Beyond These Walls | Book 8 | Between Fury & Fear

by Robertson, Michael

  As he closed in on the end of the alley, Max turned back to Artan and Hawk. He pointed over to his right. “We’re going to head that way for a few blocks to get us closer to the tower. Any ob—”

  Over the heads of Artan and Hawk, Max saw Olga, Matilda, and William. They stood on the roof of one of the buildings closer to the end of the alley they were avoiding. Olga’s lips were pursed, her eyes sad. What did she know?

  Max raised his hand to wave, dropping it the second footsteps appeared behind him. Hawk and Artan reached back for their knives, but halted when the tip of a blade bit into Max’s neck. It was like they felt it too.

  A deep male voice said, “Get on your knees and I might let you live for a few more hours.”

  Artan and Hawk dropped. Max followed a second later. The unforgiving road hurt his kneecaps.

  “I told you we should have fought the others,” Hawk said.

  The brilliant glow from several drones appeared at the other end of the alley. Even in daylight, their strong glare damn near blinded Max. They’d run away from about ten soldiers, but now there were roughly forty of them, blocking off their exit. He could only guess at how many were behind him.

  Hawk looked back. When he turned around, his shoulders slumped and he dropped his head. Whichever way they’d chosen, they were screwed.

  Chapter 26

  “You need to calm down,” William said.

  Olga pointed to where Max, Hawk, and Artan were being led away, her eyes wide. “But we need to go now.”

  “We need to think this through. Did you see how many of them were down there?”

  “That’s exactly why we have to help them. We might have the element of surprise if we attack now.”

  Matilda said, “The element of surprise isn’t a panacea, Olga. They outnumber us fifteen to one. We want to get to them as much as you do, but you were the one who said we have an advantage if we don’t reveal ourselves until the right time.”

  “That was before they got captured.”

  “They don’t know we exist,” William said, “and we need to keep it that way until the time’s right.”

  Olga bounced on the spot, throwing glances in the direction the army had gone with their three friends. “But Max is down there. It’s all right for you, you have Matilda up here with you.”

  “I still care about the others.”

  Matilda said, “And what about Artan?”

  “Yet you still agree with him?” Olga said.

  Matilda shrugged. “I want to get them free as much as you do, but I can’t see what we’ll accomplish by rushing in. What use are we to them if we all get caught? Maybe if I saw an angle, I’d be up for risking it, but no matter how you look at their situation, in this moment there’s nothing we can do for them. First, we need to follow them. We need to find out where they’re going.”

  Olga burst away from them, breaking into a jog, but William caught her before she stepped out of reach, grabbing her arm and pulling her back.

  A raised fist, her teeth clenched, Olga said, “What the fuck are you doing? You said we should follow them!”

  “Come on, Olga.” William shook her. “Get your head together. You’re pissed off with Hawk for charging into things without thinking.” He flinched when Matilda grabbed his arm. She pointed away from them. About ten more soldiers dressed in blue were heading their way at a jog.

  Olga lowered her fist. Her tight jaw loosened.

  William dropped onto his front on the small white stones and crawled on his stomach towards the edge of the building.

  Olga slid up next to him.

  Matilda ran away from them across the roofs, tracking the path of the main army, a road and a row of buildings separating them.

  The newest group of soldiers entered the alley Max, Artan, and Hawk had walked down. Olga raised her eyebrows at William, who nodded. They remained on their fronts while the soldiers followed the path of their friends.

  The slightest crunch of her steps, Matilda rejoined William and Olga.

  “Now imagine if we’d followed the first lot,” William said.

  “All right.” Olga scowled at him. “I get your point.”

  When the soldiers vanished from sight, William and the other two stood up. Matilda led them, tracking the smaller pack. They caught glimpses of them between the buildings. Enough to keep tabs on their progress.

  The scream caught William off guard and forced him to a halt. Shrill and blood-curdling, the woman’s cry echoed through the city.

