The World Without Flags

them at me. “Breakfast,” he says. “And lunch too, probably.” Queen trots around him, her tongue lolling out as she looks up at the squirrels with hunger. “No, not for you,” Pest says. “Go on, now, go find your own food.” Queen licks her jaws and then pushes her head into Pest’s leg. Helplessly, I feel that same jealousy I always feel when animals like other people more than me. I don’t know why I’m like that, but I am. Pest pats her roughly on the head. “Go on now.” Queen gives a little whine and then looks at me once before bounding away into the forest.

“What will she eat?” I ask.

“What won’t she?” Pest asks back. He sees me looking out into the forest after Queen. “Don’t worry about her,” he says. “She can take care of herself.” He crouches down in front of the circle of stone and ash that had been last night’s campfire and lays out the squirrels on one of the rocks. I watch him start building a fire for a minute before I go back to Eric, looking with concern at the wound in his foot. I need to clean it and get him some boots. I go back to the campfire and help Pest build it. I’ll need boiling water to clean that wound. When the fire is going, I take the pot to the nearby stream and come back with it brimming with water. Pest is watching me with those thinking eyes of his. I’m suddenly struck by something I’ve never thought before. The way he thinks, no, the way I can see him thinking, it reminds me of Eric. It makes me uncomfortable, that connection.

“How’s he doing?” Pest asks, motioning toward Eric. I explain the wound in his foot without looking up. Pest gets up and goes to see for himself, and I have to bite down annoyance. I don’t like other people messing with Eric, even if they mean well. Or maybe it’s just Pest, I don’t know. He looks up from the wound. “It’s bad,” he says with a concerned voice.

“What gave you the clue? The stinking hole or the gray puss?” I know I sound like a real jerk, but it just comes out of me before I have time to stop it.

Pest ignores my tone. “We might have to burn it out,” he says.

“What?” I look at him with wide eyes.

“Just look at it,” Pest says. “If this thing spreads, he’ll lose the whole foot.”

“What’re you, a doctor now?” I try to keep from being a jerk, but…

“No,” Pest says, “but I know a bad infection when I see it.”

I know he’s right when he says it. But I don’t like it. And I don’t like that I didn’t see it right off. I know he’s right. The darkness of the wound is already spreading and long red lines of infection cover his foot like a web.

“We should do this now,” Pest says. He gets up and goes to the backpack, rummaging inside it. He takes out something and then walks toward me and hands it to me. “You forgot this,” he tells me. For a moment, I’m puzzled before the recognition lights up my face. My knife! The minute my hands grasp it, I feel a sense of relief come over me. It’s so strong that I gasp out loud.

“Thank you!” I exclaim. I feel tears coming to my eyes, and I turn away and wipe them away in the crook of my elbow, embarrassed. I look at him and smile. “I don’t know why I’m crying, it’s just a stupid knife.” I try to laugh, but I feel more tears come, and I remember as clearly as if it’s happening all over again, Eric look over and tell me, keep it with you and keep it sharp. Keep it sharp. I laugh a little. How could I have ever lost it?

Pest nods toward the fire, and I know what I have to do. I put the knife blade into the hottest part of the fire. Pest leans over and blows into the red hot coals to make them even hotter. It isn’t long before the end of the blade is blazing orange. I realize suddenly what I have to do and my stomach recoils. Still, I can’t show Pest how I feel. I don’t want him to know. I don’t want him to do it. No one touches Eric but me. No one.

I get up from the fire and walk to Eric. I kneel down in front of him and look at the festering wound. Although it was just a small puncture wound, it’s swollen to the size of a golf ball. The swollen wound is seeping grayish, stinking ooze like some nasty volcano. I swallow and try to steady myself. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

“The knife is cooling,” Pest says.

“Water is wet,” I snap at him. “Anything else intelligent to say?”

“All I’m saying is that you have to hurry up,” he responds.