Now he’d woken up, Hugh’s need to piss wouldn’t let him rest again until he relieved himself. He threw his covers aside, the action waking him up further. Although better to lie awake than to have a night filled with messed-up dreams like the one he’d been experiencing. Dressed just in his underwear, he reached down to the end of his bed to find the trousers and top he’d worn the previous day. They smelled of stale sweat.
Bare feet, Hugh didn’t bother looking for his boots. There seemed little point; he’d only be outside for a minute. The cold floorboards questioned his decision, but he pushed on anyway, walking from the room on wobbly legs. Despite his now fully active mind, physical fatigue challenged his ability to remain upright.
At least bare feet made it easier to sneak past the sleeping Sarge in his room. Like with Bleach, the man kept his bedroom door open as if daring the cadets to wake him.
It was late December and it felt like it. Because he only had a T-shirt and trousers on, Hugh’s entire body snapped tight as he stepped from their dorm. Would he even be able to piss?
The frosty grass crunched beneath his steps, the ground rock hard as his toes turned numb.
Despite the number of cadets and leaders on the other side of the wall in the national service area, Hugh heard nothing in the still night. The cloudless sky made it colder, but it also turned the moon into a beam, casting silver over everything. Blood. Elizabeth. Lance. Ranger …
Hugh shook his head. It didn’t take long for the cycle to start up after he woke, but that didn’t stop him hoping today would be the respite he so needed. No such luck.
As the cold worked into his bones, Hugh shook, removing himself from his trousers before he released his bladder against the back wall of their dorm; thankfully it came easily, steam rising from the ground.
Just as Hugh relaxed into the flow, white light smashed against the side of his head. He continued pissing as he fell.
At first just a silhouette, but it didn’t take him long to recognise the squat frame looming over him.
Ranger drove a hard kick into Hugh’s exposed groin. “You think you’re smart, don’t you, boy? Well, you’re not. You’re not smart at all. You’re a coward. You’re weak.”
The second kick slammed into Hugh’s right kidney, streaks of the impact running up through his spine. “Come on, boy, fight back.”
Hugh stared up at Ranger.
“What’s wrong with you?” Ranger leaned down and punched him, sending another explosion of white light through his vision.
As he watched Magma’s son, Hugh smiled.
“What are you grinning at?”
Ranger shook while fumbling with his trousers. “I’ll give you something to smile about, boy.” He removed himself and groaned at the release as he showered Hugh with warm urine.
Hugh remained still while Ranger’s hot and stinking piss soaked him.
Once Ranger had finished, Hugh stood up, face-to-face with the boy. Just an inch separated them, Ranger pulling back slightly from what must have been repulsion from the stench of his own waste. It soaked Hugh’s hair and dripped from his nose and chin.
While pressing a finger to his temple, Ranger said, “You ain’t right in the head, you know that?”
Eyes beaten shut. The twitching limbs of his love. His dad’s face. Ranger’s smile. Elizabeth’s bloody nose.
“Why don’t you do something, you coward?”
As much as he might have wanted to, Ranger couldn’t hide the tremble in his words. Hugh made a small step forward and Ranger stepped back. His eyes widened and his voice rose in pitch. “What’s wrong with you?”
Hugh smiled and moved another pace forward, forcing Ranger back another step.
“You ain’t right.” Ranger turned his back on Hugh and walked away from him, muttering, “You ain’t right.”
Although disconnected from it, Hugh was aware of another smile spreading across his face. Ranger would get his. His time would come. And when it did, it would be glorious.
Chapter 25
The sound of Sarge’s horn sent the crowd into a frenzy. Spike had learned to hate them already as he stood in the mud, watching Hugh sprint off ahead of him. It must be what it was like to be a protector in the arena. The crowd operated with a strange kind of entitlement. They could treat you however they wanted. They owned you.
Hugh led onto the obstacle course because he had the most points of all the cadets. The rules were simple: keep running the course until you’re the only one left. Much like the first task, you were eliminated the second you fell three obstacles behind the leader.
