Beyond These Walls (Book 6): Three Days

by Robertson, Michael

  The others stood over a square tunnel cut into the steel, the angle kinder than the wall they’d scaled to get away from Hawk. “Matilda could climb down that in a heartbeat.”

  “I’ll do it,” Cyrus said. “I can get down there and back out again if I need to.”

  “Are you sure?” Artan said.

  “I reckon it’s a way out of here. We need to be going lower if we stand any chance of getting off this damn wall. With how sheer the front of it was, I’m guessing the back’s as bad.”

  “And you’re sure you want to climb down there?” Max said.

  “Climbing’s one of the things I can do,” Cyrus said.

  Artan patted his friend on the back. “I think you’re right, one of us should go down and check it out. If you need me, shout.”

  Cyrus dropped down and sat on the edge of the square hole, hanging his feet into the chute. He turned one hundred and eighty degrees and dropped his entire body down, gripping onto the lip of the hole as he lowered himself. His arms at full stretch, he paused for no more than half a second before he let go, sliding backwards into what would hopefully turn out to be their exit.

  Although they’d watched Cyrus to the end of the chute, they lost sight of him when he went exploring. About a minute later, he reappeared at the bottom of the hole. His voice echoed in the tunnel. “It’s a way out. Come on.”

  “It’s safe?” Max said.

  “Yeah, it’s fine.”

  Artan, as always, put more trust in Cyrus than the rest of them, slipping his war hammer down the back of his shirt and sliding down the long chute to be with his friend. William followed next, a jolt snapping through his body when his feet hit the unforgiving ground. He stood aside for Max.

  A tunnel led from the bottom of the chute. Although a steep decline, they could still walk it.

  William followed the others around a bend and into the dazzling daylight. A small cave opened up. Ten feet square, it overlooked grassy wastelands much like those they’d left behind. Although here, instead of rocks and rubble littering the landscape, large chunks of steel sat amongst the grass. Maybe left over from building the wall. It had been turned into a waste product here. Darkness masked the route they’d taken. From where William now stood, he couldn’t see the tunnel he’d just emerged from.

  A slight glint to his right, William’s heart flipped, his hand shaking when he picked it up.

  “What is it?” Cyrus said.

  Artan rubbed William’s back and spoke with a sigh. “It’s Matilda’s hair clip.”

  A lump swelled in William’s throat. He coughed to clear it. “It was my mum’s.” He turned the small metal hummingbird over in his shaking hands. “She gave it to her when we went on national service.” His eyes burned. Fatigue and grief choked him again and he gulped so he could get his words out. “It seems like such a long time ago now.”

  In the silence of the cave, William forced a laugh. “My god, listen to me. At least this tells us the girls made it farther than that corpse up there. Maybe they got away from their captors.”

  “Maybe they were the ones who did that to him?” Max said.

  “At least at this point, they were still alive,” Cyrus said. “We’ll find them.”

  Artan pointed out into the wastelands. “So we wait here until we see those hunters move on, and then we go find Grandfather Jacks’ community? We’re only half a day’s walk away. We have the time to wait it out.”

  “And we stand no chance against a pack of hunters with spears in the open,” Cyrus said. “There are too many of them.”

  Max tutted. “Of course you’d say that. You’re a coward.”

  “I think he’s right,” Artan said. “What kind of fool would take on the odds of us against them?”

  The muscles in Max’s jaw bulged when he clenched it.

  A throbbing buzz of fatigue ran through William. Last night’s sleep beneath a blanket of corpses hadn’t been the most restful experience. He dropped down onto the cold metal ground, cross-legged as he faced out into the wild lands. He lifted one side of his bottom to pull the map from his back pocket.

  The other boys gathered around. William pointed at the map. “This is where we need to get to. I know we have a day and a half, but we don’t know what this side of the wall’s like. The sooner the hunters get clear, the better. I’d rather get to Grandfather Jacks’ community with time to spare.”

