Текст книги "The Knife of Never Letting Go"

Автор книги: Patrick Ness

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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

I see his feet first, slipping down the steps some but not hurrying, taking his time now that he knows we’re here.

I hold the knife in my right hand, my left hand out and ready, too. I stand in the aisle of the little pews, as much in the centre of the church as I can get. Viola’s back behind me a bit, down one of the rows.

I’m ready.

I realize I am ready.

Everything that’s happened has brought me here, to this place, with this knife in my hand, and something worth saving.

Someone.

And if it’s a choice twixt her and him, there is no choice, and the army can go sod itself.

And so I’m ready.

As I’ll ever be.

Cuz I know what he wants.

“Come on,” I say, under my breath.

Aaron’s legs appear, then his arms, one carrying the rifle, the other holding his balance against the wall.

And then his face.

His terrible, terrible face.

Half torn away, the gash in his cheek showing his teeth, the hole where his nose used to be open and gaping, making him look barely human.

And he’s smiling.

Which is when I feel all the fear.

“Todd Hewitt,” he says, almost as a greeting.

I raise my voice over the water, willing it not to shake. “You can put the rifle down, Aaron.”

“Oh, can I, now?” he says, eyes widening, taking in Viola behind me. I don’t look back at her but I know she’s facing Aaron, I know she’s giving him all the bravery she’s got.

And that makes me stronger.

“I know what you want,” I say. “I figured it out.”

“Have you, young Todd?” Aaron says and I see he can’t help himself, he looks into my Noise, the little he can hear over the roar.

“She’s not the sacrifice,” I say.

He says nothing, just takes the first steps into the church, eyes glancing up at the cross and the pews and the pulpit.

“And I’m not the sacrifice neither,” I say.

His evil smile draws wider. A new tear opens up at the edge of his gash, blood waving down it in the spray. “A clever mind is a friend of the devil,” he says, which I think is his way of saying I’m right.

I steady my feet and turn with him as he steps round towards the pulpit half of the church, the half nearer the edge.

“It’s you,” I say. “The sacrifice is you.”

And I open my Noise as loud as it’ll go so that both he and Viola can see I’m telling the truth.

Cuz the thing Ben showed me back when I left our farm, the way that a boy in Prentisstown becomes a man, the reason that boys who’ve become men don’t talk to boys who are still boys, the reason that boys who’ve become men are complicit in the crimes of Prentisstown is–

It’s–

And I make myself say it–

It’s by killing another man.

All by theirselves.

All those men who disappeared, who tried to disappear.

They didn’t disappear after all.

Mr Royal, my old schoolteacher, who took to whisky and shot himself, didn’t shoot himself. He was shot by Seb Mundy on his thirteenth birthday, made to stand alone and pull the trigger as the rest of the men of Prentisstown watched. Mr Gault, whose sheep flock we took over when he disappeared two winters ago, only tried to disappear. He was found by Mayor Prentiss running away thru the swamp and Mayor Prentiss was true to his agreement with the law of New World and executed him, only he did it by waiting till Mr Prentiss Jr’s thirteenth birthday and having his son torture Mr Gault to death without the help of no one else.

And so on and so on. Men I knew killed by boys I knew to become men theirselves. If the Mayor’s men had a captured escapee hidden away for a boy’s thirteenth, then fine. If not, they’d just take someone from Prentisstown who they didn’t like and say he disappeared.

One man’s life was given over to a boy to end, all on his own.

A man dies, a man is born.

Everyone complicit. Everyone guilty.

Except me.

“Oh my God,” I hear Viola say.

“But I was gonna be different, wasn’t I?” I say.

“You were the last, Todd Hewitt,” Aaron says. “The final soldier in God’s perfect army.”

“I don’t think God’s got nothing to do with yer army,” I say. “Put down the rifle. I know what I have to do.”

“But are you a messenger, Todd?” he asks, cocking his head, pulling his impossible smile wider. “Or are you a deceiver?”

“Read me,” I say. “Read me if you don’t believe I can do it.”

He’s at the pulpit now, facing me down the centre aisle, reaching out his Noise over the sound of the falls, pushing it towards me, grabbing at what he can, and the sacrifice and God’s perfect work and the martyrdom of the saint I hear.