Spike stood in second place. He had Ranger behind him, then Fran, Liz, and Jamie.
The same tree-stump pillars they’d used in the first month of training before they went outside the walls, except the gap between each of them was smaller. They only had to jump half the distance—maybe even less. To watch Hugh climb the first one—the morning frost still on it and mud on his boots from the ground—it made sense. Any farther away and all of them would be out at the first obstacle. They’d be lucky to get through it without breaking bones.
Matilda had flown across the stumps when she’d done it the first time, setting a standard to beat. Hugh’s thick frame didn’t lend itself to agility, but as he jumped from the first pillar to the next, Spike looked at Sarge. The man gave him the nod to go.
Up on the first pillar, Spike’s mind flashed back to the ruined city, to when he saw Matilda on the plinth, surrounded by diseased desperate to end her. He looked for her in the crowd.
“Come on!” Ranger screamed.
Hugh had crossed three stumps already. A shake of his head, Spike used Matilda’s method, jumping from one to the next until he landed with a squelch directly behind his friend.
Two ropes hung down from a platform about twenty feet up. They had knots tied into them at regular intervals. The cold had worked into Spike’s knuckles, challenging his grip, but he still moved up quicker than Hugh, overtaking him to reach the platform first.
At the other side of the platform, Spike came to a large net that led to the ground. He jumped on it, his stomach lurching when it sagged more than he’d expected, but he held on, spun around, and climbed backwards to the bottom.
A ten-foot wall next, Spike charged at it, the muddy ground sapping his forward momentum. He leaped, kicked off against the wooden barrier, and grabbed the top. He pulled himself over, flinging his legs so he landed on the other side. Instead of the squelch he expected, he came down with a thud and looked at his feet to see the wooden sheet covering the pit. The noise of the crowd was damn near deafening, but he could have sworn he felt the banging of fists through the soles of his boots.
Next, Spike came to a cargo net stretched across the ground. He dived beneath it and looked over to see Jamie moving along the tops of the tall pillars. The hard rope hurt his head, but he dropped his focus and butted his way through to the other side. As he stood up—breathing hard—Sarge’s horn sounded, halting Jamie just before he leaped from the final log.
Before Spike could run back to the stumps, he saw a guard waving him in a different direction. He followed his instruction, locking into a rhythm with his breathing and steps, heading for the arena’s exit. Silly him for thinking the assault course would be so straightforward.
Outside the arena, Spike saw another guard who waved him over. His legs were already on fire. Had he given too much too soon? Any doubt he’d had trebled when he saw where the guard pointed. The tunnel Ranger had goaded him about when they were training during the first month of national service. The tunnel he’d told him had diseased in it. The tunnel he’d had a panic attack in front of and never managed to enter. An instant tightening of his chest, he slowed down and shook his head. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t.
Spike glanced over his shoulder to see Hugh and then Ranger emerging from the arena. It was just a tunnel. There were no diseased in it before, so why would there be now?
Hugh caught up to Spike, but
instead of running past him, he grabbed a handful of the back of his shirt and threw him forward so he landed on all fours at the tunnel’s entrance. The rich reek of damp earth overwhelmed him as he listened for the sounds of diseased inside. Hugh didn’t let up, shoving him forward again so he shot head first into the tunnel.
Spike crawled forwards, Hugh pushing him from behind. His chest tightened and stars flashed through his vision. Cramps threatened to lock his limbs and he shook his head. Yet as much as he wanted to stop, Hugh wouldn’t let him, shoving him every time he slowed down.
Then Ranger entered the tunnel. “Come on, Spike, get a move on, you pussy.”
Something changed in Spike. The voice of his once tormentor reminded him how far he’d come. A dark tunnel had nothing on what he’d experienced. As his chest unwound, Spike’s limbs loosened and he quickened his pace. Where he expected another shove from Hugh, it didn’t come. He didn’t need it.
Seeing daylight up ahead, Spike used it as his goal.
