The Knife of Never Letting Go

The knife is alive.

As long as I hold it, as long as I use it, the knife lives, lives in order to take life, but it has to be commanded, it has to have me to tell it to kill, and it wants to, it wants to plunge and thrust and cut and stab and gouge, but I have to want it to as well, my will has to join with its will.

I’m the one who allows it and I’m the one responsible.

But the knife wanting it makes it easier.

If it comes to it, will I fail?

“No,” whispers the knife.

“Yes,” whispers the wind down the river.

A drop of sweat from my forehead splashes on the blade and the knife is just a knife again, just a tool, just a piece of metal in my hand.

Just a knife.

I lay it on the floor of the boat.

I’m shaking again, still. I cough up more goo. I look up and around me, ignoring the waviness of the world and letting the wind cool me down. The river’s starting to bend and I keep on floating down it.

Here it comes, I think. Ain’t no stopping it.

I look up and over the trees to my left.

My teeth are chattering.

I don’t see no smoke yet.

C’mon, boy, it’s the next thing that has to happen.

And no smoke.

And no smoke.

And the river’s bending more.

C’mon, Manchee.

And no smoke.

And chatter chatter chatter go my teeth. I huddle my arms to myself–

And smoke! The first small puffs of it, coming up like cotton balls farther down the river.

Good dog, I think, holding my teeth together. Good dog.

The boat’s tending a bit mid-river so I row as best I can and guide it back to the river’s edge.

I’m shaking so bad I can barely hang on to the oar.

The river’s bending more.

And there’s the forked tree, the tree struck by lightning, coming up on my left.

The sign that I’m almost there.

Aaron’ll be just beyond it.

Here it comes.

I cough and sweat and tremble but I’m not letting go of the oar. I row some more, closer to the edge. If Viola can’t run for any reason, I’m go

I keep my Noise as blank as I can but the world’s closing up in folds of light and shimmer so there’s no chance of that. I’ll just have to hope the wind’s loud enough and that Manchee–

“Todd! Todd! Todd!” I hear from a distance. My dog, barking my name to lure Aaron away. “Todd! Todd! Todd!”

The wind’s keeping me from hearing Aaron’s Noise so I don’t even know if this is working but I’m moving past the forked tree so there’s nothing for it now–

“Todd! Todd!”

C’mon, c’mon–

The forked tree passing by–

I crouch down in the boat–

“Todd! Todd!” getting fainter, moving back–

Snappings of branches–

And then I hear “TODD HEWITT!!” roared loud as a lion–

As a lion moving away–

“C’mon,” I whisper to myself, “c’mon, c’mon, c’mon–”

My clenched fists trembling around the oar and–

Round the bend and–

Past the tree and–

The campsite comes and–

There she is.

There she is.

Aaron’s gone and there she is.

Lying on the ground in the middle of his campsite.

Not moving.

My heart ratchets up and I cough without even noticing and I say, “Please, please, please,” under my breath and I paddle the board furiously and get the boat closer and closer to the river’s edge and I stand and leap out into the water and I fall on my rump but I still catch the front of the boat in my hands and “please, please, please” and I get up and I drag the boat far enough up the riverbank and I let go and I run and stumble and run to Viola Viola Viola–

“Please,” I say as I run, my chest clenching and coughing and hurting, “Please.”

I get to her and there she is. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is open a little and I put my head to her chest, shutting out the buzz of my Noise and the shouting of the wind and the barking and yelling versions of my name coming outta the woods around me.

“Please,” I whisper.

And thump, thump.

She’s alive.

“Viola,” I whisper fiercely. I’m starting to see little flashing spots before my eyes but I ignore them. “Viola!”

I shake her shoulders and take her face in my hand and shake that, too.

“Wake up,” I whisper. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

I can’t carry her. I’m too shaking and lopsided and weak.

But I’ll ruddy well carry her if I have to.

“Todd! Todd! Todd!” I hear Manchee barking from deep in the woods.

“Todd Hewitt!” I hear Aaron yell as he chases my dog.

And then, from below me, I hear, “Todd?”

“Viola?” I say and my throat is clenching and my eyes are blurring.

But she’s looking back at me.

“You don’t look too good,” she says, her voice slurring and her eyes sleepy. I notice some bruising underneath her eyes and my stomach clenches in anger.

“Ya gotta get up,” I whisper.

“He drugged . . .” she says, closing her eyes.

“Viola?” I say, shaking her again. “He’s coming back, Viola. We gotta get outta here.”

I can’t hear no more barking.

“We gotta go,” I say. “Now!”

“I weigh too much,” she says, her words melting together.

“Please, Viola,” I say and I’m practically weeping it. “Please.”

She blinks open her eyes.

She looks into mine.

“You came for me,” she says.

“I did,” I say, coughing.

“You came for me,” she says again, her face crumpling a little.

Which is when Manchee comes flying outta the bushes, barking my name like his life depended on it.

“TODD! TODD! TODD!” he yelps, ru

Viola lets out a little cry and with a push that nearly knocks me over she gets to her feet and catches me as I fall and we steady ourselves against each other and I manage to point to the boat.

“There!” I say, trying hard to catch my breath.

And we run for it–

Across the campsite–

Towards the boat and the river–

Manchee bounding on ahead and clearing the front of the boat with a leap–

Viola’s stumbling ahead of me–

And we’re five–

Four–

Three steps away–

And Aaron comes pounding outta the woods behind us–

His Noise so loud I don’t even need to look–

“TODD HEWITT!!”

And Viola’s reached the front of the boat and is falling in–

And two steps–

And one–

And I reach it and push with all my strength to get it back into the river–

And “TODD HEWITT!!”

And he’s closer–

And the boat don’t move–

“I WILL PUNISH THE WICKED!”

And closer still–

And the boat don’t move–

And his Noise is hitting me as hard as a punch–

And the boat moves–

Step and step and my feet are in the water and the boat’s moving–

And I’m falling–

And I don’t have the strength to get in the boat–

And I’m falling into the water as the boat moves away–

And Viola grabs my shirt and yanks me up till my head and shoulders are over the front–

“NO, YOU DON’T!” Aaron roars–

And Viola calls out as she pulls me again and my front’s in the boat–

And Aaron’s in the water–

And he’s grabbing my feet–

“No!” Viola screams and grips me harder, pulling with all her strength–

And I’m lifted in the air–

And the boat stops–

And Viola’s face is twisted in the effort–

But it’s a tug of war which only Aaron’s ever go

And then I hear “TODD!” barked in a voice so ferocious I wonder for a minute if a croc’s raised outta the water–

But it’s Manchee–

It’s Manchee–

It’s my dog my dog my dog and he’s leaping past Viola and I feel his feet hit my back and leave it again as he launches himself at Aaron with a snarl and a howl and a “TODD!” and Aaron calls out in anger–

And he lets go of my feet.

Viola lurches back but she don’t let go and I go tumbling into the boat on top of her.