Collapse: Book four of Beyond These Walls - A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller

by Michael Robertson

  Collapse - Book four of Beyond These Walls

  A Post-apocalyptic survival thriller

  Michael Robertson

  Contents

  Edited and Cover by …

  Reader Group

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  The Alpha Plague - Chapter One

  About the Author

  Reader Group

  Also by Michael Robertson

  Email: subscribers@michaelrobertson.co.uk

  Edited by:

  Terri King - http://terri-king.wix.com/editing

  And

  Pauline Nolet - http://www.paulinenolet.com

  Cover Design by Dusty Crosley

  Collapse - Book four of Beyond These Walls

  Michael Robertson

  © 2019 Michael Robertson

  Collapse - Book four of Beyond These Walls is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, situations, and all dialogue are entirely a product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously and are not in any way representative of real people, places or things.

  Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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  Chapter 1

  William jumped aside, avoiding Hugh, who charged at the creature. His mouth stretched wide, the veins visible on his neck, Hugh met the diseased’s hiss with a shriek of his own. A wall of sound that would have startled many, but it appeared to energise the beast. His stick raised in a two-handed grip, Hugh expelled clouds of condensation in the damp morning air. He didn’t miss a step when the diseased took off, coming at him, mirroring his zealous drive to destroy.

  The loud tonk emitted a bass note of cracking bone that snapped through the walled-in area surrounding them. The creature’s legs folded beneath it as it ran, its knees sinking into the soft ground and catapulting it face-first into the dewy grass.

  While Hugh went to work on the creature, William watched his friend rather than the damage he inflicted. It didn’t matter how many of them he had killed or seen killed, the bloody and pulped ruin in the aftermath always turned his stomach. As vile as the beasts were, they used to be human. He shared something with them. His skull would yield to the same concentrated violence.

  William turned away a moment before the beast’s skull broke with a crack!

  When Matilda stepped towards Hugh as if to intervene, William reached across and laid a gentle hand on the top of her right arm. Despite her hard scowl, he shook his head, fighting against his need to flinch at Hugh continuing to kill the already dead monster. “He needs to do this.” Although, even as he said it, he lost confidence in his words. Did he need to do it, or had he finally gone over the edge? Matilda raised an eyebrow as if she’d just read his thoughts.

  Maybe she had a point, and it would be better coming from him than it would her. Hugh knew William well and would be more receptive to what he said. While approaching Hugh, one eye on the swinging stick, William waited for the right moment; enter Hugh’s cycle of madness at the wrong time and he’d also get his skull cracked like an egg.

  His teeth bared, Hugh delivered another full-bodied blow against the battered corpse. William darted forward and grabbed his friend’s shoulder with his right hand. He reached his left arm out to prevent the next upswing of the bloody stick. Adrenaline surging through him, he battled his frantic pulse to keep his tone soft. “Hugh?”

  If Hugh heard him, he didn’t show it. The muscles in his jaw bulged, and tears ran down his cheeks, mixing with his glistening sweat, as he pushed against William’s restraint.

  William grabbed the stick and yanked it free, jumping backwards as Hugh turned on him.

  But Hugh’s tension left him and his words softened. “I thought they would have closed the gate in time. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. I didn’t expect it to stay open. How could I have known?” While looking from side to side as if assaulted by things only he could see, Hugh clapped his hands to his face. His words quickened, one running into the next as they flooded from him. “Oh, what have I done? What have I done? It looked like it would be okay for me to leave. She looked so like Elizabeth, it stopped me thinking straight. It was Elizabeth; I could have sworn it was her.”

  The words came so fast William caught one in three, moving back a step as if Hugh’s madness were catching. Matilda appeared at his side and shoved him back towards his friend.

  Mechanical in his approach, William fought against his own reluctance and spread his arms wide before he wrapped Hugh’s stocky frame in a tight hug.

  About a minute passed while Hugh sobbed in William’s arms. The power in the boy shuddered through them both. It felt like hugging a bull.

  “Elizabeth,” Hugh finally said. “She looked exactly like Elizabeth.”

