Protectors - Book one of Beyond These Walls: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller

by Michael Robertson

  The gate slammed above Spike, making him jump. He looked up at the grey sky and listened to metal scraping metal as they secured the pin. Too deep in the ground to hear any more of Ranger’s protests, he focused on his breaths. If they were going to keep him there for the night, he had to stand at ease before his body turned into one large spasming cramp.

  Spike heard something. He fought against the shake now running through him and peered into the darkness, the weak glow from above still bright enough to make it impossible to see his much darker surroundings. He stepped forward a pace.

  It sounded like movement.

  As his eyes adjusted, he saw a caged wall no more than four feet from where he stood. He squinted to look at it. Why did they have a cage down there? Maybe it stopped the hole from caving in.

  Then he heard footsteps. The slathering pant of a diseased. The slam of it crashing into the caged wall with a snarling hiss. Its pallid and wrinkled face twisted with fury. Its mouth opened wide and it shrieked at him as it reached through the bars.

  Spike stumbled backwards and fell.

  The cold damp ground soaked into his trousers as Spike sat there and stared at the horrific twist to the thing’s features. It bit at the bars, yellow teeth still in its foetid mouth. It pushed its entire body up against them. The press of the metal against its face looked painful, but it seemed hell-bent on getting any extra reach it could.

  It took for hands to touch Spike’s back before he screamed. Another snarling hiss behind him. He got to his feet and jumped away from the beast. A caged wall on his right. More of the creatures reached through. The swell of rage rose in volume.

  The noises of the diseased swirled around Spike, coming at him from every angle. It scrambled his thoughts as he spun around, every part of the caged wall showing another pair of arms desperate to get to him. His chest tight, stars in his eyes from his lack of breath, the sounds closed in. The air curdled with the stench of vinegar. The squirming hands wriggled on the end of pasty and atrophied limbs.

  Like in their last training session, Spike couldn’t contain himself. As his breaths grew quicker and shallower, his heart ached. He fell to the ground, but the diseased dropped down with him. Their hands reached for him, the long nails on the ends of their fingers clawing at anywhere his skin was exposed, his arms, his face … one even reached up his trouser leg, a deeper violation than any before it.

  Barely able to move, Spike’s lap turned warm with his own piss before he scrambled to the middle of the room into the beam of light cast from the stormy sky. He curled into a ball and hugged his knees to his chest, trembling like the sheep he’d seen in the gym.

  Although utterly alone, if he had to die afraid, better he did it in the hole without an audience. He’d been a coward since he’d started national service. He deserved nothing less than to perish in the darkness. Cold, wet, and covered in his own piss.

  Chapter 44

  The heavy and knotted rope fell next to Spike, dead straight like when he’d climbed down it. Although he saw the light change above him from where someone peered into the hole, he didn’t look up. Instead, he did what he’d done for the past few hours: he stood in the spotlight cast by the moon above, and he stared straight into the face of one of the diseased reaching out to get him. Unrelenting in its desire, the beast snapped, snarled, and hissed with the same ferocity as it had for the whole time he’d been down there.

  Where Spike had seen something to be scared of, he now saw something to pity. A pathetic once-human, the man in front of him looked so decrepit, he wondered how he remained on his weak legs. But having been knocked to the ground by one and felt their strength, he wouldn’t be deceived by their appearance again.

  The cold in the damp hole had found a way into Spike’s bones and he shivered where he stood. The wet patch on his lap remained sodden, turning as chilly as his surroundings as it bit into the front of his thighs. It served as a stinging reminder of his lowest moment. He’d pissed himself in fear of being attacked by something utterly incapable of getting to him.

  “William.” It sounded like Bleach’s voice. “Come on, it’s time to come out.”

  Spike continued to look at the twisted and bitter face in front of him. He continued to stare into its crimson hatred, and he continued to give it back with interest.

  “William! Don’t make me come down there and lift you out. It’ll just cause more drama because I’ll need to call for help.”

