111
I keep thinking as we walk: what will be my last words to him?
I make different speeches in my head. I thank him for what he’s done for us. I tell him that Eric and I will never forget him. In some version, I tell him I’m sorry for the way I treated him. It seems unfair. I don’t know why I get so angry with him. But the speeches don’t sound right. They sound false. When I plan it, it sounds then like someone else talking. I want to say those things, but I don’t know how. I don’t know how to talk about these things. I remember the last thing I said to Eric, about him not being my father, and I remember how I felt even as I said it, like I didn’t know why I was saying it or why it came out sounding so cruel. I don’t know how to say goodbye to Pest, and I don’t know why, after all the death I’ve seen, the thought of Pest being gone from my life makes me feel weak and vulnerable.
“Stop it,” Pest says suddenly.
“Stop what?” I ask, shaken from myself and my thoughts.
“Stop diagnosing me with your eyes,” he says flatly. “I’m okay, trust me.”
“I’m not diagnosing you,” I scoff. But of course I am.
Pest doesn’t argue with me but he makes the slightest huff sound that says everything I need to know. It annoys me. Even though I’m lying, I’m offended he doesn’t believe me. I know that sounds stupid, but that’s what Pest does to me.
“I saw your wallet,” I tell him. Pest stops and then I stop too, giving Eric’s rope a sharp pull to get him to stop.
Pest looks at me. I can’t tell what the look he’s giving me is. Anger? Frustration? Patience? He’s impossible to read. “I thought probably you had,” he says finally. He leans over and pats Queen who’s come running back. Eric obediently stands next to them with his jaw wide open and his dark mouth stinking. Pest turns away from Queen and stands to look at me. “Yes,” he says. “I’m eighteen years old.” That was what it said on his school ID: born in the year 1982.
I cross my arms. “How is that possible? You look twelve.”
Pest clears his throat. He looks over to Eric and then back at me. “Shit,” he says finally. “I guess it was only a matter of time.”
“Just tell me,” I say.
Pest looks away into the forest and then back at me nervously. He sucks on a tooth and then clears his throat again.
“What is it?” I ask. He’s worrying me.
“You know why I haven’t got the Worm right now?” Pest asks. He looks at me steadily in the eye. “You can’t get the Worm twice.”
112
“Don’t look at me like that,” Pest says. “Just listen to me, Birdie. Don’t get angry, just listen for a second. Yes, sit down.
“I had the Worm. Back then, when it first came. I was young, like eight or nine, I guess. I remember getting sick. I remember the fever and the nightmares. But when I woke up one morning on the side of the road, the world was different. My parents were gone. All my friends were gone. There were three other boys with me. The oldest one, Shawn, had taken me because he felt sorry for me. I don’t know why they didn’t leave me or kill me. Maybe they didn’t know either. But they took me with them, and for some reason, I didn’t die from the Worm. I was like Eric for two or three months, I guess, and then I got better. I really don’t know why.
“After that I wandered from place to place with the boys. One by one, they died. Shawn was shot by a gang while we were looking for food. The boys didn’t last long. They died of sickness or hunger or by accident. But there were new boys that came to replace them. Always new kids, everywhere we went.
“I didn’t realize that I wasn’t like them until after the first few years. They were getting bigger. I wasn’t. The ones that lived were growing up fast and strong and tough. I wasn’t, at least not like they were. I grew slowly. Something about the Worm changed me. It slowed down some clock inside me. It wasn’t stopped, but it was slower. And because I wasn’t strong like the other boys were, I had to learn to think. I had to use my head to get what I wanted. But even so, I don’t think I would’ve survived much longer. I was lucky we found the Homestead. I was lucky they let us in.
