The wooden floor had a dark tinge to it from where it had been mopped, the damp pulling the smell of wood from the floorboards. Those in the national service area interacted so frequently with the diseased, sanitation had to be of the utmost importance.
The warmth of the day had entered the room and turned the air thick. Sweat itched Spike’s collar and he squirmed on the hard wooden bench he’d chosen to sit on.
The cadets had gathered in smaller groups around the room. The largest collection of them sat at Ranger’s table. The only full table in the place. He might have a target on his back, but among the worthless rookies, he was as good as royalty. The chatter of multiple conversations rose to the pitched ceiling and swirled as an indecipherable white noise above them.
Sarge and the seven guards were currently sat at the top table, also talking amongst themselves. The wall behind them had many names etched on it. At first Spike wondered if it might have been to commemorate the fallen, but when he read it, he saw names he recognised: Magma, Chucker Smith, Woody Carlson, Jake Biggs. The fallen clearly didn’t deserve commemorating. Edin celebrated winners. For a second, he closed his eyes, etching his own name on the hall of fame he held in his mind. When he opened them again, he glanced over at Ranger, who smiled and laughed with his new friends. That would be his own child in years to come, celebrated because of the greatness of his old man. A hero through legacy. Except Spike would train him well enough so he could follow in his footsteps. Ranger didn’t stand a chance against him.
Ranger looked over and Spike quickly turned away. Nudging Matilda, he covered his mouth and said, “I can’t believe Magma’s son’s in this year’s qualifiers.” He glanced over at him again. He’d already gone back to talking to his new friends.
Matilda placed her hand on Spike’s back, but when she spoke, her voice was distant. “They’re not allowed to give him preferential treatment.” Maybe, like everyone else, she thought he didn’t stand a chance.
“Yeah, right.” Another look at the boy, Spike caught him throw a glance at Matilda. Fire rose in him, but he drew a deep breath to pull it down.
Keeping his attention on Ranger, Spike watched him look at Matilda again. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He then fixed on Spike, smiled, winked, looked back at Matilda and licked his lips.
Holding eye contact with the boy, Spike said, “But you know what? It doesn’t matter. To be the best, you have to beat the best. I’m going to make Ranger wish he hadn’t come to do national service at the same time as me.”
When a boy—short, squat, and with closely cropped brown hair—sat down opposite them, both Spike and Matilda fell silent and stared at him. Solid and round like a mole, he had a slight squint to his brown eyes as if the daylight bothered him. He smiled a wonky grin and offered them his hand. “Hugh Rodgers.”
Hugh’s hand swamped Spike’s, and when he squeezed his sweaty grip, Spike laughed to stop himself from wincing at the strength of it. “Easy there, fella. Can I have my hand back now, please?”
Flushed cheeks, Hugh dropped his attention to the table. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. My dad says I’m too clumsy.” His words fell from his mouth, each one running into the next. “I pulled a door off the hinges at home before leaving to come here. I break everything.” He looked up at them again, turned even redder, and dropped his focus once more. “Sorry.”
The kid had something endearing about him. Spike shook his head and laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I’m Spike and this is Matilda.”
The boy’s grin widened and his face relaxed. Although, his words still came out quickly. “I’m not supposed to be here, you know? I’ve been working in the labs for the past few years. We’ve been developing an antidote for the disease. We normally take an exam to prove our value to the lab so we don’t have to do national service. It’s not a hard exam if you revise. The man who ran the lab, Richard Stein, said I wouldn’t have to take it. It was a given that I was staying. At least, that’s what he told me. He said my work on the antidote was too important, that he’d teach me everything he knew, and that I should focus on learning from him rather than studying.”
Leaning towards the boy, Matilda turned her palms to the ceiling. “So what happened?”
“Richard was fired just before the exams, and his replacement, Mike Canner, came in on a power trip. He started throwing his weight around like he was trying to manage a group of protectors rather than scientists. We really didn’t need someone to assert their authority over us like he did. None of us are type A personalities.”
