The Knife of Never Letting Go

Close enough to see the rifle and the robe.

Close enough to see the scars and the righteous anger.

Rowing his way furiously towards us, coming like judgement itself.

Aaron.

40. THE SACRIFICE

“Has he seen us?” Viola asks, her voice pulled taut.

I point the binos. Aaron rears up in them, huge and terrifying. I press a few buttons to push him back. He’s not looking at us, just rowing like an engine to get the boat to the side of the river and the road.

His face is torn and horrible, clotted and bloody, the hole in his cheek, the new hole where his nose used to be, and still, underneath all that, a look feroshus and devouring, a look without mercy, a look that won’t stop, that won’t never, never stop.

War makes monsters of men, I hear Ben saying.

There’s a monster coming towards us.

“I don’t think he’s seen us,” I say. “Not yet.”

“Can we outrun him?”

“He’s got a gun,” I say, “and you can see all the way down that road to Haven.”

“Off the road then. Through the trees.”

“There ain’t that many twixt us and the road down. We’ll have to be fast.”

“I can be fast,” she says.

And we jump on down the hill, skidding down leaves and wet vines, using rocks as handholds best we can. The tree cover is light and we can still see down the river, see Aaron as he rows.

Which means he can see us if he looks in the right place.

“Hurry!” Viola says.

Down–

And down–

And sliding to the road–

And squelching in the mud at the roadside–

And as we get to the road he’s outta sight again, still up the river–

But only for a second–

Cuz there he is–

The current bringing him fast–

Coming down the river–

In full view–

Looking right at us.

The roar of the falls is loud enough to eat you, but I still hear it.

I’d hear it if I was on the other side of the planet.

“TODD HEWITT!”

And he’s reaching for his rifle.

“Go!” I shout.

Viola’s feet hit the ground running and I’m right behind her, heading for the lip of the road that goes down to the zigzags.

It’s fifteen steps, maybe twenty till we can disappear over the edge–

We run like we’ve spent the last two weeks resting–

Pound pound pound against the road–

I check back over my shoulder–

To see Aaron try to take the rifle in one hand–

Try to balance it while keeping the boat steady–

It’s bouncing in the rapids, knocking him back and forth–

“He won’t be able to,” I yell to Viola. “He can’t row and fire at the same—”

CRACK!

A pop of mud flies up outta the road next to Viola’s feet ahead of me–

I cry out and Viola cries out and we both instinctively flinch down–

Running faster and faster–

Pound pound pound–

Run run run run run my Noise chugs like a rocket–

Not looking back–

Five steps–

Run run–

Three–

CRACK!

And Viola falls–

“NO!” I shout–

And she’s falling over the lip of the road, tripping down the other side and crashing down in a roll–

“NO!” I shout again and leap after her–

Stumbling down the steep incline–

Pounding down to where she’s rolling–

No–

Not this—

Not now—

Not when we’re—

Please no—

And she tumbles to some low shrubs at the side of the road and keeps going into them–

And stops face down.

And I’m racing towards her and I’m barely in control of my own standing up and I’m kneeling down already in the brush and I’m grabbing her and rolling her over and I’m looking for the blood and the shot and I’m saying, “No no no no no—”

And I’m almost blinded by rage and despair and the false promise of hope and no no no–

And she opens her eyes–

She’s opening her eyes and she’s grabbing me and she’s saying, “I’m not hit, I’m not hit.”

“Yer not?” I say, shaking her a little. “Yer sure?”

“I just fell,” she says. “I swear I felt the bullet fly right by my eyes and I fell. I’m not hurt.”

And I’m breathing heavy and heavy and heavy.

“Thank God,” I say. “Thank God.”

And the world spins and my Noise whirls.

And she’s already getting to her feet and I’m up after her standing in the scrub and looking at the road around and below us.

The falls are crashing over the cliff to our left and the twisting road is both behind us and in front of us as it starts doubling back on itself and making the steep zipper down to the bottom of the falls.

It’s a clear shot all the way.

No trees, just low scrub.

“He’ll pick us off,” Viola says, looking back up to the top of the road, to where we can’t see Aaron no doubt making his way to the river’s edge, stomping thru roaring water, walking on it for all I