The World Without Flags

It takes a few tries before I can do it without gagging. Finally, I’m done. I stand back with the rag and look at Eric. He’s leaning forward with his arms dangling down, his jaw hung open. At least he’s breathing better now.

“Unh,” Eric says.

“Well, I’m glad you feel better,” I tell him, “because I don’t think I’m ever going to eat again in my life.”

55

When I get back to the fire, Boston and Sidney are sitting down, enjoying another meal. They have a frying pan full of potatoes on the fire as well as a boiling kettle. They are smiling and talking to each other. They quiet down when I approach. By the time I sit at the fire, they are quiet, watching me.

“How’s he doing?” Boston asks. Sidney just studies me. I’m not sure how much these guys really trust me.

“He’s all right,” I ask. I take a breath and decide to get to the matter at hand. “Can I ask you something?” Boston nods and Sidney just shrugs in a way that says well, if that’s what you want to do. So I continue. “Are you spies?”

Sidney smiles, but Boston looks serious. Then it’s like they switch parts. Boston laughs out loud and Sidney gets real serious. I wait until they settle into their parts. They both look at each other and smile faintly and shrug and seem to communicate a lot by just looking at each other.

“We’re not exactly spies,” Boston says after a second. “The President sent us north to look for supporters. We try to talk to them before the Gearheads can recruit them.”

“And to see if the Gearheads have come this far north?” I ask, watching them.

The question seems to make Boston nervous. But Sidney chimes in. “Yeah, you could say that,” he answers. “As we look for supporters, we’re supposed to watch out for Gearheads.”

“Seen any?” I asked.

They’re quiet, looking at me. “You tell us,” Sidney says finally. “Have we?”

Now they’re both studying me. The tension has gathered suddenly between us, like a fog has rolled in. I even notice that they’re keeping their gun hands at the ready by holding their tin plates with their left hands. I smile and then give out a little laugh.

“I’m not a Gearhead,” I say. “I’m just trying to get my father back to the Good Prince.”

“Well, there’s the thing,” Boston says. “The Good Prince isn’t siding with anyone. Not yet. But she will. Thing is, maybe she’s got spies of her own.”

I puff out some air. “Yeah, like a girl and her mentally deranged father make a really good pair of spies.”

They both keep looking at me.

“Seriously?” I cock my head at them.

“Since we’re being honest,” Sidney says, “I’ll just come out and say it. Something isn’t right with your story. You’re hiding something.”

“If I'm so suspicious, why’d you give me my gun back?” I ask. When they keep studying me without responding, the answer comes to me. Fear crackles down my back. “Those aren’t real bullets in my gun, are they?”

They don’t answer which is answer enough. I thought about the night before, my gun pointed at Sidney. I almost shot a blank. That would have been the end of me. They would have killed me and then Eric. I get up, feeling a knot of panic in my chest. I feel my heart in my throat. The feeling of security I had until a few seconds ago is gone.

“Calm down,” Boston says, not moving. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

“We could’ve done that a thousand times by now,” Sidney adds, which sounds threatening, but actually does calm me a little. I step back though. Without a weapon, I feel lost and a little angry. My knife isn’t even with me. I should have listened to Eric. He’s told me a million times never to go anywhere without it.

“So what do you want with us?” I ask.

“Nothing much,” Boston says.

“Just information,” Sidney adds. “Just the truth. Whatever you’re hiding.”

My mind explodes with buzzing thoughts, each one clambering for attention. Obviously I can’t tell them that Eric has the Worm. They’ll shoot him where he stands. I need to tell them some truth though. Something that seems to give up what I’m actually hiding. A truth to hide the lie. My head buzzes with different scenarios. I have to pick one and fast.

I sigh and sit back down. “Yeah, all right,” I say. “I’m not from Good Prince Billy. We didn’t get attacked by bandits.” I shrug at them. “I’m from the Homestead, the little community on the hill you’re taking me to. Eric is my father, but he didn’t get beat up by bandits. He got kicked by a horse a few months back.”

They’re studying me, seeing if they trust this new story. Waiting.

I clear my throat. “At first everyone helped take care of Eric, but he just got worse and worse. And people started saying it might be kinder if they…well, if they…you know,” I say. I let it catch in my throat like a sob, which is easy enough because they would have killed Eric if they knew he had the Worm so it’s close to the truth. I sigh and blink like I’m fighting not cry. “So we had to leave. We snuck away just a few nights ago.”