When I wake up, I blink for a moment in disbelief. I rub my eyes and check my hands. No blood. I feel my head. No fever. I blink, searching myself for signs of weakness, dizziness, nausea. Nothing! It’s been enough time. I swallowed a ball of worms the size of a peach! I should be taken by the Worm by now. I should be infected! Above me the skylight is bright with morning. My heart stops and then races ahead. I’m still alive! I’m still me! I leap to my feet and almost cry out in joy. Instead I make a little squeal of delight and jump in place.
The elation doesn’t last long. Maybe the fever will start a little later. Maybe I’ll be dead in just another few hours. I check my forehead again. Nothing. I feel fine. In truth, I feel great—alive , energetic, healthy. But I should be. . .gone. I should be wherever it is that Eric has vanished, deep within himself, if he’s there at all.
Think, Birdie.
I remember resuscitating Eric when he dived into the river, the black liquid he vomited into my mouth. How wasn’t I infected by that? How wasn’t I infected when Eric coughed up on me? After all the contact I’ve had with Eric, after all the times I’ve wiped him clean, shouldn’t some little drop have infected me? Some people are infected by the smallest scratch, the lightest cut by a ragged, infected fingernail. How have I avoided it all this time? How am I not infected?
In my dreams, my mother is always holding me, her eyes bleeding. My father’s eyes are bleeding. But I made it, I was safe. I think of all my dreams, how thirsty I always am, how I see through fog and smoke, as if through a layer of mud.
Or a layer of worms, I think suddenly.
I’m not infected because I’ve already had the Worm! The revelation comes to me with a feeling like my head has grown seven times larger. I feel dizzy and sit down on my cage floor. That’s what my parents were doing! They were taking care of me because I was sick with the Worm! My father was telling me I could make it because I was infected! I had always thought he was telling me I could make it across the country, but he was encouraging me to beat the infection! I’ve already been infected! I can’t be infected again!
The hope that I feel is almost too much for me. I lean against the wall, weak with relief. Any other person in my place would have been infected a dozen times taking care of Eric. Any other person with a bellyful of eye worms would have had a fever long ago. I feel like I’ve been pulled from the edge of a pit. It’s like a whole new life, like being born again.
I look around at my cage with new eyes. I don’t see it as my coffin.
Now I’m looking for a way to escape. I’m alive.
I’m thinking.
140
The greatest advantage you can have in this world is when you’re the only one who knows. And I’m the only one here who knows that I can’t be infected. To Randy, to Doctor Bragg, I will succumb to the Worm at any moment. They have no idea that I’m healthy as a horse. If I’m going to escape, I have to use that to my advantage.
Watching the steel door nervously, anyone could come in at any moment, I sit down on the cement floor and search my body. I feel the metal on the zipper of my jeans, and smile with excitement. I begin to twist and pull at the zipper until the metal tab finally comes free. I lift it up and examine it. The edges where it broke free are sharp and serrated, just as I hoped. I roll up my pant leg, take the gleaming metal tab of the zipper, and, without thinking too much, drag it across my leg, grimacing at the pain. It’s not a very deep scratch, but the blood comes to the surface. I dab my fingers in it and then rub my eyes with the blood, blinking and tearing up as best I can. I keep repeating this until I feel like my eyes are a bloody wreck, like I’ve been crying tears of blood. Then I roll down my pant legs, slip the zipper tab into my pocket and lie down.
Then, thinking of Eric, I get up, stand with one shoulder lower than the other, let my jaw hang open.
“Agh,” I groan. I clear my throat and try again. “Ergh,” I say.
I hear the clanking of the door being opened and I let the focus of my eyes go wide.
Get ready, I tell myself. Time for the show of my life.
The door opens.
141
“Yeah, you’re right, she’s not dead,” says Randy over his shoulder as he walks through the door. He strides in and then stands behind the bars, looking at me, smiling. “Don’t worry, you’re still cute,” he tells me in a low voice, winking at me. I struggle to contain a shiver a revulsion at his words. It’s hard, but I do it. I remain motionless.