“You asked me what I owe to Eric. I’ll tell you. He knew I once had the Worm. Eric is smart and he saw problems with my story. After a year had passed and I hadn’t grown much, he began asking me questions. I don’t know why I told him the truth. Something about Eric said I could trust him, or maybe I was too tired of keeping it all to myself. Eventually, when the rest of the boys grew and I didn’t, there would be questions, I knew that. So I told him. Anyone else would have either kicked me out or killed me on the spot. But Eric didn’t. He told me that my secret was safe with him. He told me never to tell anyone else. Most people would think I was a danger. They’d kill me. But not Eric.
“When the Worm broke out again at the Homestead, Eric knew it was possible to survive because of me. And I knew, I mean I know, that it’s possible that Eric can survive because I survived. I couldn’t let them kill him, and I couldn’t let you be out here alone.
“I owe Eric that. Without him, I’d be dead.”
113
“So you don’t have to worry about me,” Pest finishes. “I’m not going to get infected.”
I look at him in disbelief. It’s a lot to take in. I want to say something, but what can I say? I find the whole thing confusing. He’s older than me, for one, and two, he has this connection to Eric that I never even guessed. Pest is standing in front me, waiting, I guess, for some reaction. I have to say something, but I feel paralyzed with confusion. He keeps looking at me. I have to say something!
“So you’ve been lying to me this whole time?” I ask. It sounds strangely petulant coming out of my mouth, and I blush a little bit.
Pest tilts his head to the side and makes a little hissing noise and then turns away.
That didn’t go well.
I stride after him, wanting to say something much, much better than that, when Eric’s rope goes taut. I turn back and give Eric a tug to get him moving. Eric lumbers forward, his jaw hanging open. By the time I turn back, Pest is far ahead in the forest, Queen following happily behind him, tail in the air. I sigh in frustration and tug at Eric’s rope again.
“Come on,” I tell him, pulling his rope.
“Unh,” Eric says as his head tilts back and he stumbles ahead, almost falling. I feel worse. Going to Eric, I take out his new drooly towel from his shirt, which I put there with the leftover cloth that I used to make Pest’s bandage. I wipe the dark drool from Eric’s mouth.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
“Unh,” Eric responds. From the angle of his face, it seems he’s looking over my shoulder, but I know he sees nothing through the bandana over his eyes. When I turn back, I see that Pest has vanished ahead, and I’ve lost my chance to say the right thing. I always seem to fail that test.
114
We hike all day without talking or taking much of a break. I don’t think either of us wants to face the other. All this time, I’ve been thinking about Pest as some weird kid, and it turns out he’s older than I am. No wonder he has that look in his eyes. I think again as we plod along at Eric’s pace that I’ve been wrong about a lot, and being wrong about Pest is just another example. I guess I’m not as smart as I thought I was. Or maybe we never know each other and that’s the truth, no matter how smart we are. There’s always secrets, always things we don’t know about someone, things that change everything. When I think about Pest now, I wonder how I never guessed it, how I never saw that Pest’s intelligence was strange enough to start thinking there might be something more there than I knew. Eric realized that. I never did.
By the time we stop, the sun is low in the sky and the shadows are long in the forest. The leaves are really starting to show now, and their shadows flicker on the forest floor. It’s still only spring though and it’ll get cold again tonight, and I wish suddenly that we had a house. Four walls, a ceiling, and a fireplace. I ache for it. I’m so tired in my bones from
all this that I want to cry.
But I’ve done enough of that. Get ahold of yourself, Birdie.
Pest looks like I feel. He’s sitting on a rock with his head down, grasping at his wounded arm. Even if it doesn’t infect him, it must hurt like hell. It hurts me just to see him suffer. I loop Eric’s rope around a nearby pine tree and tie it off.
“Why don’t you rest,” I tell Pest softly. “I’ll get the wood tonight.”
He looks up at me, and there’s defiance in his face, but when he sees that I’m being genuine and not a jerk, his face softens and he nods. I nod back at him and then start walking through the forest, picking up the driest branches I can find. Most everything is damp, but there’s still a lot of good, dry wood. I bring back a few armfuls and then look for more substantial logs. It’s not hard. I drag a few back. Then I dig a pit in the earth and ring it with stones. It’s hard to get the fire started with old matches and some leaves, but eventually, with a lot of care and frustration, the fire is crackling and popping.