  Despite wanting to make it as difficult for his team leader as possible, Spike climbed the rope. The knots were as easy to scale getting out of the hole as they had been going in. When Spike got to the top, Bleach held a hand down towards him to give him assistance.

  Instead of taking it, Spike pulled himself out of the hole, his eyes taking a few seconds to adjust to the bright moonlight above.

  “Are you okay?” Bleach asked.

  Spike stared at the door out of there, his back to Bleach, who dragged the rope from the hole.

  “It was for your own good. We can’t let cadets get away with fighting during national service. It’s life or death outside those walls. The last thing we need is two hotheads trying to knock seven shades out of one another. You understand, right?”

  A few seconds of awkward silence passed before Bleach led the way out from the small cell and then through the main exit.

  The long dewy grass turned the bottom of Spike’s trousers as cold and damp as his lap. The slight breeze hit him as he walked into it. The dorms looked so small now. So constricting. How could he spend another five months there? And he’d have to sleep one room away from the arsehole next to him.

  Maybe Bleach saw the futility of trying to talk to Spike, because on the walk back he didn’t attempt it again. Maybe he knew Spike had half a mind to swing for him. Broadsword or not, he’d get one good punch in before Bleach realised he’d have to fight back.

  “Good night,” Bleach said as they entered the dorm, the rich lavender scent quite a departure from the muddy vinegar reek of the hole. He walked to his bedroom.

  Spike watched him move away before he looked at the entrance to his room, the sounds of Hugh and Max asleep inside.

  The moonlight through the gap in their curtains gave Spike a clear enough view. Despite how small the hole had been, his bedroom felt tiny, like the walls were closing in. Maybe he saw the weeks of monotony ahead. Fighting to win an apprenticeship he had no chance of winning. Fighting for a girl who’d already given up on him. It all seemed like such a waste of time now.

  Peeling the cold bite of his trousers away from his lap offered him some relief. A chilly nip in the air, he leaned down to pick up his pyjamas. They lay next to tomorrow’s training gear. Could he really do another five months of this? Could he go home to the agricultural district knowing he’d ruined his chance to be with Matilda because he didn’t have the stones to face the diseased?

  Instead of going for his pyjamas, Spike picked up tomorrow’s clothes and dressed in them. When done, he looked around the room at his two sleeping teammates. Other than the ring on his finger, he had nothing else he needed to take with him. In the quietest voice so as not to wake them, he spoke in a croaky tone. “Good luck, boys. You’ll be safer without me.”

  Because he’d not lived in the dorm long and, until now, hadn’t had a need to sneak out, Spike didn’t know which floorboards creaked and which ones didn’t. As a result, he walked out of the room on tiptoes, on edge with every step as he waited for a yawning alarm to give him away.

  The door to Bleach’s room hung open. Before looking in, Spike listened and heard the heavy breathing of sleep inside. That hadn’t taken long.

  Tiptoeing like before, Spike snuck across the front of Bleach’s room and out into the night. There had to be a corner of the wall like the one he, Matilda, and Artan should have used to climb out a few weeks previously. How different things would be now if he’d done that. Although, he probably would have panicked on day one and got them all killed.

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nbsp; When a hard hand clamped on Spike’s shoulder, he yelled out and spun around. Bleach stood behind him. But he didn’t say anything to his team leader. He’d rather do more time in the hole than grovel for the man’s forgiveness.

  “Walk with me,” Bleach said.

  At first, Spike didn’t move, watching the man’s broad back as he strode away from him. When Bleach stopped and turned around, Spike shook his head, but followed this time.

  Together, they walked away from the dorms in the direction of the dining hall. Neither spoke for about a minute before Spike finally gave in. “This place has been hell.”

  “You were expecting better?”

  “Yeah. You lot are nothing but bullies.”

  “By you lot I assume you’re referring to the team leaders and trainers?”

  “Who else?”

