The World Without Flags

by Ben Lyle Bedard

  We’re quiet, waiting for the Good Prince to talk. She is looking in Eric’s direction when she takes a deep breath and turns toward me, looking sad and sympathetic and immediately, my heart falls. Bad news is coming. “I suppose you know about the war?”

  I nod.

  The Good Prince seems to be about to say something, but then she grows thoughtful. After another moment, she speaks. “The last time Eric was here, we were having trouble with the Minutemen. They thought they were going to bring it all together.” She makes a huffing sound. “They were the first, but they weren’t the last, not by a long shot. Now there’s The Gearheads and the Stars, each one flying their own flag, each one proclaiming themselves the rightful rulers.” She laughs, but not with bitterness, with actual humor. “Rulers of what? We’re just a bunch of bad farmers trying not to freeze or starve to death. It’s hardly what you’d call a mighty empire. Still they’re killing a bunch of folk for the right to fly their damn flags over it.”

  Pest and I sit quietly.

  The Good Prince turns her cloudy eyes back to Eric. “When the old world died, it took with it a lot of things, but it kept the flags.” She sighs and then continues in a whisper, as if to herself. “What’d I’d give for a world without flags.” She says this last almost like we aren’t here. There’s a pause and in it, I can see her imagining what a world like that might be, how much more simple, how much safer, how much less complicated. Then she clears her throat, dispelling the moment, and says, “That ain’t the way of things.” She seems to study us. I can feel Pest squirm under her strange gaze. “I don’t think you can stay here for long,” she continues. “I wish it weren’t that way, but it is. Folk aren’t happy to have the Worm back here, and there’s rumors that the Worm is being spread by the Gearheads. I imagine there’s people here who think you are a spy, here to infect us. I don’t think many, but it don’t take many to scare people. I still have some clout in this community. They’ll listen to me but not forever. It’ll change when the war gets here. War brings out devils and demons, all the worst that humans got. You don’t want to be here when it comes.”

  I hang my head in disappointment. All I had to do was wait here. Eric was either going to get better, or. . . either way, it’d be over. Now I feel the fear of the outside again. It leaves me cold and empty.

  “But where are we going to go?” Pest asks. It’s the question I was about to ask.

  The Good Prince shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

  I look over to Pest helplessly. “I don’t know what to do. Being here was the best idea I had. I don’t know what else to do.”

  “You got time to think it over,” the Good Prince tells me. “I can give you a week, but if I were you, I wouldn’t push much farther than that. I just wanted to tell you how things were.” She leans over and takes my chin in one of her warm, wrinkled hands. She holds it gently. “I’m sorry, honey. I done what I can.”

  “I know,” I say. “Thank you.”

  But as she raises herself from the chair with a groan and begins to walk out of the basement, I feel abandoned rather than grateful. Coming to the Good Prince was the only idea I had for Eric. I look over to him. Through the bars of the jail cell, I see him crouched down, face first in the corner. He’s wearing the robe, and for once, he doesn’t look half-bad. I feel like staying here is his best chance. I feel like if he’s going to survive this, he’s going to do it here and no where else. “I don’t know what to do,” I say. My voice sounds pitiful and small.

  Pest moves his chair next to mine and puts his arm around my shoulders. I put my head on his shoulder. “We have time,” he says. “We’ll think of something.”

  But looking at Eric, I doubt any amount of thinking will help him.

  124

  The next morning, just as we’re sitting down to breakfast, Randy comes to visit us. He sits down at our table and smiles his big-tooth smile. We eat and talk about simple things like the weather and how wonderful bacon is and how the maple syrup tastes a little different every place you go. Randy doesn’t ask about Eric, which I guess sounds weird, but it doesn’t feel weird. When so many people die around you, you get used to focusing on other things and ignoring everything else. Bad news comes easily all by itself. There’s no need to ask for it.

  “Listen,” he says finally, his smile vanishing. “I have to go.”

