The noise of the crowd died down, Spike craning his neck to see the reason for it as Sarge walked into view. The same grizzled look he always wore, had Spike not witnessed firsthand just how miserable the man was, he would have sworn he did it for effect. He walked with his usual hobble, his loud hailer gripped in his right hand. Were he a more affable man, a cadet might have asked him where he picked up the injury; but the less you asked Sarge, the better.
Sarge lifted the metal cone to his mouth and shouted, “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, we’ve made it really simple today. All the cadets have to do is get from here to the other end of their corridor. The first one out is the winner.”
Although Spike stood in the same stunned silence as the cadets on either side of him and many of the crowd directly behind, the crowd on the other side of the arena laughed and clapped. A glance at Hugh, Spike shrugged. Who knew what they had planned.
A guard then appeared with five broadswords in her arms. She walked down the line of cadets, handing them out, starting with Hugh. After he’d pinched the screws and twisted them to check their tightness, Hugh swapped swords with Spike and did the same with his weapon.
Sarge raised the metal cone to his mouth again. “There are no rules in this trial. Anything goes.”
The statement clearly excited Ranger, whose mouth stretched into a wide grin, and his dark eyes darkened.
The crowd at the other end of the tunnels continued to laugh, whipping themselves into a frenzy.
“On my count, you need to get to the other end of the corridor as quickly as you can. Three … two …”
Maybe if Spike had given it more thought, he would have seen it coming. No thought needed now as the shriek from the diseased lifted the hairs on the back of his neck. It sent a cold chill running through him, and he barely heard Sarge’s horn, his focus purely on the swarm of what must have been at least twenty muzzled creatures in his corridor.
The creatures had nowhere to run but forward, adrenaline surging through Spike as he watched the guards shut a gate across the end of his corridor. Hugh had already charged into action.
A flash of light then smashed into Spike from his left. His world spun, his ears rang, and for a moment, his legs nearly buckled beneath him. Before he’d gathered his bearings to retaliate against Ranger’s attack, the boy grabbed Spike’s sword from him and threw it into the alley. The large weapon landed in the mud between him and the diseased.
Although the crowd behind them booed, Ranger kicked Spike in the backside, shouting, “You’d best retrieve your weapon, boy.”
Spike stumbled forward, tripped, and crashed down to his knees in the muddy ground at the mouth of the corridor. He could deal with Ranger later. What currently mattered rushed towards him as a frenzied, snapping, and foetid mess.
Chapter 31
It didn’t matter that most of the crowd had witnessed it; Sarge had said there were no rules. His hands and knees covered in mud, no more than fifty feet separated Spike and the diseased rushing towards him. The close press of the wooden walls on either side heightened their vinegar reek. The creatures were yet to reach his sword, but Ranger had thrown it too far for him to get to it first.
A ringing in his ears and half of his face numb from where Ranger had sucker-punched him, Spike stood up to face the onrushing fury forty feet away.
Even in his tunnel, he had a view of Matilda. To see her face gave him the answer he needed.
Spike removed one of his boots and threw it at the first diseased with all he had. It hit the creature square in the face. The shock of it slowed the beast down for a few steps. He removed his second boot before throwing that one too. The boos behind him turned into laughter. They might think he’d lost his mind, but he had a plan.
His socks as sodden as his hands and knees, Spike ripped one and then the other off, discarding them both.
Twenty feet.
Spike jumped into the air and made a star with his limbs, pressing against the flat wooden walls on either side with his bare hands and feet. While pushing hard with his hands, he pulled his feet up. He then pressed hard with his feet. The pressure drove the white-hot pain of splinters into his exposed soles and palms, but he clenched his jaw through it and reached higher with his hands.
Just as Spike pulled his feet up for a second time, the lead diseased caught up to him and swung wildly in his direction. It missed dragging him to the ground by only a few inches. Had it reached him a second sooner … he shuddered to think about it, the creatures’ stench worse than ever.
When he’d climbed about ten feet up, Spike levelled his breathing while fighting against his shaking hands and legs. After a moment to compose himself, he kept a tight press on first his hands and then his feet as he made his way down the corridor. The crowd on both sides cheered his name. A moment to look at Matilda, he saw she and his dad had joined in with the chants.
Picking up momentum, Spike found his rhythm. He passed over his broadsword, the weapon caked in mud from where it had been trampled. A small gap in the diseased, the thought to retrieve it crossed his mind, but with just over half the corridor to go, he’d get there quicker if he avoided the fight.
Pressure on his feet, then hands, then feet, Spike picked up his momentum, scooting over the heads of the furious creatures crammed into the space below. They all stared up at him through crimson eyes, their movements twitchy, their mouths snapping as a useless gesture. To look at them made him think about what Ranger had done to Jamie, and it derailed his concentration. He thought about the now silent accusations levelled at him and Hugh. He shook his head to clear it; in that moment, it served no purpose.
It took a few minutes, but Spike made it, swinging from the corridor, clearing the gate at the end, and landing with a squelch on the other side. The cold mud squeezed up through his toes, reassuring him of his now solid footing. When he found Matilda in the crowd again, she nodded and smiled.
