Beyond These Walls (Book 6): Three Days

by Robertson, Michael

  Chapter 23

  “Of course the door’s locked,” Olga said, letting go of the large steel handle. The door similar to the cell they’d shared with Dianna, Heidi, and the broken mousy-brown haired girl. Although the similarities ended there. “But at least we have comfort now.” The bed sank when Olga sat on it, the white sheets freshly cleaned. A floor of stone like everywhere else in the asylum, but at least it had been swept. At least the place didn’t stink of sweat and piss. “Sometimes kicking off gets you what you need. Maybe they’re trying a different approach. Maybe they recognise with time running out, the ceremony being tomorrow night, that being nice might get them somewhere.”

  Barp!

  “You’re not convinced?” Olga said to the frowning Matilda.

  Matilda lay on one of the beds and stared up at the ceiling. “I think Heidi and the other girl should be a lesson to us.”

  “That we need to be like them?”

  “Maybe. They’re ready for Grandfather Jacks, after all.”

  “You saying we should pretend?”

  “Maybe.”

  “No.” Olga paced the small yet clean room. “That isn’t me. I’d rather die than give in like those two girls have.”

  Barp!

  “You might have to.” Although Olga opened her mouth to reply, Matilda cut her off. “Anyway, my main aim is to get away from this place as soon as possible and find William, Artan, and the others.”

  “Well, at least we’re agreed on that.”

  A loud knock at the door, the silhouette of someone peering in through the small barred window. There were more small glass suns in this room than anywhere they’d been so far. They cast a warm, almost welcoming glow. The person in the hallway stood far enough back for the shadows to hide their features.

  Crack! The hinges groaned as the door opened. Olga twisted her feet where she stood and balled her fists. The crackle of one of the blue poles loosed some of the tension in her frame and she stepped back a pace.

  Barp!

  “You!” One of the guards, a short and wide man with a shaved head and scars around his neck like Hawk and Carl, pointed at Matilda. His stick crackled and buzzed with the blue glow. “Move. Get over against that far wall.” He turned on Olga, his eyes hidden in the shadow cast by his thick brow. “You get over there too.”

  Olga swallowed a dry gulp and moved to stand beside Matilda, the stone wall cold against her back. Maybe she’d grown too confident about their situation too soon?

  Another man entered the room. He had a plate in each hand. He walked with his head bowed, his bottom lip protruding as he addressed the ground. “Here’s your dinner. Deer, potatoes, and carrots. The High Father wanted you to know it’s what he’s eating right now.”

  Barp!

  “See,” Olga said from the side of her mouth. “They are trying a different approach.”

  The man with the plates placed one on Olga’s bed. “He said he’s a patient man. He’d love to marry you on this cycle, but he’s a patient man.” After he’d placed the second plate on Matilda’s bed, he left the room. He continued to avoid eye contact. The guard with the blue pole waved it in their direction before he too exited. On his way out, he slammed the door and cracked the bolt shut.

  Matilda had been pale before the men had entered the room. If anything, her skin had now turned translucent. “What’s wrong?” Olga said. “We’ve been fed. We have comfort. Surely this is a better situation to break out from?”

  “Did you hear what he just said? About the cycles. About patience.”

  Too confident in her own actions, Olga hadn’t joined the dots. “Oh shit!”

  “Exactly,” Matilda said. “There’s a full moon once a month. If we’re not ready this month, he’s patient enough to wait.”

  Chapter 24

  A man and a woman separated from the group and continued towards the boys. The rest of the pack formed a semicircle, closing in to cut off any chance of escape. Spears in one hand, weapons—from blades to clubs to axes—in the other, each of them came ready for war. It started with a clicking sound, one of them snapping their teeth together. The rest joined in, the clicks rising in frequency until the clacking teeth turned into a continuous tone. Some of them hummed a deep bass note. The nerve-rattling sound made the wall of warriors utterly impenetrable.