  I frown and Pest’s shoulders collapse. Randy was the only good luck we’ve had in a while. I think that if it hadn’t been for him passing through when he did, I’m not sure that Eric would’ve survived. I didn’t realize how close he came to death until I saw him naked, all bones. Now he is getting a little better every day, I can tell. His eyes are clearer, his breathing is less labored, and when he drools from his mouth, it isn’t as black as it used to be. These are good signs. If it wasn’t for Randy, Eric wouldn’t be improving. I owe him a lot.

  “Why do you have to go?” I ask. “Isn’t it dangerous out there with the Worm and the war and everything?”

  “It’s because of the Worm I have to go,” Randy says. He shrugs. “There’s a lot of communities out there that don’t know.” He fixes me with a serious look. “Someone has to warn them.”

  “And the war?” Pest asks.

  Randy waves a hand. “It’s still too far south to worry about.” He sees that Pest isn’t convinced and he laughs and gives him a friendly swat on his leg. “I can take care of myself,” he says.

  I have a horrible feeling that I won’t see him again. Going out there again seems like suicide.

  “You shouldn’t go,” I tell him. “It’s not the smart thing to do.”

  Randy looks at me smiling. “You are Eric’s kid, aren’t you?”

  A month ago, this would have infuriated me. Now, I feel proud. I lift my head.

  Randy shrugs and looks at us with his shining green eyes. “Sometimes smart ain’t the way to go,” he tells us. He looks at me pointedly. “That’s what Eric never understood. I think maybe you do.” I meet his intense green eyes with my own. I want to challenge him on Eric, but I think he’s right. Maybe there are times when thinking doesn’t do you any good and you just have to act.

  “Maybe,” I answer him. An idea suddenly lights upon me like a butterfly on a flower. I say it immediately. “Can we come with you?”

  Both Pest and Randy look at me in surprise. Randy’s face goes from surprise to frown. “I think it’s best if you stay right here,” he says.

  “The Good Prince told us we’re going to have to move on,” I insist. “This town doesn’t want us. It’s only a matter of time before they either kick us out or. . .” I let the thought straggle off.

  Randy’s frown deepens. “I can’t go around with a zombie,” he states solidly.

  “Eric isn’t a zombie,” I say angrily.

  “Well, whatever he is,” Randy says with a scornful laugh, “no one will let me in their town while I’m dragging him along. No, no,” he shakes his head forcefully. “I can’t take you with me.”

  “What about just me?” Pest asks, suddenly. I look at him in surprise. Pest turns to me. “Randy can show me a safe place for us, and then I can come back for you.” I don’t like the thought of us being separated.

  Randy makes a gruff sound. He looks at the door of the church like he wishes he could be outside. I get the feeling he wishes that he never told us at all, that he just left Cairo without saying a word to us. It’s strange to see Randy with a big, shadowed frown on his face. It makes his face even longer and more horse-like than usual.

  “All you have to do is show me a nice secluded spot, and then I’ll be out of your hair,” Pest cajoles. “I swear I won’t be any trouble. I can take of myself.”

  Randy makes a sound, and then turns back to us. His frown turns into a thin, unhappy smile. “You’re just a kid,” he says with a laugh.

  Pest’s face darkens with fury. I can only imagine how frustrating it must be to be his age and stuck in the body of a child. Pest leans forward over the
table. “I was out on the roads by myself for a long time,” he says in a low, barely-controlled voice. “I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

  Randy and Pest glower at each other for a moment, and then Randy smiles widely, his teeth shining white. He jabs a finger toward me suddenly. “I’ll take her,” he says, still looking at Pest. “She can take care of herself.” He turns toward me. “Ain’t that right, Birdie?”

  The sound of my name grates against me, but he’s right. “Yeah,” I say. “I can.”

  Pest is quivering with anger, his lips tight. He turns away from Randy toward me. “I can go,” he says. “I can find us a place.”

  “Except I ain’t taking you,” Randy states flatly.

