Beyond These Walls (Book 6): Three Days

by Robertson, Michael

  “What if we catch up to them?”

  “You think we’ll catch them? The retired hunters know the way. We don’t. We’d have to be incredibly lucky to pick the most direct route, and I’m not prepared to risk everyone’s life on luck.”

  “I’d rather rely on luck than risk letting a good woman like your sister die.”

  The moon lit Artan’s face, the familial resemblance turning a sharp twist through William’s heart. The boy’s jaw widened from where he clamped it and shook his head. Matilda had stared similar disdain at him in the past. The boy dropped back to be with the others.

  Several more paces and William stopped in his tracks. A canted silhouette shuffled from behind a building. It halted and swayed where it stood, the moonlight at its back, its face in shadow.

  William tightened his grip on Jezebel.

  “Oh, shit,” Cyrus said.

  The creature threw its arms in the air. Its cry ricochetted off the ruined buildings as it charged.

  William twisted his planted feet in the soggy ground, his boots sodden, his feet swollen inside his damp socks. The beast stumbled through the long grass, a wild animal closing the gap between them.

  With Jezebel wound back, William waited. He then met the creature with a full-bodied swing, warm blood spraying his front as he buried the axe into the beast’s shoulder.

  The diseased yelled louder than before and fell, writhing on the ground but unable to avoid the heavy blow of Artan’s war hammer. A deep crack and the creature fell still. Artan pointed down at it. “This is why we need to find somewhere to rest. We can’t possibly fight these things in the—”

  More screams cut him off.

  William turned on the spot.

  They came at them from all sides. A large cloud passed across the moon, turning the abandoned town darker.

  “Take this.” Artan handed his spear to the weaponless Max. “It’s useless at long range if I can’t see them. Use it to take them down when they get near.”

  What little light that pushed through the clouds shone on Cyrus’ sword from where it shook in his grip. The boy turned left and right, responding to every echo. And why wouldn’t he? “Where are they coming from?” William said.

  A similar turn from one side to the other, but more measured than Cyrus, Artan shook his head. “I don’t know.” Slathering breaths. Heavy steps. “But they’re getting closer.”

  Max moved off in one direction, but Artan reached out to him and dragged him back. “We don’t know where they’re coming from. Stay with us. We’re stronger together.”

  Squelching steps from several angles. They were getting closer. Ten of them? Twenty? Hard to tell.

  Cyrus sobbed. “I’m no good at this.”

  His shoulders squared, his war hammer raised and ready to use, Artan stood alert. “Get ready.”

  William turned to where the first diseased had come from. The steps were quieter in that direction.

  “Diseased!” Max charged forward to meet several creatures bursting from behind one of the buildings.

  Twice as many came from around the other side of the wrecked house. Artan darted towards them.

  Several appeared on William’s left. Too dark to be sure how many.

  The crunch of Artan’s attack spurred on William, who swung Jezebel at a silhouette. The crack of the axe head sank into one of the creatures’ skulls. He pulled her back out and swung at the next one, jumping aside to avoid several more on the charge.

  The diseased pack turned around and came at him again. More appeared from behind another ruined building. William stepped back onto a small rock. His ankle buckled beneath him and he fell. A diseased flew over the top of him, grabbing thin air where he’d been moments before. He pulled Jezebel into his chest and rolled away. Four to five diseased dived on the spot he’d vacated. Jumping up, he slammed the blade into the back of a creature’s head.

  A yell that burned his throat, the screams of diseased all around, William spun on the spot, swinging Jezebel out around him. Not all of the creatures went down, but every time he caught one, his attack pushed them away.

  Dizzy, gasping for breath, and sweating, William slowed down when Jezebel stopped making contact with the diseased. The boy with the war hammer in front of him, the boy with the spear to his left, William said, “That’s all of them?”

  Artan panted, his shoulders hunched as he gripped his weapon with both hands and scanned their surroundings. “I told you we should have found somewhere to rest up. How the hell are we supposed to fight diseased in the dark? You’re going to get us all killed, William.”

