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“What’s the next settlement?” I gasp after a good half hour’s run-walking. “Did Francia say?”
“Shining Beacon,” Viola says, gasping herself. “Or Shining Light.” She scrunches her face. “Blazing Light. Blazing Beacon?”
“That’s helpful.”
“Wait.” She stops in the path, bending at the waist to catch her breath. I stop, too. “I need water.”
I hold up my hands in a way that says And? “So do I,” I say. “You got some?”
She looks at me, her eyebrows up. “Oh.”
“There was always a river.”
“I guess we’d better find it then.”
“I guess so.” I take a deep breath to start ru
“Todd,” she says, stopping me. “I’ve been thinking?”
“Yeah?” I say.
“Blazing Lights or whatever?”
“Yeah?”
“If you look at it one way,” she lowers her voice to a sad and uncomfortable sound and says it again, “if you look at it one way, we led an army into Farbranch.”
I lick the dryness of my lips. I taste dust. And I know what she’s saying.
“You must warn them,” she says quietly, into the dark. “I’m sorry, but–”
“We can’t go into any other settlements,” I say.
“I don’t think we can.”
“Not till Haven.”
“Not until Haven,” she says, “which we have to hope is big enough to handle an army.”
So, that’s that then. In case we needed any further reminding, we’re really on our own. Really and truly. Me and Viola and Manchee and the darkness for company. No one on the road to help us till the end, if even there, which knowing our luck so far–
I close my eyes.
I am Todd Hewitt, I think. When it goes midnight I will be a man in twenty-seven days. I am the son of my ma and pa, may they rest in peace. I am the son of Ben and Cillian, may they–
I am Todd Hewitt.
“I’m Viola Eade,” Viola says.
I open my eyes. She has her hand out, palm down, held towards me.
“That’s my surname,” she says. “Eade. E-A-D-E.”
I look at her for a second and then down at her outstretched hand and I reach out and I take it and press it inside my own and a second later I let go.
I shrug my shoulders to reset my rucksack. I put my hand behind my back to feel the knife and make sure it’s still there. I give poor, panting, half-tail Manchee a look and then match eyes with Viola.
“Viola Eade,” I say, and she nods.
And off we run into further night.
“How can it be this far?” Viola asks. “It doesn’t make any logical sense.”
“Is there another kind of sense it does make?”
She frowns. So do I. We’re tired and getting tireder and trying not to think of what we saw at Farbranch and we’ve walked and run what feels like half the night and still no river. I’m starting to get afraid we’ve taken a seriously wrong turning which we can’t do nothing about cuz there ain’t no turning back.
“Isn’t any turning back,” I hear Viola say behind me, under her breath.
I turn to her, eyes wide. “That’s wrong on two counts,” I say. “Number one, constantly reading people’s Noise ain’t go
She crosses her arms and sets her shoulders. “And the second?”
“The second is I talk how I please.”
“Yes,” Viola says. “That you do.”
My Noise starts to rise a bit and I take a deep breath but then she says, “Shhh,” and her eyes glint in the moonlight as she looks beyond me.
The sound of ru
“River!” Manchee barks.
We take off down the road and round a corner and down a slope and round another corner and there’s the river, wider, flatter and slower than when we saw it last but just as wet. We don’t say nothing, just drop to our knees on the rocks at water’s edge and drink, Manchee wading in up to his belly to start lapping.
Viola’s next to me and as I slurp away, there’s her silence again. It’s a two-way thing, this is. However clear she can hear my Noise, well, out here alone, away from the chatter of others or the Noise of a settlement, there’s her silence, loud as a roar, pulling at me like the greatest sadness ever, like I want to take it and press myself into it and just disappear forever down into nothing.
What a relief that would feel like right now. What a blessed relief.
“I can’t avoid hearing you, you know,” she says, standing up and opening her bag. “When it’s quiet and just the two of us.”
“And I can’t avoid not hearing you,” I say. “No matter what it’s like.” I whistle for Manchee. “Outta the water. There might be snakes.”
He’s ducking his rump under the current, swishing back and forth until the bandage comes off and floats away. Then he leaps out and immediately sets to licking his tail.
“Let me see,” I say. He barks “Todd!” in agreement but when I come near he curls his tail as far under his belly as the new length will go. I uncurl it gently, Manchee murmuring “Tail, tail” to himself all the while.
“Whaddyaknow?” I say. “Those bandages work on dogs.”
Viola’s fished out two discs from her bag. She presses her thumbs inside them and they expand right up into water bottles. She kneels by the river, fills both, and tosses one to me.
“Thanks,” I say, not really looking at her.
She wipes some water from her bottle. We stand on the riverbank for a second and she’s putting her water bottle back into her bag and she’s quiet in a way that I’m learning means she’s trying to say something difficult.
“I don’t mean any offence by it,” she says, looking up to me, “but I think maybe it’s time I read the note on the map.”
I can feel myself redden, even in the dark, and I can also feel myself get ready to argue.
But then I just sigh. I’m tired and it’s late and we’re ru
I drop my rucksack and take out the book, unfolding the map from inside the front cover. I hand it to her without looking at her. She takes out her torch and shines it on the paper, turning it over to Ben’s message. To my surprise, she starts reading it out loud and all of sudden, even with her own voice, it’s like Ben’s is ringing down the river, echoing from Prentisstown and hitting my chest like a punch.
“Go to the settlement down the river and across the bridge,” she reads. “It’s called Farbranch and the people there should welcome you.”
“And they did,” I say. “Some of them.”
Viola continues, “There are things you don’t know about our history, Todd, and I’m sorry for that but if you knew them you would be in great danger. The only chance you have of a welcome is yer i
I feel myself redden even more but fortunately it’s too dark to see.
“Yer ma’s book will tell you more but in the meantime, the wider world has to be warned, Todd. Prentisstown is on the move. The plan has been in the works for years, only waiting for the last boy in Prentisstown to become a man.” She looks up. “Is that you?”
“That’s me,” I say, “I was the youngest boy. I turn thirteen in twenty-seven days and officially become a man according to Prentisstown law.”
And I can’t help but think for a minute about what Ben showed me–
About how a boy becomes–
I cover it up and say quickly, “But I got no idea what he means about them waiting for me.”
“The Mayor plans to take Farbranch and who knows what else beyond. Sillian and I–”
“Cillian,” I correct her. “With a K sound.”
“Cillian and I will try to delay it as long as we can but we won’t be able to stop it. Farbranch will be in danger and you have to warn them. Always, always, always remember that we love you like our own son and sending you away is the hardest thing we’ll ever have to do. If it’s at all possible, we’ll see you again, but first you must get to Farbranch as fast as you can and when you get there, you must warn them. Ben.” Viola looks up. “That last part’s underlined.”