Protectors - Book one of Beyond These Walls: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller

by Michael Robertson

  When he heard his mum step aside, Spike pulled his hands away to see Matilda standing in his doorway. He double-checked to see the light of a new day on the other side of his curtains. “Are you okay now?”

  Matilda shrugged.

  “William,” his mum said, “the coach is outside!”

  The words lit Spike’s fuse and he jumped from his bed. “Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?”

  “You’re in national service now, boy. Do you expect me to travel to the other side of the city to wake you up every morning there too?”

  Fire surged through Spike, but before he released it on her, he looked into her eyes. A glaze of tears covered them.

  His legs shaking from getting up too quickly, Spike rubbed his face hard. Instead of waking him up more, it just hurt. Dressed only in a pair of boxer shorts, he looked around the room for where he’d discarded his clothes when he came back from the wall. He’d rested his packed bag by the door.

  Before their kiss and their abandoned escape, Spike wouldn’t have thought twice about standing in front of Matilda dressed only in his boxer shorts. “Um …” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be ready in one minute.”

  They stared at one another for a few seconds, neither of them moving. Her face expressionless, he couldn’t get a read on her. It took for his mum to slap him on the arm and shout, “Hurry up!” to get him going again.

  While hopping on one leg and slipping the other one into his trousers, he glared at his mum. “It would have helped if you’d woken me up earlier.”

  Clearly too much for her, her eyes filled, her bottom lip bent out of shape, and she burst into tears. She pressed the back of her hand to her nose as if it would stop them. When it didn’t, she took a deep breath. “I was hoping they’d forget you, all right?”

  Spike pulled his other leg into his trousers. Just about to shout at her again, he looked at Matilda. She didn’t have a mum as kind as his. He shouldn’t be so ungrateful. He walked over and hugged his mum. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m going to be fine.” He looked at Matilda. “We’re going to be fine, and I’m going to be the next protectors’ apprentice. Just you wait and see.”

  Instead of replying to him, Spike’s mum leaned into his chest, her shoulders bobbing as her small body shook.

  Although Spike spoke to his mum, he stared at Matilda, whose face remained fixed. “I promise you. I will be the next apprentice.”

  Shaking her head, her tears flowing freely, Spike’s mum pulled away from him and left the room.

  Matilda had a distant look in her eyes, and her usually dark skin had turned pale.

  “Look, I’m sorry last night didn’t go how we planned, but I think you made the right choice. Everything’s going to work out.”

  The light caught the slight sheen of sweat on Matilda’s brow.

  “Are you okay?” Spike said.

  Matilda’s eyes widened, and before she could say anything, she heaved, her cheeks blowing out. A hand clamped to her mouth, she stared at Spike for a second before running in the direction of the bathroom. Although she locked herself in, the echo of her vomiting called through the house.

  Spike knew her well enough to leave her alone at that moment. While pulling his shirt from the back of his chair, shaking with his haste, he heard his mum knock on the bathroom door. “I’ve left a glass of water outside for you, dear. Just let me know if you need anything else.”

  The only response she offered came in the form of another booming heave followed by a wet splash as she filled one of the chamber pots. Good job Spike and his dad had emptied them the previous evening. Splash back from a full chamber pot could be brutal. The thought of his visit to the wall with his dad the previous evening came back to him. The thought of Mr. P and his lover. But he pushed it down. Whatever the reason for Mr. P’s eviction, he didn’t need to talk to Matilda about it. Not with the stress of national service ahead of them. Not with her worry about Artan.

  When Spike’s mum walked back into his room, her eyes were red and swollen, but she’d stopped crying. The warmth he associated with her had returned and her features had softened.

  “Everything will be okay, Mum.”

  Pursing her buckling lips, she replied with several jerking nods, a fresh glaze of tears covering her eyes. Although she straightened her posture, it did nothing to suppress her clear sadness. “I’m sorry. I’ve always hoped that national service would have been abandoned by the time you turned eighteen. I was even praying for it up until last night. You’re my baby boy. My only child. They shouldn’t be taking you from me.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve trained long and hard for this. I’m going in prepared. Not only am I going in prepared, but I’m going to smash through it. I’m going to be a protector.”

