I cross my arms. “How is that possible? You look twelve.”
Pest clears his throat. He looks over to Eric and then back at me. “Shit,” he says finally. “I guess it was only a matter of time.”
“Just tell me,” I say.
Pest looks away into the forest and then back at me nervously. He sucks on a tooth and then clears his throat again.
“What is it?” I ask. He’s worrying me.
“You know why I haven’t got the Worm right now?” Pest asks. He looks at me steadily in the eye. “You can’t get the Worm twice.”
112
“Don’t look at me like that,” Pest says. “Just listen to me, Birdie. Don’t get angry, just listen for a second. Yes, sit down.
“I had the Worm. Back then, when it first came. I was young, like eight or nine, I guess. I remember getting sick. I remember the fever and the nightmares. But when I woke up one morning on the side of the road, the world was different. My parents were gone. All my friends were gone. There were three other boys with me. The oldest one, Shawn, had taken me because he felt sorry for me. I don’t know why they didn’t leave me or kill me. Maybe they didn’t know either. But they took me with them, and for some reason, I didn’t die from the Worm. I was like Eric for two or three months, I guess, and then I got better. I really don’t know why.
“After that I wandered from place to place with the boys. One by one, they died. Shawn was shot by a gang while we were looking for food. The boys didn’t last long. They died of sickness or hunger or by accident. But there were new boys that came to replace them. Always new kids, everywhere we went.
“I didn’t realize that I wasn’t like them until after the first few years. They were getting bigger. I wasn’t. The ones that lived were growing up fast and strong and tough. I wasn’t, at least not like they were. I grew slowly. Something about the Worm changed me. It slowed down some clock inside me. It wasn’t stopped, but it was slower. And because I wasn’t strong like the other boys were, I had to learn to think. I had to use my head to get what I wanted. But even so, I don’t think I would’ve survived much longer. I was lucky we found the Homestead. I was lucky they let us in.
“You asked me what I owe to Eric. I’ll tell you. He knew I once had the Worm. Eric is smart and he saw problems with my story. After a year had passed and I hadn’t grown much, he began asking me questions. I don’t know why I told him the truth. Something about Eric said I could trust him, or maybe I was too tired of keeping it all to myself. Eventually, when the rest of the boys grew and I didn’t, there would be questions, I knew that. So I told him. Anyone else would have either kicked me out or killed me on the spot. But Eric didn’t. He told me that my secret was safe with him. He told me never to tell anyone else. Most people would think I was a danger. They’d kill me. But not Eric.
“When the Worm broke out again at the Homestead, Eric knew it was possible to survive because of me. And I knew, I mean I know, that it’s possible that Eric can survive because I survived. I couldn’t let them kill him, and I couldn’t let you be out here alone.
“I owe Eric that. Without him, I’d be dead.”
113
“So you don’t have to worry about me,” Pest finishes. “I’m not going to get infected.”
I look at him in disbelief. It’s a lot to take in. I want to say something, but what can I say? I find the whole thing confusing. He’s older than me, for one, and two, he has this connection to Eric that I never even guessed. Pest is standing in front me, waiting, I guess, for some reaction. I have to say something, but I feel paralyzed with confusion. He keeps looking at me. I have to say something!
“So you’ve been lying to me this whole time?” I ask. It sounds strangely petulant coming out of my mouth, and I blush a little bit.
Pest tilts his head to the side and makes a little hissing noise and then turns away.
That didn’t go well.
I stride after him, wanting to say something much, much better than that, when Eric’s rope goes taut. I turn back and give Eric a tug to get him moving. Eric lumbers forward, his jaw hanging open. By the time I turn back, Pest is far ahead in the forest, Queen following happily behind him, tail in the air. I sigh in frustration and tug at Eric’s rope again.
“Come on,” I tell him, pulling his rope.
“Unh,” Eric says as his head tilts back and he stumbles ahead, almost falling. I feel worse. Going to Eric, I take out his new drooly towel from his shirt, which I put there with the leftover cloth that I used to make Pest’s bandage. I wipe the dark drool from Eric’s mouth.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
“Unh,” Eric responds. From the angle of his face, it seems he’s looking over my shoulder, but I know he sees nothing through the bandana over his eyes. When I turn back, I see that Pest has vanished ahead, and I’ve lost my chance to say the right thing. I always seem to fail that test.
114
We hike all day without talking or taking much of a break. I don’t think either of us wants to face the other. All this time, I’ve been thinking about Pest as some weird kid, and it turns out he’s older than I am. No wonder he has that look in his eyes. I think again as we plod along at Eric’s pace that I’ve been wrong about a lot, and being wrong about Pest is just another example. I guess I’m not as smart as I thought I was. Or maybe we never know each other and that’s the truth, no matter how smart we are. There’s always secrets, always things we don’t know about someone, things that change everything. When I think about Pest now, I wonder how I never guessed it, how I never saw that Pest’s intelligence was strange enough to start thinking there might be something more there than I knew. Eric realized that. I never did.
By the time we stop, the sun is low in the sky and the shadows are long in the forest. The leaves are really starting to show now, and their shadows flicker on the forest floor. It’s still only spring though and it’ll get cold again tonight, and I wish suddenly that we had a house. Four walls, a ceiling, and a fireplace. I ache for it. I’m so tired in my bones from all this that I want to cry.
But I’ve done enough of that. Get ahold of yourself, Birdie.
Pest looks like I feel. He’s sitting on a rock with his head down, grasping at his wounded arm. Even if it doesn’t infect him, it must hurt like hell. It hurts me just to see him suffer. I loop Eric’s rope around a nearby pine tree and tie it off.
“Why don’t you rest,” I tell Pest softly. “I’ll get the wood tonight.”
He looks up at me, and there’s defiance in his face, but when he sees that I’m being genuine and not a jerk, his face softens and he nods. I nod back at him and then start walking through the forest, picking up the driest branches I can find. Most everything is damp, but there’s still a lot of good, dry wood. I bring back a few armfuls and then look for more substantial logs. It’s not hard. I drag a few back. Then I dig a pit in the earth and ring it with stones. It’s hard to get the fire started with old matches and some leaves, but eventually, with a lot of care and frustration, the fire is crackling and popping.
Pest watches me without saying anything, patting Queen’s black and white patchwork head which is resting on his lap. I sit back and feel the warmth. It’s nice, but I’d do anything to have a rabbit or squirrel to roast in the fire. I’m too tired to hunt though, and even though there’s probably some fat trout in the nearby stream, I can’t get myself to go fishing. I just need a few minutes to rest. I’m kind of glad I’m so tired. I’ve been dreading this moment all day, and now I’m too tired to care if it’s awkward between Pest and I or not. I feel like a bomb could go off and I wouldn’t even bother to turn my head to see what happened.