[The Boy:] You're going to be okay, Papa. You have to.
[The Man:] No I'm not.
[. . .]
[The Boy:] Just take me with you.
[The Man:] I cant.
[The Boy:] Please, Papa.
[The Man:] I cant. I cant hold my son dead in my arms. I thought I could but I cant.
[The Boy:] You said you wouldnt ever leave me.
[The Man:] I know. I'm sorry. You have my whole heart. You always did. You're the best guy. You always were. If I'm not here you can still talk to me. You can talk to me and I'll talk to you. You'll see. (381.4-381.21)
One of the things that makes the relationship between The Man and The Boy so moving is that the dialogue is convincing. It's not hard to imagine a father saying to his young son, "You're the best guy." Fathers say this cute stuff all the time, even without gangs of cannibals forcing them to be nice to their kids. But something else makes this touching. It's that The Man really means what he says. The Boy does serve as a moral compass for the two road-weary travelers. He is the best guy.
[The Boy:] I wish I was with my mom.
He [The Man] didnt answer. He sat beside the small figure wrapped in the quilts and blankets. After a while he said: You mean you wish that you were dead.
[The Boy:] Yes.
[The Man:] You musnt say that.
[The Boy:] But I do.
[The Man:] Dont say it. It's a bad thing to say.
[The Boy:] I cant help it.
[The Man:] I know. But you have to.
[The Boy:] How do I do it?
[The Man:] I dont know. (92.4-92.13)
This is a complicated exchanged between The Man and The Boy. In a sense, The Man does know, in their terrible situation, how to keep going. You find someone to devote yourself to (e.g. The Boy) and spend every waking moment fulfilling that purpose. But he can't tell that to The Boy. For one, he doesn't express his feelings like that. And two, it would heap too much pressure on The Boy. Most people, particularly sons and daughters, just get weirded out when you tell them they're the purpose and meaning of your life.
The falling snow curtained them about. There was no way to see anything at either side of the road. He was coughing again and the boy was shivering, the two of them side by side under the sheet of plastic, pushing the grocery cart through the snow. Finally he stopped. The boy was shaking uncontrollably.
We had to stop, he [The Man] said.
[The Boy:] It's really cold.
[The Man:] I know.
[The Boy:] Where are we?
[The Man:] Where are we?
[The Boy:] Yes.
[The Man:] I dont know.
[The Boy:] If we were going to die would you tell me?
[The Man:] I dont know. We're not going to die. (144.1-144.10)
As in Robinson Crusoe, Lost, and other survival stories, these characters often find themselves on the brink of death. But we especially enjoy the nearly absurd dialogue between The Man and The Boy here. (If you've read Samuel Beckett's play Waiting for Godot, dialogue like this might sound familiar.) The Boy wants to know whether The Man would say anything if they were close to death. The Man says he doesn't know if he'd tell The Boy. Then he says, "We're not going to die." How is The Boy supposed to believe him if he just said he might not tell him? Basically, The Boy will just have to take his word for it.