Pest watches me without saying anything, patting Queen’s black and white patchwork head which is resting on his lap. I sit back and feel the warmth. It’s nice, but I’d do anything to have a rabbit or squirrel to roast in the fire. I’m too tired to hunt though, and even though there’s probably some fat trout in the nearby stream, I can’t get myself to go fishing. I just need a few minutes to rest. I’m kind of glad I’m so tired. I’ve been dreading this moment all day, and now I’m too tired to care if it’s awkward between Pest and I or not. I feel like a bomb could go off and I wouldn’t even bother to turn my head to see what happened.
“I wish I could’ve told you the truth,” Pest says softly, staring at the fire. “I’ve never told it to anyone except Eric. I can’t even believe I told him. I don’t know exactly why I did.”
“Eric had that way with people,” I tell him. “People trusted him. People told him everything.”
“I guess I should’ve trusted you, but—”
“Don’t worry about it,” I interrupt. “Really, I understand. I wouldn’t have told me either.” I sigh and toss a branch into the fire.
We listen to the wood spark and burn.
I look up at him. “Do you think that Good Prince Billy really knows how to help Eric?”
“What do you mean? Didn’t Eric say she did?”
“Well,” I answer him, “now I’m thinking he said that to protect you.”
“What?”
“Maybe the Good Prince never said anything like that,” I continue. “Maybe he knew people could survive the Worm because of you, but he couldn’t say that. They might’ve killed you. So he made up the whole thing with the Good Prince to keep your secret.”
Pest looks over to Eric, who’s sitting with his back against a tree, his head turned upward for some reason. “I didn’t think of that,” he says.
“Maybe this whole trip is for nothing,” I say. “Maybe there’s nothing anyone can do. It’s all chance. Either Eric makes it through or he doesn’t. Maybe it’s best if we just find a shack somewhere and wait.” I put my hand on my head and sigh. “I’m so tired,” I say, looking up at the darkening sky through the trees.
There’s a long silence. Pest moves closer to me, and I’m surprised to feel his arm around my shoulders. I’m even more surprised that I don’t recoil. Usually I don’t like to be touched, but I feel myself relax. More than that, I feel strangely safe this near to Pest. I find myself leaning into him and laying my head on his shoulder. It feels good and right. And Pest doesn’t ruin it by talking. We just sit there, listening to the fire crackle and snap.
“What’s your real name?” I ask him in a soft voice. I don’t usually talk like this, low and gentle and, I don’t know, vulnerable and delicate, but that’s how Pest makes me feel, I guess.
“You already know if you saw my school ID,” he answers with a little chuckle.
“Corey?”
“Corey,” he states. We both smile and chuckle a little. The name fits strange on him, like clothes that are too large. “You can keep calling me Pest, if you want.”
“I will,” I laugh. I sigh and then put my arm around him. “You can call me Birdie, if you want.” My voice is so small, I hardly recognize it.
“I will,” he answers me. His voice sounds just as small.
We stay that way for a long time without talking, but eventually hunger forces us to part. When I stand up and walk away from him, I feel my heart stretch, as if it was reluctant to leave and stayed with him.
That night I have a hard time sleeping. Every time I close my eyes, I think about Pest and the feel of his arm around me. How safe I felt. And how, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel so alone. When I can’t sleep, I just lie awake, listening to Pest breathing in the night.
115
The next morning I feel stupid. This isn’t the time for romance.
I berate myself for silliness while I get wood for the fire. I think maybe Pest is thinking the same thing because we don’t talk much. We focus on our jobs. We don’t even look each other in the eye. There’s work to do. We have to find the Good Prince, even if she can’t help us. We have to take that risk. It could be Eric’s only chance. Later, while I feed Eric some hot water and the last of the oatmeal, I feel ashamed of myself. I should be concentrating on Eric. He needs me now. I don’t have time for boys. Especially not Pest.