  The trailing group of soldiers paused at the end of an alley, giving William, Matilda, and Olga an unobstructed view. They’d caught a girl in a red uniform.

  “That must have been what they were chasing,” William said.

  The girl screamed and shook, twisting and turning against the restraint of one of the larger men in the pack. Her hair fell across her face with her futile struggle. She flicked her head back, trying to slam it into the nose of the man restraining her. The girl then stamped her foot on top of the blue soldier’s right boot. The soldier screamed and momentarily let her go.

  The girl broke free, charging down the alley towards William and the others. But the soldiers gave chase. One caught up and kicked her feet from beneath her.

  The girl managed two more wild steps, running while leaning forward, her arms flailing. She hit the ground hard, her palms scraping along the road as she tried to cushion her fall. Tears ran down her cheeks, and her mouth twisted with her grief as the blue soldiers surrounded her. She rolled over onto her back and placed her hands together as if in prayer, her face puce. “Please. I’ve done nothing wrong. Please let me go.”

  One of Fear’s female soldiers ran forward and kicked the girl in the face. The loud crack snapped William’s shoulders into his neck, and he winced as the others went to work on her. They jeered and spat, taking turns to slap, kick, and punch her.

  “Why don’t they just fucking kill her?” Olga said.

  “That would be too simple.” Matilda’s eyes narrowed. “They want to break her. They want to destroy what that red uniform symbolises.”

  The next thirty seconds lasted a lifetime. They beat the girl limp. The two largest soldiers then took an ankle each and dragged her down the road, her uniform riding up, her back scraping against the rough asphalt. They headed in the same direction the others had taken Hawk, Max, and Artan.

  Olga ran to the edge of the roof, dropped off the side onto the metal fire escape, and jogged down the stairs.

  Matilda raised her eyebrows. William shrugged. “At least she waited until we can get down there without being seen.” He followed, dropping from the roof to the metal walkway, his steps far from soundless, but hopefully quiet enough for them not to find the ears of the blue soldiers.

  Olga reached the ground and took off across the road. She vanished down an alley. The way seemed clear, so William followed, Matilda a few steps behind.

  Like many of the alleys in this part of the ruined city, the walls were close and the shadows deep. Windows without panes on either side provided a view into the abandoned shops.

  Olga stopped at the end of the alley, turning to show William and Matilda they should do the same. At least she still had her wits.

  William reached the end and peered in the army’s direction. Sixty to seventy soldiers, Artan, Hawk, and Max among them as their prisoners. Six to eight drones hovered over the pack. They’d gathered in front of a large building. It looked like it had been used in the past to host sporting events. Where one of the shops had a large donut on the roof, this one wore the trophy of a man dressed in a helmet and padded gear. He had a stick, which he pressed into the ground. The front, a large steel windowless framework, led to some kind of indoor arena.

  As the army filed into the building, the drones left them.

  “They’re heading this way.” Matilda tugged on the back of William’s shirt as she retreated.

  “Are you sure?” Olga said.

  No time for debate. Matil
da ran back to the window leading into the shop on their right and dived through. William followed her a second later, Olga scrambling in on his heels.

  All of them sat with their backs to the wall beneath the window. Less than a minute later, the brilliant white light from a drone flooded into the abandoned space, casting a bright glow across the dusty floor.

  William raised his eyebrows at Matilda, who returned a tight-lipped smile.

  The hum of the drone faded into the distance, and Olga said, “How did you know they’d come this way?”

  “A hunch,” Matilda said. “Maybe they’re used to being followed. Maybe they’re looking for more of Fury’s army.”

  “So what do we do now?” Olga said. “There are a lot of soldiers in that arena.”

  William said, “I have an idea.”

  “Which is?”

  “Follow me.” William’s body still protested his movements from where he’d fallen down the stairs while running through the towers, his shins buzzing, bruised from top to bottom. But there were greater needs than his suffering in that moment. He climbed back out into the alley.

