Beyond These Walls (Book 6): Three Days

by Robertson, Michael

  The weapons swayed on the rope. Like watching the glass cage, if one of them fell now, William would do well to avoid it. Jezebel protruded farther than the others, the scrape of her head against the wall. They’d blunt her if they weren’t careful. But he kept it to himself. They were trying their best.

  A couple more knocks before the weapons made it to the top and Artan sent the rope down again. The weapons had been a good test run. William pulled on it, lifting his feet from the ground. It took his weight.

  A thirty-foot climb, William pressed his boots against the dark steel wall and began his ascent, inspecting each knot as he passed it.

  At ten feet from the ground, the drop was only half what they’d fallen the first time, but if he fell now, it would be straight down rather than hitting a wall first. He also wouldn’t have Artan to soften his fall.

  “You’re doing well, William,” Cyrus said.

  William pulled himself higher. Close to the chute’s exit, he came to the pole as the next link in their makeshift rope. The pole slipped, William’s body falling by an inch or two.

  “William?” Artan this time.

  His heart in his throat, William shook as he stared at the knot. Did he imagine it, or was it moving? The tightness seemed to be loosening, teasing him, toying with him, preparing to let him fall.

  “What do you need us to do, William?” Max said.

  The chute’s exit in front of him, the basket still another ten feet above. The knot slipped again and William hung on, wrapping his legs around the rope, clinging on with all he had. Like that would help. A falling object was a falling object, no matter how hard he gripped it.

  The fabric in the knot shifted again. The brown and black of the two garments moved like constrictors waking from sleep. “It’s like Matilda always says,” William muttered, “don’t let your fear get in the way.” He climbed higher and reached one hand into the chute, slapping it against the flat wall. Nothing to hold on to, it pushed him back, the entire rope taking him with it as it swung out over the pit. “Come on!”

  Climbing higher, he kicked away from the wall again and uncrossed his legs, now entering the chute feet first. He spread his legs wide, using the soles of his boots to pin himself in place.

  William’s torso hung backwards from where he still held onto the rope. If he fell at that moment, the top of his skull would hit the ground first. He reached into the chute again. The press of cold steel against his palm. Before he could bring his left hand in with it, the shifting knot came free.

  In one move, William fell forwards and dragged the rope in with him. The effort of his struggle echoed in the tight chute as he lay against the cold steel and spread out like a star, pinning himself in place.

  All of their trousers in his grip, William’s legs shook and his breathing quickened. His eyes burned from the sweat running into them, and his shoulders buzzed with the cuts from the glass dust transferred from the bottom of the boys’ boots. Biting down on the trousers freed his hands. He spread out in the chute, his left hand and foot bracing against the left wall, his right hand and foot against the right. He had this.

  “William?” Max’s voice echoed down the chute, assaulting him from all angles. “Are you okay?”

  Other than a muffled reply because of the clothes in his teeth, William had nothing. Using his hands first, he reached up the chute before bracing and bringing his feet up behind. Several inches at a time, as long as he didn’t slip, he’d get there.

  Daylight at the top of the chute. He’d get there. Slow and steady.

  “William!” Cyrus said. “We’re going to send the rest of the rope down. If you can grab it, we’ll drag you out.”

  Still as muffled, but closer so at least they’d hear him. “Have you taken that damn pole from it?”

  “Yes.”

  The heavy knot at the end of the rope bounced down the chute and stopped inches from slamming into William’s nose. His muscles on fire, his shaking body threatening to betray him, William braced his legs one last time and yelled out against his own fatigue as he boosted towards the knot.

  Cyrus’ face appeared at the end of the chute. “He has it. Pull!”

  The first tug dragged William several feet. Although he tried to help them by pressing against the wall, they dragged him again before he could get a foothold. Other than his grip on the rope, William fell limp, his bare stomach scraping against the cold and rough steel.

  Never so pleased to see a grinning Cyrus, William rolled over onto his back when he got to the top of the chute. The harsh wind instantly dried the sweat on his body, and his quivering returned. But better to be cold and alive. He smiled. “Thank you.”

  Chapter 11

  The sun might have been setting, the day growing colder, but in their cave, sheltered from the wind, Olga leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes momentarily as she let the warmth that remained sink into her skin. Her entire body throbbed from everything they’d been through over the past day. The tall grass swayed, the meadow littered with large steel rocks. “I mean, there’s a lot of steel out there, but apart from that, it doesn’t look very different from the north.”