  It took no more than five minutes for the first of the hunters to step into view. Hawk continued to lead the line. They probably couldn’t see them in the shadowy cave, but William shifted back to be certain, and the others followed him.

  More and more of the hunters walked into the long grass before Cyrus said, “That’s nineteen. That’s all of them.”

  “You counted them when we were back on the wall?” Max said. It sounded like an accusation, his fury driving his words.

  Cyrus shrugged. “I thought it would be useful to know.”

  Artan smiled.

  William nodded at the boy. He might not be much of a fighter, but he had other skills. “Well done, Cyrus. I’m glad someone was thinking. So now we know they’re all out, we just need to wait long enough for them to get far away.”

  Chapter 21

  Barp! The noise rattled Olga’s bones. When she’d seen Dianna twitch at the alarm, it gave her an insight into her own future. Her reaction had grown worse, the deep single note bouncing around inside her skull every time it sounded. The squeaky wheel on her trolley had a subtler effect but no less penetrative. It bored into her psyche as she wobbled along the stone corridor, upright on the trolley and tilted back to allow the guard to push.

  Crack! Someone opened a lock somewhere. Blindfolded and gagged again, they’d strapped Olga to her metal trolley with leather belts. They were much like the ones they’d pinned her to the stretcher with when they’d brought her and Matilda to this vile place. Hinges groaned and an outside breeze whooshed in, driving away the reek of damp.

  Olga’s trolley moved on, the squeak of another set of wheels close by. It had to be Matilda. Soon after the torturer had let Olga watch him attack her friend, he’d blindfolded and gagged both of them again. Suspended by ropes in the darkness, she’d listened to Matilda whimper.

  Outside and in the full force of the wind, the shriek of diseased came close. They must have been in the gothic steel tunnel they’d travelled down when entering the asylum.

  Barp! The noise carried across the landscape. Although it was quieter now they were outside and around the back of the building. Dianna had said the sound called the diseased to the front. How many were gathered there at this moment?

  Something slammed into the steel fence on Olga’s left. Adrenaline drove her pulse, but she didn’t have the range of movement to flinch. Hopefully the guards pushing her had the good sense to avoid danger.

  Barp! The tone had grown much more distant now and got drowned out by the wails and screams of the diseased.

  The gag leeched the moisture from Olga’s mouth. Her throat arid, it clamped with a permanent half-heave. Her tongue ached from where she pushed against the dry cloth, trying to force it out.

  Crack! Another freeing bolt followed by more groaning hinges from a gate being opened.

  They passed through another door a few minutes later and entered a new building. Light flooded into Olga’s world when the guard behind her removed her blindfold. Had she not been gagged, she would have gasped. It took a few seconds for the bright corridor to come into focus. A glass ceiling let in more daylight than she’d seen in hours. The glare reflected off the pure white walls. Even on a day as overcast as this, the sun lit the corridor as if they were being led on their final journey to heaven. Or to the High Father?

  Two large metal doors at the end of the corridor, they parted when Olga got close. They welcomed them into a large open room. It too had a glass ceiling.

  They pushed Olga up an aisle, pews on either side. The back wall had a vibrant mural depicting the silhouette
of a tall man in a leather outback hat. His features were hidden by the brilliant glow from behind him, the light of the High Father. Stretched out before him lay a sea of prostrate women, teenage girls, and children. Hard to tell, but it looked like the children were mostly boys.

  Once they’d gotten to the end of the aisle, they turned Olga ninety degrees to the right. The guard wheeling Matilda brought her forwards and turned the trolley so they faced one another. The woman pushing Matilda pulled the cloth from her mouth and walked back down the aisle. The one who’d pushed Olga did the same for her before she also left.

  A large white bandage wrapped Matilda’s left thigh. Blood seeped through it. The large stain stretched about four inches wide and glistened. “I’m so sorry,” Olga said.

  “Why are you sorry? You didn’t do it.”

  “No, but he did it because of me.”

