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“Did he now?” says the rifle. “And how do you know he don’t aim to just be a-saving it for himself?”
The girl, Viola, looks at me, her forehead creased. It’s my turn to shrug.
“But no.” The rifle’s voice changes. “No, huh-uh, no, I’m not a-seeing that in ye, am I, boy? Cuz yer just a boy pup still, ain’t ye?”
I swallow. “I’ll be a man in 29 days.”
“Not something to be proud of, pup. Not where yer from.”
And then he lowers the gun away from his face.
And that’s why it’s so quiet.
He’s a woman.
He’s a grown woman.
He’s an old woman.
“I’ll thank ye kindly to call me she,” the woman says, still pointing the rifle at us from chest level. “And not so old I won’t still shoot ye.”
She’s looking at us more closely now, reading me up and down, seeing right into my Noise with a skill I’ve only ever felt in Ben. Her face is making all kindsa shapes, like she’s considering me, like Cillian’s face does when he tries to read me to see if I’m lying. Tho this woman ain’t got no Noise at all so she might be singing a song in there for all I know.
She turns to Viola and pauses for another long look.
“As pups go,” she says, looking back at me, “ye are as easy to read as a newborn, m’boy.” She turns her face to Viola. “But ye, wee girl, yer story’s not a usual one, is it?”
“I’d be happy to tell you all about it if you’d stop pointing a gun at us,” Viola says.
This is so surprising even Manchee looks up. I turn to Viola with my mouth open.
We hear a chuckle from up on the rock. The old woman is laughing to herself. Her clothes seem a real dusty leather, worn and creased for years and years with a rimmed hat and boots for ignoring mud. Like she ain’t nothing more than a farmer, really.
She’s still pointing the gun at us, tho.
“Ye were a-ru
“Well, now,” she says, crooking the rifle in her arm and starting to make her way down from the rocks to where we’re standing. “I can’t rightly say that I’m not peeved bout ye blowing up my bridge. Heard the boom all the way back at the farm, oh, yeah.” She steps off the last rock and stands a little ways away from us, the force of her grown-up quiet so large I feel myself stepping back without even knowing I decided to do it. “But the only place it led to ain’t been worth a-going to for a decade nor more. Only left it up outta hope.” She looks us over again. “Who’s to say I weren’t right?”
We still have our hands in the air cuz she ain’t making much sense, is she?
“I’ll ask ye this once,” the woman says, lifting the rifle again. “Am I go
I exchange a glance with Viola.
“No,” I say.
“No, mam,” Viola says.
Mam? I think.
“It’s like sir, bo
“Manchee!” he barks.
“Oh, yeah, that’s definitely who ye be, i
Me and Viola exchange another glance. It seems like a price, giving up our names, but maybe it’s a fair exchange for the gun being lowered.
“I’m Todd. That’s Viola.”
“As surely true as the sun a-coming up,” says the woman, having succeeded in getting Manchee on his back for a tummy rub.
“Is there another way over that river?” I ask. “Another bridge? Cuz those men–”
“I’m Mathilde,” the old woman interrupts, “but people who call me that don’t know me, so you can call me Hildy and one day ye may even earn the right to shake my hand.”
I look at Viola again. How can you tell if someone with no Noise is crazy?
The old woman cackles. “Yer a fu
She turns her gaze back to me, steady and clear, a small smile on her lips. She’s gotta be reading my Noise again but I can’t feel no prodding like I do when men try it.
And the way she keeps on looking I start to realize a few things, put a few things together. It must be right that Prentisstown was quarantined cuz of the Noise germ, huh? Cuz here’s a grown-up woman who ain’t dead from it, who’s looking at me friendly but keeping her distance, a woman ready to greet strangers from my direkshun with a rifle.
And if I’m contagious that means Viola’s probably definitely caught it by now, could be dying as we speak, and that I’m probably definitely not go
“Oh, ye won’t be welcome in the settlement,” the woman says. “No probably about it. But,” she winks at me, actually winks, “what ye don’t know won’t kill ye.”
“Wa
She turns back and steps up the rocks the way she came. We just watch her go till she gets to the top and turns around again.
“Ye all a-coming?” she says, as if she’s invited us along and we’re keeping her waiting.
I look at Viola. She calls up to the woman, “We’re meant to be heading for the settlement.” Viola looks at me again. “Welcome or not.”
“Oh, ye’ll get there,” says the woman, “but what ye two pups need first is a good sleeping and a good feeding. Any blind man could see that.”
The idea of sleep and hot food is so tempting, I forget for a second that she ever pointed a gun at us. But only for a second. Cuz there’s other things to think about. I make the decision for us. “We should keep on the road,” I say to Viola quietly.
“I don’t even know where we’re going,” she says, also quietly. “Do you? Honestly?”
“Ben said–”
“Ye two pups come to my farm, get some good eatings in ye, sleep on a bed – tho it ain’t soft, I grant ye that – and in the morning, we’ll go to the settlement.” And that’s how she says it, opening her eyes wide on it, like a word to make fun of us for calling it that.
We still don’t move.
“Look at it thusly,” the old woman says. “I got me a gun.” She waves it. “But I’m asking ye to come.”
“Why don’t we go with her?” Viola whispers. “Just to see.”
My Noise rises a little in surprise. “See what?”
“I could use a bath,” she says. “I could use some sleep.”
“So could I,” I say, “but there’s men who’re after us who probably ain’t go
“She seems okay.” Viola glances up at the woman. “A little crazy, but she doesn’t seem dangerous crazy.”
“She don’t seem anything.” I feel a little vexed, if I’m honest. “People without Noise don’t seem like nothing at all.”
Viola looks at me, her brows suddenly creased and her jaw set a little.
“Well, not you, obviously,” I say.
“Every time . . .” she starts to say but then she just shakes her head.
“Every time what?” I whisper, but Viola just scrunches her eyes and turns to the woman.
“Hold on,” she says, her voice sounding a
“Hey!” I say. What happened to her remembering I saved her life? “Wait a minute. We gotta follow the road. We gotta get to the settlement.”
“Roads is never the fastest way to get nowhere,” the woman says. “Don’t ye know that?”