Max shrugged. “They’re not going to open the door if they can’t verify I’m okay.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Monica had left the ropes around Max’s wrists. She tied them together, binding his hands behind his back. His feet still strapped in, she nudged him.
His stomach in his throat, Max fell forwards. Tugging on his bonds, he slammed down on the stone floor on both his knees. He yelled through clenched teeth. “Gargh!” But he managed to hold on to the barrage of expletives destined for Monica.
“Terribly sorry,” Although her yellow-toothed smile and the glow of her black eyes didn’t corroborate her sentiment. “I didn’t mean to nudge you then. How are you, chick?”
Again, Max bit back his reply while Gracie lifted him to his feet.
“She really does like him, doesn’t she?” Sally said.
But Monica didn’t take the bait. Instead, she untied Max’s ankles and allowed him to step from his bonds. The vicious woman grabbed the ropes around Max’s wrists and nudged him forwards, guiding him from the cell into the corridor like a captured animal.
All the while, the same bone-juddering tone soared through the asylum’s hallways. Barp!
“How long has it been since you’ve seen daylight?” Max said.
Fire tore through Max’s back when Monica lifted his bound hands, forcing him forwards and onto his knees. She spoke in his left ear. Her hot breath made the skin at the base of his neck crawl. “Don’t talk to me about my time in here. I’m feeling charitable at the moment. Any more of that nonsense and my goodwill will vanish.”
Monica’s entourage of eight to ten woman, including Gracie and Sally, walked behind them. Monica turned Max left and right, directing him where she wanted him to go. They reached a ramp, which she guided him onto, leading him down a steep decline.
Every time Monica pushed Max a little too hard, his pulse spiked and another gush of sweat left him. His already burning wounds stung with the salty secretion. She then shoved so hard he tripped on the lumpy ground, his knees taking his fall for a third time.
Monica lifted Max up again by his bonds, the excruciating pain in his shoulder blades rivalling the burns on his chest and thighs. Her tone chipper, she said, “Whoopsie, clumsy clod. Come on, let’s get you back on your feet.”
At the bottom of the steep slope, Monica freed a bolt with a clack and opened a cell door. The hinges groaned. The bulb much weaker in this cell, Monica shoved Max in the back, sending him stumbling into the dark room.
The place reeked of damp. A few wobbly steps, Max found his way to a bed in the corner and sat before Monica could knock him down again. The mattress sodden, it instantly soaked his clothes.
“I’ll let you rest now,” Monica said, her entourage waiting in the hallway.
“Uh, do you have somewhere drier?”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
Max frowned as she slammed the door shut, the bolt sliding home with a hard crack. What the hell did she mean by that? The sound of rushing water answered his question.
In a matter of seconds the floor had flooded, the water already an inch or two deep. Max’s feet splashed as he ran through the shallow puddle to the door. He used his nose to trace the edges of the frame. The door had rubber seals running around it. Stepping back on wobbly legs, he said, “Shit, they’re going to drown me.”
Chapter 23
The water up to his chest, Max chased his panicked breaths. He couldn’t swim. Especially with his hands bound behind his back. Instead of lubricating his bonds, the ropes around his wrists tightened. At least the cool water soothed his burns. Although, it soothed his burns while stealing the air from his lungs.
Snap! The hatch in the door opened. Higher than most, Max had to look up to see through it.
“If you were a guard, you would have known about this room. So tell me the truth and we might be able to find a way out of there for you. Where is the key to get out of this place?”
The glow from the hallway outside showed Monica’s ratty face. She must have been standing on a platform of some sort.
“Come on, Max,” Monica said. “Time’s running out in there. If you tell me the truth, it’ll be easier for all of us.”
“You’ll let me go?”
“I’m certainly more inclined to if you show me the key.”
“But—”
“Look at it this way, Max. You’ve seen what I’m prepared to do to you. Now, I know you know where the key is, but if you don’t give it up, what use are you to me?”
The water had now reached Max’s chin. It splashed when he shook his head. “But that key’s the only thing keeping me alive.”
“I’m the only thing keeping you alive, and trust me, my mood can change like the weather. Do you want to feel the full force of my thunderstorm?”
“Okay,” Max said, shivering as cold and adrenaline coursed through him.
“Okay?” Her tone playful, Monica said, “I know you’re under pressure in there, Max, but you need to be slightly more articulate than that.”
“I’ll show you where the key is to get out of here.”
Snap! The hatch shut and Monica’s voice echoed in the hall outside. “Drain the cell.”
The rushing water halted and Max let go of a hard exhale. Thank the stars. Although, what had he just done? He’d given up his only advantage.
Chapter 24
Whether exhaustion or shock, something sent a violent tremble through William when he left the room containing the previously infected, now dead boys. Flecks of their blood covered his clothes, and he relived the sensation of driving the pole’s tip into their bodies.
Her skin pale, her eyes bloodshot, Olga looked one way and then the other. “Where’s Hawk?”
Artan shook like he had hypothermia, his two blades hanging from each hand. They dripped with the boys’ blood.
“What must Hawk have gone through at the hands of Grandfather Jacks?” Olga said.
