The World Without Flags

I see the door shut behind me, a final glimpse of Eric with his legs splayed out in front of him, then Squint’s face, smirking a little now, and before I know it, before I’m even close to ready, there’s a door, and I have to push it open. A short hallway, flickering from torchlight, and then another door, this one bigger, with a handle. I hear Squint tell me to open it. I hear him saying it, but I can’t do it, my hands are shaking. I feel a shove at my back and another chuckle from Squint, and I watch as I move my arm and then my hands touch the handle. I can’t feel. I can’t feel anything I’m so scared. I hear the click as I push the handle and then I’m stepping into blinding light. I close my eyes the light is so painful. I hear the distant thrumming of a generator. The room is hot.

I can’t focus. I can’t see anything in the light, but I feel Squint’s steel grip on my arm. His fingers are sickeningly thin, like the branches of trees in the winter. I feel myself dragged forward and then shoved into a wooden chair. My wrists are put inside cold steel shackles. I smell something familiar, something horrible, like old urine.

“Thank you,” says a low, calm voice. “You can leave.”

“Sure thing, Doc,” says Squint.

I blink. My eyes are beginning to focus. I hear a steel door shut and I know that Squint has left me alone with the Doctor.

“Hello,” I hear. “My name is Doctor Bragg.”

82

His face is the first thing I see. It’s lean and long and reminds me of a lizard somehow. His nose is squashed and flat, like it’s been broken in the past. The Doctor has long, glossy black hair that goes down to his shoulders. His eyes are heavy-lidded, like he’s tired or bored, and strangely lifeless, as if nothing in the world really interests him anymore. Even though he’s looking at me, his eyes seem to focus somewhere behind me, like he’s looking through me. He’s young, probably Eric’s age.

“Good evening,” he says.

Behind him, over his shoulder, I see the woman who was on the cart with Eric. I must’ve been sleeping harder than I thought. They came and got her without waking me up. She’s strapped down with wide canvas straps to an aluminum table. Even her head is strapped down so she can’t move. Her one good eye is facing me, and I can see she’s staring up at the ceiling through dark eyes, still alive.

“I hope they’ve not treated you too badly,” the Doctor says. His face drops. “I know what we do here is not kind, but there’s no need to be cruel.” A smile flickers across his face like a wind through grass. “I’ll allow what I do is not civilized, exactly, but that’s no excuse for incivility.” I get the feeling these little jokes are rehearsed and he’s testing them. Although I’m trembling with fear, I try to smile, try to make some connection with this guy that might help me. “There,” he says, seeing my smile. “This does not have to be a terrible ordeal. We’re not going to cause you any pain, I swear it.” He holds up one blue-gloved hand and smiles again. This time the smile stays, greasily, upon his face.

“Wh-wh-at,” I stammer. I breathe in and try to control myself. My mouth is horribly dry. I close my eyes, concentrate. Try to listen to my own heartbeat. Keep it together, Birdie. If I lose it, I won’t be a help to anyone, not me, not Eric, not anyone. I open my eyes and wet my lips with a dry tongue. “What are you going to do to me?” I ask. I feel myself sweating all over.

Doctor Bragg seems to be waiting for something. I have a feeling that I need to let him decide the rhythm of the conversation or there probably won’t be one. While he’s thinking or waiting or doing whatever the hell he’s doing, I notice that we’re in a large room, like a garage, with a high ceiling, crisscrossed by metal girders. On the sides of the room are long benches and shelves that disappear into shadows. In the corner of the room behind me, just barely visible in my line of sight, I see there’s another door, opposite to the one we entered. In front of me, behind the woman on the operating table, there are rows of metal shelves. A menagerie of glass jars sit on the shelves filled with some dark liquid. I can’t stop shaking. I’m shackled tight to the chair.

“What am I going to do?” Doctor Bragg asks. “Study, experiment, learn.”

“Experiment?” I ask, trembling.

He looks at me and comes closer. “I won’t cause you any pain,” he says. “But I think it’s best if you think of yourself as a hero. A hero in the fight for human survival.”

“Hero?” I ask shakily.