Beyond These Walls (Book 7): The Asylum

by Robertson, Michael

  “You two are really pissing me off,” the woman said. “You’re about to be tortured by Monica and you’re choosing now as the time to have a lovers’ tiff?” The woman turned her spear around, aiming the flint tip at the arguing pair. “Monica doesn’t care if you’re not all here when she gets back. As long as there are enough of you to question.”

  From Artan’s relaxed posture, he clearly understood this argument too.

  Gracie, on the other hand, did not. Shaking her head, she backed into the wall as if pushing hard enough would get her out of there. Would somehow distance her from the others’ antics. “Please, you two. I was trying to help Max. There’s no need to argue about it.” The woman with the spear drew closer. “Don’t let me die here. I want to come with you guys. I want to—”

  William yelled and charged the guard.

  Artan did the same, the pair of them closing down on her.

  The guard turned one way and then the other. She had to go for one of them, but which?

  Maybe because he made the most noise, the guard lurched at William, who ducked her attack, sliding into her shins with a two-footed tackle. The woman fell on him, sandwiching him between her and the hard ground.

  Artan kicked her in the head, knocking her out cold.

  As she lay on the stone floor, the chaos still outside the room, the barp calling through the large building, William got to his feet and turned around, showing Artan his bound hands. “Here, untie me.”

  But Artan’s features fell slack when the double doors opened. A group of about ten more women to add to the two guards already inside the room. They must have been waiting in the corridor.

  “You’d do well to calm down,” one of the women said. All of them were armed. They spread out across the room and stepped forwards as one. “There’s no way you can win this. If you recognise that now, we might let you live.”

  “Shit!” Olga hissed.

  Artan stepped away, returning to his spot on the wall.

  William followed suit, backing into the cold stone. He said, “That was our last chance. I wonder if we need to start giving Monica what she wants.”

  The doors to the large room remained open. Many people ran past, screaming and shouting. Many of them had lost their mind. He’d arguably lost his mind more than most, but when Hawk stepped into the room, Cyrus’ sword in his grip, William’s shoulders relaxed. The guards were too focused on William and the others to have seen him. Where he’d been topless, he now wore a shirt. His face glistened with sweat.

  William spoke beneath his breath. “Maybe we will get out of here after all.”

  Chapter 36

  “Hawk,” William said, “behind you!” But even as he said it, his words faded.

  Monica levelled her knife on the back of Hawk’s neck and growled, “Drop your weapon.”

  Hawk spun away from her and raised his sword in return. “You drop yours.”

  William gulped, his throat dry. The insanity remained in the hallways outside. It could spill into their room at any moment.

  A shrill cackle, Monica shook her head. “Have you seen how outnumbered you are?”

  “I’ll still be able to cut your throat.”

  William and the others remained pressed against the wall. Monica hadn’t noticed her downed guard yet. Maybe this would be their last chance to fight their way out.

  Monica spoke with a soft tone. “You and I are similar.”

  “How do you work that out?”

  Using the tip of her knife to highlight his scars, Monica said, “We’ve both suffered at the hands of Grandfather Jacks.”

  “What do you know of my suffering?”

  “I have similar scars on the inside. We shouldn’t be fighting against one another; we should be uniting and taking down that madman. We should be working against his agents.” She waved her blade in the direction of William and his friends.

  The slightest lowering of his sword, Hawk’s head dropped. “You’re right. I just want to see an end to that madman.”

  The same confused frown on the faces of all his friends. Gracie seemed none the wiser.

  “I knew you were a fucking snake,” Max said. “I knew you couldn’t be trusted. You’re only out for yourself.”

  “And I know what those scars are about,” Monica said.

  A flicker ran through Hawk’s seemingly calm features. He coughed to clear his throat.

  Monica shook her head and dropped her gaze before returning it to Hawk. “I’ve seen too many little boys go off to be one of Grandfather Jacks’ angels. Too many boys separated from their mothers.”

  Tears filled Hawk’s eyes.

  “Do you know what he does to the mums?”

  Hawk shook his head. “Stop. Please.”

  “Grandfather Jacks is dead,” Max said.

  “He’s tortured all of us.” Monica’s eyes also filled. Her lips bent out of shape. “We have a lot in common.”

  “Please stop.” Hawk shook his head repeatedly. “I can’t hear it. Please stop. The others are right, Grandfather Jacks is dead.”

  Although Monica’s tears had broken and ran down her cheeks, she laughed. “Don’t be so gullible. You shouldn’t believe a word that comes from their mouths. They know nothing. They’re liars. He’s not dead. He’s alive and well, and when we get out of here, we’re going to make him pay for all the things he’s done. We’re going to take our time and make sure he experiences pain equal to that which he’s spread.”

  Hawk banged the heel of his right palm against his forehead. “Shut up!” He scratched at the scars around his neck. “Just stop talking.”

  “The only way it’ll stop is if we end him. If we get out of here. We need them to tell us where the keys are to get out of this place, and then you can make him pay. Remember everything he did to you. Relive it, use it as fuel to find a way out of here.”