The cold winter air hit Spike like fresh water against his face as he burst free. He jumped to his feet and sprinted back into the arena, the crowd regaining their voice as he headed for the wooden pillars, where Liz now stood with Jamie because she’d been eliminated too, but Sarge redirected him, sending him under the cargo net to go back through the course the other way.
Out of the cargo net, Spike threw himself over the wall and finally saw Hugh with Ranger and Fran behind him. They should have been closer. Had Hugh held them all up in the tunnel?
The squelch of the muddy ground beneath his steps, Spike sprinted for the net leading up to the platform with the ropes hanging from it. The wide obstacle swung as he climbed, fatigue robbing some of his strength. The swaying momentum threatened to eat away at his progress.
When Spike reached the platform, he dropped to his knees, backed off the ledge, and caught the rope with his dangling feet. He shook as sweat stung his eyes. He started his descent while Hugh climbed out of the cargo net, Ranger and Fran still behind him.
The friction from the coarse rope bit into Spike’s hands, his grip still weak from the cold. For the final few feet, his climb turned into a fall, his legs failing him when he landed. The cold mud soaked through the seat of his trousers.
His palms on fire from the rope burns, Spike ran for the wooden pillars, climbed up onto the first one, and leaped from one side to the other. When his feet sank into the mud at the other end, Sarge sounded his horn. Fran was out.
Another lap, Spike ran outside the arena. If he had any chance of winning this, he couldn’t rely on Hugh to shove him into the tunnel again. He had to be brave.
Like with the rest of the course, the guards showed Spike he now needed to go through the tunnel the other way. Something about it helped. A different experience to the one he’d had when he’d panicked, he dived into the tunnel, shifting through it on all fours and emerging from the other side before sprinting back to the arena.
On his way back, Spike passed Hugh, who smiled and winked at him. He reached the wooden pillars, which Ranger was still crossing. The red-faced boy looked like he wanted to swing for him as he finally jumped from the last one.
The same method he’d used every time, Spike flew across the top of the pillars. A lizard crossing a hot desert, the pat of his feet against the poles ended with another resounding squelch as he landed.
Lactic acid bit into Spike’s biceps while he ascended the rope, his body shaking, his chest tight. Relying on his legs, he pushed off against every knot, scrambling up onto the platform before rolling off onto the cargo net.
The same ten-foot wall, Spike stretched his mouth wider to help him breathe as he charged, the cold air burning his lungs. He leaped at the wooden wall, kicked off it, caught the top, and threw himself over.
Fatigue made Spike clumsy, and he snagged his leg on the top. If anything, it increased his momentum, throwing him to the ground. He landed on his back against the wooden cover, the impact driving the wind from his lungs.
As he lay there, gasping for breath—the diseased beneath him banging against the hatch of their wooden prison—Spike heard Sarge blow two loud toots. He let go of his need to get to his feet and smiled. He’d done it!
Chapter 26
Every step sent a streak up Spike’s back—the pain from the fall on the wooden sheet still with him—but as he walked to the gym and beyond the cloying mud of the arena, his movements grew easier. The winner of the third trial, he now shared the lead with Hugh with thirteen points and was three ahead of Ranger in third.
Spike followed the other cadets towards the large wooden structure, squinting against the bright and low sun when he looked up at the tall roof he and Matilda had climbed on while on national service. Sure, he’d been fighting to stay alive then, and fighting for the approval of his team leaders, which proved a trickier task, but at least he knew what they required of him. His head had been a mess during the trials. Of course, he had to win, but he had no idea how to manage Ranger and his current attempt at charm, nor Hugh, who was there one minute and away with the fairies the next. No matter how often he tried to get his friend to open up, the boy shut him down.
Fran and Jamie entered the gym behind Ranger and Liz. Spike followed after Hugh. The place smelled of damp from being mopped earlier that day. Damp and sweat. No matter how many times they cleaned it, they couldn’t remove the reek of exercise. Because no one else stopped to clean their boots at the door, he didn’t either, dragging mud from the arena into the clean hut.
Spike jumped when Matilda rushed at him and wrapped him in a tight hug. While wincing against the pain in his back, he forced his words out with his gasp. “You seem better.”