  Chapter 27

  Max had seen Olga, but he couldn’t tell the others. Hawk and Artan were too far away from him, and there were too many soldiers around for him to yell. Besides, Olga might have seen them, but the responsibility for getting out of this mess rested firmly on their shoulders. Hoping for Olga’s help had to be plan B.

  The army had taken Hawk’s and Artan’s knives. They’d frisked Max, but found nothing. Sixty to eighty soldiers, every one of them stared at Max and his friends, pressing in around them. They dared them to try something stupid. They only needed the slightest excuse.

  “Move faster.” A soldier shoved Max in the back. He stumbled into another one directly in front of him, who spun around, his baton raised.

  Keeping his hands down, Max cowered away from the expected blow and kept his attention on the ground.

  The soldier tutted and shook his head.

  They were heading towards an arena. It had a giant statue of a man on the roof. The man leaned over a stick that looked more like a broom than anything you could play sport with. A steel framework dominated the front of the building. It had lost its glass a long time ago. It left the building exposed to the elements.

  The lead soldiers entered the arena ahead of them, their brisk march echoing in the vast foyer. Dirty tiles covered the floor, much like the ones in the mall. Cracks ran through many of them. Memories of what this place had once been surrounded them. Small kiosks on either side, they housed broken machines with faded labels.

  Something changed the sound of the army’s steps. Max walked on tiptoes to peer over the heads of those in front of him. The foyer funnelled them into a tight corridor, forcing them to walk no more than five or six abreast. The bottleneck slowed the army, and those on either side of Max pressed against him in preparation for the tight passage.

  Hawk and Artan walked into the corridor before Max. Small patches of paint clung to the walls and ceiling. The hallway had once been blue. It wouldn’t be long before that memory peeled away, several more flakes falling like autumn leaves at the army’s passing.

  Max heaved when he stepped out of the other side of the corridor. Despite the high ceiling, the vinegar reek of rot filled the place. It hung heavy like humidity and curdled the air. It gagged him with its pungent and tangible funk. The diseased screams and roars quickened his pulse. He gulped, but it offered little relief.

  Mad Max.

  He shook his head.

  Mad Max.

  “No!”

  A soldier on Max’s right smirked and barged into him. “You’re fucked!”

  If only he knew. Maybe this would finally bring an end to the torment.

  Mad Max.

  The soldiers spread out when they exited the corridor. Their parting revealed the room’s centrepiece. The sporting arena, rectangular with rounded corners. About two hundred feet long and a hundred feet wide, it had a wall running around its perimeter. The first four feet of the wall had been made from brick, the next six feet from glass or some other transparent material. It revealed the dense press of diseased contained within. Surely glass would have shattered by now.

  A wooden platform with stairs leading to it sat level with the top of the wall. A plank protruded out over the sea of snapping and snarling fury.

  Mad Max.

  “Shut up!” Max knocked his head with his fist. The soldier on his left raised an eyebrow at him before he shot a derisive snort through his nose.

  Artan already on the platform, Hawk climbed the stairs next.

  The army occupied the spectators’ area on the other side of the platform. The best seats in the house. Like in the stadium they’d run through with Gracie, the seats were made from plastic. Bleached blue plastic. They started ringside and ran all the way to the back wall, each row getting higher the farther back they went. The rows of seats encircled the ring and ran beneath the platform they currently stood on.

  The presence of so many people riled the diseased. Their cries grew louder. They slammed open palms against the clear wall. Some of them pressed their faces against it, pus and blood coating the transparent barrier as they tried to bite through.

  Mad Max.

  A shove in the back encouraged Max up the stairs to join Artan and Hawk. The diseased grew more frantic. How many of the creatures had once been Fear’s victims? How many diseased had they started with when they built this place?

  The diseased and every soldier in the place watched Max and his friends. His heart slammed through him. Artan stood serene, as if he had a plan. Hawk twitched, his hands balled. He looked from side to side. Would he try to be a hero again?

