Chaos Walking

by Patrick Ness

  “The flakes are too big to be much of a worry,” says the Mayor. “It’s when they’re small and coming down like rain that you’ve got a proper blizzard on the way.” He brushes them off his sleeve. “These are just a false promise.”

  “It’s still snow,” I say, watching the horses and the battlemore in the distance.

  “Come, Todd,” the Mayor says. “I need your help.”

  “My help?”

  He gestures around his face. “I may say I have no injur­ies, but the burn gel makes it easier to believe.”

  “But Mistress Lawson–”

  “Has gone back up to the hilltop,” he says. “You can put some on your hands at the same time. It’s efficient.”

  I look down at my hands, starting to sting again as the medicine wears off. “Okay,” I say.

  We head on over to the scout ship, landed in a corner of the square not far from us, get ourselves up the ramp and into the room of healing, where the Mayor sets himself down on a bed, takes off his uniform jacket and folds it next to him. He starts peeling off the bandages from the back of his head and neck.

  “You should keep those on,” I say. “They’re still fresh.”

  “They’re binding,” the Mayor says. “I’d like you to put new ones on a little more loosely, please.”

  I sigh. “Fine.” I go to the treatment drawers and take out some burn bandages, as well as a canister of the burn gel for his face. I unpeel the bandage wrappers and tell him to lean forward, placing them loosely on the horrible burnt stretch on the back of his head. “This don’t look too good,” I say, setting the bandage down lightly.

  “It’d be worse if you hadn’t saved me, Todd.” He sighs in relief as the medicine reaches into the burn, moving thru his system. He sits up for the gel, showing me his face, which has a smile on it, a smile that looks almost sad. “Remember when I bandaged you, Todd?” he asks. “All those months ago.”

  “I ain’t likely to be forgetting,” I say, spreading the gel on his forehead.

  “I think that was the moment we first really understood one another,” he says. “Where you saw that maybe I wasn’t all bad.”

  “Maybe,” I say, carefully, using two fingers to slop it across his red cheekbones.

  “That was the moment where this all really started.”

  “It started a hell of a lot earlier for me.”

  “And now here you are bandaging me in return,” he says. “At the moment where it ends.”

  I stop, hands still in the air. “Where what ends?”

  “Ben’s returned, Todd. I’m not ignorant of what that means.”

  “What does it mean?” I say, looking at him all wary.

  He smiles again and this time there’s sadness all over it. “I can still read you,” he says. “Nobody else can but then nobody else on this whole planet is like me, are they? I can read you even when you’re as silent as the black beyond.”

  I lean back from him.

  “You want to go with Ben,” he says, shrugging a little. “Perfectly understandable. When this is all over, you want to take Ben and Viola and start a new life away from here.” He grimaces a little. “Away from me.”

  His words ain’t threatening, they’re actually the goodbye I was expecting, but there’s this feeling in the room, this weird feeling–

  (and the hum–)

  (I’m noticing now for the first time–)

  (it’s completely gone from my head–)

  (which is somehow even more frightening than it being there–)

  “I ain’t yer son,” I say.

  “You might have been,” he says, almost in a whisper. “And what a son you would have made. Someone I could have finally handed over to. Someone with power in their Noise.”

  “I ain’t like you,” I say. “I ain’t never gonna be like you.”

  “No, you won’t,” he says. “Not with your real father here. Even though our uniforms match, eh, Todd?”

  I look down at my uniform. He’s right. It’s even nearly the same size as the Mayor’s.

  Then he turns his head slightly, looking past me. “You can come out now, Private. I know you’re there.”

  “What?” I say, turning towards the door.

  In time to see Ivan step into it. “The ramp was down,” he says, looking sheepish. “I was just a-making sure no one was in here who shouldn’t be.”

  “Always seeking where the power is, Private Farrow,” the Mayor says, smiling sadly. “Well, I’m afraid it’s not in here any more.”

  Ivan gives me a nervous glance. “I’ll just be a-going, then.”

  “Yes,” says the Mayor. “Yes, I think you finally will.”

  And he reaches calmly for his uniform jacket, folded nicely on the bed, and me and Ivan just stand there and watch as he reaches inside a pocket, takes out a gun, and without changing the expresshun on his face, shoots Ivan thru the head.

  {VIOLA}

  We’re right at the top of the hill when we hear it, taking the first steps into the Spackle camp, the Sky and 1017 waiting to greet us.

  I turn round in the saddle, looking back towards the city.

  “Was that a gunshot?” I say.

  [TODD]

  “Yer mad,” I say, my hands up now, edging towards the door, where Ivan’s body is spilling blood everywhere. He didn’t move, didn’t even flinch when the Mayor raised the gun, didn’t do nothing to stop his own death.

  And I know why.

  “You can’t control me,” I say. “You can’t. I’ll fight you and I’ll win.”

  “Will you, Todd?” he says, his voice still low. “Stop right there.”

  And I stop.

  My feet feel like they’re frozen to the ground. My hands are still up and I ain’t going nowhere.

