The World Without Flags

“Great,” I say, throwing down the shirt I used to wipe myself at Eric’s feet. “Another thing to worry about.”

That’s when I notice my gun is gone.

51

Around sunset, Boston and Sidney return with a fat buck. I must have been sleeping so deeply that I didn’t even hear the gunshot. That worries me. I watch the two men toss a loop of rope around the deer’s neck and then, throwing the rope around a tree branch, they hoist it up off the ground. Boston makes quick work with his knife and then Sidney skins it. The deer carcass is bright red. Then they come back to the campfire and sit down, all without saying much to me. I join them.

The two of them are sitting wordlessly by the fire, which Boston is poking at with a stick. They nod at me as I join them.

“Are we staying here for the night?” I ask.

“Think we better stay for a day or so,” Sidney says. His voice is low and smooth. It might be comforting if he wasn’t a stranger who stole my gun. He looks up from the fire. “You two are too tired to keep going. How long you been going like this?”

I shrug. “I lost track,” I say. Then, after a second, I take a deep breath. “So who’s got my gun?” I ask. If I don’t make this a subject real soon, they’ll be suspicious. Anyone who pretends not to be concerned about their missing gun is hiding something.

They both look at me. The fire light flickers on their faces. I wish I could read minds.

“I do,” Boston says. He makes that twitch of a smile again. “I forgot all about it. It fell out while you were sleeping.” He reaches into his jacket and comes out with the gun. My hand clenches, I want it so bad. Boston hands it toward me and I snatch it quick as I can. I snap open the cylinder. “You can relax,” Boston says. “It’s still loaded.”

He’s right. The gun is loaded. I swing the cylinder shut with a twist of my wrist and holster it in the small of my back. “Thanks,” I say to them.

There’s a long silence then.

I’m thinking to myself what it means that they let me have a loaded gun.

The fire crackles and snaps.

Above us, the clouds are red and yellow and orange as the sun sets.

I try to give Sidney a smile, but I know that behind him, to the south and west, is the Homestead, where they’re taking me. I can’t run because they have horses and Eric, well, Eric doesn’t run. If I try to leave, they’ll begin to suspect something, and if they study Eric a little too closely, if they start disbelieving my whole story, they’ll find out he has the Worm and they’ll shoot him dead right here. I’m sure of it. Something bad has to happen. I have to do it. I haven’t had to do anything really bad since I was a little kid and I shot that man by the lake. I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to shoot anyone.

“Unh,” says Eric behind us. “Unh.”

I get up and go to him. His mouth is hanging open. He doesn’t even turn his head as I approach.

“Unh,” he says again.

I crouch down next to him and pick up the shirt that I’m using to wipe his mouth. I guess it’s a rag now. I’m never wearing it again, I guarantee that. I wipe his mouth, but I have no idea what he wants.

“Unh,” he repeats. One of his leg kicks out and then bends strangely. “Unh.”

“Looks like he’s got a cramp,” Boston says. I look up to see the redhead standing right over us.

“I know that,” I say, but I didn’t know that. Boston crouches down next to me and moves toward Eric, but I shove him away. “I can do it,” I say. “I know what I’m doing.” The thought of someone else touching Eric makes me panic.

Boston doesn’t seem to be hurt by the push, although now I regret it. It wasn’t smart, but I didn’t think at all. I just reacted. That’s not good either. But I can’t let him get too close to Eric, he’ll find out. I watch Boston for signs of irritation or anger or something even darker, but he just nods at me and moves back to the fire.

I do my best to massage the tight muscle in Eric’s leg while ignoring the horrible, and I mean horrible, stench of him. He stinks like a dead horse that’s drowned in a cesspool on a hot day. I really should clean him up, but that is way down on my list of worries right now. Right now I just need to keep him alive. I work on his leg until the muscle stops being so stiff. I don’t know if that was it, but Eric doesn’t make any more sounds.

Working on his leg makes me thirsty so I go to the campfire and ask for water.

“Right there,” Sydney says. He points to a tin bucket filled with water from a nearby stream. That’s when I realize I have another dilemma. I don’t dare to drink water that hasn’t been boiled to kill the Worm. These guys don’t know the Worm has returned. If I insist on boiling water before I drink it, that will be weird. Once you start lying, it’s real difficult to keep at it. I have to lie about everything, it seems. It’s almost as exhausting as walking for a day and half non-stop. Almost.

I go back to Eric and open the backpack that’s strapped to him. I reach in and fish out the aluminum kettle and then search around until I find what I’m looking for.