After he’d heaved a sigh, his dad nodded. “Six months, maybe more.”
“Definitely more. I’ll be the next protectors’ apprentice.”
“Have you had a good birthday?”
Spike could still taste Matilda’s kisses and he grinned to think about it. “I have.”
Spike led the way up the first wooden ramp, his steps in stereo as he walked in time with both his dad behind him and those around him. No matter how many trips he’d made up the wooden structure, the ascent always had a sobriety to it. He’d witnessed so much death from looking out over the wall.
The long walkway stretched at least fifty feet before the ramp to the next level. Spike craned his neck to see to the top. “They’ve moved the spot we need to dump the waste from.”
“The ground must have been getting too boggy outside.”
Just to get him talking if nothing else, Spike said, “What do you think created the disease?”
“I gave up thinking about that a long time ago. I realised I’d never know the truth of it, so why worry? As long as we have these walls protecting us, we’ll be safe.” Before Spike could respond, his dad said, “Look, you’ve probably guessed I was waiting for you tonight so we could talk. There was no need for us to dump the waste, but your mum wanted to make sure I said a few things to you.”
“Man to man?”
“If you like.”
Spike watched several people climb the slope to the next platform before he followed them.
“She … We wanted to say to you that you shouldn’t … um, you shouldn’t fall in love too soon.”
“Hmm,” Spike said.
“What?”
“I wasn’t expecting you to say that. I thought this would be another chat about how horrific national service is.”
“I’ve already said my bit about that.”
“Well, I haven’t. Fallen in love, I mean.”
“I saw how you were walking when you came home tonight.”
“Walking?”
“Look.” His dad pinched the top of his nose as if trying to ward off a headache. “We just wanted to say it. Just in case you do.”
Would Matilda come for Spike in the night? Would she bring Artan and decide they needed to get out of there? Would they take their fate into their own hands rather than jumping through Edin’s hoops to get the city’s blessing to honour their hearts?
“Love’s a hard thing to walk away from, and even harder to accept when neither of the people in love have chosen the separation.”
The slight wobble in his dad’s voice spoke of a past Spike didn’t want to know about. His parents might not have been madly in love with one another, but it worked. They made it work.
“I’ve learned,” his dad went on, “that happiness in this city comes from acceptance. Acceptance of the work you have to do, the rules you have to obey, the people you have to choose from. Acceptance that only one person can become the protectors’ apprentice each year.”
A flare of adrenaline drove Spike’s words. “You don’t think I’m good enough?”
While casting a glance at the people around them, his dad spoke in a quiet voice as if to counter Spike’s outburst. “I didn’t say that. We just want to make sure we protect you against heartache.”
Spike stopped and turned to look at his dad. The line of people behind them walked around, many of them carrying their chamber pots by their rope handles. “If I don’t make it as a protector, I’ll be sad. I won’t be any less sad for not trying as hard now though. Why set myself up for failure before I’ve failed?”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t try so hard.”
“I have to believe this can happen, Dad. If I don’t, it won’t. It’s so hard that if I go in defeated, then I’ve already lost. I know what you’re trying to do, but your thinking’s flawed. It makes more sense to put everything I have into going for it now and then deal with whatever comes in the future. I can work hard. All I need to do is make sure I work harder than anyone else. That’ll get me through.” When another person tutted at Spike for blocking the way, he clenched his jaw to contain his reaction before shaking his head at his dad and moving on.
“Besides,” Spike said, “I want freedom. I love and respect you and Mum, but I don’t want your life. I want to be able to move through the city whenever I choose and live in any district I fancy. I want to be with who I want to be with.”
A shake ran through his dad’s words. “You think the life of a protector is freedom?”
Despite the darkening sky, Spike could still see into the distance, the wind blowing his hair back as he looked at the moon reflecting off the vast lake. Several diseased ran through the long grass. He might have shared the same form and genetics as the things outside the walls, but he felt no connection to them. Their arms flailed and snapped as if electric currents burst through them. They bit at the air, their heads turning in sharp and jagged movements like dogs catching flies. They screamed at nothing other than maybe the torment inside their own bodies.
“You serve the people,” Spike’s dad went on, resting his chamber pot on the top of the rough wall. “Fame is anything but freedom. Being a member of a society is anything but freedom. There are rules, codes of conduct that living within these walls requires of you, no matter who you are. You want freedom?”
When Spike looked at his dad, he nodded out to the horizon. “Then go out there.”
And maybe he would. If Matilda came for him, he’d go. He loved his mum and dad, but he didn’t want their life. Maybe running away would be easier than fighting against the system to be the next protector. As Spike drew a breath to respond, the sound of the loud horn below cut him off. It stopped him emptying his pot over the side. His dad waited too.
“Two days in a row,” Spike’s dad said.
