The World Without Flags

I dream I float on a sea of fire. There are creatures trying to drag me down, down to some horribly hot center where I will be consumed. I open my mouth to scream, but I’m not human anymore. I don’t have lips, just skin where my mouth should be. Something grabs me, and I sink in the fire.

I begin to burn.

17

I am in the back fields when I hear the screams. I stop what I’m doing and stand up tall, listening. I hear it again. An unnatural scream like someone’s being burned alive. You can tell when a scream is given out of anger and when it’s given out of terror and pain. This is terror and excruciating pain. My heart beats in me, and, for a second, I’m confused. Then I see Eric rush by me, running toward the screaming. I follow behind, holding my hoe like a spear. I catch up to Eric soon and then pass him, running toward the barn where the scream is coming from. When we get there, we see a knot of people in front of the barn struggling with something.

From the middle of the crowd comes another scream, and then I see Rebok scrambling away on his back. He’s covered with blood. But the knot of people doesn’t break away. They’re struggling with someone. Rebok starts screaming again, looking at himself. Blood is coming from where his shoulder meets his neck. Rebok is holding his neck like he’s protecting some precious thing. I’ve never seen so much blood, so dark, so liquid, spurting out like water between Rebok’s fingers. I feel woozy and just stand there, holding my hoe. I don’t know what to do or what is happening. I feel sick and uncertain and small.

Then suddenly there’s another cry. This time the knot of people break apart and back away. It takes me a second to recognize who it is: Crypt. Except he’s standing strange, hunchbacked, his hands held out like claws. His eyes are dark holes and his face is streaked, as if he’s been crying blood. His mouth is dark with blood and so are his hands. I step back when I see that there’s something in his eyes, wriggling. Crypt makes a gurgling sound. He turns his head, but strangely, like he’s listening to something in the sky. Blood drips from his hands.

It’s been a long time, but we remember. It comes back in a horrible flash.

The Worm.

The air is shattered by gunshot. Crypt’s head snaps back and he stands up real straight for a second. He teeters two steps forward, like some freaky dance move, and then collapses in a heap. When he falls, we can see the back of his head is missing. There is something writhing there in his skull. Something white. Moving.

I lose it. I’m on my knees, heaving up everything in my stomach and then some, retching and feeling my stomach cramp painfully. I feel a hand on my shoulder. When I look up, I see Eric. He’s holding the gun. His lips are moving but I don’t understand. He could be speaking Chinese. I don’t understand.

The Worm.

I stand up. I’m not the only one stunned. None of us are right in the head. Matt is there, holding a bleeding hand. His mouth is open like he’s screaming, but there’s no sound coming out. Pest is there, not moving, staring at Crypt, dumbfounded. Gunner is standing behind Rebok, who is crying and holding his neck. I see other people running toward us. Norman, Crystal, Diane and her little girl, Amber. The girl has never seen the Worm. She doesn’t know. I look at her. I wonder what she’s thinking, what she could possibly understand. From the corner of my eye, I watch Rebok slump over and I know he’s dead just from the look of him and I think, clearly, we have to burn him now. Right now. I don't think anything kindly of him. I just want to burn him to ashes with what’s left of Crypt. Amber starts to cry and Diane grabs her.

Then sound comes back, like a rush, suddenly.

“Are you all right?” It’s Eric, still holding my shoulder. I nod. “Get up!” he tells me. I don’t know why he’s so adamant about that until I see I’m on my knees in my own vomit.

I stand up, staring around me in shock.

No one knows what to say.

Matt starts crying. “You have to kill me,” he says. He’s holding his bleeding hand. He keeps repeating, “You have to do it. You have to.” We just stand there, doing nothing, frozen in the horror of our memory.

18

In the Lodge, we argue about the Worm. It’s back, we all agree with that, but it’s not the same. No one remembers seeing them squirm out of people’s heads. None of us remember strange white eyes, writhing with worms. There are even long, thin, pale worms snaking out of Crypt’s ears; when we moved his body, his mouth opened and a black river of bile gushed out of him, bubbling with white grubs, like maggots but thinner, with tiny hooks on one end. The smell of ammonia was horrible and more than nauseating. It caused the stomach to clench. We burned Crypt right where he died, covering him with seasoned wood to make it burn as hot as possible. Then we threw Rebok on the fire too while it was burning hottest. We didn’t even say anything over the bodies. No one thought of it.