Doctor Bragg walks in behind him and examines me coldly. “She’s turned very cleanly,” he says. He thinks for a moment, his gaze on me like a spotlight. “There’s hardly any sign of the sickness.” His eyes study me from head to foot. “Excellent,” he says at last. “She will endure many weeks.”
Randy laughs. “You’re a gruesome son of a bitch, you know that?”
Doctor Bragg looks at Randy sourly. “Not all of us have the luxury of inaction.”
“None of us have any luxury at all,” Randy responds to him with equal bitterness.
The Doctor looks at Randy for a moment longer, as if carefully measuring the appropriate response. Apparently deciding it best to drop the entire subject, the Doctor sighs and turns back toward me. “I’ll need a sample,” he says, “several of them.”
“I ain’t going near her,” Randy says, shooting a horrified glance my way. “Not until you wire her jaw shut.”
“Yes, I'm well aware of your phobia,” the Doctor responds drily.
Randy looks like he’s going to respond angrily, but instead he just shrugs and shows his horse teeth in some strange parody of a smile.
When the Doctor takes out his keys to open the cell door, Randy takes a step back, his smile fading. The Doctor comes in and stands in front of me with the same appraising eyes as always, empty, dark, inscrutable. He gives me one of his empty smiles. “Let me see here,” he says, and then puts his hand on my head. It’s all I can do not to jerk away in horror, but, remembering Eric, I just let him do what he wants. He pushes my head back.
“Ergh,” I say.
Randy laughs. “That’s more than she usually says alive.”
The Doctor holds my jaw and gently presses it open. I can feel him staring into my mouth. When he releases my jaw, he looks deep into my eyes. It’s almost impossible to keep my eyes from focusing and moving, but somehow I keep them under control. Finally the Doctor steps back and says, “She’s turned very gently.”
I let my jaw fall open, and then hunch forward a little, putting my left shoulder higher as I’ve seen Eric do a hundred times.
“Listen,” Randy says, the impatience obvious in his voice. “We have to get this going. We have to meet Raymond by tomorrow. Get your samples so we can get on the road.”
Doctor Bragg turns toward Randy. I don’t see his face, but I can hear his disapproval. “You should call him President Barber,” he says.
“Don’t worry,” Randy scoffs. “I know what to call him.”
Taking me by the arm, Doctor Bragg leads me out of the room. “I would still prefer we stay out of this war,” he says. “It seems to me we can get plenty of subjects without involving these people.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Randy hisses. “How long do you think we can go around infecting people without them catching on? Huh?” As they talk, they’re leading me out of the room. I follow in the awkward steps of the infected.
“As I’ve said before,” Doctor Bragg argues, “I believe infecting whole populations is wasteful. We could very well do this one by one. Involving these armies seems dangerous.”
I can tell by their tones that they’ve had this argument several times before. “Look,” Randy says in an exasperated tone. “You want to find out how to kill the Worm, don’t you?”
“Yes.” The clipped word has venom in it.
“Well,” Randy says, “this will give you all the freedom you want, trust me. You need to experiment on people, you’re going to need an army. Like I’ve tol
d you a thousand times. You can’t hide it forever. This war was lucky for us. It gives us freedom to work.”
They lead me through the door and into the hallway that leads to the operating room, research space, whatever it is. Careful to keep my jaw hanging open, I think furiously of a way to escape. I have to be patient, wait for the perfect time. I’ll only have this one chance. One opportunity. If Doctor Bragg finds out that I’ve already had the Worm and survived, I don’t even want to contemplate what he’ll do to me. But I have to be patient. I have to wait.
Randy walks ahead of us and opens the door, holding it for us as we pass. When I move by him, he grimaces and turns away. I’d like nothing more than to snap at him, even bite him, give him the scare of his life, but that would give it all away. After we pass, I hear Randy behind us shut the door. “You really need me for this?” he asks.
