Beyond These Walls (Book 5): After Edin

by Robertson, Michael

  Max next. He too nailed three shots, although he didn’t showboat like Artan, making three safe shots one after the other, checking to see if Olga watched him each time.

  While the hunters prepared Max, Cyrus hit two. The boy had come a long way in three days, but he still didn’t make the grade. Samson missed on his first shot.

  William’s turn, he pulled a tight-lipped smile at Matilda before approaching the bucket filled with spears. Greg still hadn’t arrived. The man hadn’t promised him anything, but it still took him back to the day he went on national service. The day he expected his dad to say goodbye to him, but the man couldn’t cope and went to work instead.

  A warble in his voice when the community fell silent, William pointed down at an older woman. “The woman with the black dress and white hair.”

  The spear shattered the front of her skull with a crunch!

  Matilda smiled and waited for William to get close to the bucket of spears before she said, “Well done. You can do this. I believe in you.”

  “The fat man in the blue top.”

  Crack. The spear went through his left temple and burst out of his right cheek. The man went down.

  His pulse slamming through him, his legs weak, William shivered from his adrenaline rush and wiped his now damp palms on his trousers before retrieving the third spear. “The man with the red face and big blond hair.”

  When William missed, the crowd gasped. Many groaned their disappointment.

  Only a walk of a few feet to get to Slate, but it felt like miles as the silence from the crowd held, the diseased snarling and hissing below.

  While wincing as if pained by what he’d seen, Slate looked around to make sure he had the crowd’s attention before he said, “Greg’s told me how hard all of you have worked, especially you, William. This is unprecedented, but you’ve all already been outside the walls, so I’d still like to invite you to join us on our hunt today. Cyrus, you were close enough. And Samson, I know you can’t throw a spear, but you can carry our prey.”

  Samson’s tanned skin glowed red as he fixed on Slate. He did well to keep whatever thoughts running through his mind to himself.

  “The rest of you,” Slate said, “should be powerful allies outside these walls.”

  “What about me and Matilda?” Olga said.

  “You’ve already managed to get women playing tri-rings.”

  “So?”

  “Don’t push it, Olga. There are only—”

  Instead of letting Slate finish, Olga walked to the bucket of spears and retrieved one. A low-level hum came from where the crowd murmured to one another. What was this girl doing?

  “That one there,” Olga said, pointing down. “The one about the same build as you, Slate. He has a shaved head like you too.” She nailed the tall, shaven-headed diseased.

  “Oh, look, there’s one with cuts around its neck. Given time, they’d turn into scars.” She winked at Hawk before loosing the spear. It slammed through the eye of the second one.

  “And finally, that fat old man. He looks like one of the lazy hunters who thinks this world’s here to make his life better.” She threw the final spear with such force, she grunted as she loosed it.

  The crowd gasped as the spear buried into the man’s groin. The creature yelled, but it didn’t go down.

  Olga spun on Slate, one hand on her hip and her eyebrow raised. “Now tell me I’m not good enough.”

  “That wasn’t the point I was trying to make. I think you’re too hot-headed. If I had a man who behaved like you, I’d be frightened to take him out hunting with me. You can’t rely on a berserker.”

  William had spent enough time with Olga to read the signals. Her top lip lifted in a snarl, her brow furrowed. Before she could attack Slate, he grabbed her arm. “Don’t put us all in danger for this, Olga. We can’t change everything now. If you attack him, you’re drawing all of us into a fight we don’t want.”

  “Look,” Slate said, “taking too many new people hunting is a serious risk, so how about we take the men today, and you come with us on the next trip?”

  “Why don’t you swap me for one of them? I’m as good as Max and Artan. I’m better than William and Cyrus.”

  “The matter’s closed, Olga. Please understand the decision’s been made. We’ll talk again in the future.” Before Olga could continue the conversation, Slate turned to the rest of the crowd. “We have our hunting party for today. Thank you everyone for your support. We hope to return with more deer and other meat than ever before.”

  As the crowd made their way from the scaffolding, Olga and Matilda leading their group down the wooden structure, Artan grabbed William’s left arm and pulled him back.

  The bags beneath his eyes had been darkened by the lines of dried blood around them. He said, “I’m not sure we’re making the correct choice here to go out hunting with them. I don’t trust them.”

  Greg’s warning came back to William. “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s just a feeling. Like with Samson.”

  “Samson’s done nothing but help us.”

  “So far. Although, I’m not sure Cyrus would agree.”

  “And we can trust Cyrus?”

  “I do.”

  The slightest shift of Artan’s attention over William’s right shoulder gave him a heads-up.

  The same grin he’d worn for the duration of the trials, Slate approached them. “Look, William, I wanted to apologise. We’ve not made it easy for you in Umbriel, but we need to test people to see if they’re the right fit for this place. We have our ways, which I appreciate can be alien for many.” He held his hand out for William to shake, his grip strong. “I just wanted to say it will be an honour to have you out hunting with us. You too, Artan. You look as good as any of us.”

  A dipped nod of appreciation, Artan maintained eye contact with Slate.