  She smiled through her sadness.

  Looking past her, Spike turned his palms to the ceiling. “Where’s Dad?”

  She shook her head and Spike’s stomach sank. She then pulled something from her pocket, her closed fist concealing it while she held it out to him.

  Spike opened his palm and she dropped a cold lump of metal onto it. It looked like a ring. Silver and chunky, it had a large skull on the front of it.

  “Your dad couldn’t be here. It was tearing him up too much. He really loves you. It’s just … well, you know how Dad gets. He didn’t want to make you feel any worse about today by breaking down in front of you.”

  Clearing the lump from his throat, Spike drew a deep breath. “If he didn’t want to make me feel any worse about it, why isn’t he here? I wanted to say goodbye to my dad.” Before his mum answered, he held a halting palm in her direction. “Don’t answer that. You don’t need to take responsibility for his actions. And thank you.”

  “Thank you?”

  “Thank you for being here for me. For always being here for me. Even when it’s hard for you.”

  Wringing her hands, Spike’s mum nodded while she looked at the floor. “Before he left for work, he asked me to explain why he’s given you his ring. It’s a silly thing, really, but he wore it all the way through his national service and he feels like it brought him luck.”

  Holding it up to the light, Spike then slipped it over his middle finger. Making a fist, he smiled. “I suppose this will be great for cracking the diseased’s skulls. I’ll think about you both every day.”

  Matilda reappeared in the doorway. Not quite as pale as before, she cradled the glass of water and offered Spike’s mum a weak smile as she took another sip. “Thanks for the drink, Jules.”

  “Are you feeling better now, dear?”

  Pushing her eyes closed, Matilda kept them shut for a few seconds. When she opened them again, steel had settled across her brown stare. She dipped one slow composed nod. “Yes. I am now. I just needed to get rid of my last-minute nerves.”

  “And Artan’s okay?” Spike said.

  Ice clung to her words. “He’s fine. Me being sick just then was about me and nothing else. It’s all out now. I’m ready.”

  Spike said, “Me too.”

  Spike’s mum then removed something else from her pocket as she stepped forward and tied Matilda’s hair in a topknot.

  Matilda lifted her hand to the metal clip and ran her fingers over the intricate design.

  Any trace of sadness left Spike’s mum as she clasped her hands together in front of her chest and beamed at Matilda. “Ah, it’s perfect. It suits you.”

  “What is it, Jules?”

  “It’s a hummingbird. I just gave William a ring from his father.”

  Spike lifted his hand to show her. “Cool, huh?”

  Matilda nodded and turned back to his mum.

  “Like Spike’s father wore the ring through his national service, I wore the hummingbird through mine. Call us silly, but we’re both quite superstitious. We think they helped us survive. I don’t have any other children, so I want you to have it. You’re like a daughter to—” Tears stopped her finishing her sentence.

  How c
ould Spike be expected not to fall in love with her when his mother clearly already had? After shaking his head at his mum, he hugged her once more.

  Spike’s mum pushed him away after a few seconds, her cheeks sodden again. “Go, the coach is waiting.”

  After tucking his shirt in, Spike kissed his mum’s forehead, lifted his bag, and said, “Right, Tilly, let’s do this.”

  Chapter 26

  When they stepped outside, Spike squinted against the bright sun and locked eyes with the coach driver, a thick, squat man with yellow teeth and sideburns that ran all the way along his jawline. He had red skin, although not naturally red. Hard to tell if a rash or frustration caused it.

  The coach driver tugged on his horses’ reins, their agitation clear in their twitching movements. Although he maintained eye contact with Spike, he leaned towards the skittish animals and spoke in a soft voice. “Calm down, girls. We’re nearly ready to go.” He then spat on the ground in front of Spike, the phlegmy ejection wobbling but holding its form. “Finally ready, are ya? You’ll get your arse kicked during national service if you make people wait like this.”