Maybe he should have looked at his fellow competitors first because he only just saw that Ranger and Hugh had beaten him to the end. Hugh wore the diseased’s blood like a second skin, feral in how he panted, his eyes wide, his thick frame hunched. Hugh looked how he expected him to; Ranger, on the other hand, had emerged from his corridor spotless.
As Spike opened his mouth to question it, the volume of the crowd lifted, Liz falling over the gate at the end of her corridor as she crossed the finish line. Like Hugh, she wore the diseased’s blood. Sarge’s horn then sounded. Fran had clearly failed.
The crowd quieted down when Sarge appeared. “Well—” he laughed “—I did say there weren’t any rules other than to get to the end of your corridor first. And, Ranger, you got there first. Not that I condone you punching William, but this wasn’t a test of morals.”
“Luckily for him,” Spike said, the crowd noise dropping in response.
“As things stand, we’re going into the last trial with Hugh in the lead, William in second, and Ranger in third. We’ve decided to give the winner of the next trial a bonus of five points. To save complicating things, whoever wins the final trial wins the apprenticeship outright.”
Spike watched the grinning Ranger, who winked at him. “Looks like it’s all to play for, loser.”
With everything in the balance, Spike had the wherewithal to hold onto his reply. They had one trial left, and now all he had to do was come first. He had to live up to his part of the deal and let the leaders decide the rest, but he still didn’t understand how Ranger had remained immaculate.
As if he’d heard Spike’s silent question, Hugh came close and said, “He ran around the outside rather than down his corridor.”
“Cheating bastard.”
“Sarge doesn’t agree. And now we have the contrived crowd-pleasing drama of it all coming down to the final trial.”
Chapter 32
At least they’d got the message that Ranger didn’t want to go to the gym after the trials. It had grown increasingly awkward for everyone involved to see the boy
stand on his own, red-faced and glowering at anyone who dared look at him.
“It’s a good job they kept that little rat away,” Spike’s dad said, loud enough for everyone else to hear. “Cheating little shit!”
“I don’t think we should be having this conversation,” Matilda said, looking at the other friends and family in the room. “Besides, Ranger wants Spike to get mad. It’s the only way he can beat him.”
It helped Spike relax a little. “Thank you,” he said.
“The apprenticeship is there for the taking. Win the next trial and it’s yours. Maybe Ranger’s played his hand too early; you now know what he’s prepared to do to win.”
No matter how Spike tried to focus on the actions he needed to take, he couldn’t ignore the nagging thought that had eaten away at him for the past few weeks. What if Hugh beat him? He gained nothing from thinking about it; it didn’t change that he needed to win. Best to focus on his performance and then deal with the outcome. Before his thoughts overwhelmed him, he turned to his dad. “How’s Mum?”
A dark scowl from where he clearly couldn’t let go of what had happened in the arena, Spike’s dad shrugged. “She’s Mum, you know how she gets.”
“Can you tell her I love her?”
“Will do.”
“And, Tilly? What’s going on with Artan?”
“Jan and I are putting a case together. We’re just waiting to meet with a politician.”
“It all sounds hopeful.”
To see Matilda smile pushed away some of the dark cloud over Spike’s head. “Yeah, we’re planning to have him out before you come home. So you don’t need to worry about us, okay? Just make sure you win this thing.”
One of the guards stepped away from the wall and cleared his throat. “Right, ladies and gentlemen, visiting’s over.”
After another hug with his dad, Spike held onto Matilda. “Love you.”
She kissed his neck, her warm breath tickling his ear as she leaned closer. “You too. Now win this for both of us. I have every faith in you.”
His mood well and truly lifted, Spike smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks as he watched his love and his dad leave the gym. He had this. His destiny would be decided by his own actions.
Chapter 33
Hugh ran like he always did. A simple action, he needed to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, and if he pushed himself hard enough, it stopped him thinking about anything else. His breaths visible, the sun barely risen, he ran around the perimeter of the arena in the grainy light, the frosty grass yielding to his every step as his feet sank into the soft mud beneath.
As Hugh found his squelching rhythm, his mind wandered. Elizabeth. Her bloody nose. Ranger so close to him for so long during their time at the trials, and he’d done nothing. In fact, he’d let him behave worse. Lance’s face. The boy in woodwork. He quickened his pace, his lungs burning from the cold air, his legs sore. Every muscle in his body ached. Rest days were supposed to be important for conditioning, but Hugh took none because rest days opened the door for the demons. Running kept him patient. He had a plan, and if he intended to follow it, he needed to keep his head.
It had snowed a few weeks previously, the thawing of it turning the ground even muddier. It clung to Hugh’s every step, dragging on his momentum and sapping the energy from his already fatigued muscles.
As Hugh came around the back side of the large arena for the third time, their dorm came into view again. Every time he saw the dorm, he went closer to the wooden hut in case Spike had woken up and was waiting for him.
Hugh’s chest tightened to see not only Spike standing outside, but Ranger just a foot in front of him. Whatever they were talking about, they both had their chests puffed out and their fists balled.
