by Patrick Ness
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.
There’s gotta be at least fifty buildings in all.
Maybe a hundred.
It’s the biggest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
“I’ve got to say,” Viola shouts, “it’s kind of smaller than I expected.”
But I don’t really hear her.
With the binos, I follow the river road back from it and I see what’s probably a roadblock with what might be a fortified fence running away from it and to either side.
“They’re getting ready,” I say. “They’re getting ready to fight.”
Viola looks at me, worried. “You think it’s big enough? You think we’re safe?”
“Depends on if the rumours of the army are true or not.”
I look behind us, by instinct, as if the army was just waiting there for us to move on. I look up the valley hill next to us. Could be a good view.
“Let’s find out,” I say.
We run back down the road a piece, looking for a good climbing spot, find one and make our way up. My legs feel light as I climb, my Noise clearer than it’s been in days. I’m sad for Ben, I’m sad for Cillian, I’m sad for Manchee, I’m sad for what’s happened to me and Viola.
But Ben was right.
There’s hope at the bottom of the biggest waterfall.
And maybe it don’t hurt so much after all.
We climb up thru the trees. The hill is steep above the river and we have to pull on vines and hang on to rocks to make our way up high enough to look back down the road, till the valley is stretching out beneath us.
I still have the binos and I look downriver and down the road and over the treetops. I keep having to wipe spray away.
I look.
“Can you see them?” Viola asks.
I look, the river getting smaller into the far distance, back and back and back.
“No,” I say.
I look.
And again.
And–
There.
Down in the deepest curve of the road in the deepest part of the valley, in farthest shadow against the rising sun, there they are.
A mass that’s gotta be the army, marching its way forward, so far away I can only tell it’s them at all cuz it looks like dark water flowing into a dry riverbed. It’s hard to get detail at this distance but I can’t see individual men and I don’t think I can see horses.
Just a mass, a mass pouring itself down the road.
“How big is it?” she asks. “How big has it grown?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Three hundred? Four? I don’t know. We’re too far to really–”
I stop.
“We’re too far to really tell.” I crack another smile. “Miles and miles.”
“We beat them,” Viola says, a smile coming, too. “We ran and they chased us and we beat them.”
“We’ll get to Haven and we’ll warn whoever’s in charge,” I say, talking faster, my Noise rising with excitement. “But they’ve got battle lines and the approach is real narrow and the army’s at least the rest of the day away, maybe even tonight, too, and I swear that can’t be a thousand men.”
I swear it.
(But.)
Viola’s smiling the tiredest, happiest smile I ever saw. She takes my hand again. “We beat them.”
But then the risks of hope rise again and my Noise greys a little. “Well, we ain’t there yet and we don’t know if Haven can–”
But she’s shaking her head. “Nuh-uh,” she says. “We beat them. You listen to me and you be happy, Todd Hewitt. We’ve spent all this time outrunning an army and guess what? We outran them.”
She looks at me, smiling, expecting something from me.
My Noise is buzzing and happy and warm and tired and relieved and a little bit worried still but I’m thinking that maybe she’s right, maybe we did win and maybe I should put my arms round her if it didn’t feel weird and I find that in the middle of it all I do actually agree with her.
“We beat them,” I say.
And then she does stick her arms round me and pulls tight, like we might fall down, and we just stand there on the wet hillside and breathe for a little bit.
She smells a little less like flowers but it’s okay.
And I look out and the falls are below us, charging away, and Haven glitters thru the sunlit spray and the sun is shining down the length of the river above the falls, lighting it up like a snake made of metal.
And I let my Noise bubble with little sparks of happy and my gaze flow back along the length of the river and–
No.
Every muscle in my body jolts.
“What?” Viola says, jumping back.
She whips her head round to where I’m looking.
“What?” she says again.
And then she sees.
“No,” she says. “No, it can’t be.”
Coming down the river is a boat.
Close enough to see without binos.
Close enough to see the rifle and the robe.
Close enough to see the scars and the righteous anger.
Rowing his way furiously towards us, coming like judgement itself.
Aaron.
“Has he seen us?” Viola asks, her voice pulled taut.
I point the binos. Aaron rears up in them, huge and terrifying. I press a few buttons to push him back. He’s not looking at us, just rowing like an engine to get the boat to the side of the river and the road.
His face is torn and horrible, clotted and bloody, the hole in his cheek, the new hole where his nose used to be, and still, underneath all that, a look feroshus and devouring, a look without mercy, a look that won’t stop, that won’t never, never stop.
War makes monsters of men, I hear Ben saying.
There’s a monster coming towards us.