  “Anyway,” Slate said, “we’ll see you by the front gates in about half an hour, yeah?”

  “See you soon,” William said.

  When the lead hunter had walked from earshot, William turned back to Artan. “Look, I get your caution. I don’t see us staying here long. If nothing else, Olga won’t last too much longer. But I reckon we should spend a few more days to eat and rest before we move on. Besides, learning how to hunt will only work in our favour when we’re back out there. What do you say?”

  Artan nodded again. It looked like he fought to get the words out. “I trust you, William. You’re the boss.”

  The scaffolding now clear, they walked off it together. “Slate’s right, you know,” William said.

  Artan raised an eyebrow.

  “I can’t wait to see you using that spear. I reckon you might teach the hunters a thing or two.”

  Not quite a smile, but the twitching of Artan’s lips lifted to about as close as he’d gotten since they busted him out of the justice department building. “I think so too.”

  Chapter 33

  William lined up with Max on his left and Artan on his right. Cyrus stood next to Artan and Samson at the opposite end of the line to the boy he hated, and maybe rightly so. Would William find out the truth about the kid from national service too late? Rita and Mary worked on Max and William while Dianna worked on Artan. Two other women from the community tended to Cyrus and Samson.

  First they stripped them of their tops, William’s torso tightening from the slight chill. The sun shone down on them, as it had done for days, but they were weeks away from summer. In an attempt to prevent himself from shivering, he focused on where the sun’s warmth touched his skin and tried to pull it deeper into him.

  A quick check of his back pocket, the crunch of the map still there. William flinched while Rita drew lines of blood on his face, running her fingers just below his eyes. The blood dried against his skin. Max and Artan only needed a touch-up because they’d already been decorated on the scaffolding.

  Most of the community watched on, Matilda and Olga in the crowd, Olga with her arms folde
d across her chest. William said, “Do the retired hunters normally come to this?”

  After she’d looked over both shoulders, Rita nodded. “But don’t worry about them. They don’t like anything new.”

  The elders wouldn’t need to get used to them. One hunt and they’d be out of there. The conversations William had had with Artan and Greg had convinced him. Just one hunt.

  Beyond the tri-rings pitch, leaning against the large hut with the glass sun, stood Greg. The retired hunter saluted and William smiled. At least he had one of the older generation on his side.

  Once Rita had finished, she grabbed William with her warm hands and pulled him towards her, kissing his forehead. “You look after yourself out there, you hear me?”

  “Do you know something you’re not telling me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Greg had already left, but his warning remained. If Rita knew something, her brown eyes hid it well. “Look after the girls, yeah?”

  Rita nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

  All the women finished at the same time, and as they walked away, Artan said, “What was that about?”

  “I’m not sure. But I was thinking about what you said; we’ll go on one hunt and then leave this place, okay?”

  Before Artan responded, the apprentice hunters approached, each of them holding a bucket of spears.

  Slate and the others had stood aside, but the lead hunter now stepped forward. “You all need to pick two spears each. One for dealing with the diseased, which will be the spear you carry so you’re always ready. And the other one’s for hunting. Make sure the heads don’t rub against one another. We don’t want them getting contaminated with diseased blood.”

  Although William had spent some time with Greg, there were so many questions he hadn’t asked him. Like how do you pick a good spear? Logic told him the straightest were best, so he fished through the barrel of spears and grabbed what he believed to be the straight ones. With so many spectators, he could hardly get them all out and look. An amateur pretending he knew what he was talking about. All the gear and no idea. No, thanks. He’d make do with his choices.

  Adopting his usual posture, Slate spread his arms wide and turned his back on the new hunters, facing the women, children, and apprentices gathered there. “May Grandfather Jacks watch over us on this hunt.” He looked up, addressing the clouds, “We have several new faces who need to know you in their hearts. Please grant them courage and strength like you give to us every day. To the provider and the high father.”

  The crowd echoed him. “The provider and high father.”

  As Slate stepped away, he smiled at William and winked. William dipped a nod in return. Despite all the hostility over the past few days, at least the hunter had backed away from Matilda.

  Matilda and Olga approached the boys. Olga’s tanned skin still glowed red. She needed to find a release soon. Hopefully, she’d find it in private. Matilda wore a mask of calm. The fury would be burning as hot in her, but she had more self-control. Now wasn’t the time.

  While chewing on her bottom lip, Olga glanced at one of the buckets of spears. William leaned close to Max. “She’s going to kick off again. Have a word with her, yeah?”

  “You think I can change her mind? Let’s just see what she has to say.”

  Olga and Matilda walked past the spears. Olga approached Max while Matilda went to Artan.

  Olga poked Max in the centre of his exposed chest, knocking him back a step. “You’d best come back.”

  William smiled. Olga even approached flirting like she wanted a fight.

  Matilda hugged Artan. “All of you best come back!”

  When Olga leaned close to Max, William winced. At the last moment, Max turned aside so she kissed his cheek.

  Where Olga had been red just a few seconds ago, she now glowed with shame, her brown eyes widening.

