His breathing heavy, his legs leaden, his heart sinking, Max reached the entrance to the ornate tunnel. Sweat ran into his sore eyes, and the diseased bumped into him. They were too numerous to avoid.
Mad Max.
Max’s hands shook as he flicked through the keys he’d taken from Hawk. Many of them were too small for the lock in front of him. The first one that looked like it might have worked didn’t fit. His feet planted on the soft ground, he held onto the cold bars of the tunnel’s entrance to prevent himself from getting swept up in the tide of bodies. The creatures nudged him. Bit at the air around him. Moaned as they passed him.
Mad Max.
Clack. The lock finally freed. The hinges groaned and Max barged the diseased aside, kicking several away while he slipped into the tunnel.
Seven diseased followed Max through before he locked the tunnel behind him. He put the keys in his pocket, filled his lungs, the air curdled with diseased funk, and went to work.
Crunch! The first attack sank into the head of a teenage girl. He caved in her skull, forcing her eye from its socket.
Mad Max.
At least Max had the space to work now he’d locked the tunnel.
With all of the diseased down, Max took a moment. Olga stood on the palace’s roof, Hawk beside her, as topless as when Max had left him. What a prick. Who was he trying to impress by walking around like that? But Olga was the one who mattered. The desire to wave stirred through the fingers of his right hand. What good would it do? He’d ignored her all evening, and now he was going to wave?
Max walked towards the large steel door at the end of the filigreed tunnel. The tall building blocked the rising sun. There were tens, maybe hundreds of innocent women and children inside. Whatever else happened, they needed to be liberated, and he had to do it. His immunity was equal part curse and gift. He had to use it for good.
His trousers soaked from the morning dew, his legs ached with the exhaustion of the last few weeks. Although, reluctance tugged on his forward momentum more than his fatigue. One of the least inviting places he’d ever seen. Maybe he could go back to Olga before he went in. Explain a few things. Clear the air. Enter the hellish building with a lighter heart.
The diseased all around him. Many of them leaned against the steel tunnel, forced against the filigreed walls by the crush of their peers. Some faces turned his way, although they paid him little mind. Why would they?
Mad Max.
But if he went back to Olga now, he’d have to cross through this lot again. To rub shoulders with the reeking mess of creatures. To inhale their palpable stench.
Mad Max. It took all Max had to not look for the diseased calling to him. It was all in his head. It was all in his head.
Now he’d gotten to the asylum, Max needed to get the innocent people out. Olga would be there when he’d finished.
Mad Max.
“Shut up!” Max said it beneath his breath. The diseased weren’t speaking to him, no matter how many times he imagined it.
Mad Max. The diseased spoke in the voices of his four brothers. The crimson-eyed versions of his brothers. The brothers he’d killed when he found them in Edin.
“Shut up!”
Maaaaaad Max. A long and drawn-out call. The words stretched with their groans and moans.
Mad Max.
Maaaad Max.
No matter how many times he’d heard it, it grated. It turned tension through his shoulders. It tied knots in his guts.
Mad Max.
Nothing but his imagination. He just had to deal with it. “It’s not real.”
Hey, Max!
That one caught him off guard and Max turned to his right. “Sam?”
“No.” He shook his head, a gormless diseased staring back at him. Not Sam. How could it be Sam? Sam had probably turned into a rotting corpse by now. He probably remained in the doorway of their old house, as dead as when Max had left him.
Mad Max. Mad Max.
“What would you have done in my situation?” Unable to find the diseased talking to him, Max turned full circle. “I did the only thing I could. I stopped your suffering. You think that was easy for me?”
Maaaaaaad Max.
“It’s not real,” Max said. “It’s not real.” A few feet from the asylum’s entrance, Max dug his nail into the large key ring he’d taken from Hawk. He freed the key that opened the filigreed tunnel.
Mad Max.
The ground was soft from all the rain they’d had over the past few weeks. It made it easy enough for Max to force the key into the ground. A cluster of four black steel leaves in the tunnel directly above it. He counted his steps to the large asylum door.
Seven steps. Better to hide it. If he lost the key ring for some reason, he could still get out. And maybe more importantly, he could prevent anyone else from letting the diseased in. He’d seen too many places fall. He couldn’t risk giving anyone a chance to leave the gate open.
Mad Max.
“Shut up!”
It took several attempts to find the correct key, but when he finally did, Max opened the large steel door with a clack. The sharp note called away into the vast building. The hinges protested against their opening, and Max remained where he stood as he shoved the door wide. This was his last chance to change his mind. Olga remained on the palace’s roof. The semi-naked Hawk remained beside her. Did he really want to leave them together? But did he really want to cross through the crowds of diseased again?
Mad Max. Mad Max.
If anything, the calls grew louder. The reminder of what he’d done. Of how he’d left his brothers for dead. Of the violent deaths of many diseased at his hands. What if he’d tried to help them instead? To cure them? No, that would be ridiculous. He wasn’t a scientist. He didn’t have the skills to help anyone. Not like that at least. But he could help now. There were plenty of people he could help inside this large dark institution. He could do something about them.