“I don’t think he’s seen us,” I say. “Not yet.”
“Can we outrun him?”
“He’s got a gun,” I say, “and you can see all the way down that road to Haven.”
“Off the road then. Through the trees.”
“There ain’t that many twixt us and the road down. We’ll have to be fast.”
“I can be fast,” she says.
And we jump on down the hill, skidding down leaves and wet vines, using rocks as handholds best we can. The tree cover is light and we can still see down the river, see Aaron as he rows.
Which means he can see us if he looks in the right place.
“Hurry!” Viola says.
Down–
And down–
And sliding to the road–
And squelching in the mud at the roadside–
And as we get to the road he’s outta sight again, still up the river–
But only for a second–
Cuz there he is–
The current bringing him fast–
Coming down the river–
In full view–
Looking right at us.
The roar of the falls is loud enough to eat you, but I still hear it.
I’d hear it if I was on the other side of the planet.
“TODD HEWITT!”
And he’s reaching for his rifle.
“Go!” I shout.
Viola’s feet hit the ground running and I’m right behind her, heading for the lip of the road that goes down to the zigzags.
It’s fifteen steps, maybe twenty till we can disappear over the edge–
We run like we’ve spent the last two weeks resting–
Pound pound pound against the road–
I check back over my shoulder–
To see Aaron try to take the rifle in one hand–
Try to balance it while keeping the boat steady–
It’s bouncing in the rapids, knocking him back and forth–
“He won’t be able to,” I yell to Viola. “He can’t row and fire at the same–”
CRACK!
A pop of mud flies up outta the road next to Viola’s feet ahead of me–
I cry out and Viola cries out and we both instinctively flinch down–
Running faster and faster–
Pound pound pound–
Run run run run run my Noise chugs like a rocket–
Not looking back–
Five steps–
Run run–
Three–
CRACK!
And Viola falls–
“NO!” I shout–
And she’s falling over the lip of the road, tripping down the other side and crashing down in a roll–
“NO!” I shout again and leap after her–
Stumbling down the steep incline–
Pounding down to where she’s rolling–
No–
Not this–
Not now–
Not when we’re–
Please no–
And she tumbles to some low shrubs at the side of the road and keeps going into them–
And stops face down.
And I’m racing towards her and I’m barely in control of my own standing up and I’m kneeling down already in the brush and I’m grabbing her and rolling her over and I’m looking for the blood and the shot and I’m saying, “No no no no no–”
And I’m almost blinded by rage and despair and the false promise of hope and no no no–
And she opens her eyes–
She’s opening her eyes and she’s grabbing me and she’s saying, “I’m not hit, I’m not hit.”
“Yer not?” I say, shaking her a little. “Yer sure?”
“I just fell,” she says. “I swear I felt the bullet fly right by my eyes and I fell. I’m not hurt.”
And I’m breathing heavy and heavy and heavy.
“Thank God,” I say. “Thank God.”
And the world spins and my Noise whirls.
And she’s already getting to her feet and I’m up after her standing in the scrub and looking at the road around and below us.
The falls are crashing over the cliff to our left and the twisting road is both behind us and in front of us as it starts doubling back on itself and making the steep zipper down to the bottom of the falls.
It’s a clear shot all the way.
No trees, just low scrub.
“He’ll pick us off,” Viola says, looking back up to the top of the road, to where we can’t see Aaron no doubt making his way to the river’s edge, stomping thru roaring water, walking on it for all I know.
“TODD HEWITT!” we hear again, faint over the roar of the water but loud as the whole entire universe.
“There’s nowhere to hide,” Viola says, looking around us and down. “Not till we get to the bottom.”
I’m looking round, too. The hillsides are too steep, the road too open, the areas between the road’s double-backs too shallow with shrubs.
Nowhere to hide.
“TODD HEWITT!”
Viola points up. “We could get up to those trees on top of the hill.”
But it’s so steep, I can already hear the hope failing in her voice.
And I spin round, looking still–
And then I see.
A little faint trail, skinny as anything, hardly even there, leading away from the first turn of the road and towards the falls. It disappears after a few metres but I follow it to where it might have gone.
Right to the cliffside.
Right down sharp to a place almost below the falls.
Right to a ledge that’s almost hidden.
A ledge underneath the waterfall itself.
I take a few steps outta the scrub and back onto the road. The little trail disappears.
So does the ledge.
“What is it?” Viola asks.
I go back into the scrub again.
“There,” I say, pointing. “Can you see it?”
She squints where I’m pointing. The fall is casting a little shadow on the ledge, darkening where the little trail ends.
“You can see it from here,” I say, “but you can’t see it from the road.” I look at her. “We’ll hide.”
