The World Without Flags

“I owe Eric that. Without him, I’d be dead.”

113

“So you don’t have to worry about me,” Pest finishes. “I’m not going to get infected.”

I look at him in disbelief. It’s a lot to take in. I want to say something, but what can I say? I find the whole thing confusing. He’s older than me, for one, and two, he has this connection to Eric that I never even guessed. Pest is standing in front me, waiting, I guess, for some reaction. I have to say something, but I feel paralyzed with confusion. He keeps looking at me. I have to say something!

“So you’ve been lying to me this whole time?” I ask. It sounds strangely petulant coming out of my mouth, and I blush a little bit.

Pest tilts his head to the side and makes a little hissing noise and then turns away.

That didn’t go well.

I stride after him, wanting to say something much, much better than that, when Eric’s rope goes taut. I turn back and give Eric a tug to get him moving. Eric lumbers forward, his jaw hanging open. By the time I turn back, Pest is far ahead in the forest, Queen following happily behind him, tail in the air. I sigh in frustration and tug at Eric’s rope again.

“Come on,” I tell him, pulling his rope.

“Unh,” Eric says as his head tilts back and he stumbles ahead, almost falling. I feel worse. Going to Eric, I take out his new drooly towel from his shirt, which I put there with the leftover cloth that I used to make Pest’s bandage. I wipe the dark drool from Eric’s mouth.

“Sorry,” I whisper.

“Unh,” Eric responds. From the angle of his face, it seems he’s looking over my shoulder, but I know he sees nothing through the bandana over his eyes. When I turn back, I see that Pest has vanished ahead, and I’ve lost my chance to say the right thing. I always seem to fail that test.

114

We hike all day without talking or taking much of a break. I don’t think either of us wants to face the other. All this time, I’ve been thinking about Pest as some weird kid, and it turns out he’s older than I am. No wonder he has that look in his eyes. I think again as we plod along at Eric’s pace that I’ve been wrong about a lot, and being wrong about Pest is just another example. I guess I’m not as smart as I thought I was. Or maybe we never know each other and that’s the truth, no matter how smart we are. There’s always secrets, always things we don’t know about someone, things that change everything. When I think about Pest now, I wonder how I never guessed it, how I never saw that Pest’s intelligence was strange enough to start thinking there might be something more there than I knew. Eric realized that. I never did.

By the time we stop, the sun is low in the sky and the shadows are long in the forest. The leaves are really starting to show now, and their shadows flicker on the forest floor. It’s still only spring though and it’ll get cold again tonight, and I wish suddenly that we had a house. Four walls, a ceiling, and a fireplace. I ache for it. I’m so tired in my bones from all this that I want to cry.

But I’ve done enough of that. Get ahold of yourself, Birdie.

Pest looks like I feel. He’s sitting on a rock with his head down, grasping at his wounded arm. Even if it doesn’t infect him, it must hurt like hell. It hurts me just to see him suffer. I loop Eric’s rope around a nearby pine tree and tie it off.

“Why don’t you rest,” I tell Pest softly. “I’ll get the wood tonight.”

He looks up at me, and there’s defiance in his face, but when he sees that I’m being genuine and not a jerk, his face softens and he nods. I nod back at him and then start walking through the forest, picking up the driest branches I can find. Most everything is damp, but there’s still a lot of good, dry wood. I bring back a few armfuls and then look for more substantial logs. It’s not hard. I drag a few back. Then I dig a pit in the earth and ring it with stones. It’s hard to get the fire started with old matches and some leaves, but eventually, with a lot of care and frustration, the fire is crackling and popping.

Pest watches me without saying anything, patting Queen’s black and white patchwork head which is resting on his lap. I sit back and feel the warmth. It’s nice, but I’d do anything to have a rabbit or squirrel to roast in the fire. I’m too tired to hunt though, and even though there’s probably some fat trout in the nearby stream, I can’t get myself to go fishing. I just need a few minutes to rest. I’m kind of glad I’m so tired. I’ve been dreading this moment all day, and now I’m too tired to care if it’s awkward between Pest and I or not. I feel like a bomb could go off and I wouldn’t even bother to turn my head to see what happened.

“I wish I could’ve told you the truth,” Pest says softly, staring at the fire. “I’ve never told it to anyone except Eric. I can’t even believe I told him. I don’t know exactly why I did.”

“Eric had that way with people,” I tell him. “People trusted him. People told him everything.”

“I guess I should’ve trusted you, but—”