“Sure.”
“I don’t know why I haven’t spoken to you about it before. Shame, I suppose.”
A flutter of anxiety unsettled the rhythm of Spike’s breath. “What do you have to be ashamed about?”
“I dunno. You saw him earlier.”
He thought about the wild man, incommunicado and covered in bruises. “Has he always been like that?”
When Matilda blinked, a tear ran down her cheek. While pressing the back of her shaking hand to her nose, she nodded. “All I can remember of him is the violence, the aggression, the self-loathing. And then the tears that always came afterwards. He’d beat the crap out of us, all three of us, and then we’d be the ones making sure he was okay once he’d finished.” She spoke through gritted teeth. “He’s such a pathetic snivelling wretch of a human.”
Spike had always known what he did to them, but he was just a kid. What could he have done about it? Fighting to keep his tone even because Matilda didn’t need him getting angry, he said, “How did you change it?”
Fire burned through her sadness and her features steeled. “I hit him back. When I got to thirteen, I decided I didn’t want to be my mum. I don’t want to be that person that lets someone walk all over her.” As she looked away, Spike watched her eyes fill with tears again. “She pretends she stays with him for us. That keeping the family together is better than living in a broken home. But she stays with him because she’s a coward and would much rather sacrifice her children’s happiness than make a change in her wretched life.”
“And that’s why you have to look after Artan?”
“Someone has to. But I think that’s changed. I think Artan has put him in his place.” She then said, “It’s why I’m so down on the apprenticeship trials.”
Spike didn’t reply, but his expression must have said everything it needed to because she went on to explain.
“Dad won the protectors’ apprenticeship when he was our age.”
Spike gasped.
“He breezed past national service and went all the way through the trials. He smashed it. He knew from the start that he’d be the next apprentice because he’d spent his entire life focused on it. Nothing would get in his way.”
“So why isn’t he a protector now?”
“Injury.”
“Damn. Hence his limp?”
Matilda nodded. “In his first week of being an apprentice, he was in the arena and the chain lowering the box with the diseased in it snapped.”
“The crate fell on him?”
“Well, he saw it coming, but as he dived out of the way, he tripped and smashed down on his knee.”
“So what happened next?”
“Magma took his place.”
“Magma was the runner-up that year?”
“Yep. I think that’s what made it so hard for Dad. Any other protector and he probably would have been able to get on with his life, but as Magma’s reputation rose, he had to watch what he could have been from afar.”
“So how did he end up in ceramics?”
“He chose it. They let him live wherever he wanted to. He had to pick something that didn’t put many physical demands on him because of his injury. It’s where he and Mum met. I think he thought he could live a normal life.”
“I don’t understand,” Spike said. “You said you feel ashamed.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“I can’t say, I’m not in your situation, but the story you just told me has nothing for you to feel ashamed about. If anything, you should be proud how you’ve come through it and helped Artan. I’d imagine Artan has been grateful to have you around.”
Matilda had stopped trying to hold her tears back, wiping her eyes as she said, “But I have to leave him alone now.”
“What did he say to you when you took him to his room?”
“That he’d be fine. That he can get himself to school and care for himself. He’ll keep his head down and work hard and see me when I get back.”
“I’m going to stop offering guarantees,” Spike said, “but I think Artan will be fine. The best we can do is focus on what’s ahead and make sure we’re ready for everything coming our way. I’ll be by your side for every step of it and we’ll make sure you never have to leave Artan again. Okay?”
While nodding, Matilda drew another deep breath and looked out across the restaurant. Many of the diners were still watching them. The way she glared back—the candlelight reflecting off her glazed eyes—made Spike smile. The strongest person he knew, defiant in her grief, she silently dealt with every one of them. Her stare told them if they had a problem, they’d best say it now. On the rare times when he’d seen her in this frame of mind, he’d never seen anyone accept the invite by voicing their problems. “If you take that fire inside you in national service,” he said, “I think you’ll tear through it. You’ll be back to Artan in no time.”
Chapter 16
“The one major problem with Mr. P’s,” Spike said while shielding his eyes against the daylight, “is how damn dark he has it. I get why he needs it that way, but it’s always hard to step back outside again.” As his eyes adjusted to the light, he noticed the day had dulled a little. There were many more clouds in the sky, the hairs lifting on his exposed arms because of the nip in the air. A stomach full of food, he covered his mouth and burped.
Matilda laughed and shook her head at him. “You animal!” Her mirth left her features as quickly as it had lifted them. The weight of what she’d said to him in the restaurant still clearly dragged her down.
Spike reached across and touched the top of her arm. “Everything will work out.”
While nodding, Matilda straightened her back. “You know what? I feel it. Seeing how Artan has dealt with Dad, and now telling you the truth about it all … it’s helped a lot. I feel ready to focus on what’s ahead. I’m not looking forward to tomorrow, but at least I feel like I can face it now. Thanks for listening.”
“Thanks for trusting me.”
Matilda winced.
