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.”
They wait for more, but I’m silent. I sniffle a little and wipe my nose with my sleeve. As I’m doing it, I notice a little white worm crawling on my arm. I make a noise before I can help it and then cross my arms roughly over my chest, hoping they didn’t see anything, I feel the worm with my left hand and, doing everything to keep my disgust hidden, crush it. While I do this, I look back at them, searching for any signs they had seen a conspicuous, little white worm crawling on my clothes. They are still studying me for truth. No sign that they saw any worm. That’s one relief anyway.
“I’m sorry I lied to you guys,” I continue. “I just didn’t know if I could trust you.” Truth is, I wish I had come up with this lie at the beginning. It’s much better, but I had no idea they were going to take me toward the Homestead. It was the best I could think of at the time. I guess I’m not as good at this lying thing than I thought.
Boston and Sidney are quiet watching me. Finally Boston speaks up. “So we’re taking you and Eric to the very community that wants to kill him?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“What were you going to do?” Sidney asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking very well, I guess.”
“No wonder you seemed nervous,” Boston says.
Yeah, no wonder. I wait, looking for some sign that they’re buying this story. It’s the closest to the actual truth I can give them.
Boston smiles suddenly and then pours me a cup of boiling water. “Relax,” he says, holding out the mug. “Have some tea.”
I smile at them and they smile back. I take the mug of tea and sit down.
Another crisis averted. For now.
56
My new, closest-I-can-get-to-the-truth story seems to satisfy them. Around the fire, Boston gets chatty. He tells me how the two of them met in something like boot camp, back when President Barber was just Barber. They helped him carve out a place in Boston, a place free of gangs and violence, a sanctuary in the center of the ruinous disaster that followed the years after the Worm. The sanctuary grew every year until Barber came up with the idea of the Stars and, after a swift vote, declared himself President of the United States. Their sanctuary grew much faster than that, reaching north, south, and west. To the west, it pressed against the growing faction of the Gearheads. Despite the Gearheads’ claim that thye too had a president, President Brown, at first there was respect between them, even hope, Boston tells me, but things went sour in just a few years. When the war between the Gearheads and the Stars broke out, President Barber sent the two north by boat to Eastport. Since then, they’ve been heading back to Boston, stopping at all the communities they can find, searching for allies…and potential enemies. All this time, they’ve been keeping detailed notes, ready to give a report back to their President.
“The President is going to create order,” Boston says. “You’ll see. No more bandits. No more uncertain winters. No more lawlessness, murder, and all that. President Barber will end that for everyone, just like he ended it in Boston.”
Sidney nods. “No more killing people just because they’re damaged,” he tells me meaningfully, glancing toward the forest where I have Eric tied up, just in case I didn’t get the drift.
“What about the Gearheads?” I ask. “Won’t they do the same thing?” I’m genuinely curious about this whole war. I’m not faking anything. I don’t understand how two organizations that have the same goal can end up as enemies. I try to put this words for them. “If you both want peace and security, why not work together?”
Boston makes a hissing sound and Sidney shakes his head. “The Gearheads are just interested in power,” Sidney says. “They don’t give a shit for anything else.”
“At first,” Boston continues, “we were willing to work with them. They keep order over there and we keep order over here, works great for both of us. But then, all of a sudden, they’re pushing toward us and forcing people to fly their flag.”
“We never force anyone to fly the Stars,” Sidney says. “They do it because they see it’s the right thing to do. The Gearheads force people to follow them.”
“All those Gearheads care about is power,” Boston explains to me. “They could have stayed where they were, but no, they had to move south and east. They had to expand and force people to join them.”
“And build an army,” Sidney adds. He flicks his eyebrows. “With tanks.”
“You think they’re fixing up tanks to be friends?”
The two of them laugh bitterly. I’ve heard that the Stars have tanks too, but I don’t mention it. I don’t think it would be smart to get into a political debate. Maybe I’ve already pushed further than I should have. I suddenly wish I could talk to Eric. I feel it so bad, it’s like a pain, like something is being torn inside me. I turn my head down to hide the pain from them. In my sudden grief, the ghosts of the Homestead come to me, like they’ve been waiting for some kind of gap in my emotional defenses: Artemis, Diane, Fiona, Crypt, Gunner, they all do a silent, ghostly march through my mind. The pain is so intense, it’s like being immersed in frigid water on a hot day. I have to repress a gasp as my head swims. To hide it, I shake my head and laugh bitterly, as if I’m joining them, as if I have the slightest idea who really is at fault for the war, the Stars or the Gears.
It’s then, behind Boston and Sidney, I see a horse riding toward us.
Even from this distance, I would know the riders anywhere, just from how they seat the horse. Norman and Pest.
My laughter dies like it was stabbed by a knife.
57
Why can’t I catch a break?
The thought flashes past me as the next few seconds happen almost instantly.
When I stop laughing, Boston and Sidney turn around. They spring into action so fast, I can hardly keep track of what’s happening. They each have their guns out, and I reach out and grab mine, not thinking that my gun is useless, loaded with blanks. Norman and Pest are riding toward us at a nice clip. I see the both of them have guns. I assume they recognize my figure just as I recognized them. I don’t know what to do. They must know that Eric has the Worm. It wouldn’t take much searching in our abandoned cabin to find evidence of that. They’ve been sent out to find us, I’m sure. They’ll bring us back, and then, after a lengthy debate, they will drag Eric off to a solemn funeral, kill him, and then burn his body to ashes. And expect me to live with it.
The thought occurs to me that if I open fire, someone might get confused and start shooting real bullets. In the resulting fire fight, I could sneak off with Eric.
I squeeze my trigger, but then relent. I can’t sneak anywhere with Eric, or successfully escape if people are pursuing us. I need another way.