Ben Bedard - The World Without Flags

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.

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.”

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.