A second later, the crack of the lock being freed on the door below rippled out across the long grass. The diseased, alerted by the horn, were already running at the gate, their screams lighting up the night, the long grass swishing against their forward momentum. Spike watched them close down on the wall, the same anxious shot of adrenaline running through him that he always felt. He’d seen so many people leave the city. Would that be him, Matilda, and Artan tonight? Maybe the latest evicted could teach him a thing or two. Mostly they showed them what not to do. Also, Spike, Matilda, and Artan wouldn’t have the horn announcing their exit.
One final and long note sounded from the horn. “They’re letting out two people?” Spike said. A look along the wall to either side of him, he saw everyone waiting, their pots still not emptied.
It took for several people over to his left to jeer and boo before Spike saw the two men below. No two evictions were the same. The two men were running with what looked like everything they had. One of them wore the smart dress of someone from the tailors’ district, while the other one had the shock white hair of an albino. They were far away and it was dark, but not so far he didn’t recognise them. “Mr. P!”
“Who?” Spike’s dad said.
“That man with white hair has a restaurant in the ceramics district. His name’s Mr. P.”
“What do you think he’s done wrong?”
“I have no idea. He seemed like a nice man.”
A woman on Spike’s right leaned close to him. “They often do, love. It’s the nice ones you should be wary of.”
It didn’t make any sense, but Spike let it go.
As the two men ran, those on the wall closest to them toppled their pots over the side. Downwind from them, Spike fought against his heave when the smell hit him. He even felt the pinpricks from some of the moisture riding on the wind. Unlike Spike, the men below were too far away for the waste to hit them.
Where there had been four or five diseased only moments before, that number had now trebled. The horn had called to them, and they were ready for whatever the city had to offer.
Like Spike had seen with the young man yesterday, Mr. P and his lover ran for a gap in the
diseased’s lines. Spike shook his head. “They’ve got no chance of getting through.”
His dad sighed next to him.
The diseased had closed the distance on the two men to just a few feet. The hellish screams of torment lit up the evening. Then the first creature tackled the smartly dressed man to the ground. Even with the distance between them, Spike heard him let out an oomph.
Mr. P made it through and Spike’s heart lifted. “He might be okay.” But before he’d gotten to the end of his sentence, a second creature took the man down.
The boos and hisses stopped, giving way to the screams and yells of the enraged creatures below. Many sounded frustrated at not being the ones to catch one of the two men.
A matter of seconds later and the two diseased who’d tackled the men were on their feet again and wandering aimlessly. They had fresh blood around their mouths.
The well-dressed man then twitched. Spasms snapped through his arms as he writhed and rolled on the ground. He moved as if his blood boiled. Mr. P then came to life too. The pair of them jumped to their feet in a snarling and hissing rage. Lines of claret already streaked down their faces and they bared their teeth, snapping at the air around them. What had once been Mr. P and his forbidden love had now been turned into another two wretched diseased to add to the countless army outside the city’s walls.
When Spike’s dad nudged him, Spike blinked away the start of his tears and wiped his eyes.
“You okay?”
Spike nodded. “It’s all a bit overwhelming.”
“I know. Tomorrow’s a big day.”
“And I liked Mr. P.” Maybe the restaurateur had done something wrong; maybe he hadn’t. Either way, if Matilda came for him in the night, he’d now have no hesitation about leaving.
Chapter 24
Spike woke with a start, his head spinning as he sat up in bed. His heart pounded, pumping what felt like thick blood through his fatigued body. Still dark in his room, he looked around and couldn’t see any reason why he’d woken up.
A heaviness in his eyelids pulled them closed and Spike gave in to it, falling back against his pillow. Once he’d lain down again, he heard it, the noise that must have awakened him in the first place. It drove any tiredness from his system.
Then a third gentle tap at his window.
Dressed in just his boxer shorts, the chill of the night clinging to his skin, Spike got out of his bed, pulled the curtain back, and smiled at the two faces staring in at him.
Both Matilda and Artan waved. Their familial resemblance almost made him laugh. Their mouths were pulled tight and they had an identical furrow to their brows. After opening the window, he looked from one to the other. “So we’re really going to do this, then?”
“Have you changed your mind?” Matilda said.
A shake of his head, Spike then pointed at his packed bag in the corner of the room. After throwing his clothes on, he retrieved it, passed it out through the window, and stood up on his chair before climbing out after it. Just before he closed the window behind himself, he looked in the direction of his parents’ room. Hopefully they’d understand. They’d want him to be happy.
Spike and Matilda walked hand in hand, but he waited until they were away from the houses and crossing one of the largest fields in the agricultural district before he spoke. He pointed over to a corner in Edin’s perimeter wall, their path lit by the moon. “That’s our way out of here.”
Both Matilda and Artan looked where he pointed. Matilda’s grip tightened, but neither of them replied.
The moist and uneven ground of the ploughed field made it tricky to cross. Spike’s feet twisted and turned, the cloying mud making his shoes heavier with every step. The field seemed to be questioning their decision to leave. When he looked at Artan and Matilda again, he said, “What’s going on with you two?”
After a moment of silence, Matilda said, “I wasn’t going to come tonight, but before Dad went to bed, he told me he was going to kill Artan while I was away.”