Mad Max.
And hopefully it would stop the voices. A deep inhale and one last glance at Olga. She might have stood next to Hawk, but they had distance between them. If only he’d spoken to her when he’d had the chance. If only he’d learned his lesson the first time. But he’d get back to her after this. He’d make it right.
Max stepped through the doorway of the cold and dark asylum and froze.
Mad Max.
The daylight from outside lit the way for several feet before it was consumed by the shadows. Like with the gate to the tunnel, he couldn’t leave this door open. He couldn’t let this place fall like Edin had. And what benefit would he get from a few feet of daylight?
Mad Max.
Darkness swamped the place when Max closed the door. Darkness and quiet. Peace. He waited for the call, but it didn’t come. The white noise of the diseased banished. The voices of his brothers gone.
Several taps with the metal key against the lock beneath the handle. He finally found the hole, slid the key in, and locked the door.
The wall on his right to guide him, he kept one hand on the damp stone, every step forwards into the unknown. But at least he’d left those things behind. For now, he could forget the echoes from his past and focus on what lay ahead. For many, the asylum meant incarceration and madness. For Max in that moment, it meant sanctuary. But now he had to find Dianna.
Chapter 3
William stood with the others. He bore Matilda’s weight where her left leg couldn’t. Every few seconds, she winced as if her pain ran through her in pulsating waves, each time catching her unawares.
“I bet it’s awful in there,” Cyrus said as he watched Max enter the asylum and close the door behind him.
Olga swiped her hair away from her face and held it on top of her head. “I wish I could go in there with him. That place is hell on earth.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this,” Cyrus said, “but I’m more worried about Max than anyone. The fall of Edin didn’t do him any favours.”
“It wasn’
t paradise for us either, you know?” William said.
“Of course.” Cyrus dipped a nod. “But Max talked to me a lot on the journey over here. When he couldn’t sleep at night, we’d chat. He told me about what he had to do to his family in Edin.” The skin around the sides of Cyrus’ eyes tightened. A sea of diseased separated them and the giant industrial mess of a building.
Artan put a hand on Cyrus’ back. “And?”
“Huh?”
“What did Max say?”
“Oh,” a shake of his head, Cyrus said, “he told me that every time he kills a diseased, he sees one of his family. He hears their voices as he’s cracking skulls. Even though they’re diseased, the sheer violence of it is taking its toll. His role in our group is to slay twenty to fifty times more than any of us ever will. And, really, how different are the diseased from us? Their skulls crack like ours. They bleed like us. Like his family did.”
A slight yelp beside him, William tried to catch Matilda’s weight, but she insisted she sit by tugging against him.
William hunched down, removed her hummingbird clip, swiped her hair away from her sweating face, and clipped it back again. Bile lifted in his throat to see Hawk had watched him the entire time. “We’ve gotten this all wrong. Why the hell have we sent Max, our most valuable asset, after a stranger when Matilda needs his help?”
“Dianna’s not a stranger,” Hawk said.
“She is to us.”
“You knew her from Umbriel. She’s a good person. She doesn’t deserve to be inside that place.”
“And Matilda deserves what’s happening to her?” After pausing for a moment, his heart pounding, William said, “Look, I’m sure she’s wonderful, and maybe there is a need for us to get her out of there, but Matilda’s needs are greater. It’s messed up that we’ve put what you want ahead of what Matilda needs. We should have thought about it more. After all, you were prepared to hand us over to Magma. If you’d had your way, we wouldn’t even be here. And the very thing that saved us, we’ve allowed you to use to your advantage.”
“I can’t change the past.”
“And I can’t forget it,” William said. “If I could go back now, I’d sneak into your room in Umbriel and cut your throat while you slept.”
Hawk’s hand went to the scars around his neck, his thick fingers tracing the rope burn and the slashes that ran down his chest.
“I’m not sure this is getting us anywhere,” Olga said. “Besides, what could Max have done for Matilda?”
William kept his attention on Hawk. “Don’t you dare look at her like that.”
Hawk stepped back a pace. “Huh?”
“Don’t look at Matilda like you pity her. You could have told us what they had planned for her and Olga when we were in Umbriel. Had you done that, she wouldn’t be here in the first place, so save your faux sympathy, yeah?” He turned from Hawk and said to Olga, “Max could have searched the palace to see if they had anything in there we could use. It all happened too quickly. He let his pride get in the way after what happened between you and Hawk, and he rushed off before we could come up with a better plan. What good will Dianna be to us when she and Hawk leave?”
The muscles in the sides of Hawk’s jaw tensed and relaxed as he clenched it and stared out over the wasteland.
“And what will he be able to do in that place in the dark? It’s huge. And if he can’t see where he’s going, he’ll be in there for hours.”
“Dianna—” Matilda paused and dragged in a breath through her clenched teeth. More sweat glistened on her brow “—deserves to be rescued. It’s awful in there. She was kind to us. She’s the reason we got away. If it wasn’t for her, there’s no chance we would have toppled this place.”