  The bright light glistened off the blood on Hawk’s scars.

  Monica goaded him, “That’s right. Remember what he’s done. Use it.”

  Hawk yelled and charged. One of Monica’s guards brought the handle of her weapon around and slammed it into Hawk’s face with a loud tonk!

  “Oomph.” The air left Hawk’s lungs when he landed on his back.

  The guard who’d knocked him down turned Jezebel around and showed him the large axe blade. “Move and I’ll split your head like a pumpkin.”

  Chapter 37

  After capturing Hawk, Monica and her guards bound them all tighter than before. The ropes cutting into his wrists, his hands behind his back, William sat in a line with the others against the far wall of the large room. Max sat on his right at the end of the line, Gracie and all the others on his left. His bottom numb from the cold stone, his back either damp or cold, hard to tell which. Either way, if he leaned against the wall for too long, more pains spread through him, the large stones lumpy and unforgiving.

  In an attempt to relieve the aches in his back, a particularly nagging pain biting into the space beneath his right shoulder blade, William leaned forward and arched his spine. Monica and the guards were at the other side of the room. One of the women held Jezebel; another one had Max’s war hammer.

  “I’m sorry,” Hawk said. He waited for the loud barp to pass. “That woman got in my head. I couldn’t think straight when she started talking about Grandfather Jacks and all he’s done.”

  “You tried,” Olga said.

  Although where Olga supported Hawk, Max leaned away from the wall and stared down the line at the boy. He offered him the same disdain Olga had levelled on Gracie since the two of them had met.

  “Do you want to say something to him?” Olga said.

  Max shook his head and pulled back, muttering, “Like you have with Gracie, you mean?”

  “What?” Olga said.

  William spoke so only Max could hear him. “Surely you can see how traumatised Hawk is?”

  Max’s lips pursed and he shook his head once. He dragged in a sharp sniff and lifted his chi
n, staring across the large room at the double doors on the other side. “I don’t care.”

  “Look, Max,” William said, “you need to trust me on this one when I say drop it. The depths Hawk has gone to to try to help us stretches beyond anything I’ve ever known. Whatever’s going on with you and Olga, you need to work it out between you and not involve him. His problems are far larger than that.”

  “Why are you on his side all of a sudden?”

  “We’ve had a glimpse into what it meant to be a boy in this place. To be one of Grandfather Jacks’ angels. For Hawk to help us get here, he had to revisit his past. Not only that, but he had to do it in front of me, Olga, and Artan. Were I in Hawk’s position, I don’t know if I would have been as brave as him, or as sane. He should be a wreck of a person.”

  “That’s all well and good, but where has his bravery got us?”

  “Don’t judge him on the end result.”

  “What should I judge him on, then?”

  “His intention. His loyalty. He could have just sold us out to Monica and joined sides with her. That would have probably led to him getting Dianna back. But he didn’t do that, did he?”

  “Then he’s stupid.”

  “And remember, Olga kissed him, not the other way around.”

  “What’s that got to do with it?”

  “Come on, Max.”

  All the while the barp shook the walls of the place. The hallways remained alive with the insanity of the liberated prisoners. They clearly still hadn’t worked out where they were running. How long would it take for one of them to find the tunnel to the palace? Any slight leverage they might have with Monica would be gone the second someone found a way through. And what would that mean for Matilda and Cyrus?

  The sides of Max’s jaw tightened and his nostrils flared. He breathed through his nose.

  “Do you know where she is?” William said.

  Max shrugged. “Who?”

  “Dianna.”

  Max focused on Monica and her gang by the door. He shook his head. “No, but I have seen her. They used her as bait to lure me into a cell before they jumped me. It’s how I ended up as Monica’s prisoner.” His eyes narrowed, but his scowl lifted. “You say we should understand where Hawk has come from, right?”

  “Sure.”

  “If I know what he’s about and empathise with that, I might find it easier to like him?”

  “It’s worked for me.”

  “Yo, Monica!”

  William’s heart raced and he shifted away from Max, putting some distance between them.

  Monica turned slowly.

  “What the hell are you doing?” William said.

  The woman’s shoulders pulled into her neck as she stepped towards her prisoners. Her cruelty fought for possession of her features, the tight wind in her frame spreading across her face.

  “Max.” Olga spoke this time. “What are you playing at?”

  Max remained focused on Monica. “You’ve been in here a long time, right? Long enough for it to be detrimental.”

  “What do you reckon?” The barp snapped her rigid. After all this time she clearly hadn’t gotten used to the sound. Maybe she no longer had any awareness of her reaction to it.

  “Neither of us knows who to trust, but the truth is, we all want the same thing. We all want to get out of here, and we all hate Grandfather Jacks and what he did to the people in this place. How do we help you believe that?”

  “Give me the key to get out of here.”

  “Okay.”

  “What are you doing, Max?” William said. “If you let her out of here, what leverage do we have?”