  The dead diseased had once been a woman. To look at her now, on her back with her mouth stretched wide and the top half of her head folded in like an old wasps’ nest, William struggled to see the resemblance. Maybe Hugh now saw Elizabeth in everyone.

  They couldn’t wait there all day. William pulled away from his friend, holding both his shoulders as he lowered his head to get into his line of sight. “Look, Hugh, whatever’s happened, we need to put it behind us. What’s in front of us now is what we have to deal with.”

  “But if I hadn’t screwed up, what’s in front of us would be very different.”

  “Where w
ill thinking like that get us?”

  At that moment, Matilda came closer and put her hand against Hugh’s back. In her tense features, William saw her impatience to get to her brother, but she kept that to herself. Because Hugh didn’t know her like William did, he didn’t pick up on it and visibly relaxed at her touch.

  “Had you not told us about Artan,” William said, throwing a glance at Matilda as if looking for her approval, “we wouldn’t even be here. We’d be walking out into the ruined city thinking he’d been evicted. Your actions have given us hope.”

  “It might have given you and Matilda hope, but what have I done to the national service area?”

  William looked at the large wooden gates, one of them slightly ajar. After a few seconds, he said, “I suppose we need to find out.” As if adding to his reluctance, the wound on William’s right foot throbbed with his steps towards the gates. Matilda and Hugh followed behind.

  Closer to the reality of what awaited them, William could no longer ignore the groans and wails of discontent. Shrieks and cries. He knew what he’d see. Yet, when he poked his head through the gap to peer inside, every instinct told him to run.

  Chapter 2

  People everywhere.

  Running wild.

  Chaos.

  No, not people.

  Wherever William looked, he saw the crimson glare and open-mouthed fury of the diseased. In just a few short hours, the national service area had been lost.

  “Shit,” Matilda said as she looked in. “They must have all been sleeping when it hit.”

  “Caught with their pants down.” When William stepped back, he bumped into Hugh. The boy moved aside, and all three of them stepped away from the gates.

  William drew his sword. After Matilda had done the same, he said, “Whatever happens, we’ve got a fight ahead of us. So what do we do?”

  Determination in her deep brown eyes, Matilda shook her head. “Nothing’s changed.”

  “Everything’s changed.”

  “What I mean is Artan’s still in there.”

  “We think.”

  Matilda’s breaths ran harder and she spoke through a clenched jaw. “And unless I see evidence he’s not, nothing will change my mind.”

  A concessionary dip of his head, William waited for her to continue.

  “So the plan’s still the same,” she said.

  “Get to the political district?”

  “Right.”

  While pointing at the large wooden barrier in front of them, William raised his eyebrows. “Through these gates?”

  “Can you think of a better way? We could walk around the entire city searching for a part of the wall to climb and not find anywhere.”

  A warble broke Hugh’s voice. “And they’re not going to let the person responsible for the collapse of the national service area in through the eviction gates.”

  “I’m not sure they’ll let anyone in through those gates,” William said.

  A streak of hair had fallen loose from Matilda’s topknot, which she tucked behind her ear. The early morning sun glinted off the metal hummingbird. “We need to take this one step at a time. The first thing we need to do is get to the other side of the national service area. We find a way over those gates and we might be able to use this chaos to our advantage.”

  William frowned at her. “How so?”

  “The political district will be caught up in what’s going on. It might be the perfect time to find a way to get Artan out of there.” When William and Hugh didn’t reply, she added, “I dunno; I can’t see exactly how this is going to play out, but Artan’s our … Artan’s my goal.”

  William reached down and held Matilda’s hand. “Our goal.”

  Hugh nodded in agreement.

  “Okay.” Matilda’s tone lifted. A renewed hope. “Artan’s our goal. Let’s make sure we take steps towards that, and always towards that. We’ll deal with whatever’s thrown at us on the way.”

  Hugh wrung his hands, holding them just in front of his stomach, his squat frame hunching around the action. He kept his head lowered as he said, “Are you sure you want someone like me with you? I don’t want to make things harder than they already are.”

  A flash of anxiety spiked William’s pulse when Matilda stepped towards Hugh. Her direct approach might not be the best right now. But he’d already given Hugh his backing, so what else could he say?