  Pest snaps his head toward him angrily, but before he can speak, I grab his shoulder and jerk him to get his attention. Reluctantly, he looks away from Randy and toward me. “You have something else to do,” I tell him. When Pest tries to turn away, still angry, I give his shoulder another tug. “Look at me!” He does, at first reluctantly, but when we’re looking at each other, I see his blue eyes soften, and the stiffness in his face relaxes. “Listen,” I tell him. “I can do this, but I need you to do something for me.”

  “What?” Pest asks.

  “You have to promise me to look after Eric,” I say. “You don’t know what I’ve already been through to keep him safe.” I look at him with sharp eyes. “Eric means more to me than anything in this world. I wouldn’t think of leaving him with anyone but you. But you have to promise me. You have to promise me that you’ll look after him.”

  Pest and I look at each other for a moment, in silence, eyes glistening. I can see him thinking, feel him trying to figure out another way. And I feel some communication between us, something difficult to describe, something like trust and faith and weakness all together. It’s a strange feeling that passes between us, like we’re indestructible and fragile all at once. Finally Pest nods at me, once, curtly, accepting this new deal. The next second he pulls away from the table, his chair screeching against the floor like the scream of a witch. He shoots a foreboding, hateful look at Randy, and then turns away and retreats from the room, down to the basement. We hear him slam a door shut. It echoes in the church.

  Randy chuckles and when I turn back to him, his smile goes wide, and he’s all teeth and green eyes. “Well,” he says. “Guess it’s just you and me.” He stands up. “You better go say your goodbyes. We leave in an hour.”

  125

  I don’t know how to say goodbye to Pest. I don’t know how he became so important to me in such a little time. Or maybe it hasn’t been such a little time, really. In the end, we stand with Eric in his cell. Neither of us want to look at each other. I tell him he has to wash Eric every day, that he has to try to get him to eat, that he has to feed him salt water. I tell him to be careful that he doesn’t get scratched or accidentally bitten, even though I know it doesn’t matter. You can’t get the Worm twice.

  I don’t know how to say goodbye to Eric either. He stands tall and straight these days, sometimes even on the tips of his toes, as if he’s trying to lift himself into the air. He keeps his eyes wide open, but sometimes, and I have no clue as to why, he squints his left eye real tight. It’s almost like a wink, except that it lasts a long time, sometimes as long as a minute, and then his face relaxes and his jaw drops again. He’s got his eye shut now, pinched tight, and it really seems to me that he’s saying goodbye somehow. But I have no idea. Looking in his other eye, I don’t see any sign of the Eric I knew. I see nothing but a dark pit and the wriggling of worms.

  “Take care of yourself,” I tell him. I embrace him, trying not to notice his cold body against mine, or the smell of soap and ammonia. He smells like a place that has been scrubbed and disinfected and is now off limits to living things. But the smell is far, far better than before, and it makes me feel like we’re winning. I put my hand on his gray cheek. “I’ll be back so soon, you won’t even miss me.”

  His face suddenly relaxes and then his jaw drops. “Unh,” he says softly.

  Suddenly I get an awful feeling that I’ll never see him alive again. I freeze on the spot, stiff with fear.

  “I’ll take care of him,” Pest whispers to me, putting his hand on my shoulder.

  I turn toward him, fighting down tears. “Don’t let anything happen to him,” I tell him. “Promise me!”

  He pulls me in for an embrace. I put my head on top of his and try not to cry. “I promise,” Pest says. “Nothing will happen to him.”

  Then I pull away from him, falling back into the loneliness of my own body. I can’t bear to look at them, either of them, so I turn away. I leave the basement without looking back, but the feeling that I’ll never see them again won’t go away. It follows me all the way up the stairs, out the door, and into Randy’s cart where I’m too proud to show any tears or weakness. But as the church shrinks in the distance and the gates of Cairo shut behind us, I feel like I’m falling into a dark emptiness.

