The Knife of Never Letting Go

“GODDAM IT!” I scream, throwing the knife down. It bounces along, stopping just at the girl’s feet. “GODDAM IT ALL!”

Cuz that’s it, ain’t it?

That’s the end of everything.

Our one stupid chance that wasn’t a chance at all.

We can’t outrun the horses and we can’t cut down a stupid mega-road bridge and we’re going to be caught and Ben and Cillian are dead and we’re going to be killed ourselves and the world is going to end and that’s it.

A redness comes over my Noise, like nothing I ever felt before, sudden and raw, like a red-hot brand pressing into my own self, a burning bright redness of everything that’s made me hurt and keeps on hurting, a roaring rage of the unfairness and the injustice and the lies.

Of everything coming back to one thing.

I raise my eyes up to the girl’s and she steps back from the force of it.

“You,” I say and there ain’t go

Except I don’t say “effing”.

“But oh NO,” I shout, getting louder. “Here’s YOU! Here’s YOU and yer SILENCE! And the whole world gets SCREWED!”

I don’t realize I’m walking towards her till I see her stepping back. But she just looks back at me.

And I don’t hear a goddam thing.

“You’re NOTHING!” I scream, stepping forward some more. “NOTHING! You’re nothing but EMPTINESS! There’s nothing in you! You’re EMPTY and NOTHING and we’re go

I have my fists clenched so hard my nails are cutting into my palms. I’m so furious, my Noise raging so loud, so red, that I have to raise my fists to her, I have to hit her, I have to beat her, I have to make her ruddy silence STOP before it SWALLOWS ME AND THE WHOLE EFFING WORLD!

I take my fist and punch myself hard in the face.

I do it again, hitting where my eye is swollen from Aaron.

And a third time, splitting open the cut on my lip from where Aaron hit me yesterday morning.

You fool, you worthless, effing fool.

I do it again, hard enough to knock me off balance. I fall and catch myself on my hands and spit out some blood onto the path.

I look up at the girl, breathing hard.

Nothing. Just looking back at me and nothing.

We both turn to look across the river. They’ve got to the bit where they can see the bridge clearly. See us clearly on the other side. We can see the faces of the men as they ride. Hear the chatter of their Noise as it flies up the river at us. Mr MacInerny, the Mayor’s best horseman, is in the lead, the Mayor riding behind, looking as calm as if it was nothing more than a Sunday ride.

We got maybe a minute, probably less.

I turn back to the girl, trying to stand, but I’m so tired. So, so tired. “We might as well run,” I say, spitting out more blood. “We might as well try.”

And I see her face change.

Her mouth opens wide, her eyes, too, and suddenly she yanks her bag out in front of her and shoves her hand in it.

“What’re you doing?” I say.

She takes out the campfire box, looking all around her till I see her see a good sized rock. She sets the box down and raises up the rock.

“No, wait, we could use–”

She brings down the rock and the box cracks. She picks it up and twists it hard, making it crack some more. It starts to leak some kind of fluid. She moves to the bridge and starts flinging fluid all over the knots on the closest stake, shaking out the last drops into a puddle at the base.

The riders are coming up to the bridge, coming up, coming up, coming up–

“Hurry!” I say.

The girl turns to me, telling me with her hands to get back. I scrabble back a little ways, grabbing Manchee by his scruff and taking him with me. She steps back as far as she can, holding out the remains of the box at arm’s length and pressing a button on it. I hear a clicking sound. She tosses the box in the air and jumps back towards me.

The horses reach the bridge–

The girl lands almost on top of me and we watch as the campfire box falls–

Falls–

Falls–

Towards the little puddle of liquid, clicking as it goes–

Mr MacInerny’s horse puts a hoof on the bridge to cross it–

The campfire box lands in the puddle–

Clicks one more time–

Then–

WHOOOOMP!!!!

The air is sucked outta my lungs as a fireball WAY bigger than what you’d think for that little amount of fluid makes the world quiet for a second and then–

BOOM!!!!!

It blasts away the ropes and the stake, spraying fiery splinters all over us and obliterating all thought, Noise and sound.

When we can look up again, the bridge is already so much on fire it’s starting to lean to one side and we see Mr MacInerny’s horse rear up and stumble, trying to back up into four or five more oncoming horses.

The flames roar a weird bright green and the sudden heat’s incredible, like the worst sunburn ever and I think we’re go

The girl crawls away from me and we lay there a second, just breathing and coughing, trying to stop being dazed.

Holy crap.

“Y’all right?” I say to Manchee, still held by my hand.

“Fire, Todd!” he barks.

“Yeah,” I cough. “Big fire. You all right?” I say to the girl, who’s still crouching, still coughing. “Man, what was in that thing?”

But of course she don’t say nothing.

“TODD HEWITT!” I hear from across the canyon.

I look up. It’s the Mayor, shouting his first words ever to me in person, thru sheets of smoke and heat that make him look all wavy.

“We’re not finished, young Todd,” he calls, over the crackle of the burning bridge and the roar of the water below. “Not by a long way.”

And he’s calm and still ruddy clean and looking like there’s no way he’s not go

I stand up, hold out my arm and give him two fingers but he’s already disappearing behind big clouds of smoke.

I cough and spit blood again. “We gotta keep moving,” I say, coughing some more. “Maybe they’ll turn back, maybe there’s no other way across, but we shouldn’t wait to find out.”

I see the knife in the dust. Shame comes right quick, like a new pain all its own. The things I said. I reach down and pick it up and put it back in its sheath.

The girl’s still got her head down, coughing to herself. I pick up her bag for her and hold it out for her to take.

“Come on,” I say. “We can at least get away from the smoke.”

She looks up at me.

I look back at her.

My face burns and not from the heat.

“I’m sorry.” I look away from her, from her eyes and face, blank and quiet as ever.

I turn back up the path.

“Viola,” I hear.

I spin around, look at her.

“What?” I say.

She’s looking back at me.

She’s opening her mouth.

She’s talking.

“My name,” she says. “It’s Viola.”

I don’t say nothing to this for a minute. Neither does she. The fire burns, the smoke rises, Manchee’s tongue hangs out in a stu