  The two who had broken away from the group edged slowly closer. The woman stood no more than five feet six inches tall, and she had a slight yet lithe frame. Blonde hair, pale skin, and a large gap between her front teeth, which she had no problem displaying in a wide grin. The man beside her stood as tall as William. Dark skin, not quite as dark as William’s, but several shades deeper than Artan’s. Were his long black hair not matted and tied with bones and sticks, it would have hung dead straight. His ochre eyes penetrated them as if he searched the boys for their lies before they’d left their mouths.

  “Hi,” the woman said, her tone as chipper as her demeanour. It stood in stark contrast to the humming and clicking warriors at her back.

  Cyrus stepped forwards and offered his hand, his voice wavering. “Hi. I’m Cyrus.”

  Too late to drag him back now, William kept his mouth shut while Cyrus shook hands with the two leaders.

  “This is Artan, William, and Max,” Cyrus said.

  The man spoke this time. “We need you to lower your weapons.”

  Max shook his head and pulled his war hammer close to his chest. “Ain’t no way I’m giving this up.”

  “We’re not asking you to give it up,” the woman said, “just lower it. You’re all standing like you’re ready for war. I find it—” she looked up as if searching for the word, her smile returning when she said “—disconcerting.”

  The boys looked at one another before Artan led them in lowering both his spear and knife.

  “Thank you,” the man said. “My name’s Serj and this is Collette.”

  “We’re nomads,” Collette said. “We have no home, so we live in the wild lands. We like the freedom. We hunt; we move around; we stay wherever takes our fancy.”

  Cyrus shrugged. “We have no home now either.”

  “You wanna give them our whole life story?” William said.

  Collette, who seemed the true leader of the two, acknowledged William with a nod. “I understand. You don’t know us; you shouldn’t be too trusting. It’s a hard world out here. Especially south of the funnel. You’re northerners?”

  The way she said it turned through William, twisting his back. Utter disdain for those north of the funnel. “We’re from the north, yes.”

  “Lucky you,” she said. “We could tell. You have the marks of someone who hasn’t had too much cause to hide. Who doesn’t know the struggles of the south.”

  “What do you know of our struggles?” William stepped forward and Artan pulled him back. The hunters in the semicircle all raised their weapons. Their hum grew louder; their teeth clicked harder.

  “Look,” Serj said, “we’re not bad people, and we’re not here to fight you.”

  “What are you here for, then?” Max said.

  “We figured you might want some help. We saw you”—he pointed at William—“from a mile away. You sat on the edge of the wall like a tourist.”

  Heat flushed William’s cheeks.

  “We thought we’d get to you first. Come say hi; maybe offer a few words of advice.”

  “And there’s nothing better than unsolicited advice,” William said.

  Collette raised her thin eyebrows. “Especially when it saves your life, eh?”

  William bit back his response.

  “Please,” Serj said, “take the advice with the goodwill that’s intended. You won’t last long on this side of the funnel if you don’t learn the ways of the people here. Can you hunt?”

  “We have to be somewhere,” William said.

  “First, you hunt,” Collette said as she leaned the tip of her spear in William’s direction.

  The semicircle tightened again
, the nomads clicking and humming even louder than before. They offered spears to the boys.

  After a slight hesitation, William and the others took the spears. At least they still had nearly a day and a half until the full moon.

  Chapter 25

  “What do you think the boys are doing right now?” Olga said.

  Matilda sighed and paused as she stared into space with the hint of a tearful glaze covering her brown eyes. She filled her lungs and turned her attention to Olga. “What you and I would be doing.”

  “You think they’re trying to track us down?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And you think they’re close?”

  “Who knows?” Matilda lost focus again. “Although, what I do know is we need to find a way out of here on our own.”

  “Damn straight,” Olga said. “It’s just how.”

  “Exactly.”

  Crack! The lock opened. A reminder that while they might have been staying in a more luxurious room, they were still prisoners. A tall blonde woman with a mean scowl entered. Taller than both Olga and Matilda, she had short hair and harsh wrinkles around her eyes, which were accentuated by the brown lines of dirt filling them. She had red blotches all over her skin, and several of her teeth were missing.