Counter to every urge coursing through him, Hugh slowed down. In his mind, he charged Ranger, knocked him to the ground, and kicked him unconscious. Kicked him dead. In his mind, he’d already done it a thousand times. The blood. Elizabeth’s twitching limbs. Lance’s swollen face. That wouldn’t get him anywhere though; besides, Spike might not want his help.
Spike and Ranger were so locked in their conversation they hadn’t noticed Hugh’s approach. When Ranger stepped towards Spike, Hugh moved closer so he could hear what they said to one another.
“You cheated, you snake,” Spike said. “I would have beaten you on the last trial had you not done that to my sword.”
“No, you would have charged down your tunnel like Hugh did, but you would have been slower than him and still come third. At least by throwing your sword I gave you an opportunity to show off to the crowd. Me winning the last trial came from being able to see the bigger picture.”
“Was letting the diseased out of the pit to kill Jamie seeing the bigger picture? Surely if you’d have seen the bigger picture, you would have realised Hugh and I weren’t in the dorm. I mean, we were your targets, right?”
Despite recovering his breath, Hugh’s heart quickened when the short Ranger shook his head. What he’d give to take a brick to the back of his skull. His body wound even tighter when Ranger said, “I didn’t let that diseased out. You and your strange little friend did.”
Images of blood crashed into Hugh’s mind, surging to the fore as Spike shoved Ranger away from him. As much as he wanted to rush to his friend’s side, he wouldn’t stop if he attacked Ranger now. He needed to wait. Although, what he needed to do and what he did were two different things. Hugh ran at the pair.
Just before Spike swung for Ranger, Hugh stepped between them, his back to Magma’s son as he held his hands up, imploring Spike. “Don’t!”
“Get out of the way, Hugh.”
Now he had someone between him and Spike, Ranger grew in confidence. Like every coward who loved the bravado more than the fight, he grew deadlier as the chances of an actual brawl dwindled. Hugh could have sworn he heard him say ‘let me at him’. But he didn’t care about Ranger. Not yet. His time would come.
As Spike went to get past him, Hugh blocked his path. “This is what Ranger wants. You fight him now and they might kick you out. You’re much more of a threat to him in the trials.”
Although Hugh saw Spike’s mouth moving, he lost track of his words; instead, he returned to the memory of beating Lance bloody. Felt the crunch of his face beneath his fists. His eyes battered to puckered slits.
“Hugh?”
A shake of his head and Hugh looked at his friend. “Huh?”
Spike paused for a moment. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why?” Heat flushed his cheeks.
The twist of Spike’s features suggested he didn’t agree with that opinion, but he didn’t question it either.
Sarge then emerged from the dorm, his thick grey hair dishevelled from sleep. “What’s going on out here?”
Ranger opened his mouth as if about to call them out. He then glanced at Hugh and Spike and shrugged. “Just warming up for training.”
For a few seconds, Sarge said nothing, casting his eye over the three boys. When none of them added anything else, he said, “Don’t think I’m not watching you three. All of you.”
Sarge didn’t have to worry about Hugh though; if this most recent encounter had shown Hugh anything, it was that he had the will to wait. He’d come to the trials with a plan. That plan was now only a matter of weeks away from being realised.
Chapter 34
“This is it, ladies and gentlemen.” His voice amplified through the metal cone, Sarge paced up and down while addressing the crowd.
The bleachers had been packed for every trial, but as Spike took them in now, they appeared to be even busier, the spectators pressed shoulder to shoulder. They were stuffed in so tightly together, many of them wore twists of discomfort, and he saw several people throw displeased looks at their neighbours.
“With the five-point bonus for winning the final trial, we have three cadets going for first place and the right to be the next apprentice.”
The
ground muddier than it had been for any other task, the rain falling heavier over the past month as they said goodbye to winter, Spike stepped on the spot and felt the cloying tug on the soles of his boots. It wouldn’t take much for him to lose his feet as he ran. In front of them stood what looked to be a maze made from the same wooden walls as the tunnels in the previous task, but the path didn’t run straight this time. He hoped he wouldn’t have to climb the walls again. He’d only managed to remove the last of the splinters from his hands and feet about a week ago.
“A maze,” Sarge said as if confirming Spike’s observations. “Simple really. The cadets have to get through the maze. And this time, Ranger, you can’t run around.”
Many of the crowd laughed. At any other time, the boy would have drank in the attention. With so much at stake, he acted like he barely heard them, rocking from side to side, his face fixed and his thick jaw tight as he held himself like he often did, assessing the entrance to the maze from beneath his heavy brow.
“You’ll start in order of where you are on the leaderboard.” A flick of his head to Hugh, Sarge indicated for him to stand at the front of the line. “You first.”
Spike stepped in behind his friend and patted him on the back. “Good luck.”
“We don’t need it,” Hugh said.
The Hugh from national service had died with Elizabeth. Not that Spike had stopped liking his friend, but he’d had to get to know a new person, and he’d given up trying to understand what went on inside his head most of the time. The boy behaved erratically and was prone to spells of introspective darkness. Maybe one day he’d open up.
Retribution - Book three of Beyond These Walls: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller Page 14