The World Without Flags

All the way through Eustis, to the last house with its double garage all grown over with trees and shrubs, I feel horribly anxious. My heart is thumping in me like crazy. I have to keep my fists balled up tight just from the tension.

But then the houses fade away and there’s just trees and a battered old road that’s half gone back to the wild. I begin to calm down. Eric doesn’t care one way or the other. He just moves forward, as usual. With the forest around me again, I feel a little more secure, and I tell myself that I’m never going to do that again. We are easy targets. I mean, it’s not as if Eric can run. I can’t take that risk again. That was very foolish.

We’re not far north when this becomes painfully clear. I hear horses. This time, it’s not my imagination.

46

There’s nowhere to run, even if we could.

On both sides of us are bodies of water. The road cuts right between two ponds. On either side, it’s just open grass to the water, nowhere to hide. I stand motionless, stupid. I can’t think of anything to do. The horses are coming from the north. I think there are two. I feel a tug suddenly. Eric has kept moving, of course, and yanked the rope right out of my hand. He’s striding forward without a care in the world, right toward the riders.

I run forward and grab his rope and give him a little tug. He comes to a stop eventually and then just stands there.

“Unh,” he says.

The riders appear then, riding out of the forest a quarter of a mile ahead of us. There are two of them and they see us right off. I know there’s no hope in running, even if Eric could run. The horses stop. I see the two figures on the horses talking. My heart is in my throat. I look for familiar features. Is it Norman? Franky? Anyone from the Homestead? I stand there, squinting at shadows, trying to decide if I recognize anything about them, a telltale gesture or way of holding themselves. Maybe even a hat I might recognize. Nothing. I reach into my belt and hold Eric’s gun for a second, but then I put my hands to my side. Better keep my hands visible. People out here are nervous on the best of days, and if they think I have a gun, they might shoot me first and figure out the rest later.

But I know the gun’s there if I need it.

The riders move forward. From here, they are just outlines. Their shadows stretch out to my left, over the field. I don’t recognize the horses either, but I can’t be sure. I can’t be sure.

I don’t know which would be worse, people from the Homestead or strangers. People out here, they’re not okay in the head. Most would kill the both of us for a cucumber, let alone all the supplies we’re carrying. It occurs to me that we’re prime targets for murder and looting. Eric is hefting a treasure trove on his back for a lot of people. Food, clothes, tent, blankets. We’re a real lucky find.

I didn’t think too much about that either.

At least if they’re people from the Homestead, I might be able to talk our way out of this. Maybe I can convince them not to kill Eric. It’s a better shot than strangers. Maybe I was wrong to leave.

All these doubts fly through me as the riders approach.

It’s obvious soon enough that I don’t know them.

There’s two of them.

Their guns are out, pointed at us. They haven’t shot yet. That’s something.

Think, Birdie.

47

When Eric taught me how to shoot, we were still on the island. Lucia was still alive then, and she was watching us. He had set up several old cans on a stump. It was a summer day. I remember that because I wanted to shoot the guns and then go swimming. I didn’t want to shoot. The noise scared me. Eric had to crouch down to talk to me.

“Okay, Birdie,” he told me. “Hold out the gun. There you go. Now breathe. Aim steady. Yes, like that. Breathe out. While you’re breathing out, see how it steadies your arm? See that? Now breathe out, steady, good. Now squeeze the trigger. Don’t pull it, that will make you miss. Squeeze it gently. Good. Go ahead. When you’re ready. Don’t forget to breathe.”

I shot. Once. Twice. Three times. Two cans fell. I was proud, but Eric didn’t seem happy or unhappy. He just looked down at me.

“But you know what the most important part of a gun is?”

I shook my head.

“Your own head.” Eric gazed into my eyes with his, which were as blue as the lake behind him. “You have to think, Birdie. Think.”

48

Two strangers, both with guns pointing at me. No time to pull on them. One of us would be dead before I shot. Maybe both. If they wanted us dead, they could have shot already, meaning they might not be all bad. Or they might be afraid there are other people nearby. I watch their body language. The way they sit on their horses. Careful, but not afraid. Maybe even a little excited. I can’t see their faces yet, but they seem eager to approach. Horses at a trot. Horses are moving well. Well-fed, well-looked after. Good sign. These people can’t be totally gone if they’re caring for their horses. I might be able to talk with them.