  To look at the driver’s spit turned Spike’s stomach, so he looked back at the man and ground his jaw.

  The coach driver returned the glare with interest as if he’d be glad of an excuse to swing for him.

  Spike jumped when someone grabbed him from behind and spun him around. His mum hugged him one last time and whispered in his ear, “Make sure you come back, son.”

  Stepping away from their embrace, he held the tops of her arms and looked into her blue eyes. “I will, Mum, I prom—”

  She cut him off by holding a halting finger between them. “Don’t say that. You can’t promise. Just try as hard as you can.”

  “Of course, Mum.”

  When Matilda hugged Spike’s mum, the coach driver tutted. “Take your time. It’s not like we’re already late or anything.”

  “Allow a mother a moment to say goodbye to her son,” Spike said.

  “You’ve got a lot to learn about respect, boy. And you’d best learn it quick; otherwise this will be the last time she sees you. Now shut up, and get in the back.”

  Were it not for Matilda tugging on his arm, Spike wouldn’t have gotten into the coach. He bent down to pick his bag up and followed her as she climbed into the small carriage.

  The confined space smelled of wood and had just about enough room inside for them and their bags. “Hopefully we’re not stopping for anyone else,” Spike said, his right shoulder pressed against Matilda’s left.

  They closed the door, his mum appearing at the window. She blew a kiss at both of them. “I love you.”

  Nodding, Spike squirmed on the hard wooden bench and said, “I love you too, Mum. Although, you’ll feel silly about this goodbye when I come home ready to start the apprenticeship trials.”

  “I hope so, Spike. I really hope so.”

  Before he could say anything else, the coach driver called out, “Yeargh!”

  The lurch of the horses setting off threw Spike back, his head cracking against the hard wooden wall behind him as his mother’s anxious face disappeared from sight.

  As they trotted down the street—every bump in the road sending a jolt through the hard carriage—Spike poked his head out of the window and looked back towards his house. His mum stood in the same spot, waving him off while crying freely. “She’s such an embarrassment.”

  Although Matilda didn’t look back, she shoved her arm out of the window and waved so his mum could see. “You shouldn’t take it for granted. I didn’t say goodbye to my family this morning. Artan and I said our goodbyes last night.”

  “And your mum?”

  Matilda shrugged, and before Spike could say anything else, she said, “What about your dad? Where was he?”

  As much as he’d tried to be reasonable about it in front of his mum, Spike drew a deep breath to compose himself before he said, “He couldn’t face it.”

  “But what about you? Didn’t he think you’d want to say goodbye?”

  The thought of it made Spike’s eyes itch, so he turned to look out of the window. “I’m not sure he thought about me.”

  The carriage passed the town square on their left, the scenery flashing past so quickly it made Spike feel nauseated to watch it. Despite their speed, he still caught a glimpse of the caged stakes in the middle. Each one had a stack of heads skewered on it from the night before. They were piled one on top of the other from the ground up like hellish totem poles.

  By the time they’d passed the square, Spike had regained his composure. Their pace made his bottom sore on the hard bench and whipped up a breeze in the small carriage. He looked across Matilda out of her window. Heat lifted on his face to see the textile factory, the tallest building of any around it. The kiss already felt like a lifetime ago, back in a time when they were still children, when they were innocent. They shouldn’t have, but they could kiss one another then. They could fall in love, consequences be damned. To look at Matilda’s long brown hair tossed by the wind—most of it tied on the top of her head with his mum’s hummingbird clip—her perfect tanned skin, her soft lips … “Nothing’s going to stand in my way, Tilly. I will be the next apprentice. I’ll do whatever it takes.” He reached across and held her hand.

  Matilda pulled away. “You can’t promise anything. We’re both ready for this. That’s the best we can do.”