  “They’ll use whatever they can against us in this place. Besides, he cut me, and it hurt, but I think there’s only so far they’ll go. Despite the blood, it’s only surface damage. I can’t see Grandfather Jacks approving people hurting his brides.” When Olga clenched her jaw, Matilda added, “I’m telling you I’m okay, so I need you to keep a lid on your rage.”

  “But I won’t let Grandfather Jacks do this.”

  “I don’t intend to either, but please save your fight for when it counts.”

  The automatic doors they’d come through opened again. Two girls walked in. Heidi and the girl with mousy-brown hair, her right foot still limp and dragging as she hobbled up the aisle.

  “You were saying they’ll only go so far …” Olga said.

  Heidi passed through the gap between Olga and Matilda. She pulled a tight-lipped smile before walking up to the altar. She stood in one of five circles marked on the ground. The girl with the broken ankle stood in another one.

  An older woman with grey hair and a tape measure around her neck whisked into the room. Frantic like a small bird, her shrill voice rang out in the large space. “This is a wedding rehearsal. We need to make sure we’re all ready and know what we’re doing for tomorrow evening. I’ve promised Grandfather Jacks it will be the best one yet. He’s so excited. He’s promised to attend today to see if he can assist in any way.” The woman almost sang the last bit, a neurotic smile, her face streaked with worry lines, “so it’s best behaviour, ladies.”

  “Fuck that!” Olga muttered. Matilda pinned her with a hard stare.

  “You two.” The wedding organiser pointed at Olga and Matilda. “You’d do well to learn from these girls here. This is what Grandfather Jacks needs from his brides.”

  “Docile compliance?” Olga said. This time she avoided Matilda’s eye.

  The brown-haired girl smiled, oblivious to anything but her devotion to Grandfather Jacks. Her glassy and unblinking eyes streamed tears of joy as she stared into the middle distance. Heidi had turned several shades paler.

  A deep whir shook the ground. The vibrations ran up through the wheels of Olga’s trolley. “What’s going on?”

  Circular cages rose through the floor, trapping the two girls who’d stood in the rings surrounding the altar. Three more cages entrapped the empty circles next to the girls, and a platform rose from the floor in the centre. The three empty cages must have been intended for Olga, Matilda, and Dianna. The platform was clearly for Grandfather Jacks.

  The cages clicked into place, and silence filled the large room before Olga finally said, “Hell no!”

  The wedding organiser gasped. The refusal or use of the word hell? Hard to tell. But Olga stood by both of them.

  “No way am I going in that cage.”

  “Olga!” Matilda said.

  “Shh!” The avian woman flapped her arms as if they were on fire. She walked in circles. “Shh! He’ll be here soon.”

  “Good,” Olga said. “I’ll tell him to go to hell to his face.”

  “It’s no good,” the woman said, her shrill voice swirling around the room. “It’s no good. Take them away. Take them away now.”

  Four guards entered the room and ran up the aisle. Two went to the back of Olga’s trolley, two to Matilda’s. They turned Olga around and led her away at a jog, the metal wheels of her steel cart clacking as they ran over the uneven surface.

  “Give them some time to reflect,” the wedding organiser called after them. “Let them rest in a room with beds in, untie them, and feed them. They need to be in a better frame of mind for tomorrow night.”

  “See,” Olga called back to Matilda, raising her voice to be heard over their clattering exit. “Sometimes the best thing you can do is tell someone to go fuck themselves.”

  Chapter 22

  Were it up to William, they would have moved off ten minutes after the hunters left. But it made sense to wait. To allow the group of boys to get far away. Who knew where the next good hiding spot would be, and the last thing they needed was to be caught out in the middle of the wild lands against experienced hunters with spears. The choice made sense, but he didn’t have to like it. At all.