  “Uh,” Max said, turning one way and then the other, “where’s Cyrus?”

  The tension left Artan’s frame as he too turned on the spot. “Cyrus?”

  William winced in anticipation of another blasting that didn’t come. Instead, Artan called the boy’s name several more times before his frame sagged. “If I shout any louder,” Artan said, “I’ll bring more diseased down on us.”

  “W-where do you think he is?” William said.

  Artan’s voice cracked with his restrained grief. “Well, I doubt he’s decided now’s a good time to play hide-and-seek.”

  Max remained alert, Artan’s spear in his grip.

  “So what do we do?” William said.

  “What we should have done an hour or two ago.” Artan walked at William, slamming his shoulder into him on his way past. He reached one of the taller ruined buildings and climbed.

  Three floors, the first two intact, William followed after him. “You sure you want to rest up here?”

  Artan spun on William. “How about you shut up, yeah? All you’ve done today is put us all in danger and possibly killed Cyrus. I think the best thing you can do right now is keep quiet, because if you don’t, I won’t be responsible for my actions. The plan is for us to wait until first light so we can check every one of these bodies for Cyrus. If he’s not amongst the dead, then we widen our search. I’m not giving up on him until I know he’s gone.”

  But what about Matilda? What if Cyrus had run off? William kept his thoughts to himself. Artan had every right to be pissed.

  Artan and Max walked over to a window on the first floor and stared out. When William joined them, he nodded into the darkness. “How long do you think it’ll take to get to Grandfather Jacks?”

  “Who knows?” Artan said. “We need to find Cyrus first.” He shoved William aside as he moved to a shadowy corner of the building.

  Max turned and found another corner, his mood as dark as it had been since they’d left Umbriel.

  One more corner remained. The space where the fourth and final one should have been now sat exposed from where the wall had collapsed. William skulked over to it and sat on his own. The shape of the building funnelled the wind straight into him. Shivering, cold, and alone. When the morning came, it would get worse. It would shine a spotlight on his foolishness. The open accusation for Cyrus’ death would be much harder to avoid in the cold light of day.

  Chapter 5

  Every sound snapped Olga rigid as she turned to the left and right in a desperate attempt to locate each source. Where the night had taken away their ability to see the diseased, she had to rely on her other senses to give her an early warning.

  The moon hung high above them. Nearly full, its silver glow highlighted their environment for short bursts before the dark clouds swept in front of it, burying it for minutes at a time. It left them surrounded with no more than silhouettes of the ruined structures that had once served a purpose in a forgotten life.

  The rain had stopped several hours previously, but Olga’s clothes were still damp. She shivered in the strong wind, her jaw aching from her tight clench against the icy blast. Her thighs stung from where the thick fabric of her trousers chafed.

  Olga walked on tired legs, the boggy ground sapping her energy. She breathed through her mouth, her nose still clogged from where Carl had bloodied it. Although, the tentative and wobbly steps of
Matilda told her she’d gotten away lightly. Since she’d been kicked in the head, she’d not had anything to say for herself.

  Carl remained at least twenty feet behind them. So far back his tall and thick frame and canted stance painted a demented silhouette. A madman lost in the darkness. And thank god they couldn’t see his face. Although maybe imagining what it looked like was worse. A switch had flicked in him since Olga’s headbutt. He now maintained a safe distance as if it were the only way to contain the crazy.

  A step closer to Matilda, which also meant a step farther away from Peter, who walked much closer to them than his larger friend, Olga kept her voice low. “Surely we’ve got to stop soon? And when we do, how will we keep an eye on Carl? I won’t be able to sleep with him nearby.”

  Matilda stumbled on the uneven ground, wincing from the action as her hair fell across her face. Both hers and Olga’s hands still bound, she stuck out her bottom lip and blew up at her fringe. When the hair didn’t move, she flicked her head to one side. “I think Peter will keep him away.”

