The Knife of Never Letting Go

The girl’s face squishes up, like she’s in the worst pain ever and she opens her mouth like she’s going to yell but nothing comes out. Still nothing. Still no Noise, no sound, no nothing at all coming from her.

I just don’t get it.

“I don’t know what’s ahead,” I say. “I don’t know nothing about nothing but whatever it is, it’s gotta be better than what’s behind. It’s gotta be.”

And as she hears me, her face changes. It clears up to almost blankness again and she presses her lips together.

“Go! Go! Go!” Manchee barks.

She holds out her hand for her bag. I hand it to her. She stands, shoves the binos in, loops it over her shoulder and looks me in the eye.

“Okay, then,” I say.

And so that’s how I set off ru

Well, past my heels most of the time, she’s ruddy fast, she is.

We go back up the hill and down the other side, the last of the swamp really starting to disappear around us and turning into regular woods. The ground gets way firmer and easier to run on and it’s sloping more downhill than it is up, which may be the first piece of luck we’ve had. We start catching the proper river in brief glances off to our left side as we go. My rucksack’s bashing me in the back as I run and I’m gasping for breath.

But I’m holding my knife.

I swear. I swear right now before God or whatever. If Aaron ever comes in my reach again, I will kill him. I ain’t hesitating again. No way. No how. I ain’t. I swear to you.

I will kill him.

I’ll ruddy well kill him.

You just watch me.

The ground we’re ru

We veer close to the water again and I call out, “Wait.” The girl, who’s got pretty far in front of me, stops. I run to the river’s edge, take a swift look round for crocs, then lean down and scoop up a few handfuls of water into my mouth. Tastes sweeter than it really should. Who knows what’s in it, coming outta the swamp, but you gotta drink. I feel the girl’s silence lean down next to me as she drinks, too. I scoot a little ways away. Manchee laps up his share and you can hear us all taking in great raking breaths between slurps.

I look up to where we’re going, wiping my mouth. Next to the river is starting to become too rocky and steep to run on and I can see a path cutting its way up from the riverbank, going along the top of the canyon.

I blink, as I realize.

I can see a path. Someone’s cut a path.

The girl turns and looks. The path carries up and along as the river drops below it, getting deeper and faster and turning into rapids. Someone made that path.

“It’s gotta be the way to the other settlement,” I say. “Gotta be.”

And then, in the distance, we hear hoofbeats. Faint, but on their way.

I don’t say another word cuz we’re already on our feet and ru

It’s more than wide enough for horses. More than wide enough for five or six, in fact.

It ain’t a path at all, I realize. It’s a road.

We fly along it as it bends and turns, the girl ahead, then me, then Manchee, ru

Till I nearly bump into her and knock her off the trail.

“What’re you doing?!” I shout, grabbing onto her arms to keep us both from falling off the cliff, trying to keep the knife from accidentally killing her.

And then I see what she’s seeing.

A bridge, way on up ahead of us. It goes from one cliff edge to the other, crossing the river what’s gotta be thirty, forty metres above it. The road or path or whatever stops on our side at the bridge and becomes rock and dense forest beyond. There’s nowhere to go but the bridge.

The first shades of an idea start to form.

The hoofbeats are louder now. I look back and see clouds of dust rising from where the Mayor is following.

“Come on!” I say, ru

I test it with my foot but it’s so sturdy it don’t even bounce. More than enough to take me and the girl and a dog.

More than enough to take men on horseback who wanted to cross it, in fact.

Whoever built it, meant it to last.

I look back again down the river at where we’ve run. More dust, louder hoofbeats, and the whispers of men’s Noise on its way. I think I hear young Todd but I’m only imagining it cuz Aaron’ll be way behind on foot.

But I do see what I wa

Maybe another piece of luck is coming our way.

“Let’s go,” I say. We run across and it’s so well-made you can’t even see twixt the gaps in the planks of wood. We might as well still be on the path. We get to the other side and the girl stops and turns to me, no doubt seeing my idea in my Noise, already waiting for me to act.

The knife is still in my hand. Power at the end of my arm.

Maybe at last I can do some good with it.

I look over where this end of the bridge is tied to the stakes in the rock. The knife has a fearsome serrated edge on part of the blade, so I choose the likeliest looking knot and start sawing on it.

I saw and saw.

The hoofbeats get louder, echoing down the canyon.

But if there suddenly ain’t no bridge–

I saw some more.

And some more.

And some more.

And I’m just not making no progress at all.

“What the hell?” I say, looking at where I been cutting. There’s hardly a scratch there. I touch the serration on the knife with my finger and it pricks and bleeds almost immediately. I look closer at the rope. It looks like it’s coated in some kind of thin resin.

Some kind of ruddy tough, steel-like resin that ain’t for cutting.

“I don’t believe this,” I say, looking up at the girl.

She’s got her binos to her eyes, looking back the way we came down the river.

“Can you see ’em?”

I look down the river but you don’t need binos at all. You can see ’em coming with yer own two eyes. Small but growing larger and not slowing down, thundering their hooves like there’s no tomorrow.

We got three minutes. Maybe four.

Crap.

I start sawing again, fast and strong as I can, forcing my arm back and forth hard as I can make it, sweat popping out all over the place and new aches forming to keep all the old ones company. I saw and saw and saw, dripping water down my nose onto the knife.

“C’mon, c’mon,” I say thru my teeth.

I lift the knife. I’ve managed to get thru one tiny little bit of resin on one tiny little knot on one huge effing bridge.

“Goddam it!” I spit.

I saw some more and more and more. And more and more than that, sweat ru

“Todd!” Manchee barks, his alarm spilling out all over the place.

I saw more. And more.

But the only thing that happens is that the knife catches and I smash my knuckles into the stake, bloodying them.