If Hawk felt smug about Matilda backing him up, it didn’t show. “So what are your plans?” William said.
“Huh?”
“When Max brings Dianna back to you. What are your plans?”
“If you’ll have us, we’ll stay with you. Help. Find a way to fix Matilda.”
“But after that. Let’s say everything works out. What do you have planned then? What’s the bigger picture?”
“I’ve not thought about it.” Hawk shrugged. “I dunno. Dianna is my priority and then, uh—” he shrugged again “—go south maybe.”
“South of the wall?” Olga said.
“If we can get across. If that’s what you all want to do? We’d like to help you if we can. We’re stronger together, right?”
“You think Max will want you with us?” Artan said. Not an accusation, a gentle question that needed to be considered if they were planning their future.
Before Hawk could answer, Olga said, “Dianna’s a good kid. Like Matilda said, she helped us a lot. She told us about the electricity so we could get the power off.”
“Electricity?” Hawk said. “You turned the power off?”
“We smashed the solar panels,” Olga said.
Hawk shook his head. “That shouldn’t be enough to kill the power on its own.”
“There was a metal box. When we opened it up, it was filled with cubes that had wires running from them.”
“Batteries,” Hawk said.
“If you say so.”
“The solar panels gather the sun’s rays and convert them into electricity. The batteries store the electricity. They’re what powers the place.”
“Forgive me,” Olga said, “but what are you saying?”
“If we can reconnect the batteries, we might be able to get the power back on to help Max. Can you show me where they are?”
The slightest hint of a smile lifted one side of Olga’s mouth. She nodded. “Yes, I can. Let’s go.”
“I’m going with you,” William said. Then to Matilda, “If that’s okay?”
Matilda nodded. “You staying here, as much as I love the company, isn’t making my leg get any better. You go, see if you can help. In fact”—she winced as she stood up, hopping on her one good leg—“I’m going to come with you.”
William flicked his head towards Hawk. “And someone needs to keep an eye on him.”
“I am here, you know?” Hawk said.
“I know. Artan, Cyrus, I think you should both come too. If Hawk’s telling the truth, we need to get the power back on as soon as possible. The sooner we do that, the sooner we’ll be able to find a way to help Matilda.”
Chapter 4
“That’s it, Max, one step at a time, mate. One foot in front of the other. That’s all you need to do.” It helped to talk to himself. The darkness of the asylum pushed in on him from all sides, amplifying his solitude. He needed the company, and now the diseased had stopped talking to him, he didn’t want to let them back in.
Max held the front door key in a pinch, his war hammer in the other hand. Like with the one to lock the ornate tunnel, he’d liberated it from the key ring. Best to keep it separate from the others. The rest of the keys back in his pocket, he reached out for the cold wall on his left side. The large stones were damp and gritty, but he found nowhere to hide the key. If things went south, he needed to be the one who had the control over who left this place.
Several clumsy steps forward, every one spiking his pulse as it threatened to throw him to the ground, Max moved deeper into the pitch-black building and used the wall to guide him. The darkness so complete, it seemed to leech the light from his eyes. It sucked away even the memory of being able to see.
“Ow!” A sharp splinter jabbed into the index finger on Max’s right hand. He sucked the tip, felt for the small needle of wood with his tongue, gripped the end with his front teeth, and pulled it out.
The splinter a part of a wooden door, Max knocked and said, “Hello?”
His echo replied.
He shoved the door and it fell open with the groan of old steel hinges. “I’m guessing it’s empty, then.”
By tapping his foot against the wall and then the wooden door frame, Max felt his way into the cell. The entire place reeked of damp, bu
t a musty funk hung in the air. Stagnation. Dirt. Was someone in there with him? “Hello?”
If they were, they hid it well.
A sharp burn bit into the front of Max’s shin from where he’d walked into what must have been a bed for the prisoner. His heart beat in his throat as he reached down and patted the large wooden shelf. Thankfully no one lay there.
Squatting down, Max reached under the bed. A baton ran along the bottom that had a small lip large enough for him to hide the key. He pressed it into place and stood back up again. Whatever else happened, he’d be in charge of who got out.
Both hands on the cold and damp wall, Max’s shin still throbbing, and fearful of the uneven floor tripping him, he placed tentative steps one in front of the other. His hushed tones the only company he had in the dark space, he stepped back out into the hallway and said, “Well done, Max. Keep it—”
The scream took flight like the demented cawing of an injured crow. It came from somewhere deep in the building. From within the bowels of the dark and hellish place. Not a cry for help. It came in shrieking waves. The torment of a fractured mind. The ragged panting of insanity. Of someone desperate to escape their thoughts. Of—
Mad Max.
His heart quickened and Max matched his rapid pulse with faster steps as if he could march away from the madness. “That’s it, mate, you can do this. Just keep going. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other. Everything’s—”
Another shrill cry. Another torn throat. A woman somewhere miles away, but she’d find him. They’d all find him in the darkness. They knew this place better than him. They’d hunt him down. Unless his own mind got to him first.
Beyond These Walls (Book 7): The Asylum Page 2