  Mad Max.

  Even now, separated from a lot of Fear’s army, there were still too many soldiers on the platform for Max to tell Artan and Hawk he’d seen Olga. But unless she came in now with something to rival this army, they were on their own anyway.

  The soldiers mirrored the diseased. They banged against the clear wall like they wanted in.

  Hawk’s upper body twitched. What did he think he could do in this situation?

  Mad Max.

  Many of the rancid creatures wore the marks of how they’d been turned. Teeth marks on their faces and necks. Some of them were deep red and glistening with blood. Some wounds had turned black with age.

  Mad Max.

  Max twitched.

  Mad Max.

  About two hundred diseased in the ring. Max trembled and backed into the line of soldiers behind him. They shoved him forwards. Cyrus stared at him from the centre of the crowd. Cyrus. His brothers. His mum and dad. Hugh. Their maws snapped; they reached out to him with atrophied arms and twisted faces.

  Mad Max.

  Caved-in heads, bleeding eyes, yells of agony. Broken, they wanted this to end. But they wanted him more.

  Mad Max.

  Max balled his fists. If he ended up in there, could he beat every one of them to death? Could he protect his friends?

  Mad Max.

  A door in the wall opposite. Their way out? It must have been how the people who played the sport got into the arena. Surely it had been sealed shut a long time ago. The door handle had been removed. Maybe that was all they’d needed to do to keep it shut. The diseased didn’t exactly have the best dexterity.

  The gurning and grinning faces of the blue army surrounded the arena. Frenzied, the line between them and their foetid counterparts blurred. The chant started low and grew in volume. “Walk the plank! Walk the plank! Walk the plank!”

  Max’s saliva turned into a thick paste, his throat arid. His heart beat in his neck. He gulped and leaned close to Hawk. At least if he told him about Olga … but a soldier threw him a hard glare. He recoiled from the man’s fury. If Olga had any intention of getting them out of there, she’d best arrive soon.

  Five soldiers stood on the platform with Max and his friends. One of them held a long and curved sword.
She used it to slice through the air. The spectators fell silent. The diseased weren’t as compliant. They moaned and roared. They pawed at the transparent wall with clumsy slaps.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, her face red with the effort of shouting over the chaos. She had brown greasy hair slicked back in a ponytail, and her two front teeth were missing. It dragged a lisp across her words. She used her knife as she gesticulated along with her grandiose speech. “These people thought it was okay to walk through our city.”

  Gasps ran around the room. Many of the soldiers booed. Some of them shook their heads. Others hammered against the glass.

  “I know,” the knife-wielding woman said. “The cheek of it, right? Maybe they didn’t realise this city belongs to us. I mean, the place is a wreck, and if they’d spoken to Fury, they’d be forgiven for assuming it was no more than a fighting arena for the two armies. But unlike Fury, we have ambition for this city beyond a no-man’s-land.” She stamped on the wooden platform when she said it. The crowd cheered. “We’re taking this city back. We’re putting more resources and more people into claiming this territory. First, we’ll occupy the city, and then we’ll take Fury. We’ll move out like a plague, overrun them, and end this cursed war.” The crowd cheered. “No longer will we send our kids to the slaughter in a fight with no purpose. Unlike Fury, we care about our citizens. We owe it to them to make this last push. This city is ours. Now we need to make sure the world knows it. So I say it’s a good job we found these trespassers. They need to learn. They need to …” The woman cupped a hand to her ear.

  The chaos of the crowd’s screams and jeers melded into one singular chant. “Walk. The. Plank! Walk. The. Plank!”

  The greasy woman smiled. Like before, she cut the air with her sword, commanding silence. The diseased continued to wail with discontent. They continued to shove one another and snarl. “But first,” the woman said, “we decide who lives. Someone needs to tell the tale, right? To let everyone know this city belongs to Fear. A well-told story can repel would-be attackers as effectively as any army.”