Apocalypsis 03 - Exodus by Elle Casey Read Free Book Online

stupid enough to fall into a trap we tell them about, deserves what they get. BAM. Darwin award winner.”
    “What if someone stumbles into it at night?”
    “Darwin award.” Fohi nodded his head.
    “What if someone’s being chased by a canner and forgets where a trap is because they’re panicking?”
    “Hopefully they’ll both get killed,” said Jeremy.
    Fohi looked a little worried.
    Rob held up his hands. “Okay, so it’s not perfect. We’ll do whatever we can to make sure the good guys aren’t caught in any traps. But maybe Bryn has a point. Not all of our traps have to be deadly. Some can just … immobilize.”
    Paci looked right at me when he said, “So if we catch a canner in a hole, are you going to be able to execute him later?”
    Everyone got quiet, waiting for my answer.
    I stared back at him. “Why is this all on me? Who says I’m the executioner?”
    He shrugged. “Just seemed like you didn’t do all that well with the canners you already killed. Now you’re talking about having to kill more, instead of letting them kill themselves in a trap. I’m just asking …”
    I didn’t like being pushed into a corner like this, and least of all by Paci. I thought he was my friend. I just scowled back and him, refusing to answer. I shoved a piece of fruit in my mouth instead, chewing as I turned my eyes away from him, looking off into the distance.
    “Whatever. I say we figure out the best places to put them first, and then we can figure out which type of trap would work best. It’s going to depend on the landscape and stuff,” said Rob.
    “Someone’s gotta do a map of this place,” said Jeremy.
    “And someone has to be sure the bad guys never get their hands on it,” said Peter, sitting down next to me.
    “Where’ve you been?” I asked in a low tone so no one else would hear.
    “Out. Somewhere.”
    I narrowed my eyes at him. “Out somewhere where?”
    “Out somewhere . That’s where.” Peter picked up a hunk of bread and shoved it in his mouth, acting like he couldn’t talk anymore because his mouth was too full.
    “You know … you’re not fooling me for one second. You’re hiding something from me, and I’m going to find out what it is.”
    Peter gave me a sassy look, but didn’t respond. He handed a hunk of meat to Buster who laid down in front of us with it between his paws, pulling bits of it off and chewing away. If a dog could smile, Buster would be grinning his butt off. He stopped every once in a while to look at us, his tongue hanging out.
    “Buster, you’re a goof, just like Peter,” I said. The dog started to get up, thinking I wanted to play, but I pushed him back down. “No, stay. Eat your brontosaurus.” I turned my attention back to Peter. “I can’t believe you’re keeping secrets from me. That’s so rude. I’m injured, you know.” I held up my bandaged arm, hoping it would earn me some pity points and make him feel guilty.
    “I’m not keeping secrets. Not really.”
    “Lie.”
    “No, not really.”
    I sighed. “Peter. I know when you’re lying. You can’t just do it. You have to say something like ‘not really’ to hide it. That’s your guilty conscience talking.” I popped a nut into my mouth and nearly gagged when it hit the back of my throat.
    Peter whacked me on the back a few times. “Okay, Sherlock. You win. I’m hiding big secrets.” He acted like he was patronizing me, but I could tell by the way he was fidgeting with his basket that he was up to something.
    “Listen, Peter. I’ve had lessons in sneaking. I can follow you whenever I want to. So maybe it would be better for everyone involved if you just spilled your guts now.”
    Peter smiled. “I’ve seen you try to sneak before … or rather, I should say I’ve heard you try and sneak before. Your threat doesn’t scare me. It amuses me, but it doesn’t scare me.”
    “Shut up. I can too sneak if I really want to.”
    “Uhhh…no you cant.”
    “Bet me.”
    “No