Okay, so maybe she hadn’t trusted him yet. Spike surveyed the ceramics district. Some of the more recently built houses stood out because they had bricks from the new kiln in their walls. Most of them went to the national service area to help with the expansion of Edin’s footprint, but a small quota went to Edin’s citizens. Given time and more bricks in circulation, collapsing houses would be a thing of the past.
With the day growing long, Spike knew Matilda would want to go back to Artan soon. “These next six months will fly by, you know? And then after that—”
“It’s off to work. Ceramics for the rest of my life. I’ll be building Edin’s pots for their shit and piss until my hands don’t work anymore. But at least I’ll be able to keep an eye on Artan.”
“Will you come and watch me when I’m in the trials?”
A slight pause, she looked ready to warn him against being overconfident again. Instead, she smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. But just so you know, I won’t be one of those women who visit the square every night.”
“I know.”
Spike saw Matilda look over in the direction of her house. “Do you want to get back?”
“I do, but I also need to let go at some point, right?”
As much as Spike wanted to say something, he didn’t. She had to make the decision about whether to go home or not.
“I can’t see me getting much rest, and Artan told me to stay out as long as I like. He insisted he was okay. I think it’s about time I let go and stopped trying to mother him. I need to get my mind focused on national service. Whatever I do, I can’t avoid the next six months. Would you mind if we went for a walk?”
“I’d love that,” Spike said.
“The square?”
“I thought you hated the square?”
“Tomorrow will come. It’s time I faced it. I need to go there and I’d like you to be with me.”
Spike nodded. “I’d like that too. Let’s go.”
They arrived at the entrance to the square and Spike looked out over the crowd. The place had started to fill up, as it often did at this time of day. Many of the lovers’ benches were unoccupied. They’d come later when the crowds had left. Standing on his tiptoes, he saw some space down by the cage. “The protectors haven’t been yet. It will get much busier when they do. Are you sure you still want to do this?”
Matilda nodded.
“In that case, I think we should make the most of the opportunity to get close now. Come on.” He reached back and grabbed her hand. “Follow me. I know the best spot.”
Although Matilda didn’t reply, she let him lead her past the several empty benches close to them and into the heart of the crowd.
Spike moved at a quick pace, knocking and shoving people on his way down. Several tuts and angry shakes of heads, but no more than that. They must have seen his and Matilda’s scarves. The amount of pity he’d had to face since putting the thing on, he might as well use it to his advantage now.
As they walked alongside the large cage in the middle of the square, Spike looked in at the stakes protruding from the ground. Twelve in total, they were wedged in the gaps between the cobblestones. They all pointed straight up. Each one no thicker than a spear, they had bloodstained shafts and dried pools around their bases. The stakes were kept locked in a cage because of the risk of infection. There had only ever been records of the virus spreading through saliva, but the city wouldn’t risk it. If even one person picked up the disease and someone wasn’t there to take them down instantly, it could bring Edin to its knees.
One of the few communal areas in the city, the square was always busy. Especially between the hours of six and eight in the evening. Some nights, Spike had come down here and could barely move for the crowd. His eyes on the space he wanted, he shoved through the next gap, sending a man stumbling a few steps away from him. He and the man stared at one another before the man looked at the black scarves around Spike’s and Matilda’s necks, shook his head, and turned his back on them.
The daily displays from the protectors brought in the crowds. At other times, those visiting the square were there to meet people from different districts. Lovers before they were separated by finishing national service and being forced to remain in their sector. They would sit on the benches around the place and spend their evenings talking, but definitely not touching. Spike looked at several more benches dotted around the outside of the main area. Of course he’d gone there and watched them at night. The act of a curious kid, even then he saw the sadness hanging over the place. One of the most heavily guarded areas, day and night, those who chose to go there to meet with forbidden romances weren’t allowed any physical contact with one another. It seemed that for some, just being able to talk to their love at the end of a day made their life easier. He couldn’t imagine never talking to Matilda again.
Spike looked back at Matilda to find her staring straight at him. He couldn’t blame her for not wanting that life for herself. It looked like torture. Better to forget about what you’d lost than live the sterile existence of those who sat on the benches.
The super lonely also hung out in the square. They would meet with others in need of company. They clearly preferred to have a conversation with someone they could never be with than stay at home alone every night. Whatever way you sliced it, the square reeked of desperation, death, and despair.
But they weren’t here to think about the lonely people. Spike would be the next protector, so he didn’t need to worry about it. The temperature might have dropped with the evening getting closer, but the crowd held onto a lot of the day’s heat. The funk of sweating bodies hung like an invisible mist. Doing his best to breathe through his mouth, Spike said, “They should be back soon.” Matilda had turned pale. “Are you sure you want to watch this?”
“I can’t stop the sun setting and rising, Spike. Whatever happens, this is my life for the next six months. I need to let a little bit of that reality in.”
Spike dipped a nod at her and then gently rubbed her back to show his support.