“Perhaps, young Todd,” he says.

And he sets the rifle down on the pulpit.

I swallow and grip the knife harder.

But he looks over at Viola and laughs a little laugh. “No,” he says. “Little girls will try to take advantage, won’t they?”

And, almost casually, he tosses the rifle off the ledge into the waterfall.

It goes so fast, we don’t even see it disappear.

But it’s gone.

And so there’s just me and Aaron.

And the knife.

He opens his arms and I realize he’s assuming his preacher’s pose, the one from his own pulpit, back in Prentisstown. He leans against the pulpit stone here and holds his palms up and raises his eyes to the white shining roof of water above us.

His lips move silently.

He’s praying.

“Yer mad,” I say.

He looks at me. “I’m blessed.”

“You want me to kill you.”

“Wrong, Todd Hewitt,” he says, taking a step forward down the aisle towards me. “Hate is the key. Hate is the driver. Hate is the fire that purifies the soldier. The soldier must hate.”

He takes another step.

“I don’t want you to kill me,” he says. “I want you to murder me.”

I take a step back.

The smile flickers. “Perhaps the boy promises bigger than he can deliver.”

“Why?” I say, stepping back some more. Viola moves back, too, behind and around me, underneath the carving of New World. “Why are you doing this? What possible sense does this make?”

“God has told me my path,” he says.

“I been here for almost thirteen years,” I say, “and the only thing I ever heard was men.”

“God works thru men,” Aaron says.

“So does evil,” Viola says.

“Ah,” Aaron says. “It speaks. Words of temptayshun to lull–”

“Shut up,” I say. “Don’t you talk to her.”

I’m past the back row of pews now. I move to my right, Aaron follows till we’re moving in a slow circle, Aaron’s hands still out, my knife still up, Viola keeping behind me, the spray covering everything. The room slowly turns around us, the ledge still slippery, the wall of water shining white with the sun.

And the roar, the constant roar.

“You were the final test,” Aaron says. “The last boy. The one that completes us. With you in the army, there’s no weak link. We would be truly blessed. If one of us falls, we all fall, Todd. And all of us have to fall.” He clenches his fists and looks up again. “So we can be reborn! So we can take this cursed world and remake it in–”

“I wouldn’t’ve done it,” I say and he scowls at the interrupshun. “I wouldn’t’ve killed anyone.”

“Ah, yes, Todd Hewitt,” Aaron says. “And that’s why yer so very very special, ain’t ya? The boy who can’t kill.”

I sneak a glance back to Viola, off to my side a little. We’re still going round in the little circle.

And Viola and I are reaching the side with the tunnel in it.

“But God demands a sacrifice,” Aaron’s saying. “God demands a martyr. And who better for the special boy to kill than God’s very own mouthpiece?”

“I don’t think God tells you anything,” I say. “Tho I can believe he wants you dead.”

Aaron’s eyes go so crazy and empty I get a chill. “I’ll be a saint,” he says, a small fire burning in his voice. “It is my destiny.”

He’s reached the end of the aisle and is following us past the last row of benches.

Viola and I are backing up still.

Almost to the tunnel.

“But how to motivate the boy?” Aaron continues, eyes like holes. “How to bring him into manhood?”

And his Noise opens up to me, loud as thunder.

My eyes widen.

My stomach sinks to my feet.

My shoulders hunch down as I feel weakness on me.

I can see it. It’s a fantasy, a lie, but the lies of men are as vivid as their truths and I can see every bit of it.

He was going to murder Ben.

That’s how he was going to force me to kill him. That’s how they woulda done it. To perfect their army and make me a killer, they were going to murder Ben.

And make me watch.

Make me hate enough to kill Aaron.

My Noise starts to rumble, loud enough to hear. “You effing piece of–”

“But then God sent a sign,” Aaron says, looking at Viola, his eyes even wider now, the blood pouring from the gash, the hole where his nose used to be stretching taut. “The girl,” he says. “A gift from the heavens.”

“Don’t you look at her!” I yell. “Don’t you even look at her!”