  Although closer to them than Carl, Peter still walked at least fifteen feet ahead of the girls. If he heard them, he hid it well. “You think we can trust him?”

  “We have a choice?”

  Olga shrugged. “There’s always a choice.”

  “Not now.” Matilda shook her head. “Not at this moment.”

  “There won’t ever be a perfect time. And what if we run into more diseased?”

  “I don’t think the diseased are our biggest threat.”

  As if on cue, Carl spat and hissed like an angry badger. He shook his head and muttered to himself, throwing air punches with his large fists. Olga’s shoulders tensed, her body twisting. If she charged him now, could she end him? But Matilda had already taken a beating because of her actions. She couldn’t let that happen again. “I hope Peter has a plan.”

  Matilda sighed. “Me too.”

  “Do you really think the boys are okay?” Olga said.

  “Whatever doubt I have in my mind, I need to recognise it doesn’t serve me. Besides, I truly believe I can feel them. My instinct tells me they’re still alive.”

  “Although Max can do one. I don’t care about him. What a prick to do that to me in front of everyone.”

  “Surely you get why he behaved that way?”

  “What do you mean?” Olga stopped, although when Carl didn’t, she moved on again. “What’s William told you?”

  “It’s not what he’s told me.” Matilda had also continued walking. “It’s pretty obvious when you think about it.” After throwing a glance at the much smaller Peter ahead of them, Matilda stepped closer. “Think about his … powers.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Everything.” Another step closer, Matilda said, “He’s probably a …”

  Peter’s head turned as he angled an ear back their way.

  Even quieter than before, Matilda said, “… carrier. So if you and him …” She raised her eyebrows.

  “Oh shit!”

  Peter spun to face them.

  Heat flushed Olga’s cheeks and her heart pounded. What the fuck did the nosy old bastard want? What did their conversation have to do with him? Even with her hands bound, she’d kick his arse. No taller than her and probably nowhere near as strong. Although definitely the kinder of the two guards, they probably didn’t want to be upsetting him too.

  Peter set off again.

  “I’ve been such a dick,” Olga said. “Why did I kiss Hawk? What if they’re not okay? What if the last thing Max ever saw of me was that? What then?”

  “I believe they’re okay.”

  “Hardly concrete though, is it?”

  “If it’s proof you’re looking for, I’m afraid I can’t give it to you. I’m just doing what I can to remain sane.”

  “We need to find them,” Olga said. “I need to make it up to Max.”

  On Matilda’s next step, she stumbled, dragging air in through clenched teeth.

  “Are you still sore from what Carl did to you?”

  While leaning forwards, bent at the waist, Matilda nodded.

  “We need to stop walking.” Olga raised her voice. “Peter, when are we going to …” The words died in her mouth. The miles of darkness ahead of them had now taken form as if the shadows had risen from the ground. A silhouette at least one hundred feet tall dominated the horizon. A wall of black.

  “Is that the wall?” Matilda said.

  Peter halted and spun around. She’d not spoken any louder than they had for most of their conversation. If he’d heard that …

  “The wall?” Peter said, and then shook his head. “I wouldn’t call it the wall, just a wall.” He looked past the girls and raised a hand in Carl’s direction, instructing him to halt. Keep his distance and there wouldn’t be any trouble. It seemed like a well-rehearsed routine. How many times had he had to restrain Carl in the past? How many times had he failed?

  Despite him swaying where he stood, muttering to himself the entire time, Carl followed his friend’s commands. Olga shrugged. “A wall, the wall, what’s the difference?”

  “They’re worlds apart, my dear. This is the funnel, a way to separate the north and the south. Only experienced travellers can pass through here, but if you know the way, which we do, then it’s perfectly safe. The wall, however, is a place of insanity. Very few have visited it and lived to tell the tale. They say to touch it is to open the door to madness. As far as I know, no one has crossed it.”

  “It’s worth crossing?”

  Peter shrugged. “Who knows? But they say there’s a better life on the other side.”