  Olga tutted and shook her head. “What is it with you lot? How can you do this man’s bidding? Surely you can see it’s all a ruse so he can bed young girls?”

  The woman wore tatty boots with hard soles, the clip of them against the stone floor as she marched over to Olga. Although Olga winced, the woman stopped just inches from her, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening. “You’ve had your rest now. You’ve been fed. We were going to leave you until next month, but Grandfather Jacks has received a message from the High Father that we should try one last time.”

  “Don’t you mean the dirty old man has a hard-on for either me or Matilda, and he doesn’t want to wait?”

  Thwack! The woman caught Olga with a backhand, knocking her to the ground.

  Her ears ringing, her face throbbing from the blow, Olga stood up on wobbly legs, clamped her jaw, and raised her chin. Her view of Grandfather Jacks’ dirty guard blurred because of her watering eyes.

  The blonde woman drew a slow intake of breath through her wide nose, her large bosom lifting as she filled her lungs. She swiped her fringe from her brow with one thick sausage finger. “Now, while I don’t think you can be helped, I’m willing to listen to the High Father to see if there is a way to get you both ready for tomorrow night.”

  “We’re ready,” Matilda said.

  Olga gasped. After she’d stood up to this woman’s bullshit, Matilda had now sold them both out. Why didn’t she go and jump into Grandfather Jacks’ bed right now? They might have discussed it, but she hadn’t agreed. She would not marry the man, regardless of what Matilda did.

  Heat radiated from Olga’s cheek, but she kept her arms at her sides and resisted the urge to rub it. Matilda could do what she wanted, but she wouldn’t show this woman she’d gotten to her. She wouldn’t yield. Ever.

  The tall blonde woman leaned so close to Olga their noses touched. Her greasy skin carried a stench of old dirt. When she spoke, her words rode on a wave of halitosis. “This one doesn’t look ready.”

  The cuts on Matilda’s thigh kept Olga’s mouth shut. She couldn’t be responsible for them torturing her again.

  The blonde woman sniffed Olga. “She doesn’t smell ready either. I’m not convinced.” The woman pulled back and her tone lightened. “But I need to try. I promised the High Father I’d do all I could to get you both ready. We have a lot of work to do in a very short time. We need to make sure we have you in the purest state possible for the ceremony. You need to come free of baggage. Relieved of your anger. This is for your own good. We have to help you on your path to enlightenment. Otherwise, what other reason is there for us being alive?”

  “That’s what he calls it, is it?” Olga said.

  The blonde woman let out a low growl. “We’re here to serve.”

  “How does taking advantage of little girls serve anyone? How young are some of them? Twelve? Thirteen?”

  The right side of Olga’s face lit up again and she stumbled from the woman’s next blow, her ears ringing with a higher pitch than before. At least she’d attacked her and not Matilda. A deep ache nestled in her jaw, but as much as she wanted to open and close it to work away some of the pain, she bit down harder and rode out the harsh sting.

  The fizz of the blue poles sounded outside in the corridor. Their bright glow entered ahead of the two guards carrying them. Two men, they each had a female guard behind them who wheeled in a metal trolley. The leather straps hung down, ready to pin Olga and Matilda in place.

  Matilda walked over to one of the trolleys, and Olga’s jaw fell loose. Her face alive with the buzzing sting of the woman’s attack, she frowned but kept her thoughts to herself. Matilda could do whatever she wanted, but that didn’t mean Olga had to take this bullshit. She sat down on her bed.

  One of the guards with the fizzing blue pole jabbed Matilda’s thigh on the bandage, dropping her to the cold stone floor before sending her body flipping with a prolonged press against her back.

  “All right!” Olga said, barging the tall blonde woman aside as she walked to the other trolley. “Jesus.”

  The man jabbed Matilda on the back of her right arm, the limb snapping away from her. The guard spoke through clenched teeth. “The High Father not Jesus.”