  “All this time, you really believed you had the upper hand?” The Mayor rises from the sickbed, still holding the gun. “That’s almost sweet.” He laughs, as if fond of the sweetness. “And you know what? You did. You did have it. When you were acting like a proper son, I would have done anything you asked, Todd. I saved Viola, I saved this town, I fought for peace, all because you asked.”

  “Back off,” I say, but my feet still ain’t moving, I still can’t get them off the goddam ground.

  “And then you saved my life, Todd,” he says, still coming towards me. “You saved me instead of that woman and I thought, He’s with me. He’s really with me. He really is all I’ve ever wanted in a son.”

  “Let me go,” I say, but I can’t even put my hands to my ears.

  “And then Ben comes to town,” he says, a flash of fire in his voice. “Right at the moment when everything was complete. The moment where you and I had the fate of this world in the palm of our hands.” He opens his palm as if to show me the fate of the world. “And then it melted away just like the snow.”

  VIOLA, I think at him, right at his head.

  He smiles back. “Not quite as strong as you used to be, are you?” he asks. “Not quite as easy to do when your Noise is silent.”

  My stomach drops as I realize what he’s done.

  “Not what I’ve done, Todd,” he says, stepping right up to me. “What you’ve done. This is about what you have done.”

  He raises the gun.

  “You broke my heart, Todd Hewitt,” he says. “You broke a father’s heart.”

  And he slams the butt of the gun against my temple and the world goes black.

  The Future Arrives

  (THE RETURN)

  The sky rides over to me through the ice falling gently from the clouds above. It comes down like white leaves, already spreading a blanket of itself across the ground, coating us, too, on the battlemores we still ride.

  It is a messenger of things to come, the Sky shows happily. A sign of a new beginning, the past wiped clean so that we can start a new future.

  Or maybe it is just the weather, I show.

  He laughs. That is exactly how the Sky must think. Is it the future or is it just the we
ather?

  I ride forward to the lip of the hill, where I can see more clearly the group of three crossing the last empty field before the climb. They are coming now, not waiting until tomorrow, eager no doubt for further signs of peace to calm the dissension that is tearing them apart. The Sky already has the Land prepared where we blocked the river, as we know they will ask for it to be released, slowly, letting it resume its natural course.

  And we will give it to them. After negotiation, but we will give it to them.

  How do you know I will be the Sky? I ask. You cannot tell the Land who to choose. I have seen it in their voices. The Land comes to an agreement after the Sky has died.

  Correct, the Sky shows, pulling his lichen cloak around him tighter. But I can see no other choice they would make.

  I am not qualified, I show. I am still angry with the Clearing, and I cannot kill them, even when they deserve it.

  And do you not think that conflict is what makes the Sky? he shows. To seek a third choice when the two offered seem impossible? You alone know what it is like to carry that weight. You alone have already made these choices.

  Looking down, I can see now that, in addition to the Source, it is the two of the Clearing who were here before, the noisy man with the darker skin–

  And the Knife’s one in particular.

  And what do you make of the Knife, the Sky asks, now that you have seen him again in the flesh?

  Because there he was.

  Running towards the Source, seeing me but not even slowing, greeting the Source with so much joy, so much love, that I very nearly had to ride away right then. And the Source’s voice opened up so wide with the same feelings that it expanded out around everyone nearby.

  Including the Return.

  And for a moment, I was in that joy, I was inside that love and happiness, inside the reunion and the reconnection, and I saw the Knife again for the flawed Clearing that he was, and as the Source forgave the Knife, as the Source provided absolution for everything the Knife had done–

  For everything Todd had done–

  I felt my voice provide it, too, I felt my voice join with the Source’s and offer my own forgiveness, offer to let go and forget every wrong he had done to me, every wrong he had done to our people–

  Because I could see through the Source’s voice how the Knife punishes himself for his crimes more than I ever could–

  He is just one of the Clearing, I show to the Sky. As unremarkable as any of them.

  He is not, the Sky shows gently. He is as remarkable among them as the Return is among the Land. And that is why you could not forgive him when you arrived here. That is why your forgiveness of him now, even if only through the voice of the Source–

  I do not forgive him on my own–

  But you have seen how it is possible. And that in itself marks you yet again as remarkable.

  I do not feel remarkable, I show. I only feel tired.

  Peace is here at last, the Sky shows, reaching over to place a hand on my shoulder. You will rest. You will be happy.

  His voice is surrounding me now and I take a breath in surprise–

  For the future is in the Sky’s voice, a future he rarely speaks of, because it has been so dark lately–

  But here it is as bright as the falling flakes of ice–

  A future where the Clearing keeps its word and stays within its borders and where the body of the Land that surrounds us now on this hilltop can live unbothered by war–

  But one where the Clearing can learn to speak the voice of the Land, too, one where understanding is not only possible, but desired–

  A future where I work by the Sky’s side, learning what it is to be a leader–

  A future where he guides and teaches me–

  A future of sunlight and rest–

  A future with no more death–

  The Sky’s hand squeezes my shoulder ever so slightly.