Spike’s jaw dropped. “He made you do the exam?”
“Yep. I wasn’t prepared at all. The annoying thing is, straight after that, he was fired for incompetence. He got the job on a blag and was exposed for being a fraud. His aggression stemmed from his inability to do the role. But it was too late for me by then.” When Hugh glanced up at the head table, Spike did the same. Sarge shifted in his seat as if in preparation to address the group.
Shrugging, Hugh sighed. “So I’m here now.”
Before Spike could reply, Sarge’s chair screeched as he stood up, his heavy steps beating against the wooden stage as he walked around the front of his table. “Right, thickos, I want you all standing against the far wall now. Do it quickly and quietly.”
It took about a minute for everyone to go where they’d been told to, many of them weaving through the tables to get to the other side of the room.
“It’s time to draw the teams. There are seven teams, and they all have stupid names, but it’s not the names that count, it’s how you perform. You need to learn to work well with whatever team you end up in. Your life counts on you working as a unit. For the next six months, your team should be everything to you. You should train together, sleep in the same dorm together, work together, and if you fail miserably”—he lowered his voice—“die together.”
Hugh stood on Spike’s right and whimpered at the last comment.
Holding up two small black cloth bags, Sarge kept them elevated long enough for the entire room to see. “I’ll draw boys’ names from this bag”—he shook the one in his right hand—“and girls’ names from this one.” Pausing, he looked at all the new recruits. “Does everyone understand, or do you need diagrams to make it easier?”
Silence met his question and he smiled. “Good, let’s start.”
When Sarge plunged his hand into one of the sacks, Spike’s stomach sank with it. Why hadn’t he thought about it sooner? He and Matilda might not end up on the same team. The words rushed to the end of his tongue, but he kept them in. Sarge wouldn’t do him any favours. He wouldn’t change how the teams were drawn so one recruit could be with their girlfriend. In fact, if anything, he’d split them up. A glance at Matilda and he saw the crease to her brow as she watched the man on the stage. If they were in separate teams, he wouldn’t see much of her for the next six months. What if she got in trouble beyond the wall? What if she ended up in the same team as Ranger?
His heart racing and his stomach turning backflips, Spike watched Sarge struggle with the small slip of paper, his large hands lacking the finesse required for the task.
When he finally unfolded it, he held it in a pinch and frowned at it for a few seconds. He read the name as a question. “Drew Peacock?” Although a boy put his hand in the air, Sarge hadn’t yet looked up, his dark frown still fixed on the slip. “Is this a windup? Droopy cock?”
Looking up, Sarge’s blue eyes fixed on the boy. “Is that really your name?”
Swiping his side-parted hair over, the boy blushed and nodded.
“Do your parents hate you? It’s a good job your surname’s not Hunt. They would have probably called you Michael.”
Most of the cadets sniggered.
Sarge watched the crimson-faced boy move his side-parting over again. “You look like you’re about to enter a bloody ballroom-dancing competition, not go to war. Are you here to dance, boy?”
The boy’s hair wobbled when he shook his hea
d and his side-parting failed him yet again. He swiped it back across. “No, sir.”
“You’re in team Yeti.” Pointing to a table in the corner, Sarge said, “Over there.”
The boy scuttled over to the table indicated to him as Sarge pulled out another name. “Flight Stingray.” A heavy sigh, he shook his head. “Someone’s having a laugh with me, right?”
Flight stepped forward and Sarge already looked exhausted by the process. He spoke in monotone. “You’re in team Phoenix.”
As the names were drawn, the cadets moved to their team tables. Minotaur, Dragon, Bigfoot, Chupacabra, Yeti, Cyclops, and Phoenix. One table remained empty. If the intake continued to increase, no doubt they’d find another stupid name to give to a new team.
After well over three-quarters of the names had been drawn from the bags, Spike finally heard his. “William Johnson.” He stepped forward and glanced over at Hugh, who sat at team Minotaur’s table. The boy’s mouth had fallen slightly open. Maybe he should start introducing himself as William to save the confusion.