  “You know how many cadets we lose every year? How many cadets I’ve personally lost under my leadership?”

  Spike stared at the wall with the large gates in and kept at Bleach’s pace.

  “If we went easy on you, you’d get slaughtered the second you stepped outside.”

  “Sounds like we already do.”

  Bleach heaved a weary sigh, his eyes pinching at the sides. “More slaughtered.”

  “So you don’t want to make it too easy, but when it comes to your task, you choose not to put diseased in it like the one before?”

  “You weren’t ready for them.”

  “So you did do it to protect me?”

  “I figured you needed a bit more time before you saw them again.”

  “You’ve heard how Ranger’s gone for me about that. Talking to me like I needed the help.”

  Bleach let Spike’s rage hang unchallenged.

  “Matilda and I are in love.”

  “It happens a lot.”

  “That doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”

  “I never said that. We get a lot of cadets who have fallen in love with someone from another district. Although, I’m impressed that we haven’t had to pull you two apart from one another. We usually have to watch out for that. We don’t need to be sending pregnant girls home to their parents.”

  “Matilda’s ignoring me. She could see Ranger winding me up and thought it would be better to step back while I dealt with it.”

  “At some point,” Bleach said, “you need to realise Ranger’s going to be a dick no matter what you do. The sooner you learn to ignore him, the easier your life will be.” Before Spike could tell him he wasn’t staying, Bleach said, “Look, it’s not surprising you had a panic attack. You’re coming into a stressful environment where survival isn’t enough for you. You want to be the next protector, you need to be the next protector, and you have Magma’s son standing in the way of that.”

  “And so many of the other cadets are better than me.”

  “That’s a lot of pressure. But I believe in you.”

  Spike snorted a laugh.

  “Look at what you’re trying to do now.”

  “Run away?”

  “Go out there. You’re ready to face the diseased.”

  “I’m not afraid anymore.”

  “There’s a reason for that.”

  “Are you trying to take credit for throwing me in the hole? What? You want me to thank you or something?”

  A shake of his head, Bleach said, “Being a protector isn’t about being fearless. We all get scared, and often those of us who shout the loudest are the most frightened. Being a protector also isn’t about feeling nothing when you look at those things.”

  A flash of the creature in the hole came back to him. “Well, what is it, then?”

  “It’s about standing tall and letting yourself feel it. It’s about having that panic attack and seeing there’s calm on the other side. About knowing what you can take and experience and still remain standing.”

  Although Spike opened his mouth to reply, Bleach cut him off.

  “Also, you need to measure your progress against yourself. If you’re better today than you were yesterday, that’s progress. I think you’ll be surprised by how far you’ve already come. You arrived here ignorant.”

  “You’re ignorant.”

  “But you’re stronger now than you’ve ever been. Celebrate that and be kind to yourself. You’ll get to where you need to be if you allow the process to happen.”

  They’d come to a halt halfway between their dorm and the dining hall.

  “Come on,” Bleach said. “Come back and get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a new day and you have several months to get to where you need to be. You’re ready to go outside those walls, so don’t write anything off just yet. Not even Matilda.”

  “What do you know about her?”

  “Not a lot, but I’ve seen how she looks at you when you’re not watching.”

  Bleach turned around and walked back towards the dorm. For a second, Spike remained rooted to the spot and watched. When he saw the man had nothing more to say, he shook his head and ran after him.

  Chapter 45

  The sounds outside Spike’s dorm woke him with a gasp. He sat bolt upright, his heart racing as he heard more screams. The cold bite in the air nipped through his thin pyjamas where his covers had fallen away. He scanned the room, his head still thick from sleep. It felt like only an hour or two had passed since his talk with Bleach outside. Still night-time, the moonlight shone through the gap in the curtains, penetrating the darkness with a bar of illumination.

  Spike’s body ached from fighting with Ranger, yet he still swung his legs from the bed before slipping down and landing on his bare feet with a slap where skin met floorboard.

