Ben Bedard - The World Without Flags

“You ought to shoot her and get it over with,” Randy says suddenly, and I open my eyes. It’s the hate I feel for him that drives away the weakness in me. I feel myself steady.

President Barber holds up his hand, still looking at me. “I’ll decide what I ought to do,” he says. The grit in his voice is startlingly, but he doesn’t turn away from me. I’m ready to beg if it will help us, but the grit in his voice tells me that it’s not the way to go. Begging would make me look guilty in his eyes. He’s that kind of man. Begging would make him shoot me quicker. I focus my attention on him. I struggle to keep myself steady, even, strong. I’m not any of these things, but I can appear to be. I need to think, be calm and think.

The President of the Stars steps forward, his shining black boots glistening in the pine needles. His eyes are intense, almost crackling with energy as he studies me. He’s about ready to speak. I can see the time is coming.

I will either make my case or we will all die.

“Well, Birdie,” President Barber says, “You seem like a smart girl. I don’t have to tell you why you need to answer my questions truthfully, do I?”

“No,” I say, then I quickly add, “sir.”

“Randy here tells me that you’ve been working for the Gearheads, dragging this zombie around the whole country, infecting town after town.”

“That’s not true, sir,” I say when Barber pauses. His eyes darken. He doesn’t like to be interrupted. I swallow, my throat dry.

“It’s kind of strange that all the towns that come down with the disease have sympathies for the Stars.” Barber looks at me dangerously. “That is very strange, don’t you think?”

“That would be strange if it were true,” I say, holding his eyes as best I can. “Sir,” I add again.

Barber grins at me and then puts his hands on his hips. “Boston and Sydney tell me you lied to the both of them so well that they didn’t even see the evidence of the Worm that was right in front of their faces.” He made a gruff sound. “And I know these boys here. They are not the most credulous of folk, let me tell you.” Over his shoulder, I can see Boston and Sydney glare at me, their faces turning red with shame. I get the uncomfortable feeling that the both of them would like to shoot me right now. Barber continues, “I’m not sure I can believe a word out of your mouth.”

“Then why even bother to talk to me?” I ask. I’m scared to say it, but I have to be tough. He will listen to tough and defiant. He won’t listen to weak and groveling. I can feel it.

Randy makes a gruff laugh behind him. “She’s got a point there,” he barks out. “Just say the word and I’ll put her down without another false word out of her mouth.”

Barber barely turns his head toward Randy, keeping his eyes on me. “Keep quiet,” he says in a stiff, dangerous tone. Randy clears his throat uncomfortably.

“He really wants me dead,” I say in a low voice, keeping my eyes locked with Barber’s. “I’d love to tell you why, if you’ll listen.”

“I think I already know why,” Barber returns with a cold frown.

“I doubt that,” I say, but when his face falls dangerously far, I know I’ve pushed him too far. “Sir,” I add, hoping to soften my impudence. He seems to be slightly satisfied with that. Such a strange and delicate mixture of defiance and formality I have to manage. Just one word too far, and Boston and Sydney will shoot me down. I’m sure Randy will join the fun too.

“I met your President last year. President Brown of the Gearheads. He seemed a reasonable man, an intelligent man, a man I thought I understood. I didn’t think he was too much different than I am. We both want unity, we both want to rebuild.” He studies me. “I can understand him coming against me out here, just to test the boundaries. What I don’t understand is that when I wanted to know about the Gearheads, I sent these two.” Barber nods his head in the direction of Boston and Sydney. “Two fighters, real scrappers, two men who’ve seen their share of the general shit and survived it. Two men who I know, if it comes to it, are as dangerous as the Devil himself. And who did Brown send? A little black girl and a goddamn Zombie.” Barber’s eyes narrow at me. “I’m trying to understand that. I’m trying to see the whole picture. I don’t think this is it.”

“You’re right,” I say, holding my head high. “What you’re seeing isn’t the whole picture at all.” We look at each other. Over his shoulder, I see Randy glower and grip his gun tightly. My heart beats wildly. Barber pauses, giving me just a moment, just an instant of time to push through, to make my case. “You’re being fooled, President, sir,” I say. “It isn’t me that’s been infecting people, it’s Randy.” Boston and Sydney burst out in guffaws of humorless laughter. Randy attempts a laugh himself, but his hand is tight on his gun.

Barber doesn’t look amused. He steps closer to me. For the first time, I smell him, a mixture of some kind of strong alcohol and wood smoke. For some reason, it frightens me, and I take a helpless step backward. Barber’s hand flashes out and he clutches my wounded wrist. I cry out in pain and drop to one knee.

“Don’t you lie to me,” Barber hisses. “Not to me, understand?”

“I’m not lying, sir!” I cry out. The pain in my wrist is exploding all the way up my arm. “Randy’s been infecting all of us! He’s got infected oatmeal bars in his bag! You can check, you can see!” Barber presses harder on my wrist and I collapse in a ball at his feet.

“Don’t you lie to me!” he cries.

“Search the bags on his horse!” I scream. “Search them! You can shoot me if I’m lying! You can shoot me!” Barber releases my wrist.

“I can shoot you anyway,” he tells me, standing over me.

“She’s just trying to buy time with this ridiculous story,” Randy says. “Let’s shoot her and burn this Zombie and get the hell out of here.”

Barber glowers down at me. His eyes study me with open distrust and hatred. Then he turns toward Boston and Sydney. “Get the horse,” he says. “Let’s see what’s in those bags.”

“You stupid shit,” says Randy through clenched teeth.

Then the shooting begins.

The first shot is meant for my head, but Barber moves in front of me and gets it in the stomach. The shot explodes through him and I feel a warm spray of blood against my face as I scramble away to find cover. I don’t know where the next shots hit, but when I get to the nearest tree, I see that Sydney is on the ground and Boston is standing shocked near him. Eric is standing where he was without looking the slightest bit concerned. Randy shoots at Boston, and I see him dive to the side, crying out in pain. Randy fires two more shots toward Boston as he tumbles away into the forest. Now’s my only chance!

I run up the hill slipping on the pine needles and grab Eric.

“Unh,” he says as I tug him away toward the forest.

But it’s not fast enough. Not nearly fast enough. Randy turns back toward us and his horse teeth grins at me widely. Raising his weapon toward me, his face shines with elation.

Suddenly Randy is shoved violently to the side and goes crashing down into the forest.

“Go!” yells Pest, standing where Randy had been a second before. “Run Birdie!”

I want to tell him to follow, I want to tell him thank you, but there’s no time for that. I grab Eric and pull him toward the forest.

“Unh!” Eric groans.

We stumble into the forest as best we can. We haven’t gone more than half dozen steps when I hear shots behind us. My heart drops. There’s no way I can outrun Randy with Eric, and there’s no way I can leave him. This is it. This is really it.