Aaron turns back to me, the smile still there. “Yes, Todd, yes,” he says. “That’s yer path, that’s the path you’ll take. The boy with the soft heart, the boy who couldn’t kill. What would he kill for? Who would he protect?”

Another step back, another step nearer the tunnel.

“And when her cursed, evil silence polluted our swamp, I thought God had sent me a sacrifice to make myself, one last example of the evil that hides itself which I could destroy and purify.” He cocks his head. “But then her true purpose was revealed.” He looks at her and back at me. “Todd Hewitt would protect the helpless.”

“She ain’t helpless,” I say.

“And then you ran.” Aaron’s eyes widen, as if in false amazement. “You ran rather than fulfil yer destiny.” He lifts his eyes to the church again. “Thereby making victory over you all the sweeter.”

“You ain’t won yet,” I say.

“Haven’t I?” He smiles again. “Come, Todd. Come to me with hate in yer heart.”

“I will,” I say. “I’ll do it.”

But another step back.

“You’ve been near before, young Todd,” Aaron says. “In the swamp, the knife raised, me killing the girl, but no. You hesitate. You injure but you do not kill. And then I steal her from you and you hunt her down, as I knew you would, suffering from the wound I gave you, but again, not enough. You sacrifice yer beloved dog rather than see her come to harm, you let me break his very body rather than serve yer proper purpose.”

“You shut up!” I say.

He holds his palms up to me.

“Here I am, Todd,” he says. “Fulfil yer purpose. Become a man.” He lowers his head till his eyes are looking up at me. “Fall.”

I curl my lip.

I stand up straighter.

“I already am a man,” I say.

And my Noise says it, too.

He stares at me. As if staring thru me.

And then he sighs.

Like he’s disappointed.

“Not yet a man,” he says, his face changing. “Perhaps not ever.”

I don’t step back.

“Pity,” he says.

And he leaps at me–

“Todd!” Viola yells–

“Run!” I scream–

But I’m not stepping back–

I’m moving forward–

And the fight is on.

I’m charging at him and he’s throwing himself at me and I’m holding the knife but at the last second, I leap to the side, letting him slam hard into the wall–

He whirls around, face in a snarl, swinging an arm round to hit me and I duck and slash at it with the knife, cutting across his forearm, and it don’t even slow him down–

And he’s swinging at me with his other arm and he’s catching me just under the jaw–

Knocking me back–

“Todd!” Viola calls again–

I tumble backwards onto the last pew, falling hard–

But I’m looking up–

Aaron’s turning to Viola–

She’s at the bottom of the stairs–

“Go!” I yell–

But she’s got a big flat stone in her hands and launches it at Aaron with a grimace and an angry grunt and he ducks and tries to deflect it with one hand but it catches him cross the forehead, causing him to stumble away from both her and me, towards the ledge, towards the front of the church–

“Come on!” Viola yells to me–

I scramble to my feet–

But Aaron’s turned, too–

Blood running down his face–

His mouth open in a yell–

He jumps forward like a spider, grabbing Viola’s right arm–

She punches fiercely with her left hand, bloodying it on his face–

But he don’t let go–

I’m yelling as I fly at them–

Knife out–

But again I turn it at the last minute–

And I just knock into him–

We land on the upslope of the stairs, Viola falling back, me on top of Aaron, his arms boxing my head and he reaches forward with his horrible face and takes a bite out of an exposed area of my neck–

I yell and jerk back, punching him with a backhand as I go–

Scooting away from him back into the church, holding my neck–

He comes at me again, his fist flying forward–

Catching me on the eye–

My head jerks back–

I stumble thru the rows of pews, back to the centre of the church–

Another punch–

I raise my knife hand to block it–

But keep the knife edge sideways–

And he hits me again–

I scrabble away from him on the wet stone–

Up the aisle towards the pulpit–

And a third time his fist reaches my face–

And I feel two teeth tear outta their roots–

And I nearly fall–

And then I do fall–

My back and head hitting the pulpit stone–

And I drop the knife.

It clatters away towards the edge.

Useless as ever.

