The World Without Flags

“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.

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