  Matilda held both of Hugh’s hands, her words soft. “William’s right; we would have given up on Artan had you not told us about him. We’re a team. We do this together and we stand by each other, no matter what.”

  When Hugh didn’t reply, Matilda kept a hold of his hands and snapped them as if to break through his self-pity. “No matter what!”

  Now nodding, Hugh inhaled, his chest rising. He fixed on the open gate with his watery gaze.

  Fifteen minutes previously when they’d stepped through the hole into the newly walled space where the resting gates were due to be fitted, William had heard every shriek and cry in the national service area. He’d been able to ignore his ears, but now his eyes had confirmed what lay ahead, he couldn’t deny it any longer. However he looked at it, they were about to enter chaos. But what else could they do? Artan needed them. “You both ready?”

  Neither replied. Neither needed to. Before William led the way, Hugh raised his bloody stick like a batter preparing to swing, and strode ahead of them, marching towards the gates.

  William pulled Matilda in close and kissed the top of her head. Did the trembling come from him or her? What did it matter? They both knew what lay ahead. They followed Hugh, the absence of their words palpable. Whatever they said, nothing would change the fact they were about to enter hell.

  Chapter 3

  Two hours earlier

  Olga sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath. Her heart beat in her neck and sweat dampened her brow as she fought to calm herself. She pushed the covers away, the cool morning air biting into her damp skin. Although she had her curtains drawn, they didn’t prevent the hazy light of the early morning from seeping into her room.

  There might still be a few hours before she had to get up for work, but her chances of any more sleep today had been driven from her with her ragged respiration. She’d been here too many times before. Awake meant awake whether it suited her or not.

  Olga got up and paced her small room. Ten feet by ten feet, most of it was taken up with her bed. She could have moved into her sisters’ larger room. Or maybe she couldn’t. Maybe her parents would have resisted if she’d asked. After all, since it had happened, they’d turned the room into a shrine to what they’d lost, everything remaining the same as if they expected the girls to suddenly reappear. And would she really want to sleep in there anyway? Like she needed any more reminders of their passing three years previously.

  It had been six months since Olga had broken her left arm. It had healed enough for her to start work weeks ago. She dropped to the ground to begin her press-ups.

  Forty-three reps later, the last ten lopsided from the weakness in her left arm, Olga fell flat, driving her heavy pants into the wooden floor. Her ulna had snapped like a twig on national service. She didn’t need to push herself so it happened again; bones were fragile things. As she sat cross-legged on her cold bedroom floor, she recovered from the exercise and rubbed the area around where it had broken.

  Olga’s stillness opened the door on the real reason for her sleepless nights, the truth catching up to her. After Max had been taken away from the dorm they were resting in, Bleach told her about his fate. The labs for life. He’d spend the rest of his time in a luxury prison, but a prison nonetheless. Too dangerous to let a carrier of the virus loose in society, what else could they do but test on him? What if he provided them with the blood samples they needed to make an antidote? It sounded noble, right? But no matter which angle you looked at it from, the inescapable fact remained: Max now faced a lifetime of incarceration.

  Birdsong dragged Olga’s at
tention to her still-drawn curtains. A rare sound in Edin, you had to be up early to hear it. Very few birds came anywhere near the place. None appeared after about eight in the morning—too many projectiles from Edin’s hungry residents after that time. Could Max hear birdsong from his cell? What freedoms, if any, had he been granted? Also, how bad was it compared to the life she had to live? After all, weren’t most people in Edin prisoners in some capacity?

  Olga stood up—using her right arm for support—and walked to her curtains. She’d sat still for long enough. Obsessively thinking about the same problem rarely led to a solution. Slowly, so as not to startle the birds, she let in the light of the day. The three wood pigeons directly outside took flight.

  Blinking repeatedly, Olga tried to combat the glare of the early morning. Although, it was hard to tell if her eyes burned from the light or something else entirely. Her life had been enveloped in a haze since she’d returned from national service, and she’d held on to tears she couldn’t cry. What right did she have to express her sadness? After all, everyone else had gone through it. She needed to get over herself.