The Knife of Never Letting Go

But I ain’t listening to her.

“No,” I whisper. “No, it can’t be.”

“What?” Viola says, her voice changing.

“Shh.” I listen close again, trying to calm my Noise so I can hear it.

“It’s coming from the river,” she whispers.

“Shh,” I say again, cuz my chest is starting to rise, my Noise starting to buzz too loud to be of any use at all.

Out there, against the rush of the water and the Noise of the birdsong, there’s–

“A song,” Viola says, real quiet. “Someone’s singing.”

Someone’s singing.

And what they’re singing is:

Early one mor-r-ning, just as the sun was ri-i-sing . . .

And my Noise surges louder as I say it.

“Ben.”

I run down to the river’s edge and stop and listen again.

Oh don’t deceive me.

“Ben?” I say, trying to shout and whisper at the same time.

Viola comes thumping up behind me. “Not your Ben?” she says. “Is it your Ben?”

I shush her with my hand and listen and try to pick away the river and the birds and my own Noise and there, just there under it all–

Oh never leave me.

“Other side of the river,” Viola says and takes off across the bridge, feet smacking against the wood. I’m right behind her, passing her, listening and looking and listening and looking and there and there and there–

There in the leafy shrubs on the other side of the water–

It’s Ben.

It really is Ben.

He’s crouched down behind leafy greenery, hand against a tree trunk, watching me come to him, watching me run across the bridge, and as I near him, his face relaxes and his Noise opens up as wide as his arms and I’m flying into ’em both, leaping off the bridge and into the bushes and nearly knocking him over and my heart is busting open and my Noise is as bright as the whole blue sky and–

And everything’s gonna be all right.

Everything’s gonna be all right.

Everything’s gonna be all right.

It’s Ben.

And he’s gripping me tight and he’s saying, “Todd,” and Viola’s standing back a ways, letting me greet him, and I’m hugging him and hugging him and it’s Ben, oh Christ Almighty, it’s Ben Ben Ben.

“It’s me,” he says, laughing a little cuz I’m crushing the air outta his lungs. “Oh, it’s good to see ya, Todd.”

“Ben,” I say, leaning back from him and I don’t know what to do with my hands so I just grab his shirt front in my fists and shake him in a way that’s gotta mean love. “Ben,” I say again.

He nods and smiles.

But there’s creases round his eyes and already I can see the beginnings of it, so soon it’s gotta be right up front in his Noise, and I have to ask, “Cillian?”

He don’t say nothing but he shows it to me, Ben running back to a farmhouse already in flames, already burning down, with some of the Mayor’s men inside but with Cillian, too, and Ben grieving, grieving still.

“Aw, no,” I say, my stomach sinking, tho I’d long guessed it to be true.

But guessing a thing ain’t knowing a thing.

Ben nods again, slow and sad, and I notice now that he’s dirty and there’s blood clotted on his nose and he looks like he ain’t eaten for a week but it’s still Ben and he can still read me like no other cuz his Noise is already asking me bout Manchee and I’m already showing him and here at last my eyes properly fill and rush over and he takes me in his arms again and I cry for real over the loss of my dog and of Cillian and of the life that was.

“I left him,” I say and keep saying, snot-filled and coughing. “I left him.”

“I know,” he says and I can tell it’s true cuz I hear the same words in his Noise. I left him, he thinks.

But after only a minute I feel him gently pushing me back and he says, “Listen, Todd, there ain’t much time.”

“Ain’t much time for what?” I sniffle but I see he’s looking over at Viola.

“Hi,” she says, eyes all alert.

“Hi,” Ben says. “You must be her.”

“I must be,” she says.

“You been taking care of Todd?”

“We’ve been taking care of each other.”

“Good,” Ben says, and his Noise goes warm and sad. “Good.”

“C’mon,” I say, taking his arm and trying to pull him back towards the footbridge. “We can get you something to eat. And there’s a doctor–”

But Ben ain’t moving. “Can you keep an eye out for us?” he asks Viola. “Let us know if you see anything, anything at all. Either from the settlement or the road.”

Viola nods and catches my eye as she steps outta the green and back to the path.

“Things have escalated,” Ben says to me, low, serious as a heart attack. “You gotta get to a place called Haven. Fast as you can.”

“I know that, Ben,” I say, “why do you–?”

“There’s an army after you.”

“I know that, too. And Aaron. But now that yer here we can–”

“I can’t come with you,” he says.

My mouth hangs open. “What? Course you can–”

But he’s shaking his head. “You know I can’t.”

“We can find a way,” I say, but already my Noise is whirling, thinking, remembering.

“Prentisstown men ain’t welcome anywhere on New World,” he says.

I nod. “They ain’t too happy bout Prentisstown boys, neither.”

He takes my arm again. “Has anyone hurt you?”

I look at him quietly. “Lots of people,” I say.

He bites his lip and his Noise gets even sadder.

“I looked for you,” he says. “Day and night, following the army, getting round it, ahead of it, listening for rumours of a boy and a girl travelling alone. And here you are and yer okay and I knew you would be. I knew it.” He sighs and there’s so much love and sadness in it I know he’s about to say the truth. “But I’m a danger to you in New World.” He gestures at the bush we’re hiding in, hiding in like thieves. “Yer gonna have to make it the rest of the way alone.”

“I ain’t alone,” I say, without thinking.

He smiles, but it’s still sad. “No,” he says. “No, yer not, are ya?” He looks around us again, peering thru the leaves and over the river to Doctor Snow’s house. “Were you sick?” he asks. “I heard yer Noise yesterday morning coming down the river but it was feverish and sleeping. I been waiting here ever since. I was worried something was really wrong.”