Doctor Bragg positions me in front of the chair and lets me go. I’m standing where Squint stood yesterday. I can see the door to the outside where Eric and I escaped last time. Everything in me wants to sprint for the door, throw it open, and run for the river, but I beat the feeling down. I could easily get caught. I only have this one chance or I’m dead. With Doctor Bragg, I’m way worse than dead, I’m a living experiment. It takes all my determination to keep from trembling.
“No, I don’t need you,” the Doctor answers, looking back to Randy, who is standing far from me. “I want you to tell me what is happening, why we are meeting President Barber, why we are moving from here.” The Doctor stands up and faces Randy, his face a blank. “You never tell me what is happening until it has already happened.”
Randy crosses his arms, looking at him. Then he smiles his toothy smile. “It works out, doesn’t it?” He throws his hand toward me like I was a chair or a table, just some object he was able to find.
“That is not the point,” Doctor Bragg says flatly.
Randy laughs. “It kind of is the point though,” he says. “Look, you’re good at this.” Randy points at me. “And I’m good at everything else. You lost her, I found her. I wanted her to die with the rest at Cairo, but this is even better, isn’t it? You do your thing, I do my thing. It works out for us, let’s not change things now.”
“It disturbs me that you are so reluctant to share your plans.”
Randy studies him and then shifts from one foot to the other. Doctor Bragg doesn’t move. He just stands there, eyes fixed on Randy, his back straight, his long face emotionless and disturbingly steady. As they focus on each other, I study what I can of the room without moving my eyes. On the chair next to me, where I was strapped down the day before, I see an aluminum tray. On it glimmers a scalpel and several glass tubes, some of which are filled with some dark liquid. I can almost feel the scalpel in my hand.
“Yeah, all right,” Randy says to the Doctor suddenly. “I’ve convinced the Stars that the Gearheads have been spreading the Worm. They’ll give you all the people you need to find the cure for the Worm that they think the Gearheads are spreading. You’ll have all you need. I’ll make sure of that.”
Doctor Bragg is silent, thinking. After a moment, he says, “Good. Thank you.”
As the two eye each other, I study the scalpel. It’s only a couple feet from me. I could have it in a flash, and, before the two were even aware I wasn’t infected, I could slash the scalpel down Randy’s face and then slice out at Doctor Bragg. Then I could run for the door. But I doubt I could move fast enough. All it would take was one of them to be a little quicker, to grab me, force the scalpel from my hand, and I would be caught. By the end of the day, Doctor Bragg would have me sliced open like a fish on his surgical table. I have to be patient. I have to wait for my time.
Doctor Bragg comes back to me, turning away from Randy. He turns my head to one side. His hands are strangely warm on my neck, hot and dry as a desert. His face is so close to mine, I can smell warm eggs on his breath. Over the Doctor’s shoulder, as he examines me, Randy watches us. His face is filled with disgust and scorn. Then the Doctor pushes my head back. With a movement of his hand, his gently shuts my jaw. Then, urging me forward with a slight push, he makes me stand next to the chair. He tilts my head to the side, and I can feel him looking into my ear. I can’t see Randy anymore, but I feel him glaring at us. I hear the sound of the scalpel being taken from the aluminum tray, and a shudder of horror moves up my body before I can stop it.
“Ergh,” I say, to hide my terror. The Doctor puts a hand on my shoulder almost tenderly, as if to comfort me.
“No worms yet,” he says and makes a snapping sound with his tongue. Doctor Bragg turns to Randy. “It means I’ve caught it before the worms have had a chance to colonize the auditory nerve.”
“So?” Randy says. He sounds like a petulant teenager who refuses to admit that knowledge is useful.
“So if I remove the ear and the auditory nerve,” the Doctor answers, “I’ll be able to observe how the organism reacts.”
“You’re going to cut out her ear?” asks Randy in a disgusted voice.
“Just one of them,” he answers coldly. I'm glad they’re not looking at me because I’m trembling. I fight to control myself. I have to be patient, I have to wait my time.
The Doctor turns to me, scalpel glistening in his hand.
“This is too much for me,” says Randy with a laugh. He waves his hands toward us and then walks to the door leading outside. “You have fun with that.” He shuts the door behind him, and leaves the two of us alone.