The both of us kind of avoid each other during breakfast and getting ready for another day’s walking. I take care of Eric and he takes care of Queen. The only exception is when I insist on checking his wound.
“Just sit down,” I order him when he tries to argue he feels fine. He listens to me, although he doesn’t look happy about it. I sit down next to him and start unwrapping his bandage. Pest winces and jerks in pain. “Sorry,” I say to him more gently. I try to focus a little and stop being so brusque. The wound is red and angry, but it doesn’t stink and there’s no sign that it’s getting worse. I tell him so. “I’m going to wash it anyway,” I finish. He opens his mouth to argue, but I give him the look that says he shouldn’t bother. He hardly makes a sound as I wash the wound. He just stares off into the forest over my shoulder. “There,” I say when I’m done and the bandage is back in place.
“Thanks,” he tells me. When I look up at him, just for a second, I can’t help but touch his shoulder. Just for a moment. Lightly. The feeling takes away my breath. I swallow and turn away, surprised by the strength of it. Not now, I say. There’s no time for this!
I feel Pest clutch my hand before I can move away, and I turn back.
“Birdie,” he begins.
“Please,” I say. “Please, not now. I have to think about Eric.”
“I know,” he says. “I just want to say.” He takes a deep breath.
“What?”
“You know, just in case, something, you know, happens.” He sounds so awkward, so unlike himself. It makes me feel like holding him. Instead I’m standing in front of him, waiting. He clears his throat. “Just that,” he says. He swallows. “It’s just that I’ve never met anyone like you, and I don’t know, I don’t know.”
I squeeze his hand. “Hey,” I tell him. “We don’t have to do this now.”
Pest shakes his head. “I do, I do,” he says. He shakes his head and I see that his eyes are filling with tears. “People come and go,” he continues. “In this world, people just come into your life and then they’re gone, you know?” He looks at me as if he needs my help.
“I know,” I say to him.
“I just want to say. . .” He trails off and takes a deep breath. “I’m just grateful I know you.”
I’m having a hard time keeping myself together. I squeeze his hand again. “Me too,” I say. It sounds stupid, but I can’t think of anything else to say. “But nothing’s going to happen,” I continue. “We’re going to find the Good Prince, and then we’re going to have all the time in the world to talk, okay?”
Pest nods. He stands up
and takes a deep breath. I see one single trail of a tear on his cheek, and I’m aware suddenly at how bad the both of us are with this. How just the thought of making a connection seems brutally stupid and impossible in this world. How it nearly breaks us to take this chance. I understand the effort it must have been for him to say what he said and the effort it takes just for me to hear it without running for the hills. For the first time I see something about myself that I know I will have to change. We can’t live like this. I have to reach out to him. I never reached out to Eric either. I never said I loved him. I never told him how much he means to me. I’ve always thought of myself as brave, but I realize now that I’m just terrified, terrified of everyone that I care about, terrified that they’ll leave me alone, just like so many have left me before. What Pest just did was the real act of bravery, and I’m filled with admiration for him. I need him, I see that. He can help me learn to live in this world, learn to truly live. Not just to breathe and eat, but much more than that. I know then suddenly, stunningly, that I know a lot, but I don’t know the first thing about how to love someone.
The realization is so powerful that I want to tell Pest that I’m just awkward and new at this and that if he’ll just be patient, we can talk as much as he wants, but that right now, I have to focus on getting Eric some help. I want to say all this as best I can and hope he understands, but just then Queen’s ears prick up and she leaps to her feet and bounds into the forest.
“Someone’s coming,” Pest says and darts away after the dog. I follow as quick as I can, and when I come to edge of the forest, I see a familiar figure on horseback riding leisurely through the forest.
The World Without Flags Page 27