“Yer Noise reveals you!” Aaron screams. “Yer Noise reveals you!” He’s stepping forward to me now, standing over me. “From the moment I stepped into this sacred place, I knew it would be thus!” He stops at my feet, staring down at me, his fists clenched and bloody with my blood, his face bloody with his own. “You will never be a man, Todd Hewitt! Never!”

I see Viola outta the corner of my eye frantically looking for more rocks–

“I’m already a man,” I say, but I’ve fallen, I’ve dropped the knife, my voice is faltering, my hand over the bleeding from my neck.

“You rob me of my sacrifice!” His eyes have turned to burning diamonds, his Noise blazing a red so fierce it’s practically steaming the water away from him. “I will kill you.” He bows his head to me. “And you will die knowing that I killed her slowly.”

I clench my teeth together.

I start to pull myself to my ruddy feet.

“Come on if yer coming,” I growl.

Aaron yells out and takes a step towards me–

Hands reaching out for me–

My face rising to meet him–

And Viola CLUMPS him on the side of the head with a rock she can barely lift–

He stumbles–

Leaning towards the pews and catching himself–

And he stumbles again–

But he doesn’t fall.

He doesn’t ruddy fall.

He staggers but he stands, twixt me and Viola, uncurling himself, his back to Viola but towering over her, a whole rivulet of blood spouting from the side of his head now, but he’s effing well tall as a nightmare–

He really is a monster.

“You ain’t human,” I say.

“I have told you, young Todd,” he says, his voice low and monstrous, his Noise glowering at me with a fury so pure it nearly knocks me back. “I am a saint.”

He lashes his arm out in Viola’s direkshun without even looking her way, catching her square on the eye, knocking her back as she calls out and falls falls falls, tripping over a pew, hitting her head hard on the rocks–

And not rising.

“Viola!” I yell–

And I leap past him–

He lets me go–

I reach her–

Her legs are up on the stone bench–

Her head’s on the stone floor–

A little stream of blood running from it–

“Viola!” I say and I lift her–

And her head falls back–

“VIOLA!” I yell–

And I hear a low rumble from behind me–

Laughter.

He’s laughing.

“You were always going to betray her,” he says. “It was foreseen.”

“You SHUT UP!”

“And do you know why?”

“I’ll KILL YOU!”

He lowers his voice to a whisper–

But a whisper I can feel shiver thru my entire body–

“You’ve already fallen.”

And my Noise blazes red.

Redder than it’s ever been.

Murderous red.

“Yes, Todd,” Aaron hisses. “Yes, that’s the way.”

I lay Viola gently down and I stand and face him.

And my hate is so big, it fills the cavern.

“Come on, boy,” he says. “Purify yerself.”

I look at the knife–

Resting in a puddle of water–

Near the ledge by the pulpit behind Aaron–

Where I dropped it–

And I hear it calling to me–

Take me, it says–

Take me and use me, it says–

Aaron holds open his arms.

“Murder me,” he says. “Become a man.”

Never let me go, says the knife–

“I’m sorry,” I whisper under my breath tho I don’t know who to or what for–

I’m sorry–

And I leap–

Aaron doesn’t move, arms open as if to embrace me–

I barrel into him with my shoulder–

He doesn’t resist–

My Noise screams red–

We fall past the pulpit to the ledge–

I’m on top of him–

He still doesn’t resist–

I punch his face–

Over–

And over–

And over–

Breaking it further–

Breaking it into bloody messy pieces–

Hate pouring outta me thru my fists–

And still I pound him–

Still I hit–

Thru the breaking of bone–

And the snapping of gristle–

And an eye crushed under my knuckles–

Till I can no longer feel my hands–

And still I hit–

And his blood spills on me and over–

And the red of it matches the red of my Noise–

And then I lean back, still on him, covered in his blood–

And he’s laughing, he’s laughing still–

And he’s gurgling “Yes” thru broken teeth, “Yes–”

And the red rises in me–

And I can’t hold it back–

And the hate–

And I look over–

At the knife–

Just a metre away–

On the ledge–

By the pulpit–

Calling for me–

Calling–

And this time I know–

This time I know–

I’m going to use it.

And I jump for it–

My hand outstretched–

My Noise so red I can barely see–

Yes, says the knife–

Yes.