William sighed. “No wonder he’s abrasive sometimes.”
One sharp shake of her head, Olga spoke through gritted teeth. “I wish I’d had more time to kill him. I would have peeled the skin from his back an inch at a time.”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference.” Artan laid a hand on Olga’s right shoulder. “The damage is done. You’ve prevented him inflicting any more pain on anyone else. You should celebrate that.”
“Hardly seems like a time for celebration.”
“Just know you’ve done a good thing for this world by ending him.”
William inhaled through his nose, his chest rising with the intake. “I fear his effects will stay with many of the people who came into contact with him for the rest of their lives.”
“Did you see the scars around Hawk’s neck?” Artan said.
“It’s hard to miss them,” Olga said.
“I mean the rope burns. He said Dianna found him and kept him alive. Maybe he’s gone to repay the favour?”
The clay pot cool in his hands, William raised it, the liquid swirling inside. “Hawk did well to hold it together long enough to help us get this. We need to get it back to Matilda.”
“But what do we do about Hawk?” Olga said.
“He’s chosen not to wait for us.”
Old hinges groaned and the door at the end of the corridor that they’d yet to go through swung out towards them, driven wide by a gentle draft. It looked like the entrance to a mine. About seven feet tall and four feet wide, the only way through it would be in single file.
Barp! The tone called at them from the depths of the tunnel. The weak lighting did little to reveal what lurked inside.
Artan picked up some wooden splinters before he let them fall again. “At least we know where Hawk has gone. Look …” He pulled the door towards him. A map had been drawn on the other side of it. A map of the asylum.
William’s jaw fell loose and he shook his head. “The place looks like a maze.”
“So what do we do?” Artan said. “Do we follow him?”
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“He might have been hard to be around, but he helped us in every way he could,” Olga said. “He probably needs us like we needed him. I’d imagine if he had people around, he’d feel a lot better.”
“But he chose to leave us here,” William said. “If that doesn’t tell you he wants to be left alone, then I don’t know what does. And I have to go to Matilda. She’s already waited too long to get this.” He lifted the cool clay pot again. “I understand you might want to go back to Hawk, so if I have to return to Matilda on my own, I will. But I can’t leave her any longer. I’m sorry.”
“You’re right,” Olga said. “It might be a wild-goose chase to follow Hawk. Let’s get back to Matilda first and then maybe look for Hawk after.”
“Okay.” William waited for Artan’s nod. “Let’s go.” As he led them back down the corridor towards the stairs out of there, he said, “Now we need to hope this ointment is as good as Hawk says it is.”
Chapter 25
Even after all this time in the asylum, or maybe especially after all this time, the barp shaking the damp stone walls twisted through Max, and he tugged against his bonds as he walked down the dark stone corridor. His clothes sodden, they pressed against the burns on his chest and the insides of his thighs. His wrists sore from where the ropes dug in, the sharp sting served as a potent reminder that he couldn’t get free. If only he had something to cover his damn ears.
Monica beside him, her gang of about ten women surrounded them, including the toxic Sally. Max walked with slow and deliberate steps, his knees still throbbing from taking the brunt of several falls.
“Are you going to speed this up?” Monica said.
“I can’t see very well.”
When Sally shoved Max in the back, he half-tripped, stumbling forwards, his stomach lurching in anticipation of yet another fall.
“Sally,” Monica hissed, “stop it!”
“He answered you back.”
“Did I ask you to stick up for me?”
Sally mumbled her way into silence.
Gracie close by. At least, she had been close by. Hard to tell in the deep shadows. Many of the other women held back as if they wanted no part in Monica’s madness. But better to be outside a cell than in it, right?
The conversation with Sally had sharpened Monica’s words. “And you’re sure you know where you’re going?”
The line of bulbs stretching away from them along the dark and damp corridor forced Max to squint. “I think so.”
“You think so?”
“Shut up, Sally. You think so?” Monica said.
“Look,” Max said, halting beside a screaming woman in a cell on their right, her arms reaching from the barred window, “we’ve already established I’m not a guard. This place is like a damn maze, so if it takes me a little longer to find my way, you’re going to have to be patient.”
“Don’t tell me what I’m going to have to be. Also, I don’t do very well with being patient.”
“I’m trying my best, Monica.”
Sally leaned close to Max, her halitosis breath in his ear. “Your best isn’t good enough.”
“Is the key near the entrance?” Monica said.
“Why would I hide it there?”
Sally shoved Max again. He ran on the edge of his balance, trying to get ahead of his fall. But he tripped, stumbled, and landed on his knees on the stone floor. Her boot narrowly missed his face from where Monica pulled her away before she could kick him in the head. She shoved her back to be with the other women. The group wrapped around her, several of them holding her back.
While helping him to his feet, Monica said, “You need to be careful, Max. There’s a way to talk to me and you’re straying very far from it.”
More streaking pains running down the front of his legs, Max moved off again with a limp.
They turned around several corners, the same barp going off again and again. Crazed screams from all around them. Children crying. “Monica?”
The woman spun on him, her eyes wide, her face taut.