“He’ll hear you,” she says. “He’ll come after us.”
“Not over this roar, not if I don’t shout in my Noise.”
Her forehead creases and she looks down at the road to Haven and up to where Aaron’s gotta be coming any second.
“We’re so close,” she says.
I take her arm and start pulling on it. “Come on. Just till he passes. Just till dark. With luck he’ll think we doubled back into the trees above.”
“If he finds us, we’re trapped.”
“And if we run for the city, he shoots us.” I look in her eyes. “It’s a chance. It gives us a chance.”
“Todd–”
“Come with me,” I say, looking right into her as hard as I can, pouring out as much hope as I can muster. Oh never leave me. “I promise I’ll get you to Haven tonight.” I squeeze her arm. Oh don’t deceive me. “I promise you.”
She looks right back at me, listening to it all, and then gives a single, sharp nod and we run to the little trail and down to where it ends and jump over the scrub to where it should continue and–
“TODD HEWITT!”
He’s almost to the falls–
And we scrabble down a steep embankment next to the edge of the water, the steepness of the hill rearing above us–
And slide down and over to the edge of the cliff–
The falls straight ahead–
And I get to the edge and I suddenly have to lean back into Viola cuz the drop goes straight down–
She grabs onto my shirt and holds me up–
And the water is smashing down right in front of us to the rocks below–
And the ledge leading under it all is just there–
Needing a jump over emptiness to get to it–
“I didn’t see this part,” I say, Viola grabbing at my waist to keep us from tumbling over.
“TODD HEWITT!”
He’s close, he’s so close–
“Now or never, Todd,” she says in my ear–
And she lets go of me–
And I jump across–
And I’m in the air–
And the edge of the falls is shooting over my head–
And I land–
And I turn–
And she’s jumping after me–
And I grab her and we fall backwards onto the ledge together–
And we lay there breathing–
And listening–
And all we hear for a second is the roar of the water over us now–
And then, faint, against it all–
“TODD HEWITT!”
And he suddenly sounds miles away.
And Viola’s on top of me and I’m breathin
g heavy into her face and she’s breathing heavy into mine.
And we’re looking in each other’s eyes.
And it’s too loud to hear my Noise.
After a second, she puts her hands on either side of me and pushes herself away. She looks up as she does and her eyes go wide.
I can just hear her say, “Wow.”
I roll away and look up.
Wow.
The ledge is more than just a little ledge. It carries on till it’s back, way back under the waterfall. We’re standing at the beginning of a tunnel with one wall made of rock and another made of pure falling water, roaring past white and clean and so fast it looks almost solid.
“Come on,” I say and head on down the ledge, my shoes slipping and sliding under me. It’s rocky and wet and slimy and we lean as close as we can to the rock side, away from the thundering water.
The noise is just tremendous. All-consuming, like a real thing you could taste and touch.
So loud, Noise is obliterated.
So loud, it’s the quietest I’ve ever felt.
We scramble on down the ledge, under the falls, making our way over rocky bumps and little pools with green goop growing in them. There are roots, too, hanging down from the rocks above, belonging to who knows what kinda plant.
“Do these look like steps to you?” Viola shouts, her voice small in the roar.
“TODD HEWITT!!” we hear from what sounds like a million miles away.
“Is he finding us?” Viola asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t think so.”
The cliff face isn’t even and the ledge curves round it as it stretches forward. We’re both soaking wet and the water is cold and it’s not easy grabbing onto the roots to keep our balance.
Then the ledge suddenly drops down and widens out, carved steps becoming more obvious. It’s almost a stairway down.
Someone’s been here before.
We descend, the water thundering inches away from us.
We get to the bottom.
“Whoa,” Viola says behind me and I just know she’s looking up.
The tunnel opens up abruptly and the ledge widens at the same time to become a cavern made of water, the rocks stretching up way over our heads, the falls slamming down past them in a wall curving way out like a moving, living sail, enclosing the wall and the shelf under our feet.
But that’s not the whoa.
“It’s a church,” I say.
It’s a church. Someone has moved or carved rocks into four rows of simple pews with an aisle down the middle, all facing a taller rock, a pulpit, a pulpit with a flat surface which a preacher could stand on and preach with a blazing white wall of water crashing down behind him, the morning sun lighting it up like a sheet of stars, filling the room with shimmering sparkles on every shiny wet surface, all the way back to a carved circle in the stone with two smaller carved circles orbiting it to one side, New World and its moons, the settler’s new home of hope and God’s promise somehow painted a waterproof white and practically glowing on the rock wall, looking down and lighting up the church.