  The Return has no father, he shows. The Sky has no son.

  And I understand what he is saying, what he is asking–

  And he sees my indecision–

  Because if he was lost to me like my one in particular–

  It is one possible future, he shows, warmth still in his voice. There may be others. He looks up. And here one arrives now.

  The Source leads them, happiness and optimism in his voice preceding him and greeting us as he crests the hill. The Clearing man is second, “Bradley” in their language, his own voice louder and harsher and much less far-reaching than the Source.

  And finally her. The Knife’s one in particular.

  Viola.

  She rides up over the hill, her steed leaving hoofprints in the gathered white of the ice. She looks far healthier than before, almost well, and I wonder for a moment at the change, I wonder if they have found a cure for the band, the one that still stings and burns on my own arm–

  But before I can ask, before the Sky can properly greet them, a crack resounds over the valley, strangely muffled under the blanket of white.

  A crack that is unmistakable.

  The Knife’s one in particular turns around quickly in her saddle.

  “Was that a gunshot?” she asks.

  A cloud immediately comes over the voice of the Source and the man of the Clearing, too.

  And the Sky. It could be nothing, he shows.

  “When has it ever been nothing in this place?” the man of the Clearing says.

  The Source turns to the Sky. Can our eyes see it? he asks. Are we near enough to see?

  “What do you mean?” the man of the Clearing asks. “See what?’

  Wait a moment, the Sky says.

  The Knife’s one in particular is holding a small box she has taken from her pocket. “Todd?” she says into it. “Todd, are you there?”

  But there is no answer.

  Not before we all hear a familiar sound–

  “That’s the ship!” the man from the Clearing says, spinning his steed round to see the vessel rising from the valley floor.

  “Todd!” the Knife’s one in particular yells into the metal box–

  But again there is no answer.

  What is happening? shows the Sky, command in his voice. We thought the pilot of the ship was killed–

  “She was,” the man from the Clearing says. “And I’m the only other one who knows how to fly it–”

  But there it is, lumbering into the air from the centre of their city–

  And beginning to fly right towards us–

  With increasing speed–

  “Todd!” the Knife’s one in particular is saying in increasing panic. “Answer me!”

  It’s Prentiss, the Source shows to the Sky. It can only be him.

  “But how?” the man from the Clearing demands.

  It doesn’t matter now, the Source shows. If it’s the Mayor–

  We need to run, finishes the Sky, turning to the Land and sending out the order instantly, run and run and RUN–

  And there is a whisking sound from the vessel, the vessel that is almost upon us, a whisking sound that makes us turn from where we have already started to flee–

  The vessel has fired its biggest weapons–

  Fired them right at us–

  [TODD]

  “Wake up, Todd,” says the Mayor’s voice over the comm system. “You’ll want to see this.”

  I groan and roll over–

  And bump into the body of Ivan, streaks of his blood spilling cross the floor as the ship rocks and rolls–

  As the ship rocks–

  I look up at the monitors. We’re in the air. We’re up in the bloody air–

  “What the hell?!” I yell–

  The Mayor’s face pops up on one of the screens. “How do you like my flying?” he says.

  “How?” I say, getting to my feet. “How do you know–?’

  “The exchange of knowledge, Todd,” he says and I see him adjust some controls. “Did you not listen to anything I told you? Once you’re c
onnected to the voice, you know everything it knows.”

  “Bradley,” I say, realizing. “You reached into him and took out how to fly the ship.”

  “Quite so,” he says and there’s that smile again. “It’s surprisingly easy. Once you know the knack.”

  “Put us down!” I shout. “Put us down right now–”

  “Or you’ll do what, Todd?” he asks. “You made your choice. Made it perfectly clear.”

  “It ain’t about choosing! Ben’s the only father I ever had–”

  Which, as soon as it’s outta my mouth, I know is the wrong thing to say cuz the Mayor’s eyes go darker than I ever seen ’em, and when he speaks, it’s like the black beyond coming down from above and outta his mouth.

  “I was your father, too,” he says. “I formed you and taught you and you would not be who you are today if it weren’t for me, Todd Hewitt.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I say. “I didn’t mean to hurt nobody–”

  “Intentions do not matter, Todd. Only actions. Like this one, for instance–”

  He reaches forward and presses a blue button.

  “Watch now,” he says–

  “No!” I shout–

  “Watch the end of this New World–”

  And in the other screens–

  I see two missiles fired outta the side of the scout ship–

  Fired right at the top of the hill–

  Right where she is–

  “Viola!” I scream. “VIOLA!’

  {VIOLA}

  There’s no place to run, nowhere we can possibly get away from the missiles whooshing towards us at impossible speed, streaks of steam through the falling snow–

  Todd, I have a split second to think–

  And then they hit with two huge cracks and the Spackle Noise screams and debris flies into the air–

  And–

  And–

  And we’re still here–

  No waves of heat and death, no top of the hill obliterated with us still standing on it–

  What happened? Ben asks as we all lift our heads again.

  There’s a gash in the riverbed and some smoke from where the missile hit but–