Sarge pointed at a table. “Team Minotaur.”
Spike walked over and sat down next to Hugh, who beamed a smile at him. Matilda remained standing against the wall.
Pulling the next name out, Sarge sighed and rolled his eyes. “The golden boy, Ranger Hopkins. Team Bigfoot.”
Thank God he wasn’t in Spike’s team. Just one recruit from each team made it through to the trials. It would be better to compete against him then.
After a few more rounds, they’d gotten down to just two cadets, and team Minotaur still had a space. Thankfully, team Bigfoot didn’t. Spike’s pulse quickened to look over at Matilda. Please let it be her.
Sarge fumbled with a piece of paper. “And the final member of team Minotaur.”
His throat dry, a nauseating rock in his stomach, Spike drew short and rapid breaths. While spinning his dad’s skull ring on his finger, he stared at his love. She didn’t look back.
Sarge cleared his throat and paused for what felt like a lifetime before he said, “Olga Vasquez.”
Chapter 32
The city hadn’t been extended for years, which meant the dorms would have remained in the same spot for that time too. A steady stream of hard-worked teenagers living there should have made the place stink, but when Spike entered the building, the fresh lavender scent caught him off guard.
Lined up in the small corridor in front of the three bedrooms, Spike had the other two boys from team Minotaur on his left and the three girls on his right. They all stared at their leader in front of them, a line of broadswords on the wall behind him. He hadn’t told them his name yet. In fact, he hadn’t told them anything.
When Spike looked at the girls again, his stomach tightened. None of them were to blame for not being Matilda, but that didn’t make him hate the fact any less. It would take a great effort not to resent them for it.
The man in front of them appeared to be about the same age as Sarge, but unlike Sarge, he wore his years well. Clean shaven, he had a thick head of brown hair. Dressed in an immaculate combat uniform, Spike could see this man knew how to iron a crease down the front of his trousers. Despite the attention of all the recruits already on him, he still felt the need to drive his hands together in a loud clap to get their attention. This man did things by the book.
“Right, boys and girls, you can call me Bleach. I’m your team leader. As you can see, my barracks are spotless, and I expect them to stay that way. You make your bed every day, you sweep and mop the floors every day, and you clean the bathrooms every day. I don’t want to have to live in your stink and mess. If you follow my rules, I’ll have much less of a reason to be pissed off with you.
“First, I want you all to introduce yourselves. Hopefully we’ll all be here for the next month at least, so you need to get to know one another.” Pointing at Hugh, Bleach said, “You.”
Stepping forwards, his face glowing red, Hugh cleared his throat. When he scratched his cheek, Spike saw his hand shake. The mole of a boy introduced himself to the wooden floor. “My name’s Hugh Rodgers. I’ve been working in the science lab for the past several years, helping research towards an antidote for the disease.” After stepping back into line, he kept his attention down and wrung his large hands.
The next boy stepped forwards. A slim lad, he stood about five feet ten inches and had slicked-back hair, high cheekbones and bright blue eyes. Spike noticed all the girls look at him. “I’m Max Slink. I’ve been in school until now. My parents are in construction. We’re hoping we can start building two-storey houses and taller once the kiln’s output increases. It’ll really help with the space issues in the city. If I’m not the next protector, I plan to return to my district to help with that work.”
The next protector! Spike stared at Max. If he wanted to get the apprenticeship, he’d have to want it more than Spike. It took for Bleach to clear his throat for Spike to realise he should be stepping forward. While looking into his leader’s eyes, a grey tint dulling the green of them, he said, “I’m Spike.”
Bleach raised his large right hand to halt Spike and leaned in as if trying to hear him better. “You’re who?”
“Spike.”
“Spike?”
The silence hung in the air and everyone stared at Spike. His throat tightened and he felt Max watching him more than the others. He drew a deep breath before speaking in a low murmur, “I’m William. William Johnson.”