Seconds later, the horn announcing the protectors’ return sounded. The deep resonance of it swelled through the square, a surge of bodies pushing into Spike and Matilda and forcing them several steps closer to the caged area. They were now close enough to the stakes for the smell of rancid blood—curdled by the sun—to hit them. Spike ruffled his nose. No matter how many times he smelled the vinegar tang of the diseased’s spilled essence, he’d never get used to it. A glance at Matilda and he saw that she too scrunched up her face against the stench, sweat now glistening on her brow. “Are you okay?”
With a tight clench to her jaw, Matilda nodded. She had to be.
The horn sounded again—this time much louder—accompanied by the thud of boot heels. Close to fifty guards ran into the square. Those first in moved to either side to make a tunnel all the way to the cage. They shoved many people aside to make room, their billy clubs raised should they get the chance to use them. The citizens knew the drill and rarely obliged their violent urges.
Too many bodies between Spike and the protectors for him to see them. But they had a good spot, so he just needed to wait. The protectors would come to them.
What must have been one of the more senior guards, from the way he held himself, walked slowly down the pathway made by his comrades. The click of his boot heels snapped through the now quiet crowd. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Whether you’re here for the first time, or this is a regular event for you, I wanted to take a moment to mention the protectors and the hard work they do keeping Edin safe. Were it not for their tireless efforts outside the city walls, we’d run out of wood, we’d not get any new scavenged materials, and most importantly, the diseased would overrun this city. The thinning of those vile creatures on a daily basis keeps them away from our walls. Edin’s walls are strong, but if we let the numbers of diseased grow uncontrollably, they’d push them over in no time. So, without further ado, I want you all to welcome today’s protectors.”
A cheer lifted the crowd, loud enough to make Spike flinch. Then he joined in. Although he smiled at Matilda, she didn’t smile back, her skin several shades paler than before. He hooked a thumb to motion them leaving, but she shook her head.
A few seconds later, the first of the protectors came into view. Tall and broad shouldered, Crush had her hair shaved clean off, her dark scalp shining in the sun. She wore blood-matted furs over her shoulders and scowled at those around her like she’d run them through with her broadsword just to increase her kill tally for the day. She had a brown woven sack tightly gripped in her left hand, which squirmed and writhed with the activity inside it. When she emptied it on the ground, several heads rolled out, their skulls playing a hollow percussion against the hard stone.
One of the heads went farther than the others, the spectators near to Spike all moving a step back from it. Although Matilda went with them, Spike didn’t. Instead, he watched it roll to within six inches of his feet and stop. He stared down at its pallid and wrinkled face. He watched its ineffective snapping jaws as it stared through blackened eyes, the blood flow to them cut off where the connection to its body had been severed. The muscles in his legs tensed and he balled his fists. It took all he had to refrain from stamping on it like he would a troublesome bug.
Crush stepped towards Spike. Nearly as tall as him and easily twice his width, she was one of the largest women he’d ever seen. At first she stared straight into his eyes, the crowd silent around them. A few seconds later, her gaze settled on the scarf around his neck. “A brave boy,” she said, her voice as deep as Magma’s had been. “You’d do well to rein that in over the next six months. In my experience, brave teenage boys are only brave because they’re dumb.” Her stare moved to Matilda. “A brave girl … now that’s a force of nature.”
When Crush returned her attention to Spike, he felt the crowd stare at him with her. It sent his pulse into ove
rdrive and his throat dried. He tried to hide his nerves with a shrug, his eyes dropping to her bloodstained broadsword.
Crush must have seen him struggling because her hard scowl softened slightly, moving aside with a twist of sympathy. She patted Spike on the shoulder, hitting him so hard he struggled to hold his balance. “Good luck, boy. Make us proud, and try to come back alive.”
Many of those in the crowd were old enough to have already done national service. Crush’s words sent a graveyard silence through the place. Spike and Matilda shared a look with one another.
Spike leaned close enough so only Matilda heard him. “Do you want to go?”
She shook her head.
Before Spike could respond, Crush bent down and grabbed the runaway head by both of its rotting ears. She laughed while holding it up in front of her. It bit at the air between them, its teeth sending out a castanet click as they snapped just centimetres from her face. The creature’s black tongue wormed from its mouth, a necrotised snake poking its head from a hole. So desperate to taste pure flesh, but it had no way of making it a reality.
Crush then walked into the cage and over to one of the twelve display spikes. The guards each had their own stakes and kept them for as long as they lived. She raised the snapping head in the air and paused for a moment as if to milk the crowd’s reaction.
The onlookers fell silent. Spike’s stomach tensed.
Lifting the head even higher, Crush roared as she brought it down hard.
A wet squelch as the wooden spike burst through the top of the thing’s skull, blood and bone exploding away from it. The crowd cheered as both its eyes and mouth fell open and the head slid down the pole, greasing it with blood and brain matter on its way to the ground. By the time the skull had reached the bottom, the wooden shaft now glistened with the putrid disease.
The cheers and applause grew louder. Despite having seen the show thousands of times, Spike bounced where he stood and grinned as if he’d never witnessed it before. He celebrated. They all celebrated. All of them save Matilda.
Protectors - Book one of Beyond These Walls: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller Page 7