  William swung his legs, letting them hang down from the mouth of the cave, slapping his heels against the hard steel wall. The long grass in the meadow bent and swayed at the weather’s whim. The hummingbird hair clip in his right hand, he turned it over, blinking against the sting in his eyes. There had been so many times where he’d been somewhere high, on the roof of a building or a tall wall in Edin, Matilda beside him as they spent hours planning a future that would never come. But he wouldn’t give up on her. They’d be within their rights to think the boys hadn’t made it, but as long as there was a chance Matilda and Olga were still alive, he wouldn’t ever give up.

  William shot backwards, his legs flipping up into the air when Artan pulled him into the shadows. He twisted free from the boy. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Artan pressed a finger to his lips before pointing out into the meadow.

  Thank god Artan had seen them. A group of men and women. Hard to identify which were which from this distance. All of them had long and scraggly hair. Dreadlocked, wild, they all wore animal furs, many of them just vests and trousers, a patchwork of colours from black fur, to the white of rabbit’s tails.

  “Do you think they have anything to do with the hunters?” Max said.

  Artan shook his head. “No.”

  William raised an eyebrow. “You seem quite certain.”

  “Some of them have swords.”

  It made sense. The hunters had tossed away William’s and his friends’ swords the second they’d encountered them.

  “Do you think we should ask for their help?” Cyrus said.

  William shook his head. “I think the fewer people we talk to or mix with, the better. Especially until we find the girls. I’m not ready to trust anyone at the moment.”

  His back now against the cold steel wall with the others, William remained in the shadows. They were hidden from view, yet the crew of people, twenty-three of them in total—or at least twenty-three he could see—headed straight for them. Cyrus had been sensible to count the hunters. William’s stomach sank. “I think they must have seen me before you pulled me back, Artan.”

  One solitary word, it bounced off the solid walls and died. “Yep.” He then added, “Maybe we should take some control and ask them for help?”

  “Or we go back the way we came?” Max said.

  William’s heart quickened and he held on to his initial response. They were a team and had to make a decision as one. The hummingbird clip still in his hand, he said, “I’m more keen to go towards the girls. I know we still have some time before the full moon, but we could lose that time with a bad decision.”

  “Well, they’re getting closer,” Artan said, “so whatever choice we make, we need to make it soon. Who says we go back?”

  Max raised his hand, his face reddening at the attention from his friends.

  “And who says we go to those people?”

  Cyrus and William raised their hands. A seco
nd later, Artan copied them and said, “They’ve seen us now, so instead of running, I think we should try to find a way to move forwards.”

  William took the lead. “Let’s do this.” Shifting to the edge of the cave, he tossed Jezebel out into the long and damp grass, pocketed the intricate hair clip, and turned around so he faced his friends, showing the approaching tribe his back. He then hung down from the ledge, his legs swinging. A drop of about five feet remained. He let go and fell.

  As Cyrus, Artan, and then Max followed him, William retrieved Jezebel and stepped away from the edge of the wall. His foot turned slightly when he stood on something hard. A knife, a hunter’s knife like the ones they’d seen in Umbriel. He turned it over in his grip, the long blade catching the light. Had one of the pack they’d been following dropped it? Had the girls swiped it from their captors? Had it been the blade that inflicted the damage on the corpse they found? William handed the knife to Artan.

  “What’s this for?”

  “You’re the one who makes spears. I figured this might be of use to you.”

  One spear and one knife. Now armed like a hunter, Artan handed his war hammer to Max.

  The frown that had become synonymous with Max softened. “You sure?”

  Artan nodded.

  As the group drew closer, Max spoke from the side of his mouth. “I know it goes without saying, but I want to avoid showing these people what I can do unless I have to.”

  “Of course,” William said, the other two nodding their agreement.

  The large group presented a more intimidating prospect now they were on the ground with them. They spread out like a net widening to catch prey. All of them had their spears raised. Maybe the hunters had been wise to be so beholden to their primary weapon. Not only did this crowd outnumber them, but they could take them down from a distance. They were in control. If William could have returned to the cave and taken Max’s option now, he would. But they were too late to change their minds. Hopefully that decision hadn’t just ended their lives.