The Knife of Never Letting Go

I open my eyes.

I’m in a bed, under a cover, in a small square room with white walls and sunlight pouring in at least two open windows with the sound of the river rushing by outside and birds flitting in the trees (and music, is that music?) and for a minute it’s not just that I don’t know where I am, I also don’t know who I am or what’s happened or why there’s an ache in my–

I see Viola, curled up asleep on a chair next to the bed, breathing thru her mouth, her hands pressed twixt her thighs.

I’m still too groggy to make my own mouth move and say her name just yet but my Noise must say it loud enough cuz her eyes flutter open and catch mine and she’s outta her seat in a flash with her arms wrapped around me and squishing my nose against her collarbone.

“Oh, Jesus, Todd,” she says, holding so tight it kinda hurts.

I put one hand on her back and I inhale her scent.

Flowers.

“I thought you were never coming back,” she says, squeezing tight. “I thought you were dead.”

“Wasn’t I?” I croak, trying to remember.

“You were sick,” Viola says, sitting back, knees still on my bed. “Really sick. Doctor Snow wasn’t sure you’d ever wake up and when a doctor admits that much–”

“Who’s Doctor Snow?” I ask, looking round the little room. “Where are we? Are we in Haven? And what’s that music?”

“We’re in a settlement called Carbonel Downs,” she says. “We floated down the river and–”

She stops cuz she sees me looking at the foot of the bed.

At the space where Manchee ain’t.

I remember.

My chest closes up. My throat clenches shut. I can hear him barking in my Noise. “Todd?” he’s saying, wondering why I’m leaving him behind. “Todd?” with an asking mark, just like that, forever asking where I’m going without him.

“He’s gone,” I say, like I’m saying it to myself.

Viola seems like she’s about to say something but when I glance up at her, her eyes are shiny and all she does is nod, which is the right thing, the thing I’d want.

He’s gone.

And I don’t know what to say about that.

“Is that Noise I hear?” says a loud voice, preceded by its own Noise thru a door opening itself at the foot of the bed. A man enters, a big man, tall and broad with glasses that make his eyes bug out and a flip in his hair and a crooked smile and Noise coming at me so filled with relief and joy it’s all I can do not to crawl out the window behind me.

“Doctor Snow,” Viola says to me, scooting off the bed to make way.

“Pleased to finally meet you, Todd,” Doctor Snow says, smiling big and sitting down on the bed and taking a device outta his front shirt pocket. He sticks two ends of it into his ears and places the other end on my chest without asking. “Could you take a deep breath for me?”

I don’t do nothing, just look at him.

“I’m checking if your lungs are clear,” he says and I realize what it is I’m noticing. His accent’s the closest to Viola’s I ever heard on New World. “Not exactly the same,” he says, “but close.”

“He’s the one who made you well,” Viola says.

I don’t say nothing but I take a deep breath.

“Good,” Doctor Snow says, placing the end of the device on another part of my chest. “Once more.” I breathe in and out. I find that I can breathe in and out, all the way down to the bottom of my lungs.

“You were a very sick boy,” he says. “I wasn’t sure we were going to be able to beat it. You weren’t even giving off Noise until yesterday.” He looks me in the eye. “Haven’t seen that sort of sickness for a long time.”

“Yeah, well,” I say.

“Haven’t heard of a Spackle attack for a very long time,” he says. I don’t say nothing to this, just breathe deep. “That’s great, Todd,” the doctor says. “Could you take off your shirt, please?”

I look at him, then over to Viola.

“I’ll wait outside,” she says and out she goes.

I reach behind me to pull my shirt over my head and as I do I realize there’s no pain twixt my shoulderblades.

“Took some stitches, that one,” Doctor Snow says, moving around behind me. He puts the device against my back.

I flinch away. “That’s cold.”

“She wouldn’t leave your side,” he says, ignoring me and checking different places for my breath. “Not even to sleep.”

“How long I been here?”

“This is the fifth morning.”

“Five days?” I say and he barely has a chance to say yes before I’m pulling back the covers and getting outta the bed. “We gotta get outta here,” I say, a little unsteady on my feet but standing nonetheless.

Viola leans back in the doorway. “I’ve been trying to tell them that.”

“You’re safe here,” Doctor Snow says.

“We’ve heard that before,” I say. I look to Viola for support but all she does is stifle a smile and I realize I’m standing there in just a pair of holey and seriously worn-out underpants that ain’t covering as much as they should. “Hey!” I say, moving my hands down to the important bits.

“You’re safe as you’re going to be anywhere,” Doctor Snow says behind me, handing me a pair of my trousers from a neatly washed pile by the bed. “We were one of the main fronts in the war. We know how to defend ourselves.”

“That was Spackle.” I turn my back to Viola and shove my legs in the trousers. “This is men. A thousand men.”

“So the rumours say,” Doctor Snow says. “Even though it’s not actually numerically possible.”

“I don’t know nothing from numerickly,” I say, “but they got guns.”

“We have guns.”

“And horses.”

“We’ve got horses.”

“Do you have men who’ll join them?” I say, challenging him.

He don’t say nothing to that, which is satisfying. Then again, it ain’t satisfying at all. I button up my trousers. “We need to go.”

“You need to rest,” the doctor says.

“We ain’t staying and waiting for the army to show up.” I turn to include Viola, turn without thinking to the space where my dog’d be waiting for me to include him too.