The World Without Flags

There was some whispering about shooting Matt and throwing him on the fire too, but no one dared do more than suggest it. No one but Matt himself who just repeated, “Kill me. You have to do it. You have to.” We were stunned and frightened and I watched as the people I knew began to look at each other with mistrust and fear. Who else had it? Who could we trust? It was horrible to see my community splinter so quickly. I thought we were loyal to each other, but just one glimpse of the Worm and we were already talking about murder.

Now, after burning the two bodies, we gather in the Lodge. People are angry and frightened. “This isn’t like what I remember,” says Crystal. “I don’t remember seeing any worms. It was just a name.”

“I saw some worms,” says Norman. “But nothing like what I saw come out of that kid.”

“Who cares what they look like?” cries Peter. “It’s the Worm, isn’t it? What’re we going to do about it?”

People are quiet for a second. We understand Peter is really talking about Matt. Are we going to kill him? Matt slouches on a bench, his hand wrapped in an old shirt. I sit uncomfortably in the silence. I don’t know what to do either.

“We have to be careful,” Eric says finally. His voice is measured and quiet. He’s not angry. He’s not scared. He’s reasonable. People look at him and wait for him to continue. “Norman and Crystal are right,” he says finally, standing up. “This isn’t like the Worm that I remember. It’s different. That means we have a lot to learn.”

“It’s been gone for so long,” moans Luna. “Why did it come back?” This is less of a question than a cry of despair. Luna is just a little younger than me. Her face is streaked with tears.

“It could have been in the forest all these years,” Norman speculates. “Maybe it’s just been out there all this time. Changing.”

“What does it matter?” asks Matt. It’s the first time he’s spoken since the incineration. “It’s here. We can’t do anything about it. We do what we had to do then. We get rid of the infected and take care of ourselves.” He holds up his bandaged hand. “I’m infected. You have to take care of this. You have to kill me.”

More uncomfortable silence. Matt has only been with us for a couple years, but he’s part of us now. He’s family. Looking over at him, his eyes like knots of darkness, his body loose and careless, I realize that Matt wants to die. I always sensed something strange and violent about him, but I had never been able to put my finger on it. Now I know. Matt is one of those people who secretly want to die. He’s relieved his life is over. Some of the old people are like that. They get closer to death and they’re happy about it.

“He’s right,” Eric says, to everyone’s surprise. “We have to take care of ourselves and each other.” He moves to stand next to Matt. He puts his hand on Matt’s shoulder. “That means we move the infected into one house and we watch them, twenty-four seven.” He stands taller. “That means from now on, we boil all the water. No one swims in the river.” The Worm used to get spread in the water. I kind of remember the people who had the Worm walking down into the river to die. The Worm made them do it, made them thirsty. They would drink themselves to death. Then the Worm would crawl out of the corpse, infect the water, and when anyone took a drink…

“Franky and Wesley,” Eric says. “We’re going to need a lot of boiled water. Can you get a system going?” They nod, even though usually they don’t like to work together. “Crystal, Diane, and Fiona,” Eric continues. “We need to set up a place for Matt and anyone else who shows symptoms of the Vaca B.” It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that term. Vaca B is the more scientific name for the Worm. Leave it to Eric to resurrect that from the grave. Eric continues. “The Worm seems to have changed, so maybe the symptoms have as well. Did you notice anything about Crypt before this happened?” Eric directs this at Pest, who is quiet and uncharacteristically unfocused. Pest looks up, surprised. He’s holding a hat in his hand, and I recognize it as Crypt’s, a baseball cap with the old Red Sox logo on it. I never pegged Pest as sentimental.

Pest stands up and takes a deep breath. “He was sick last night and the night before,” Pest recounts. “I could see he had a fever, but I thought it was just a flu. I saw he had red eyes, but I didn’t think it was…anything. I didn’t see him this morning. Next time I saw him…” Pest doesn’t finish the sentence.

Eric nods at Pest. “Two days,” Eric says, as if to himself. For a second, I think Eric is going to drift away again into his thoughts but after a second, he continues. “So the symptoms don’t seem to be too different. High fever. Red eyes.”

“The eyes bleed,” Diane adds. “At the last stages, they start to bleed from the eyes.”

People don’t really need to be reminded of that. No one has forgotten that, not even me.