Take me.

Take the power in yer hand–

But another hand is there first–

Viola.

And as I fall towards it there’s a rush in me–

A rush in my Noise–

A rush from seeing her there–

From seeing her alive–

A rush that rises higher than the red–

And “Viola,” I say–

Just “Viola”.

And she picks up the knife.

My momentum is tumbling me towards the edge and I’m turning to try and catch myself and I can see her lifting the knife and I can see her stepping forward and I’m falling into the ledge and my fingers are slipping on wet stone and I can see Aaron sitting up and he’s only got one eye now and it’s staring at Viola as she’s raising the knife and she’s bringing it forward and I can’t stop her and Aaron is trying to rise and Viola’s moving towards him and I’m hitting the ledge with my shoulder and stopping just short of falling over and I’m watching and what’s left of Aaron’s Noise is radiating anger and fear and it’s saying No–

It’s saying Not you–

And Viola’s raising her arm–

Raising the knife–

And bringing it down–

And down–

And down–

And plunging it straight into the side of Aaron’s neck–

So hard the point comes out the other side–

And there’s a crunch, a crunch I remember–

Aaron falls over from the force of it–

And Viola lets go of the knife–

She steps back.

Her face is white.

I can hear her breathing over the roar.

I lift myself with my hands–

And we watch.

Aaron’s pushing himself up.

He’s pushing himself up, one hand clawing at the knife, but it stays in his neck. His remaining eye is wide open, his tongue lolling outta his mouth.

He gets to his knees.

And then to his feet.

Viola cries out a little and steps back.

Steps back till she’s next to me.

We can hear him trying to swallow.

Trying to breathe.

He steps forward but stumbles against the pulpit.

He looks our way.

His tongue swells and writhes.

He’s trying to say something.

He’s trying to say something to me.

He’s trying to make a word.

But he can’t.

He can’t.

His Noise is just wild colours and pictures and things I won’t ever be able to say.

He catches my eye.

And his Noise stops.

Completely stops.

At last.

And gravity takes his body and he slumps sideways.

Away from the pulpit.

And over the edge.

And disappears under the wall of water.

Taking the knife with him.

Viola sits down next to me so hard and fast it’s like she fell there.

She’s breathing heavy and staring into the space where Aaron was. The sunlight thru the falls casts waves of watery light over her face but that’s the only thing on it that moves.

“Viola?” I say, leaping up into a squat next to her.

“He’s gone,” she says.

“Yeah,” I say. “He’s gone.”

And she just breathes.

My Noise is rattling like a crashing spaceship full of reds and whites and things so different it’s like my head is being pulled apart.

I woulda done it.

I woulda done it for her.

But instead–

“I woulda done it,” I say. “I was ready to do it.”

She looks at me, her eyes wide. “Todd?”

“I woulda killed him myself.” I find my voice raising a little. “I was ready to do it!”

And then her chin starts shaking, not as if she’s going to cry, but actually shaking and then her shoulders, too, and her eyes are getting wider and she’s shaking harder and nothing leaves my Noise and it’s all still there but something else enters it and it’s for her and I grab her and hold her to me and we rock back and forth for a while so she can just shake all she wants to.

She don’t speak for a long time, just makes little moaning sounds in her throat, and I remember just after I killed the Spackle, how I could feel the crunch running down my arm, how I could keep seeing his blood, how I saw him die again and again.

How I do still.

(But I woulda.)

(I was ready.)

(But the knife is gone.)

“Killing someone ain’t nothing like it is in stories,” I say into the top of her head. “Ain’t nothing at all.”

(But I woulda.)

She’s still shaking and we’re still right next to a raging, roaring waterfall and the sun’s higher in the sky and there’s less light in the church and we’re wet and bloody and bloody and wet.

And cold and shaking.

“Come on,” I say, making to stand. “First thing we need to do is get dry, okay?”

I get her to her feet. I go get the bag, still on the floor twixt two pews and go back to her and hold out my hand.

“The sun is up,” I say. “It’ll be warm outside.”

She looks at my hand for a minute before taking it.

But she takes it.

We make our way round the pulpit, unable to keep from looking where Aaron was, his blood already washed away by the spray.