  Max stepped back from her and held her hands. “Look, Olga, this won’t work between us.”

  Did he really need to say that now?

  “I—”

  The crack of Olga’s right hook rang out. The crowd fell silent.

  Tears stood in Max’s eyes, a welt on his left cheek where she’d hit him. If William had been hit that hard, his eyes would be watering too. Max lifted his chin. “You should be with someone who makes you happy.”

  Olga shook where she stood, and twitches ran through William’s body as he readied himself to step between them. But instead of going for Max again, she walked to the group of hunters gathered by the wall, grabbed Hawk, and kissed him.

  The kiss seemed to last a lifetime, Hawk reaching down and holding Olga’s bottom. Although Max stared straight ahead, his eyes watered more than before.

  “Couldn’t you have saved that for a better time?” William said.

  “She just tried to kiss me.”

  Olga stormed back to their hut, while Hawk grinned for the first time since William had met him.

  The metal chains jangled behind them from where the apprentices lifted the gate. Matilda stepped closer to William and pressed her palm over his heart. “Just come back alive, okay?”

  William nodded before Matilda kissed him and followed the path taken by Olga. He spoke to Artan from the side of his mouth. “Why am I starting to think even one hunting trip might be a bad idea?”

  Chapter 34

  Several days inside Umbriel’s walls and eating more than he had in his entire life had left William gasping to keep up with the hunters’ frenetic pace. They moved through the long grass as if their feet didn’t touch the ground. In contrast, William padded after them as if gravity’s pull had trebled.

  From the gasps and pants of those around him, his friends were struggling too. Samson especially, his red face glistening with sweat, his mouth stretched wide, desperate for more air.

  The newest hunter to the group—the one who’d won the trials several days ago—loosed his spear. William only saw the diseased when it went down to the attack, tripping and rolling several times in the long grass. The spear stuck straight up like a flagpole. The hunter retrieved it without breaking stride.

  Several more hunters took down several more diseased. Every time, they speared them and retrieved their weapons without upsetting the group’s momentum.

  Were William able to breathe, he might have complimented the hunters on their skills. Instead, he had to settle for watching on in awe while his legs burned with fatigue.

  Hawk slowed his pace, dropping back from the main group so Max caught up to him. “Looks like your girl’s chosen. I can’t blame her. She clearly likes a man with a bit more about him. She knows an alpha when she sees one.”

  Max stared straight ahead, locked into a deep breathing rhythm.

  After Hawk sped up to rejoin the leading pack, Cyrus said, “Why did you turn her away?”

  The muscles in Max’s face tensed.

  “Why don’t you mind your own business, Cyrus?” Samson said.

  Before it could escalate, the hunters ahead of them stopped.

  While William and his friends caught their breath, Slate approached. “Wait here. We want to show you something.”

  Fighting the urge to either bend over and rest on his knees, or sit down, William linked his fingers behind his head to open his lungs and spun on the spot. They’d stopped in the centre of a ring of trees. Ten to fifteen of them, evenly spaced, they were green and bushy. The hunters split up and climbed them. Within a few seconds, every one of them had vanished from sight.

  Now he couldn’t see Slate, William struggled to even place the location of his voice, other than to know which tree it came from. Were he to aim a spear at the lead hunter right now, he’d probably miss him by a mile. “This is how we hunt. We climb these trees and wait. Nailing unsuspecting deer is much like nailing the diseased from Umbriel’s back wall.”

  Drumming came from the trees surrounding them. The same beat they played in Umbriel, it called over the wild meadow.

  “How do the
drums help when catching deer?” Max said, spinning on the spot.

  William called in the direction of Slate’s tree. “What are you doing?”

  The beats accelerated and grew louder.

  In less than a minute, the first diseased’s shrieks called to them from across the meadow. “Put your backs together,” William said, his spear raised. “As long as we hold our formation, they won’t be able to get to us.”

  Max on one side of him, Artan on the other, William stepped back until the five of them formed a tight ring.

  The swish of long grass heralded the approach of the first diseased. It ran like many of them, stumbling at the very edge of its balance, leaning forwards with its arms windmilling. Several more appeared from different angles. They were closing in fast.

  The drumbeats turned into rolls, and the hunters screamed and yelled. A celebration as wild as any inside Umbriel’s walls. Still short of breath from the run, William tried to remember Greg’s instruction. He gripped his spear, firm but relaxed.

  The closest diseased got to within fifteen feet before a spear flew from a tree. It shot through the side of the thing’s face, altering its course so it sailed past William and his friends before finally dropping into the long grass.

  Another spear took down the next one.

  More diseased appeared, more spears shooting from the trees.

  “Hold on to your weapons,” William said. “Let the hunters take them down. We might need to fight if they fail.”

  A hunter missed and a diseased broke through. Both of his hands on the spear’s shaft, William jumped forward and drove the flint tip through the bottom of its jaw. It burst through the top of the thing’s head in an eruption of blood and bone.

  Returning to his friends, he leaned towards Max. “You might need to do something here. I’m not sure we’ll survive otherwise.”