“You said you’ve been here a long time,” Max said. “So you know what the kids are going through. Why don’t you let them out?”
“What’s that got to do with me being here for a long time?”
“You know what time in this place does to someone. You can stop the kids having to suffer like you have.”
Monica licked her lips, her brow furrowed, her chest rising and falling. Although the tight wind to her narrow shoulders suggested she wanted to let rip, instead she said, “I have plans to let them out. Of course I do. But I need to get control of the asylum first. I can’t let chaos into the corridors if we’re all trapped. So the sooner you show us the way out, the sooner we can free the children.”
“But what harm will kids do?”
“Have I asked you for your advice?”
Max stepped away from her reach before continuing down another long corridor that looked exactly like all the others.
“All I want from you is the key to get out of here. If you’re lucky, I’ll let you live after that, but don’t bank on it.”
A voice hissed from the darkness, “Don’t bank on it at all.”
“Shut up, Sally,” Monica said. “Now, Max, show me where the key is before I cut your throat.”
The tap of their heels along the stone floor filled what little silence this place gave them as they continued walking. “Where were you from before this?” Max said.
Max winced when Monica’s eyes glazed. His knees still throbbed. Several women on either side of them reached out into the hallway. “Sister, let us out.”
If Monica heard them, she hid it well. “I was lost with my family in the wastelands.”
A quickening of his pulse, Max let her speak. “Grandfather Jacks took us in and promised to help us.” Her eyes filled with tears. “That was the last time I saw daylight.”
“What happened to your family?”
Monica moved so quickly, Max didn’t see her coming. In his face, eyeball to eyeball, she forced him back several stumbling steps until he slammed against a cell door behind him with a crash! An arm reached through the window. Thick like a constrictor, it caught him around his throat and tightened.
Gritting his teeth against the stinging rope burns on his wrists, Max tugged against his bonds in an attempt to get free. For what good it did. As he gasped, stars swimming in his vision, he worked his jaw, digging his chin into the forearm choking him. But they held on. He kicked the door behind like a horse in a stable.
Her pointing finger close to his right eyeball, Monica bared her teeth, the whites of her eyes wide. “How the hell do I know what’s happened to my family?”
His gasping breaths drowned out by the loud tone. The already dark corridors grew darker. Max’s pulse swelled through his temples as if his head might pop, and he could only manage to mime the words, Help me. Help me.
Gracie appeared in the light cast by the bulbs closest to Max. A knife in her hand, which she’d pulled from Monica’s belt, she jabbed the tip into the elbow of the arm across Max’s throat.
The arm slithered back into the dark cell, the thick hand catching one of the bars with a whack!
Max fell forwards. He landed on his knees again, panting and gasping, his throat still locked tight as if the arm still had a grip on him.
Before Max could catch his breath, Monica pulled him to his feet by his bonds. His shoulder blades bending farther than they had any right to, he stood up on one knee and then the next.
As Max stood, Monica leaned close to his right ear. “Now find that key before I lose my shit. I’m going to count down from one hundred, and if we’re no closer to finding it, I’m going to cut your throat. One hundred … ninety—”
Barp!
Max shoulder-barged Monica aside, sending her slamming into the door of a cell with a crash before she fell into a crumpled heap.
Sally came forwards like an octopus. All limbs, the short fat woman released a shrill
cry.
A tight clench to his jaw, Max bent his legs to test the spring in his knees before he jumped straight up and kicked her in the face. The blow connected with a schlop, a spray of spittle flying up away from her mouth, her feet running ahead of her while the upper half of her body went back. She landed on the stone floor with a hollow bark.
Before Sally got up, Max charged her. “You fucking arsehole.” He kicked her so hard it hurt his foot.
Despite the strength of his blow, Sally remained conscious, twisting and turning on the ground.
Max lifted his boot over her head, clamped his jaw, and stamped. Something cracked. The skin at the back of his knees tingled as if his legs might give out.
Sally had now turned well and truly limp.
While Monica got to her feet, Max backed towards Gracie. “Cut me free, please. This is the best chance we have.”
Gracie slid the knife into his bonds and cut the ropes.
Max caught Monica with a right cross to the chin, sending her back against the wooden door and dropping her for a second time. While reaching out to Gracie, he said, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 26
William led Olga and Artan away from the door Hawk had vanished through, down the dingy corridor in the direction of the stairs leading to the ground floor of the palace. With everything that had gone on, he’d forgotten about the diseased Hawk had killed until he turned the corner. The tears of blood had now dried. The mouth remained open in a silent scream.
“Bloody hell,” Artan said. “Maybe it’s for the best he’s gone off on his own. I’m not sure how many times I could watch his way of killing the diseased.”
“He’s had a hard time of it,” Olga said.
Fatigue thickened William’s blood, and the ascent up the stone stairs sapped his energy. By the time he’d reached the top, his legs trembled and sweat dampened his brow. He breathed in heavy pants, the lid on the ceramic pot rattling in his shaking grip.
Slipping his knives into his belt, Artan untied the chains holding the doors closed and stepped aside.
Beyond These Walls (Book 7): The Asylum Page 11