  Both Hugh’s and Max’s beds were empty. Why hadn’t someone woken him? Spike ran out into the hallway to see several of the weapons had already been taken. At the sound of more cries, he picked up a broadsword, wrapping his grip around the cold metal handle.

  When Olga burst from her room, Spike said, “What’s happening?”

  Wide eyes, she spoke with breathy panic. “I just looked out of the window. There are diseased outside!”

  As the reality of her comments sank in, a high-pitched scream sent a chill down Spike’s spine. Not that he didn’t believe Olga, but the tormented shriek rammed home the reality of what she’d said. He charged outside.

  The moon gave a silver highlight to the chaos before him. The shrill cry of the diseased filled the night as the cadets fought the monsters. Although every silhouette out there looked human, the twitching and erratic movements marked foe from friend. The wet squelches of swords hacked at flesh. Both cadets and the diseased roared with the intensity of the battle.

  The same reaction he’d had every other time, Spike felt the paralysis of fear worm up through his body. Despite his experience in the hole, tension gripped his stomach. The tautness moved to his lungs, and his heart surged like it would burst. He gripped his sword’s handle tighter with his sweating hands, but he still didn’t move.

  Then he saw her. Matilda. She stared back at him. There were no diseased around her. It gave her a moment to witness his panic. Again.

  Before Spike could do anything, he heard Hugh call for help.

  Three diseased surrounded the small mole of a boy. Isolated from everyone else, Spike watched him spin on the spot, trying not to turn his back on any of them. If he’d picked up a sword on his way out, he didn’t have it with him now.

  Another look at Matilda, he saw she continued to stare back.

  Spike pushed through his fear and charged over to his friend. He brought his sword up and took the head clean off one of the diseased. They might have been deceptively strong hand to hand, but they had no defence against cold hard steel.

  Hugh dropped to the ground and pulled his arms over his head. For the briefest of moments, Spike thought about himself doing that when he’d first entered the hole. Gritted teeth, he roared through them and shoved his sword into the stomach of the next diseased. It folded and fell. A swing at the third one’s neck, Spike cut into
it. Although he didn’t decapitate the thing, it still went down.

  Before Spike could check on Hugh, something crashed into his side. It sent him flying and he dropped his sword. The creature landed on top of him, winding him with its weight.

  Too dark to see the creature’s face, Spike gasped for breath as he reached up and grabbed its throat. A tight clench of his jaw, he squeezed with all he had, his hands still sore from punching Ranger.

  The diseased made a gargling noise and its warm saliva ran over Spike’s tight grip. The thing took its hands from Spike and clawed at its own throat as if seeking a release of the pressure.

  After a few seconds of struggle, Spike yelled and threw the creature off him. He jumped to his feet while it gasped on the ground. His broadsword next to him, he picked it up and drove it—tip first—into the diseased’s face.

  While panting, his weapon stuck in the soft ground, Spike looked around the battlefield. The fighting appeared to have stopped. The diseased were done.

  An adrenaline-fuelled shake running through him, Spike fought for breath while watching Max walk his way. Hugh scrambled to his feet.

  Max spoke first. “You did it.”

  Then Hugh. “Thank you.”

  Spike nodded at both of them. The panic had vanished when he saw his friend in trouble. In that moment it didn’t matter how he felt, just that Hugh survived.

  Another scream tore across the battlefield and Spike looked to see Ranger. He twisted and turned in Juggernaut’s tight grip, Lance following behind him as they headed back to their dorms. He shouted, “No more. No more. No more.”

  Before any of the boys spoke, the glow of a torch grabbed their attention.

  Bleach—a flaming stick in his hand—walked over. “Well done, boys.”

  Where Max and Hugh looked at their team leader, Spike looked down at the creature he’d pinned to the ground. Now better lit, he stared at its face, its mouth spread wide. “It doesn’t have any teeth.”

  Bleach paused for a second before nodding. “You’re right. But you didn’t know that at the time.”