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But here’s Manchee, licking away.
“Get off.” I reach up an arm to push him away.
Aaron coulda killed me, coulda killed me so easy.
The knife thru my neck, the knife in my eye, the knife across my throat. I was his for the killing and he didn’t kill me. He musta known what he was doing. He musta.
Was he leaving me for the Mayor to find? But why was he so far ahead of the army? How could he have come all this way without a horse like Mr Prentiss Jr? How long had he been following us?
How long before he stepped outta the bushes and took Viola away?
I let out a little moan.
That’s why he left me alive. So I could live knowing that he took Viola. That’s how he wins, ain’t it? That’s how he makes me suffer. Living and having the sight of him taking her forever in my Noise.
A new kinda energy runs thru me and I make myself sit up, ignoring the pain and bringing myself forward and breathing till I can think about standing. The rattle in my lungs and the pain in my back make me cough more but I grit my teeth and get thru it.
Cuz I have to find her.
“Viola,” Manchee barks.
“Viola,” I say and I grit my teeth even harder and try to get to my feet.
But it’s too much, the pain takes my legs from me and I topple back in the mud and I just lay there pulled tight from it all and struggling to breathe and my mind goes all woozy and hot and in my Noise I’m ru
I come back to myself. The song comes with me.
Cuz the song goes:
Early one morning just as the sun was rising,
I heard a maiden call from the valley below.
“Oh don’t deceive me, oh never leave me.”
I open my eyes.
Don’t deceive me. Never leave me.
I have to find her.
I have to find her.
I look up. The sun is in the sky but I have no idea how much time has passed since Aaron took Viola. That was just before dawn. It’s cloudy but bright now and so it could be late morning or early afternoon. It might not even be the same day, a thought I try to push away. I close my eyes and I try to listen. The rain’s stopped so there’s none of that clatter but the only Noise I can hear belongs to me and to Manchee and the distant wordless chatter of woodland creachers getting on with their lives that ain’t got nothing to do with mine.
No sound of Aaron. No space of silence for Viola.
I open my eyes and I see her bag.
Dropped in the struggle with Aaron, of no use or interest to him and just left on the ground like it don’t belong to no one, like it don’t matter that it’s Viola’s.
That bag so full of stupid and useful things.
My chest clenches and I cough painfully.
I can’t seem to stand so I crawl forward, gasping at the pain in my back and head but still crawling, Manchee barking, worried, “Todd, Todd,” all the time, and it takes forever, it takes too effing long but I get to the bag and I have to lean hunched with the pain for a minute before I can do anything with it. When I can breathe again I open it and fish around till I find the box with the bandages. There’s only one left but it’ll have to do. Then I start on the process of taking off my shirt which requires more stopping, more breathing, inch by inch, but finally it’s off my burning back and over my burning head and I can see blood and mud everywhere on it.
I find the scalpel in her medipak and cut the bandage in two. I put one part on my head, holding it till it sticks, and reach around slowly and put the other on my back. For a minute it hurts even more as the bandage material, the human cell whatever the hell she talked about, crawls into the wounds and makes a bind. I clench my teeth thru it but then the medicine starts to work and a flush of cool flows into my bloodstream. I wait for it to work enough till I can stand up. I’m wobbly when I first get to my feet but I can manage to just stand for a minute.
After another I can take a step. And then another.
But where do I go?
I’ve no idea where he took her. I’ve no idea how much time has passed. He could already be all the way back to the army by now.
“Viola?” Manchee barks, whimpering.
“I don’t know, fella,” I say. “Let me think.”
Even with the bandages doing their thing I can’t stand up straight all the way but I do my best and look around. The Spackle’s body is on the edge of my vision but I turn myself so I can’t see it.
Oh don’t deceive me. Oh never leave me.
I sigh and I know what I have to do.
“There ain’t nothing for it,” I say to Manchee. “We have to go back to the army.”
“Todd?” he whines.
“There ain’t nothing for it,” I say again and I put everything outta my head but moving.
First things first I need a new shirt.
I keep the Spackle to my back and turn to the rucksack.
The knife is still thru the cloth of the rucksack and the book inside. I don’t really wa
I look at it on the wet moss. There’s blood all over it still. Spackle blood mostly but my blood brighter red at the tip. I wonder if that means that Spackle blood got into my blood when Aaron stabbed me. I wonder if there are extra special viruses you can catch directly from Spackle.
But there’s no time for further wondering.
I open the rucksack and take out the book.
There’s a knife-shaped hole all the way thru and out the other side. The knife is so sharp and Aaron must be so strong that it’s hardly ruined the book at all. The pages have a slit ru
I could still read it, still have it read.
If I ever deserve to.
I push that thought away too and take out a clean shirt. I cough as I do and even with the bandages it hurts so I have to wait till I stop. My lungs feel filled with water, like I’m carrying a pile of river stones in my chest, but I put the shirt on, I gather what useable things I can still get from my rucksack, some clothes, my own medipak, what ain’t been ruined by Mr Prentiss Jr or the rain and I take them and my ma’s book over to Viola’s bag and put them inside cuz there’s no way I can carry a rucksack on my back no more.
And then there’s still the asking, ain’t there?
Where do I go?
I follow the road back to the army, that’s where I go.
I go to the army and somehow I save her, even if it’s changing my place for hers.
And for that I can’t go unarmed, can I?
No, I can’t.
I look at the knife again, sitting there on the moss like a thing without properties, a thing made of metal as separate from a boy as can be, a thing which casts all blame from itself to the boy who uses it.
I don’t wa
I have to do these things. There ain’t no choice.
The Spackle hovers on the edge of my vision but I do not look at it as I handle the knife.
“C’mon, Manchee.” I loop Viola’s bag as gingerly as I can over one shoulder.
Don’t deceive me. Never leave me.
Time to go.
“We’re go