  “Maybe it’s time to treat her like a human being. To show her we’re all on the same page. To show her a way out of here, extend the olive branch. Maybe we should let her see we understand what she’s been through and we want to help.”

  Monica bounced on the spot, her features softening and crunching, changing from second to second, unable to settle on one emotional state. “And what if you’re tricking me?”

  “You can kill me. You can kill us all.”

  “I was planning on doing that anyway.”

  “Then you have nothing to lose. And maybe when I help you get out of here, you’ll see we’re not your enemy and you might change your mind about us?”

  “Get up,” Monica said.

  Max rocked forwards and stood up. William pulled against his restraints to drag his friend back down again, but the ropes around his wrists were too tight.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” William said.

  Max shook his head. “No, but what have we got to lose? Maybe instead of fighting her, I need to try understanding her. Like you’ve had a glimpse of what Hawk’s been through, I’ve had a glimpse of Monica’s suffering. It ain’t pretty.”

  The wall cold and hard against his back, William let out a long exhalation and rested his head against the damp stones. They had very little to lose now. They were going to die at Monica’s hand either way. Maybe Max could get them out of there. Where they had none, at least now they could hold some hope in their hearts, no matter how small.

  Chapter 38

  His hands still tied behind his back, Max left the large room through the double doors, Monica beside him. She’d brought six of her guards with them. Three in front and three behind, the shadows hid the women’s faces like they had for most of the time they’d been in there. Maybe they felt the shame at what they were a part of. Maybe most of them were more like Gracie than Sally. Or maybe it was simply the poor light hiding their features. Whatever it was, they were close enough to react should Monica call on them.

  The three women at the front helped clear a path through the busy main corridor, allowing Max and Monica to walk with ease. “Why have you only freed some of the women and children in this place?” Max said.

  Monica’s back snapped with a tight twist at the next loud barp! The tension remained with her, her words sharp. “You’re going to tell me how to run this place now?”

  “The point I’m making,” Max said, “is that you know what it’s like to be in here. You know what it is to suffer in a dark cell. Why would you put other innocent women and children through the same torture?”

  “You know I will kill you if you try to screw me over, don’t you?”

  They were already close to the exit, the door leading to the outside larger and thicker than the others. Max said, “You need to show me where Dianna is.”

  She might have been much smaller than him, but Monica’s speed and strength caught Max off guard. She grabbed his shirt, turned him around, and slammed him, back first, into the steel door with a boom. Her right hand still gripping his shirt and pressing against the burn on his pec, she angled her knife up at his eye with her other hand. “I’ll drive the tip of this straight into your brain.” She spat when she spoke.

  “I know where the key is.”

  Monica pressed the air from Max’s lungs, leaning against his chest, digging her hand deeper into his burn. Her face red, her large yellow teeth gnashing at the air in front of her. “Then show me!”

  “I will, I promise.” He took several breaths to ride out the sting of his burn. “But I need to know Dianna’s okay. She’s the reason I came here.”

  “You sweet on her or something?”

  “No. She’s a friend. If we don’t help friends in this world, then what do we have?” His voice broke when he said, “I have no family left.”

  His slight wobble disarmed Monica and she lowered her knife by an inch or two.

  Barp!

  The tone snapped her rigid again. She pressed the tip of her blade into his right cheek. It stung from where it broke his skin, burning as she pressed harder. More spittle than before, she sprayed his face when she said, “You talk about not depriving the women in here. About keeping them away from seeing daylight, but that’s what you’re doing to me now. You know how desperate I am to get out, and you’re holding that over me.” She
pressed into his cheek even harder, a warm line of blood running down the side of his mouth. “How fucking dare you? Now show me how to get the hell out of here before I blind you.” She lifted the tip of her knife again so Max could see it close up.

  Adrenaline surged through Max and he shivered. His words trembled with his form, but he remained consistent. “The same is true now as it’s always been. The second I open this door—” he kicked the large barrier behind him “—you no longer need me or any of my friends.”

  Her dark ratty eyes shifting from one of Max’s to the other, she shook her head and stepped away. “I’m done with this. We’ll knock a wall down and take our chances with the diseased. Just kill him.”

  The guards had already formed a semicircle around Max and Monica. As Monica stepped away, they closed in.

  Chapter 39

  William rocked where he sat, twinges of pain firing off at random points along his body. They’d been here for what felt like hours already. The floor still cold and hard and his bottom numb. The wall behind him uneven from where no two stones in the wall lay flush with one another. The second he leaned back, a lump jabbed into his spine and he groaned. “Urgh!”

  Olga sat at the other end of the line to William. She had Artan next to her, then Hawk, then Gracie. “At what point do we accept he might not come back?”

  Ten to fifteen guards at the other end of the room by the double doors. If Olga cared about being heard by them, she hid it well. All of them looked over when she spoke. The one Monica had left in charge, a short woman in her thirties, walked over, her boot heels clicking against the stone floor. “Shut up!”

  Barp!

  Olga rocked forwards to get to her feet. Artan knocked her back down again. Thankfully he sat next to her. If anyone could keep her in check …