The Knife of Never Letting Go

Even looking at her back, I know what she’s thinking and feeling and what’s going on inside her.

The way she’s turned her body, the way she’s holding her head and her hands and the book in her lap, the way she’s stiffening a little in her back as she hears all this in my Noise.

I can read it.

I can read her.

Cuz she’s thinking about how her own parents also came here with hope like my ma. She’s wondering if the hope at the end of our road is just as false as the one that was at the end of my ma’s. And she’s taking the words of my ma and putting them into the mouths of her own ma and pa and hearing them say that they love her and they miss her and they wish her the world. And she’s taking the song of my ma and she’s weaving it into everything else till it becomes a sad thing all her own.

And it hurts her, but it’s an okay hurt, but it hurts still, but it’s good, but it hurts.

She hurts.

I know all this.

I know it’s true.

Cuz I can read her.

I can read her Noise even tho she ain’t got none.

I know who she is.

I know Viola Eade.

I raise my hands to the side of my head to hold it all in.

“Viola,” I whisper, my voice shaking.

“I know,” she says quietly, pulling her arms tight around her, still facing away from me.

And I look at her sitting there and she looks across the river and we wait as the dawn fully arrives, each of us knowing.

Each of us knowing the other.

39. THE FALLS

The sun creeps up into the sky and the river is loud as we look across it and we can now see it rushing fast down towards the valley’s end, throwing up whitewater and rapids.

It’s Viola who breaks the spell that’s fallen twixt us. “You know what it has to be, don’t you?” she says. She takes out the binos and looks downriver. The sun is rising at the end of the valley. She has to shield the lenses with her hand.

“What is it?” I say.

She presses a button or two and looks again.

“What do you see?” I ask.

She hands the binos to me.

I look downriver, following the rapids, the foam, right to–

Right to the end.

A few kilometres away, the river ends in mid-air.

“Another falls,” I say.

“Looks way bigger than the one we saw with Wilf,” she says.

“The road’ll find a way past it,” I say. “Shouldn’t bother us.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“What then?”

“I mean,” she says, frowning a bit at my denseness, “that falls that big’re bound to have a city at the bottom of them. That if you had to choose a place anywhere on a planet for first settlement, then a valley at the base of a waterfall with rich farmland and ready water might just look perfect from space.” My Noise rises a little but only a little.

Cuz who would dare to think?

“Haven,” I say.

“I’ll bet you anything we’ve found it,” she says. “I’ll bet you when we get to that waterfall we’ll be able to see it below us.”

“If we run,” I say, “we could be there in an hour. Less than”

She looks me in the eye for the first time since my ma’s book.

And she says, “If we run?”

And then she smiles.

A genuine smile.

And I know what that means, too.

We grab up our few things and go.

Faster than before.

My feet are tired and sore. Hers must be, too. I’ve got blisters and aches and my heart hurts from all I miss and all that’s gone. And hers does, too.

But we run.

Boy, do we run.

Cuz maybe (shut up)–

Just maybe (don’t think it)–

Maybe there really is hope at the end of the road.

The river grows wider and straighter as we rush on and the walls of the valley move in closer and closer, the one on our side getting so close the edge of the road starts to slope up. Spray from the rapids is floating in the air. Our clothes get wet, our faces, too, and hands. The roar becomes thunderous, filling up the world with itself, almost like a physical thing, but not in a bad way. Like it’s washing you, like it’s washing the Noise away.

And I think, Please let Haven be at the bottom of the falls.

Please.

Cuz I see Viola looking back to me as we run and there’s brightness on her face and she keeps urging me on with tilts of her head and smiles and I think how hope may be the thing that pulls you forward, may be the thing that keeps you going, but that it’s dangerous, too, that it’s painful and risky, that it’s making a dare to the world and when has the world ever let us win a dare?

Please let Haven be there.

Oh please oh please oh please.

The road finally starts rising a bit, pulling up above the river slightly as the water starts really crashing thru rocky rapids. There ain’t no more wooded bits twixt us and it now at all, just a hill climbing up steeper and steeper on our right side as the valley closes in and then nothing but river and the falls ahead.

“Almost there,” Viola calls from ahead of me, running, her hair bouncing off the back of her neck, the sun shining down on everything.

And then.

And then, at the edge of the cliff, the road comes to a lip and takes a sudden angle down and to the right.

And that’s where we stop.

The falls are huge, half a kilometre across easy. The water roars over the cliff in a violent white foam, sending spray hundreds of metres out into the sheer drop and above and all around, soaking us in our clothes and throwing rainbows all over the place as the rising sun lights it.

“Todd,” Viola says, so faintly I can barely hear it.

But I don’t need to.

I know what she means.