(I woulda done it.)

(But the knife.)

I can feel my hand shaking in hers and I don’t know which one of us it is.

We get to the steps and it’s halfway up that she first speaks.

“I feel sick,” she says.

“I know,” I say.

And we stop and she leans closer to the waterfall and is sick.

A lot.

I guess this it what happens when you kill someone in real life.

She leans forward, her hair wet and tangled down. She spits.

But she don’t look up.

“I couldn’t let you,” she says. “He would have won.”

“I woulda done it,” I say.

“I know,” she says, into her hair, into the falls. “That’s why I did it.”

I let out a breath. “You shoulda let me.”

“No.” She looks up from being crouched over. “I couldn’t let you.” She wipes her mouth and coughs again. “But it’s not just that.”

“What then?” I say.

She looks into my eyes. Her own are wide and they’re bloodshot from the barfing.

And they’re older than they used to be.

“I wanted to, Todd,” she says, her forehead creasing. “I wanted to do it. I wanted to kill him.” She puts her hands to her face. “Oh my God,” she breathes. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”

“Stop it,” I say, taking her arms and pulling her hands away. “Stop it. He was evil. He was crazy evil–”

“I know!” she shouts. “But I keep seeing him. I keep seeing the knife going into his–”

“Yeah, okay, you wanted to,” I stop her before she gets worse. “So what? So did I. But he made you want to. He made it so it was him or us. That’s why he was evil. Not what you did or what I did, what he did, okay?”

She looks up at me. “He did just what he promised,” she says, her voice a little quieter. “He made me fall.”

She moans again and clamps her hands over her mouth, her eyes welling up.

“No,” I say strongly. “No, see, here’s the thing, here’s what I think, okay?”

I look up to the water and the tunnel and I don’t know what I think but she’s there and I can see it and I don’t know what she’s thinking but I know what she’s thinking and I can see her and she’s teetering on the edge and she’s looking at me and she’s asking me to save her.

Save her like she saved me.

“Here’s what I think,” I say and my voice is stronger and thoughts are coming, thoughts that trickle into my Noise like whispers of the truth. “I think maybe everybody falls,” I say. “I think maybe we all do. And I don’t think that’s the asking.”

I pull on her arms gently to make sure she’s listening.

“I think the asking is whether we get back up again.”

And the water’s rushing by and we’re shaking from the cold and everything else and she stares at me and I wait and I hope.

And I see her step back from the edge.

I see her come back to me.

“Todd,” she says and it ain’t an asking.

It’s just my name.

It’s who I am.

“Come on,” I say. “Haven’s waiting.”

I take her hand again and we make our way up the rest of the steps and back to the flatter part of the ledge, following the curves out from the centre, steadying ourselves again on the slippery stones. The jump back to the embankment is harder this time cuz we’re so wet and weak but I take a running go at it and then catch Viola as she comes tumbling after me.

And we’re in sunlight.

We breathe it in for a good long while, getting the wettest of the wet off of us before we gather up and climb the little embankment, pushing ourselves thru the scrub to the trail and back to the road.

We look down the hill, down the zigzag trail.

It’s still there. Haven’s still there.

“Last bit,” I say.

Viola rubs her arms to dry herself a little more. She squints at me, looking close. “You get hit in the face a lot, you know that?”

I bring my fingers up. My eye is starting to swell some and I notice a gap on the side of my mouth where I lost a few teeth.

“Thanks,” I say. “It wasn’t hurting till you said that.”

“Sorry.” She smiles a little and puts her hand up to the back of her own head and winces.

“How’s yers?” I ask.

“Sore,” she says, “but I’ll live.”

“Yer indestructible, you,” I say.

She smiles again.

And then there’s a weird zipSNICK sound in the air and Viola lets out a little gasp, a little oh sound.

We look each other in the eyes for a second, in the sunshine, both of us surprised but not sure why.

And then I follow her glance down her front.

There’s blood on her shirt.

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.

And that’s not going to be fast enough.

I plunge straight down. Straight down thru the scrub.

“Come on!” I say out loud as my Noise forgets itself and all there is in the universe is my legs moving.