  126

  Randy doesn’t speak to me the whole first day. He sits on the riding board of the cart he bought in Cairo, holding Tangerine’s reins loosely in his hand. Sometimes he hums or sings or whistles. Mostly he just watches the road.

  That whole first day, I feel like I’ve made a big mistake. I should never have left Eric. I keep waiting for the feeling to subside, but it doesn’t. It just grows bigger and more certain. I tell myself that I’m not leaving him, not forever, that I’m doing this for his own good, for our own good, but it doesn’t diminish the hollow feeling of guilt I am carrying. It’s like a dark eye in me, always open, always probing my mistake. I swore I wouldn’t leave him.

  And I did.

  127

  The first night, on our journey to the north and east, Randy builds a fire. While he does that, I take Tangerine down to a stream to drink. After I tie her to a tree where she can get some fresh grass, I make my way back to the fire. Randy has planted himself in front of the fire. The way he does it is so natural that I can tell he’s done it thousand times. His long, spindly legs are crossed, and his feet are bare, being warmed by the fire. He looks like a scarecrow that’s collapsed.

  He looks up at me when I come closer and smiles as I join him. Randy looks different out here, more real somehow, like visiting someone for the first time in their own house where they feel free to be truly themselves. I see there’s two pots on the fire, one with water, and one filled with a kind of stew made from old, wrinkled potatoes, shrunken carrots, and dried venison. Without wanting to, I think of how easy it would be make a thin mash of it to feed to Eric. I know he’s not there, I don’t forget that, but I think of doing it. The dark eye inside me opens.

  “You don’t remember what it was like before the Worm, do you?” Randy asks me suddenly. I turn toward him and shake my head before I sit down near the fire and hug my legs to my chest. I notice for some reason that Randy’s hair is so messy, it looks like it’s trying to crawl off his head. “I envy your generation,” he says, smiling, but looking deeply in the fire. “I think it’s worse for those of us who remember what life used to be.” I think he’s waiting for me to ask him what it was like, but I don’t.

  Randy sighs. “You know, there was a time when I used to drive Pop’s car to the movies. When the movie was done, we’d all meet up at the diner. We’d eat burgers and drink shakes. We thought it was all going to last forever.” He laughed. I’d never heard him be so bitter before, but then again, I’d never talked with him much before and never about the time before the Worm. Eric always told me that people could be divided into two: those that never talked about the time before the Worm, and those that couldn’t talk about anything else. Those who did all the talking and remembering, he told me, they were the ones who didn’t make it. “You ever seen a movie?” Randy asks me.

  I nod. “One time,” I tell him. “I saw one on a big television, back when the generators were still working.”

  “Hell of a thing, movies,” he s
ays to me, like I said nothing. “You get in this dark room, and everyone is talking and whispering, eating popcorn, and slurping soda. Then the room goes dark except for this flickering light up in the booth. And everyone goes real quiet. Like it’s a funeral. Then suddenly, boom!” Randy holds up his hands. “Light!” He laughs, all the bitterness gone. “The movie starts and you’re in a total different world. For like two hours, you don’t notice anyone. You might as well be sitting in a cave all by yourself. Then, when it’s over, it’s everyone wakes up, like we’ve dreaming together and we wake up together. And we’ve all had the same dream. A wonderful dream.” His eyes drift away into the fire.

  “Sounds nice,” I say to him, but I can tell he’s not listening. The firelight flickers in Randy’s eyes. He’s lost to his memory. Usually, I’m not bothered by silence, but this time, it prickles at me. “You think there’s a place around here we can hide Eric?” I ask him. “I don’t want to go too far.”

  “What’s that?” Randy asks, looking away from the fire. I repeat the question and Randy sighs and then smiles at me, his teeth shining. “I’ve been thinking about that,” he says. “I think I know of a place, a perfect place for you all to rest.” He winks at me. “I think we’ll come across it tomorrow, but if not, the next day for sure.”