  The coach suddenly jolted as it abruptly slowed its pace. The driver’s loud growl called through the street. “Coming through! National service passengers! Stand aside.”

  Spike shifted on the bench to get more comfortable. They kept moving forward, but at a much slower pace than before. People appeared on either side of the carriage from where it cut a path through them. Many of those they passed looked in, their faces ashen. Some of them made crosses over their chests as if the carriage were a hearse. A glance back at Matilda and Spike saw the tension had returned to her features. He said it as much for himself as he did for her. “We’re going to get through this.”

  “I hope so,” she said. “I really don’t want to regret not getting out when we had a chance.”

  It took several minutes for them to pass through the busy crowd, and for the entire time Spike and Matilda stared straight ahead. Better to ignore them. They didn’t need anyone else telling them how screwed they were.

  They got clear of the busy streets and reentered the agricultural district. A much less densely populated area, it too sat on their left like the square had. The fields stretched away from them, although not for the miles and miles Spike once thought they did as a child. Their space was most definitely finite. National service had to happen for that reason if no other.

  Although they’d been picked up from the agricultural district, it was the largest of all of the city’s sectors because of the fields. It meant the coach driver had to take them out of it and back in again on his way to the gates leading to the national service area.

  Spike rested back in his seat as they picked up speed again. He saw Matilda staring across the field they’d walked over the previous night. “I think we’re away from the worst of it now,” he said. “No more people to look at us or treat us like we’re already dead.”

  But the coach slowed down again. Not quite as abruptly as before. “Bloody cows!” the driver yelled. “Get out of the way, you damn oafs.”

  Spike looked out of the window and froze. The ring on his finger seemed to treble in weight.

  Standing with his fork pressed into the ground, Spike’s dad rested on the handle and stared straight at him.

  The coach then came to a standstill, mere metres separating Spike and his dad. The slightest pinch of crow’s feet crimped the skin at either side of his dad’s eyes before he abandoned his fork and walked over to the carriage.

  Even watching his dad walk towards him took Spike’s breath. Matilda reached across and squeezed his hand.

  The cows continued to hold the ca
rriage up, his dad showing little interest in clearing them. He reached the carriage and sighed, scratching his weathered scalp. “Good luck, son. I’m sorry …” He paused, his eyes filling with tears. A wet clearing of his throat, he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you this morning. It was cowardly of me.”

  Spike laughed through his grief. “You created the roadblock?”

  The coach driver took his shouting to another level. He might have even been aiming it at Spike’s dad, but if he did, Spike’s dad ignored him. “Get these cows out of the way. Now!”

  “I’ve said everything I needed to say over the past two nights,” Spike’s dad said. “Now go and smash through national service, become the next apprentice, and make it work for you and Matilda. You deserve it.” He dipped his head to peer in at Matilda. “You both do.”

  Although the coach driver continued to scream and shout, Spike didn’t hear what he said. Instead, he watched his dad back away. He’d never seen him cry before. His dad pressed two fingers to his lips and kissed them.

  Spike’s world blurred and his eyes burned. A wet sniff to stop his nose from running, he then dipped a nod at his dad and returned the gesture. His tears soaked the tips of his fingers. Before he could see clearly again, the carriage jerked forward and they moved off again. His dad out of sight, he faced Matilda to see she had tears in her eyes too. Resting her hand on his shoulder as she looked into his eyes, the wet glaze in her stare swelled until the dam broke and tears ran down her cheeks.

  “We’ll be okay, Tilly.”

  While chewing her bottom lip, she held his gaze before saying, “I hope so. I really do.”

  Chapter 27

  They passed the hand-painted signs at such a pace it took for three of them to fly by before Spike had put the gist of the message together. Although they weren’t identical, they all delivered the same order: No civvies beyond this point.

  The scenery grew ever more sparse, the walls closing in to funnel the coach towards the gates leading to the national service area. Spike only knew the gates by reputation and from seeing them from the back wall. Unless you were in national service, you had no business here.