The Knife of Never Letting Go

Her own blood.

New blood.

Pouring out a little hole just to the right of her belly button.

She touches the blood and holds up her fingers.

“Todd?” she says.

And then she falls forward.

I catch her, stumbling back a bit from the weight.

And I look up behind her.

Up to the clifftop, right where the road begins.

Mr Prentiss Jr.

On horseback.

Hand outstretched.

Holding a pistol.

“Todd?” Viola says against my chest. “I think someone shot me, Todd.”

There are no words.

No words in my head or my Noise.

Mr Prentiss Jr kicks his horse and edges him down the road towards us.

Pistol still pointed.

There’s nowhere to run.

And I don’t got my knife.

The world unfolds as clear and as slow as the worst pain, Viola starting to pant heavy against me, Mr Prentiss Jr riding down the road, and my Noise rising with the knowledge that we’re finished, that there’s no way out this time, that if the world wants you, it’s gonna keep on coming till it gets you.

And who am I that can fix it? Who am I that can change this if the world wants it so badly? Who am I to stop the end of the world if it keeps on coming?

“I think she wants you bad, Todd,” Mr Prentiss Jr sneers.

I clench my teeth.

My Noise rises red and purple.

I’m Todd bloody Hewitt.

That’s who I effing well am.

I look him right in the eye, sending my Noise straight for him, and I spit out in a rasp, “I’ll thank you to call me Mr Hewitt.”

Mr Prentiss Jr flinches, actually flinches a little and pulls his reins involuntarily, making his horse rear up for a second.

“Come on, now,” he says, his voice slightly less sure.

And he knows we both can hear it.

“Hands up,” he says. “I’m taking you to my father.”

And I do the most amazing thing.

The most amazing thing I ever did.

I ignore him.

I kneel Viola down to the dirt road.

“It burns, Todd,” she says, her voice low.

I set her down and drop the bag and slip my shirt off my back, crumpling it up and holding it against the bullet hole. “You hold that tight, you hear me?” I say, my anger rising like lava. “This won’t take a second.” I look up at Davy Prentiss.

“Get up,” he says, his horse still jumpy and edgy from the heat coming off me. “I ain’t telling you twice, Todd.”

I stand.

I step forward.

“I said put yer hands up,” Davy says, his horse whinnying and bluffing and clopping from foot to foot.

I march towards him.

Faster.

Till I’m running.

“I’ll shoot you!” Davy shouts, waving the gun, trying to control his horse which is sending Charge! Charge! all over the place in its Noise.

“No, you won’t!” I yell, running right up to the horse’s head and sending a crash of Noise right at it.

SNAKE!

The horse rears up on its back legs.

“Goddammit, Todd!” Davy yells, wheeling and whirling, trying to control his horse with the one hand that’s not holding the pistol.

I jump in, slap the horse’s front quarters and jump back. The horse whinnies and rears up again.

“Yer a dead man!” Davy shouts, going in a full circle with the horse jumping and rearing.

“Yer half right,” I say.

And I’m seeing my chance–

The horse neighs loudly and shakes its head back and forth–

I wait–

Davy pulls on the reins–

I dodge–

I wait–

“Effing horse!” Davy shouts–

He tries to jerk the reins again–

The horse is twisting round one more time–

I wait–

The horse brings Davy round to me, careening him low in the saddle–

And there’s my chance–

My fist is back and waiting–

BOOM!

I catch him cross the face like a hammer falling–

I swear I feel his nose break under my fist–

He calls out in pain and falls from the saddle–

Dropping the pistol in the dust–

I jump back–

Davy’s foot catches in the stirrup–

The horse rears round again–

I smack its hindquarters as hard as I can–

And the horse has had enough.

It charges back up the hill, back up the road, Davy’s foot still caught, making him bounce hard against rocks and dirt as he’s dragged, fast, up the incline–

The pistol’s in the dust–

I move for it–

“Todd?” I hear.

And there’s no time.

There’s no time at all.

Without hardly thinking, I leave the pistol and I run back down to Viola at the edge of the scrub.

“I think I’m dying, Todd,” she says.

“Yer not dying,” I say, getting an arm under her shoulders and another under her knees.

“I’m cold.”

“Yer not effing dying!” I say. “Not today!”

And I stand, with her in my arms, and I’m at the top of the zigzag that goes down into Haven.