head at the top of our fence.   His eyes had not yet gotten over the edge.   Whatever he was standing on wasn’t high enough to get him there.
    I opened the back door slowly, not ready to let him know he’d been seen.   I stayed close to the back of my house and then carefully crept down the side fence that divided my yard from the Slotnik’s - my former next door neighbors.   Their place was unoccupied and long since emptied.   I’d heard it being raided on more than once occasion - the sounds were unmistakable and almost