Disgust twisted Bleach’s features and he shook his head. “You ain’t a protector yet, boy. Spike’s a name you’ve got to earn.”
As Spike stepped back into line, he looked across at Max. They stared at one another. He had no beef with him, but the boy had better believe he’d earn his moniker.
The shortest girl of the three stepped forward next. She stood just over five feet tall. Despite her size, she didn’t seem intimidated by the occasion. What Spike had initially seen as fear in her pale skin appeared to simply be a part of her complexion. A wide smile, she dipped the slightest bow at Bleach. “I’m Olga Vasquez.” When she stepped back into the line, she looked at Spike and smiled. Her curves and confidence made him look back.
The next girl: “I’m Elizabeth Troy.” Her voice shook as she spoke. “If I get through this, I’m going to work in research in the labs.”
And finally: “I’m Heidi Sparx and I’m going to work in textiles.”
Clapping his hands again, Bleach grinned. “Okay, so now the introductions are over, I’m going to explain what these next six months are all about. As you know, you’ll be helping extend the city walls. We’ve all seen the diseased.” He paused to look at Spike. “Some of us much closer up than others.”
They all nodded.
“Well, it’s different when you’re outside those walls. There isn’t anyone to look after you out there, especially when they come at you in a swarm. The diseased might look weak and frail, but they’re savages. They’re stronger than you, faster than you, and what we find out too many times when we run national service is they’re smarter than a lot of you too. Their teeth are their weapons and they’re masters of them. They’ll have your throat out before you can blink. The only thing I can promise is that at the end of these six months, there will be less of you here than there is now.”
When Spike heard Hugh gulp, he looked over to see his lips moving as if he were silently praying.
“The first month is full-on training. This is where we’re the strictest. As of now, you’re on a curfew. You have to be in bed by twenty-one hundred hours, and lights go out at twenty-one thirty. Once you get through training, you’ll be given more freedom. Until then, you need to keep your head down and work hard. What you learn in this next month has the potential to keep you alive and, more importantly, to help you keep the team alive, so pay attention.”
Maybe being away from Matilda wasn’t such a bad thing. If Spike had to make it through these next six months and then into the trials, he had to stay focused. Besides,
Matilda had it in her to get through on her own. Were it not for Artan, he’d have put his money on her being the next protector.
Looking along the line of cadets, Bleach raised his eyebrows. “Any questions?”
Before Spike realised no one else had, he’d raised his hand. As much as he wanted to put it down, Bleach had already focused on him. “Yes?”
Spike tugged at his collar as if it would help him lower his rapidly increasing body temperature. “Um …” Why did he raise his hand?
“‘Um’ isn’t a question, William.”
Spike dragged some of the lavender fresh air into his lungs and swallowed a hot gulp. “What do we have to do to qualify for the apprentice trials?”
Watching his fellow cadets rather than Bleach, Spike saw Max suddenly focus on their leader. None of the others looked interested. Although, he couldn’t get a read on Olga.
“What you do, boy, is you get your head down and think about it in six months’ time. For now, you need to be the best soldier you can be. The protectors’ apprenticeship will come around, don’t worry. Just make sure you’re still alive when it does. By doing that, you’ll have a good chance of getting in.”
After straightening his uniform, Bleach looked at his group again. “Well, if that’s all?”
Silence.
“Okay. You have the next few hours to make yourself comfortable in your new dorms.” Bleach pointed at the door on his left—“That’s the boys’ room”—and then the one on his right—“and that one belongs to the girls. The one in the middle’s mine. I don’t do well with being woke up, just so we’re clear with that now. After dinner, we’ll turn in early because tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”
When Bleach left the dorm, Spike watched the girls go into their room. By the time he’d looked into the boys’ room, Hugh and Max had already moved off. He walked in to see Max throw his bag on one of the top bunks. “This is my bed.”
Protectors - Book one of Beyond These Walls: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller Page 14