  Even after the attack, Matilda’s brown eyes remained calm. She nodded at Olga. The silent gesture asked her if she was okay. How could she be concerned for Olga in this moment?

  The bars of the metal trolley against her back, the smell of leather when the woman strapped Olga’s head in place before pinning her arms to her sides.

  Barp! The sound shuddered through the building like a deep barking cough. It had gone on the entire time, but it rang louder through the long dark corridors. The small suns lined the walls. The woman pushing Olga’s trolley let Matilda’s guard go ahead of them.

  They turned right and then another immediate right, the path dropping down at a steep angle. The hallways had been lined with glass suns, but this plunge into the depths of the asylum had none. Inky blackness, they were descending into hell. The rock in Olga’s stomach tightened. How could things get worse than they were now?

  Barp! The only measure of time in this place. Several more deep tones shook the old building as they plunged deeper and deeper, Olga’s trolley wobbling with its wonky wheel, the squeak of it echoing in the dark and cramped space.

  Crack! Another large wooden door. Another old lock. The groaning of another set of hinges, Matilda vanished into the shadows inside, disappearing from sight before they pushed Olga in after her.

  Barp!

  Colder than any other part of the asylum, the damp clung to Olga’s skin the second she entered the room. A funky reek of mould, it plugged her nostrils.

  The room then lit up so bright it blinded Olga. The strap across her brow prevented her from turning away from the glare. She squinted and it took several seconds for her to regain her sight. The blonde woman stood over to one side by a white switch. A glass sun hung from the ceiling. Larger than any she’d seen before. Even larger than the one in the barn in Umbriel. It glowed pure white.

  The walls and floor of the cell glistened, reflecting the light. They put plastic muffs over Matilda’s ears. Although Matilda kept her eyes on Olga, she also kept her mouth shut. They didn’t need to be getting themselves into any more trouble.

  The blonde woman flicked a switch on the side of Matilda’s muffs, and Matilda’s eyes narrowed with her hard frown. What were they doing to her?

  A pair of muffs for Olga, the blonde woman breathed heavily as she slipped them over her ears. They were cushioned on the part resting against Olga’s head. They were a snug fit. A slight click from where the woman flicked the switch on the right side.

  Assaulted by cr
ying babies, Olga dragged in a sharp breath. They screamed as if being tortured, whining and yelling, the high-pitched wails driving nails into her ears. She shouted but couldn’t even hear her own voice. “What the hell is this? What are you doing? Turn it off. Turn it off.”

  The cries grew louder, cutting to Olga’s core.

  Then they stopped.

  The muscles in Olga’s body loosened. Until …

  His deep rasping voice. The same voice she’d heard when blindfolded in the other room. The voice of Grandfather Jacks, the man who’d licked the blood from her face. Was he in the room with them now? “Praise be to the High Father. I accept the High Father into my life. Everything I do is in servitude to the High Father. I love the High Father. I’m one with the High Father.”

  Silence.

  Then quietly, in the distance, the cries started again as if the babies were several rooms away. They grew louder and louder, screaming, wailing. Distressed infants, they needed help. They grew so loud Olga’s ears rang. Yet, all the while, as Olga twisted and turned, the sounds churning through her, Matilda remained straight-faced. Even the frown she’d worn into the room had lifted.

  The first to leave were the two women who’d steered the trolleys. The men with the poles next. The blonde woman leaned close to Olga, her stare flicking left and right as she looked from one of Olga’s eyes to the other. She pulled a tight-lipped smile before she also left.

  The screams tearing through her skull, Olga tried to focus on Matilda’s calm. To find a shred of it to hang onto.

  The bright sun blinked off and back on again.

  It snapped Olga from the torment.

  It did it again, breaking Olga’s focus a second time.

  Then again.

  Each time the gaps grew shorter, the blinking on and off, on and off. The screams grew louder. The blinking came quicker. On, off. On, off. On, off.