Whenever Matilda felt embarrassed, her cheeks glowed like they were glowing now. She’d clearly forgotten herself for a moment, moving back a step to give Spike and his dad a chance to embrace.
Before Spike asked Matilda what had happened, he led her and his dad to a corner. No chance of privacy in the open space, but they didn’t have to stand in the centre of the room either.
As they walked in silence, Spike took in the room. Hugh stood in one corner with his brother and mum, the other cadets with people close to them. Then he saw Ranger. The short and squat boy surveyed the gym from beneath a thick and furrowed brow. From how his gaze roved, it looked like he didn’t know where to let it settle. His cheeks were flushed red, and it looked like his eyes watered as he shifted from one foot to the other. Almost as if the motion would allow him to squirm free from his discomfort.
Before Spike could ask Matilda what had happened, Ranger’s childish whine went off in the large wooden room. “I don’t know why I’m here. You already know my dad’s busy outside the wall. Why make me go through this every time?” He spoke the last of it through gritted teeth.
Silence fell on the place, and many of the people there looked anywhere but at Ranger.
His rage directed at Sarge by the door, Ranger shrugged. “Well?”
In what looked like a clear attempt to avoid the drama, Sarge crossed the gym to get to Ranger. It only served to heighten it, his loud and awkward gait hitting the wooden floor with a metronomic thud. With every step, Spike felt his shoulders tighten, the bruising in his lower back twinging from the involuntary reaction.
Sarge put an arm around Ranger. For a second, it seemed like the boy might resist. Then he glanced at those in the room. They’d initially been afraid to look back, but now they stared straight at him. Still as red-faced as before, he let Sarge lead him from the gym.
Like everyone else there, Spike braced when winter rushed in through the open door, and he waited for it to close before returning his attention to Matilda and his dad.
Although Matilda looked ready to burst with what she had to tell him, Spike’s dad stepped forward first and hugged him again. “I think Matilda needs you today. Well done on your win, and I’ll be here next month, okay?”
Despite being taller than the man, Spike always felt safe
in his dad’s strong arms and held on for a second longer than he needed to. As he watched his dad walk away, he smiled.
“So,” Matilda said the second he turned around, “Jan has stopped being a bitch.”
“That’s good—”
“There’s more.”
“I assumed, what’s going on?”
Her hands clasped together in front of her, Matilda bounced on the spot, her face alive for the first time since Artan’s incarceration. “She saw everything.”
Spike waited.
“What happened with Mum and Dad. How Artan acted in self-defence.”
“And she’s prepared to give a statement?”
Matilda nodded so rapidly Spike could have sworn he heard her rattle. “That’s amazing!”
“I know.” Tears filled her eyes, the firelight rippling on the saline layer. “I think we’re going to get Artan out.”
Chapter 27
For the week or so before the trials and for a few days after, they locked the arena for set-up and take down, so Spike and Hugh had to train with the others in the gym. With every task, they’d locked the gates for longer. The trial with the tunnel only yesterday, how long would it be before they let them back in this time?
Still early enough for the grass to be frozen from the cold night, Spike dug his hands deep in his pockets, his neck pulled into his shoulders as he walked beside Hugh. “So by the time this is over, Artan might be out.”
“That’s amazing,” Hugh said.
“I know, right? But now it’s on me to make sure I win this thing.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
Maybe it was Spike’s pride that stopped him asking Hugh if he’d held Ranger up in the tunnel on the previous task. Maybe he didn’t care. After all, he accepted he’d been handed first place when he knew Hugh could have beaten him. He’d trained with him enough to see a different boy had returned from his month away. More capable, sure, but the biggest change had happened between his ears. The boy no longer had an off switch. Where he would have given up before attempting a task, he didn’t seem to even consider it now. He could push himself as far as he needed to. Further than any of the other cadets in the trials. Despite several attempts to get him to talk about how he felt and what had gone on in the month away, Hugh remained hostile to any questioning.
Retribution - Book three of Beyond These Walls: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller Page 12