  “Of the few who have gotten close enough to touch it and return, all of them have paid the price.”

  Matilda gasped when Peter looked at Carl. She said, “He’s been?”

  “As close as anyone I know, but don’t you ever talk to him about it.” Peter pointed at a building no more than one hundred feet away. A tower in a better state of repair than the rest of their surroundings. “This is our destination. This is where we’ll rest tonight. In the morning, we shall pass through the funnel, and then we have one more day’s travel to get to Grandfather Jacks. We’ll get there with plenty of time.”

  “For what?” Olga said.

  “Come on.”

  “I said for what? What sick plan do you have for us?”

  From the way Matilda walked, stumbling on what must have been tired legs, she needed the rest. And Olga couldn’t fight for the both of them.

  A tower Peter must have climbed before, because the route to the next level didn’t present itself. The retired hunter showed Matilda the way by tapping the first step with his foot.

  With Peter’s help, Matilda scrambled up to the first floor. When he pushed her bottom to help her all the way up, Olga snarled, “If you touch my arse like that, I’ll kick your fucking teeth out.”

  Peter smiled and helped Olga like he had Matilda, keeping her steady by holding her bonds instead of her bottom.

  Olga breathed deeply against the pain in her shoulder blades and wobbled at the final part of the climb as the thought of falling flipped through her. Joining Matilda in the far corner of the first floor, Olga dropped to her knees, slamming down on the hard stone, her legs tired, her hands still bound. Turning her back to the wall, she fell against it.

  “Carl will keep guard on the ground,” Peter said, smiling as he closed in on the girls.

  As the man drew closer, a writhe turned through Olga. The muscles in her right leg twitched with a need to lash out. To keep him at bay.

  But Peter sat down cross-legged several feet away. The shadows hid most of his features other than the slight shimmer in his dark feline eyes, and the glint of his teeth when he smiled. “I just wanted to say a prayer to Grandfather Jacks before we sleep for the night.”

  Her jaw still clamped tight, Olga inhaled through her nose.

  While bowing his head, Peter addressed the floor, “Than
k you, Grandfather Jacks, for allowing us safe passage through the wasteland today. For keeping us from harm until we got to our checkpoint. Thank you for blessing myself and Carl with the chance to deliver these two virgin souls into your care. These two lost sheep, who will receive your guidance on their path to enlightenment. We are so lucky to be a part of that, and we will do all you require of us because you have shown us what it means to serve you. It’s our honour for now and for evermore. Praise be to the High Father.”

  When Peter looked up, Olga remained frozen still, her jaw loose.

  A storm cloud settled on his features, a livid vein lifting a line along his left temple before he barked, “Give thanks!”

  “Thank you, Grandfather Jacks,” Matilda said.

  Where would it get them for Olga to tell him to go screw himself and Grandfather Jacks? Matilda was right, she needed to pick her battles. Another deep breath, she filled her lungs, her chest rising before she dipped a nod. “Thank you, Grandfather Jacks.” Would they have been safer with Carl in the building with them instead of Peter?

  As the engorged vein on Peter’s forehead settled, his smile broadened and his eyes regained their feline grace. He shifted close to Olga so just a few inches separated them. Glistening tear tracks streaked his cheeks. He stroked the left side of her face with a trembling hand. “Thank you. You two are in for such a treat when you meet the High Father.”

  Several waves of revulsion rippled away from Peter’s touch. Olga stared at the moon, fighting against her quickening pulse. At least Carl wore his insanity on his sleeve. Peter seemed like he had crazy in his core. At what point would it spill over?

  Chapter 6

  The voices penetrated William’s dreams and he opened his eyes. Several blinks did little to clear the bleary lens through which he viewed the world. Where he went to bed shivering, he woke up the same way, his clothes still damp, the hard and cold brick wall offering support but little comfort. Every muscle in his body had locked tight, frozen solid because of the harsh conditions. Thank god they hadn’t been dragged into following the girls in the middle of winter.