The Knife of Never Letting Go (Page 87)
And it hurts her, but it’s an okay hurt, but it hurts still, but it’s good, but it hurts.
She hurts.
I know all this.
I know it’s true.
Cuz I can read her.
I can read her Noise even tho she ain’t got none.
I know who she is.
I know Viola Eade.
I raise my hands to the side of my head to hold it all in.
“Viola,” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“I know,” she says quietly, pulling her arms tight around her, still facing away from me.
And I look at her sitting there and she looks across the river and we wait as the dawn fully arrives, each of us knowing.
Each of us knowing the other.
The sun creeps up into the sky and the river is loud as we look across it and we can now see it rushing fast down towards the valley’s end, throwing up whitewater and rapids.
It’s Viola who breaks the spell that’s fallen twixt us. “You know what it has to be, don’t you?” she says. She takes out the binos and looks downriver. The sun is rising at the end of the valley. She has to shield the lenses with her hand.
“What is it?” I say.
She presses a button or two and looks again.
“What do you see?” I ask.
She hands the binos to me.
I look downriver, following the rapids, the foam, right to–
Right to the end.
A few kilometres away, the river ends in mid-air.
“Another falls,” I say.
“Looks way bigger than the one we saw with Wilf,” she says.
“The road’ll find a way past it,” I say. “Shouldn’t bother us.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“What then?”
“I mean,” she says, frowning a bit at my denseness, “that falls that big’re bound to have a city at the bottom of them. That if you had to choose a place anywhere on a planet for first settlement, then a valley at the base of a waterfall with rich farmland and ready water might just look perfect from space.”
My Noise rises a little but only a little.
Cuz who would dare to think?
“Haven,” I say.
“I’ll bet you anything we’ve found it,” she says. “I’ll bet you when we get to that waterfall we’ll be able to see it below us.”
“If we run,” I say, “we could be there in an hour. Less than”
She looks me in the eye for the first time since my ma’s book.
And she says, “If we run?”
And then she smiles.
A genuine smile.
And I know what that means, too.
We grab up our few things and go.
Faster than before.
My feet are tired and sore. Hers must be, too. I’ve got blisters and aches and my heart hurts from all I miss and all that’s gone. And hers does, too.
But we run.
Boy, do we run.
Cuz maybe (shut up)–
Just maybe (don’t think it)–
Maybe there really is hope at the end of the road.
The river grows wider and straighter as we rush on and the walls of the valley move in closer and closer, the one on our side getting so close the edge of the road starts to slope up. Spray from the rapids is floating in the air. Our clothes get wet, our faces, too, and hands. The roar becomes thunderous, filling up the world with itself, almost like a physical thing, but not in a bad way. Like it’s washing you, like it’s washing the Noise away.
And I think, Please let Haven be at the bottom of the falls.
Please.
Cuz I see Viola looking back to me as we run and there’s brightness on her face and she keeps urging me on with tilts of her head and smiles and I think how hope may be the thing that pulls you forward, may be the thing that keeps you going, but that it’s dangerous, too, that it’s painful and risky, that it’s making a dare to the world and when has the world ever let us win a dare?
Please let Haven be there.
Oh please oh please oh please.
The road finally starts rising a bit, pulling up above the river slightly as the water starts really crashing thru rocky rapids. There ain’t no more wooded bits twixt us and it now at all, just a hill climbing up steeper and steeper on our right side as the valley closes in and then nothing but river and the falls ahead.
“Almost there,” Viola calls from ahead of me, running, her hair bouncing off the back of her neck, the sun shining down on everything.
And then.
And then, at the edge of the cliff, the road comes to a lip and takes a sudden angle down and to the right.
And that’s where we stop.
The falls are huge, half a kilometre across easy. The water roars over the cliff in a violent white foam, sending spray hundreds of metres out into the sheer drop and above and all around, soaking us in our clothes and throwing rainbows all over the place as the rising sun lights it.
“Todd,” Viola says, so faintly I can barely hear it.
But I don’t need to.
I know what she means.
As soon as the falls start falling, the valley opens up again, wide as the sky itself, taking the river that starts again at the base of the falls, which crashes forward with whitewater before it pools and calms down and becomes a river again.
And flows into Haven.
Haven.
Gotta be.
Spread out below us like a table full of food.
“There it is,” Viola says.
And I feel her fingers wrap around my own.
The falls to our left, spray and rainbows in the sky, the sun rising ahead of us, the valley below.
And Haven, sitting waiting.
It’s three, maybe four kilometres away down the farther valley.
But there it is.
There it ruddy well is.
I look round us, round to where the road has taken a sharp turn at our feet, sloping down and cutting into the valley wall to our right but then zig-zagging its way steeply down in a twisty pattern so even it’s like a zipper running down the hillside to where it picks up the river again.
And follows it right into Haven.
“I want to see it,” Viola says, letting go of my hand and taking out the binos. She looks thru them, wipes spray off the lenses, and looks some more. “It’s beautiful,” she says and that’s all she says and she just looks and wipes off more spray.
After a minute and without saying nothing more, she hands me the binos and I get my first look at Haven.
The spray is so thick, even wiping it down you can’t see details like people or anything but there are all kindsa different buildings, mostly surrounding what looks like a big church at the centre, but other big buildings, too, and proper roads curling outta the middle thru trees to more groups of buildings.