The World Without Flags

36

Think, Birdie.

All right.

One scratch, one accidental bite from Eric and I’m a goner. I have to take precautions. Tough gloves for his hands and something like a muzzle for his mouth. A hat to cover his head. Some sunglasses for his eyes, so I don’t have to look at the worms all day. Then a rope. A rope to tie him up at night, so he doesn’t wander away, so I can control where he is. I don’t know if he can still crack or not, but I’ll sleep better knowing I’m not going to wake up to my leg getting chewed off.

Nutrition. What will I feed him? He must have to eat, but I don’t know how to feed him or what he’ll eat. That will take some experimentation. I look over at Eric. His mouth is open and he’s drooling that black bile again. That will not be fun.

Where do we go? I have to get him far away. Somewhere he can’t be found. If people know he has the Worm, they’ll kill him. I’m certain of it. It’s best if I move north, where there are fewer people. I’ll find some abandoned house somewhere and keep Eric locked away safe. Then I’ll just scrounge for food as usual. Hunt deer. It’s spring. I’ll find something. Just stay away from people.

I have to get Eric out of here as soon as I can. I have to leave the Homestead, and I have to do it at night. Not tonight, though. There’s too many things to do, too many plans to make. It will have to be tomorrow night, at the earliest. I need time to gather and pack and think.

The thought of leaving the Homestead frightens me. For years now, I’ve thought that I wanted to see other places. I’ve wanted to be like Randy the Vandal and travel all over. Meet new people. Have adventures. Be the person that people run out to meet when I return, laden with supplies. Now, when it comes time that I actually have to leave, I don’t like it.

I think about my room in the loft of our house. I think of Crystal and the kitchen, the people who I thought of as my family, the fields I’ve worked all my life, the animals I’ve helped care for, and I feel lonely already. Homesick. And I haven’t even left yet! I was safe here all my life. The Homestead took care of me and made me safe. Now that’s over and I don’t want it to be. Now I wonder why I ever wanted to leave.

But I have to leave, there’s no other alternative.

I look up to watch Eric shuffle toward the Land Rover. He makes a confused groan sound when he hits it. His head arcs up as one arm quivers. “Unh,” he says.

“I know how you feel,” I tell him. “Life’s a bitch.”

37

I leave Eric in the Land Rover. This time I make sure all the doors are shut and the windows are rolled up. When I left him, he was just staring up at the ceiling. It was strange to guide him in. He doesn’t seem to understand anything about his surroundings, but he’s easy to guide. Just give him a little push and he does what you want. It’s strange though. Some muscles are tense and others are relaxed in ways that are very unnatural.  It’s Eric’s body, but he’s not in there. I just hope he’s still in there somewhere. But I can’t think of that. I wrapped his coat around him tightly to keep him warm during the night and left him there.

When I get home, I’m so tired, I just want to sleep for a week. It’s not all bodily tired either. It’s like my heart is heavy and I want to hide from the world and rest. I haven’t had time to think about all the horrible things that have happened to me. I don’t even know if I will ever have the strength to think about it. All that death and horror, it’s just lined up inside me, waiting for the chance to disable me, to make me so sad that I can’t do anything. And I can’t afford that. I have to ignore it all. And that takes effort. I think that’s why I’m so tired.

When I open the door, I see it’s not going to be that simple. Franky and Norman are there, sitting at my table. Obviously, they were waiting for me. My first reaction is anger. I don’t remember anyone ever coming inside our house without an invitation when Eric was here. Never. But for me? Oh yeah, come on in boys! Make yourself at home. For an instant, I try to hide my anger, but then I remember that I’m supposed to be angry—at Eric. I can use it. I’ve still got some work to do before I can hit the pillow.

“What do you want?” I ask bitingly, taking off my coat.

“We were waiting outside,” Norman explains apologetically. “But it got cold. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Where’ve you been?” Franky asks. No apology from him. I shrug and look around the house as I hang up my coat. I do it without moving my head to make sure they don’t think I’m doing what I’m doing, which is trying to figure out what they’ve been doing in my house while I’m gone. It’s not hard to see that they didn’t come in here just for warmth. There’s little things out of place. I’m glad I hid Eric’s backpack before I left. That might have saved his life. They’ve been looking around.