I steel my resolve. My moment is here.
142
Time is a strange thing. Sometimes there’s more of it than you could ever need. It’s all around you, flowing in abundance, a flood, and you drown in a kind of eternity. Then suddenly time is a knife, sharp, detailed, and profound, and there is not nearly enough of it. You exist in a drought, moving as if through sand, hoping that what you do in that exact moment is the right thing because there isn’t time for a second try. It’s simple, brutal, unforgiving. Either it is done right or it is not. A choice. An action. A single movement. There’s no going back. There’s no way to try again. Time is a killer because all of the things that could’ve happened, never will. All those possibilities are gone and they’re not coming back.
I feel time like that now. It’s sharp and unforgiving. I have to wait, just moments as Doctor Bragg prepares his scalpel to cut into my ear. I have to wait. In my mind, I see Randy walking away from the door. I must give him time to get farther away, time enough so that he might not see me as I burst out the door. He’s walking so slow and the Doctor’s scalpel is moving toward me. I feel his hand on my shoulder. I feel him behind me, lifting himself on his tiptoes. In my mind’s eye, I see that Randy is still in sight. He will see me if I move. I have to wait. I have to wait.
My heart is speeding forward like a shooting star. I can feel the Doctor steady himself for the cut.
In a motion, I release all my energy. I jab my elbow back into the Doctor as hard as I can, and at the same time, I whirl around. I see the Doctor’s face in a painful grimace as both my hands grab at the wrist whose hand holds the glinting scalpel. I jerk the wrist forward, hoping to get him to release the scalpel, but the Doctor has recovered a little and resists the pull. Desperately I kick out, but the Doctor twists away and my feet only hits his thigh. We stumble forward, struggling with the scalpel. I twist my body and his wrist, and the scalpel loosens in his hand. As the Doctor cries out in pain, I jerk his arms forward. The scalpel falls from his hands and clatters on the floor, but now the Doctor surges forward and grasps me in a tight hug, lifting me off the ground.
“You’re immune!” he cries, his voice filled with equal surprise and happiness.
I cry out and stamp down as hard as I can on his foot. I feel bones crunch and Doctor Bragg releases me with a screech of pain. I stumble out of his reach into the chair before I feel his hands at my shoulders. I shake him free, grasping out at the tray. I turn around, holding one of the test tubes in my hand as the
Doctor moves toward me, his arms wide. In desperation, I stab at his face with the test tube. It shatters and slices his face under his eye, splattering his face with dark ooze. The Doctor stumbles back, eyes wide, holding his face. He looks at his hands, covered in blood and black ooze. Then his face falls in disappointment and I know he’s been infected. He’ll be dead in a day or two. I see that he knows it too, but there’s no fear on his face, no sadness, just disappointment.
The Doctor shows me his hands. “Look what you’ve done,” he tells me. “Who will kill the Worm now? Who?” All the fight has leaked out of him.
I turn away and run for the door. I throw it open and bolt outside, and, without looking around, I run for the river. I haven’t run far when I hear the door slam open behind me.
“Come back!” The Doctor cries after me. “We need you!”
But I don’t listen. When I reach the edge of the bank over the river, I launch myself into the air over the river, my heart beating free and alive inside me as I twist and fall through the air.
143
When I climb out of the river, coughing up water, I pause for a moment to listen. Although the current is not nearly as fast as it had been when Eric leaped into it, it’s still fast enough to get me down river pretty fast. I listen carefully for noises of pursuit, but I don’t hear anything. I don’t have time to wait. I have to make it to Cairo, to see if I can find Pest and Eric, to know if they’re still alive. I spring to my feet and, turning south, I begin to run.
Feeling my heart beat and my legs stretch out and my lungs fill with cool, springtime air, I am filled with relief. I duck under branches and leap over logs. I control my breathing and fall into a rhythm, running through the woods, finding the paths of least resistance, even if I have to move in long loops. Not only do I have to put space between me and the crazies behind me, but now that I’m free, now that I'm not about to die, I am full of anxiety about Eric.
The World Without Flags Page 33
