Ben Bedard - The World Without Flags

“Mergh,” he says.

“Come on,” I say to him. “Come on, Squint, you ugly bastard, come here.”

Squint just stands there, his back hunched. He’s looking at the back wall behind me, or seems to be. He doesn’t move.

I wave my arms at him and jump up and down. I pull Eric to his feet and wave his arms up and down, hoping Squint will come to his own kind, I guess. I kick at the door, making it rattle. I even sing him a song. Knock, knock, knockin’ on heaven’s doors , I sing. Knock knock knockin’ on heaven’s doors . But Squint doesn’t move. He doesn’t do anything.

Only sometimes he goes, “Mergh.” And that’s it. He stands there steadily, hunched forward like a gorilla, dark drool running from the corners of his mouth. The Worms have started to come out of the corner of his eyes too. I can see them waving there.

To make matters more frustrating, I can now see the key to my cage. One end is hooked on his front pocket. I can see the outline of the rest in his plaid, puke-covered shirt.

I’ve tried everything and I can’t get Squint to make that one, that one little step toward me. That’s all I need. One lousy little step! I could pull him toward the bars, get the key, open up the door and Eric and I would be gone. Gone! But the only thing that gets the attention of these things is water, and I don’t have a single drop of it. I’m so dry that I can even muster up any spit. I pace the cell, knowing that at any second, someone else could come, and that would be the end of us. Think, Birdie. Think!

I stop suddenly. I rush over to Eric and turn him so he’s facing the wall. Then I rip two long strips of cloth from his drooly towel and carefully stuff his ears with them. Finally, I take off Eric’s shirt and wrap it around his head, hoping he can’t hear a thing.

Ready at last, I go to the back of the cell and pull down my pants. I squat in the shadows of the corner and concentrate. “Come on, come on,” I mutter. Just when I think I won’t be able to, I begin to pee.

It makes the wet, splashing sound on the cement that I hoped for.

Immediately, Squint picks up his head. “Mergh!” he says through his clenched jaw.

I really let it fly. It sounds like there’s a waterfall in here. Excitedly, I watch Squint step one, two, three times until he comes to a stop right against the bars! “Mergh! Mergh!” he groans, his arms reaching inside toward me.

“Gross,” I answer, and then, done peeing, I pull up my pants and run toward Squint. I duck under his grasping arm and then reach into his front pocket.

The key!

“Unh,” says Eric at the back of the cell.

“Let’s not ever talk about what just happened,” I say to him, and then I shove Squint back roughly and fumble for the padlock. Squint just stands there like nothing happened. The key fits and the door opens forward! I race to the back of the cell and unfurl Eric’s shirt from his head, pulling it on him as quick as I can, trying to ignore the disgusting black stains in his t-shirt underneath. The feeling of grabbing Eric and leading him through the cell door is so gratifying that I laugh out loud and notice that I’m crying too, silent tears. I wipe my eyes and sniff and then I carefully lead Squint into the cage before I shut the door behind him.

“Have fun with the Doctor,” I say before I drop the key to the floor.

But we’re not free yet.

I’m about to leave with Eric when I remember the little girl and the woman. I stand there, indecisive. I breathe and think. Down the hall, I see the solid metal doors, and behind some of them, I imagine, are prisoners, all risking the same fate that I so narrowly avoided. Every moment I stand there, I know I’m risking being caught. I think about Doctor Bragg and his experiments. Can I leave them to be infected and then slit open and studied while they’re still alive? I look up at Eric and wish he could tell me what to do. He stands there senselessly, his jaw open. Suddenly, I know what Eric would do.

“Stay here,” I say to Eric needlessly.

I move down to the other doors. Unlike my door, they are not locked, only latched from the outside. I begin to open them up one by one, without seeing if there’s anyone in them. I don’t know why, but I don’t want to see their faces. I just want to give them this chance. That’s what I can give them. That’s what I can offer. It’s not much, but I can’t do more. I hear some rustling in a couple of the cells, but I don’t stay to see. I rush back down the hall and grab Eric. I thought I would feel good about opening the doors, but I don’t. I feel as if there is more that I can do, if I was just brave enough. I can’t think about it right now. I can’t.

There are only two doors out of this area: one leads back through the labyrinth of hallways and doors in the warehouse. I remember that area but only vaguely. The thought of wandering through all those hallways while at any moment someone could come around a corner feels hopeless to me. Even if we did move through that maze, the door opens up to a main street that runs through the town. I remember all those filthy, scarred faces jeering at us when we arrived. We can’t go that way. The other option is not much better. When I was strapped down in Dr. Bragg’s chair, I noticed another door, the door in the corner. It might lead outside. It’s a big gamble, but I feel it’s the only choice I have.

I turn away from the hallway and lead Eric back, pass our prison cell. I notice for a moment that Squint is standing where I left him facing the wall, his right arm held out and dangling strangely from the elbow. He looks like a scarecrow. I turn away and nudge Eric toward the first door. Without the pounding rain, everything seems quiet now, still and dangerous. I move through the little hallway, listening to Eric shuffle loudly. Before I’m ready for it, I’m standing in front of the door to Doctor Bragg’s laboratory, breathing as hard as I had last time I was here. I can’t believe that I’m going to go back in there. By choice. I clench my hand to keep from shaking. It’s my best choice, I tell myself. It’s our best chance of getting out of this hell alive. I turn Eric’s to the wall, knowing he can’t sneak or be quiet. I have to go myself to make sure the way is clear. Then I’ll come back for him.

I reach out and push the handle slowly.

The door opens and a draft blows in the foulness of corpses and Worms.

I tremble and then crouch down. My heart thunders and my vision blurs.

Leaving Eric at the door, I crawl inside.

The laboratory is dark this time, lit only by a single lamp on a bench at the far end of the room. It’s soundless and there’s a suffocating stench of chemicals in the room that is so strong, I’m surprised it can’t be seen like a smog.

I crawl forward, quiet as a cat on the prowl. When I was bound in the metal chair, I couldn’t see behind me. Now I see there’s two rows of stainless steel shelves here, filled with jars and cans and all kinds of implements that I’m not going to think about. For a second, I wonder if I could burn the place down. I’d love to see it go up in flames, turning all this insanity and perversity to ashes, but I’m not sure if I could get out with Eric safely. It seems suicidal. Still the thought of seeing this place caught in a fiery blaze is a powerful temptation.

I inch low across the floor toward the door at the opposite end, listening carefully. I’m relieved to find that I’m alone. I stand up carefully into a crouch and creep forward, searching for the outlines of the door ahead of me. As I approach the end of the shelves, in the wall ahead of me, I see what I’ve been looking for: the door. The sight makes my heart skip, and I step carefully forward. I put my hand on the handle and push, opening the door, but only the barest sliver. Immediately I smell fresh air. I peer out through the crack of the door with one eye.