What looked like a continuation of a previous argument, Artan shook his head. “He can try. In fact, I’d like him to. I want another excuse to put him in his place.”
Matilda turned her head away from him, her jaw set.
“The man’s all hot air, Tilly. He only beat us when we didn’t fight back. He wouldn’t dare try it now.”
They were about halfway across the field, the reek of damp mud in the air. Spike looked around to make sure they weren’t being watched. The shadows made it hard to tell, but it looked clear.
“All I know,” Matilda said, “is I’m not spending the rest of my life working in ceramics. I managed to get out of the district tonight with Artan because I used this.”
So dark, Spike hadn’t noticed she had another black scarf around her neck.
“I made it out of an old dress. I got away with it because it’s night-time; otherwise they would have seen it for the fake it is. I told them I wanted to go for a walk with my brother before tomorrow. This is the last time I’ll be able to move through Edin so easily, so it’s our last chance to get out of here. I just can’t handle this place anymore. With the way they treat their citizens, it’s no wonder Dad’s lost his head. It’s enough to drive anyone mad.”
To listen to her talk about how Edin treated its citizens took Spike back to earlier that evening. What would she say if she found out about Mr. P? Maybe she didn’t need to know about it just yet. “So you didn’t think you were going to leave before that?” They were close to the wall now.
“No. But I can’t stay after what Dad said to him. If anything happens to Artan, I won’t forgive myself.”
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Artan said. “I’ll be fine.”
When they reached the edge of the field, Spike showed them where the two walls met. Stones poked out all the way up it like steps. “I reckon we can climb out here.”
“And you think the other side’s okay?” Matilda said.
Spike shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Only one way to find out.” Matilda walked over to the wall and started to climb.
When Matilda had held Spike’s hand, he felt like he could go anywhere and do anything. But now she’d let go, he saw the wall from a different perspective. She’d already climbed several feet up it. What if they didn’t have a way down on the other side? What if the diseased were waiting for them like they waited for the evicted? In Artan’s face, he saw his own worries staring back at him. “Tilly?” he said. “Are you sure you’ve thought this through?”
Matilda stopped. “Are you changing your mind?”
“I’ve told you countless times that I’ll be okay,” Artan said. “It seems a bit rash to run away.”
“Saving your life seems rash?”
Spike spoke before Artan could reply. “I’ll be the next protector.”
“You might be. And if you are, it’s a year away.”
“A year isn’t long to have freedom for the rest of our lives.”
“And what if you don’t make it, Spike? What then? If you’re not the next protector, and you don’t become a politician, what does that make you?” She pointed up the wall. “We have an opportunity to get out of here tonight.”
“But we don’t know what’s out there,” Artan said.
“Exactly,” Spike said. “We know the rules in here. We know what I need to do.” He reached up to her. “You need to trust me, Tilly.”
For a few seconds, she stared at his outstretched hand and shook her head. “You’re right, we don’t know what’s out there, but I know what life in here looks like if you don’t make it. I’d risk only lasting five minutes outside the walls over spending the rest of my life in ceramics. This is our best chance to get out of here.”
Spike kept his hand reached out to her. “I’ll be the next protector. Trust me.”
The pause seemed to last an age, and Spike listened to Artan inhale and then let his breath go as if he’d thought about speaking and then chan
ged his mind.
Matilda tutted and shook her head before she finally climbed down the wall, ignoring Spike’s hand as she jumped off. She landed in the mud with a squelch.
Although Spike stepped towards her, she focused on the ground and walked past him. “I hope I don’t live to regret this choice. Come on, Artan, let’s go home.”
Chapter 25
“William!”
Spike opened his eyes and gasped, his world spinning from the abrupt awakening. Not only had his mother’s shriek cut straight to his core, but the heat in his room pressed in on him like the ceiling had collapsed. An awful taste in his mouth, he ran his tongue across his teeth to try to get rid of the morning funk.
“William!” Louder this time and more shrill. Even from the other room its bone-saw ring cut through him. He’d not had enough sleep because of their late night trip to the wall.
Fully intending to get up, Spike lifted his head and dropped it again a second later. It felt too heavy for his neck. He clamped his hands over his eyes with a slap and let his exhaustion leak from him in what felt like the most appropriate sound for that moment. “Urghhhhhh.”
The thud of angry steps made their way towards his room, culminating in his door flying open, his mum filling the doorway. A hand on one of her wide hips, the other leaning against the door frame, she glared at him, her face a taut mess of anxiety and stress. A usually kind-looking woman, her strained and crimson features banished any hint of the calm and compassionate mum he knew. “How many times do I have to call you, William?”
“I don’t answer to that. It’s not my name.”
“It’s the one I gave you, so it’s the one I’ll call you. You’re not a damn dog. Do you know what time it is?”
Covering his face with his hands again, Spike groaned. “Too early.”
Protectors - Book one of Beyond These Walls: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller Page 10
