Free Chaos Walking: The Complete Trilogy by Patrick Ness Page B

with. It drops away and she rubs where it was tied, still staring at me, still not saying nothing.
    She knows. She knows I couldn’t do it.
    Goddam you, I think to myself. Goddam you.
    She looks at the knife. She looks over at Aaron, lying down in the water.
    He’s still breathing. He gurgles water with every breath, but he’s still breathing.
    I grip the knife. The girl looks at me, at the knife, at Aaron, at me again.
    Is she telling me? Is she telling me to do it?
    He’s lying there, undefended, probably eventually drowning.
    And I have a knife.
    I get to my feet, fall down from dizziness, and get to my feet again. I step towards him. I raise my knife. Again.
    The girl takes in a breath and I can feel her holding it.
    Manchee says, “Todd?”
    And I have my knife raised over Aaron. One more time, I’ve got my chance. One more time, I’ve got my knife raised.
    I could do it. No one on New World would blame me. It’d be my right.
    I could just do it.
    But a knife ain’t just a thing, is it? It’s a choice, it’s something you do . A knife says yes or no, cut or not, die or don’t. A knife takes a decision out of your hand and puts it in the world and it never goes back again.
    Aaron’s gonna die. His face is ripped, his head is bashed, he’s sinking into shallow water without ever waking up. He tried to kill me, he wanted to kill the girl, he’s responsible for the ruckus in town, he’s gotta be the one who sent the Mayor to the farm and cuz of that he’s responsible for Ben and Cillian. He deserves to die. He deserves it.
    And I can’t bring the knife down to finish the job.
    Who am I?
    I am Todd Hewitt.
    I am the biggest, effing waste of nothing known to man.
    I can’t do it.
    Goddam you, I think to myself again.
    “Come on,” I say to the girl. “We have to get outta here.”

At first I don’t think she’s gonna come. There’s no reason for her to, no reason for me to ask her, but when I say to her, “Come on, ” a second time more urgently and gesture with my hand, she follows me, follows Manchee, and that’s how it is, that’s what we do, who knows if it’s right, but that’s what we do.
    Night’s well and truly fallen. The swamp seems even thicker here, as black as anything. We rush on back a ways to get my rucksack and then around and a little bit further away in the dark to get some distance between us and Aaron’s body (please let it be a body). We clamber round trees and over roots, getting deeper into the swamp. When we get to a small clearing where there’s a bit of flat land and a break in the trees, I stop us.
    I’m still holding the knife. It rests there in my hand, shining at me like blame itself, like the word coward flashing again and again. It catches the light of both moons and my God it’s a powerful thing. A powerful thing, like I’d have to agree to be a part of it rather than it being a part of me.
    I reach behind me and put it in the sheath between my back and the rucksack where at least I won’t have to see it.
    I take the rucksack off and fish thru it for a torch.
    “Do you know how to use one of these?” I ask the girl, switching it on and off a coupla times.
    She just looks at me, as ever.
    “Never mind,” I say.
    My throat still hurts, my face still hurts, my chest still hurts, my Noise keeps pounding me with visions of bad news, of how good a fight Ben and Cillian managed to put up at the farm, of how long it’ll take Mr Prentiss Jr to find out where I’ve gone, of how long it’ll take him to be on his way after me, after us (not long at all, if he ain’t already), so who ruddy cares if she knows how to use a torch. Of course she don’t.
    I get the book out of the rucksack, using the torch for a light. I open up to the map again and I follow Ben’s arrows from our farm down the river and thru the swamp and then outta the swamp as it turns back into river.
    It’s not hard to find yer way outta the swamp. Out on the horizon beyond it, you can