  While drawing long and deep breaths, Matilda faced the grassy wastelands, her eyes glazed.

  “I suppose with this amount of steel,” Olga said, “it makes sense they would have found inventive uses for it. Like constructing a wall. But what tools do they have over here? I just can’t get my head around the logistics of creating something on this scale.”

  “I think I’ve seen enough of this side of the wall already,” Matilda said.

  “Oh.” Olga straightened her back. “She speaks, then?”

  “I think we should lie low in this cave for a little while longer, and then go back and find the boys.”

  “You don’t think Magma’s killed them by now?”

  “I won’t give up on them.”

  “I’m not asking you to.”

  “If I assume they’re dead, that’s as good as giving up on them.”

  The sun might have found them in the shadowy cave, but they couldn’t enjoy its warmth for long. Olga shifted back into the darkness and Matilda followed. It kept them hidden from the diseased. The creatures had the object permanence of an infant. The second Mummy hides behind a door, they think they’re alone. And a good job. Had it been any other way, they’d be dead by now. Twenty or so creatures remained below. Their squalls and shrieks had died to low rumblings of discontent. Occasionally one of them would snarl, stumble, and snap at the air around them as if the memory of the encounter with the girls remained. But they were confused outbursts at best. Maybe they’d already forgotten the girls and they were simply a symptom of the disease.

  Olga shifted where she sat, the cold steel turning her bottom numb. “How long do you think we should wait?”

  Matilda shrugged. “Thirty more minutes?”

  “Hopefully Carl and Peter have killed each other back there.”

  “Thirty minutes should be enough time for us to find out.”

  “And it should give time for the diseased to clear off.” Olga tightened her grip on Carl’s knife. “And you know what? Whatever’s ahead for us from here, at least we’ve managed to avoid Grandfather Jacks’ community.”

  “That’s a man I never want to meet.”

  A chill snaked through Olga. She shook her head to snap out of it and snorted an ironic laugh. “I still can’t get over Max and how he behaved. What a prick.”

  “I’ve known William for most of my life,” Matilda said. “We were in school together from the age of six. There were many times where I assumed he hated me. It sounds cliché, but he used to pull my pigtails, bump into me in the playground, and tell me in no uncertain terms how gross girls were.”

  Olga smiled. “So when did he tell you he liked you?”

  “I’m not sure he ever did. Certainly not while we were at school. He just wouldn’t ever leave me alone.” Tears glistened in her brown eyes. “One Valentine’s
Day I got home from school and he’d put a frog in my bag with a note. The frog had turned it so damp I could barely read what he’d written.”

  “What did it say?”

  One blink sent a tear down each cheek, and Matilda smiled, her lips buckling when she spoke. “Can I be your handsome prince?”

  Olga snorted a laugh. “Oh my god.” She shook her head. “I think I would have kicked him in the nuts if he’d done that to me.”

  Matilda shifted, and the fading light caught the tracks of her tears. “I did. But my point is, boys can be awful communicators sometimes.”

  “But Max is eighteen.”

  “You give him too much credit. And of course there are many things that aren’t acceptable, but not talking about how he feels … My mum used to tell me to give a boy until they’re twenty-five before you expect them to be a man. If they’re not done by then, you should walk.”

  “But—”

  “It didn’t work for her. I know. She always had great advice. If only she’d followed it herself.”

  Impossible to avoid the cold in their steel hole, Olga leaned back against the wall and reached out in front of her so her hands were in the splash of remaining sunlight. She placed Carl’s knife on the ground before making fists and unclenching them. Red bands wrapped each wrist. They’d bound them too tightly. “It feels good to get those ropes off.”

  Before Olga could speak again, a female voice cut across the landscape. The low sun burned her eyes when she looked out over the grassy meadow. She snapped her hands away from the light. “How the hell did they get so close?”

  About ten people were visible at first, several more popping up from the long grass. They were no more than thirty feet from the wall. All of them carried spears and they kept them raised. In their free hands they carried various weapons, from swords to bats to clubs. A roughly equal split of men and women, they all had long hair, with feathers, bones, and sticks tied in their braids, which hung down to their shoulders. A uniformity to their appearance, they wore trousers and waistcoats of different patches of animal skins stitched together. The whites and greys of rabbits, squirrels, and even the black and white stripes of badgers. A fine display of their hunting prowess.

  The woman who’d spoken led the line. Pale, she had long blonde hair and ruddy cheeks. Although slight, she had toned arms. A tall man walked at her side. He had a slim waist, large biceps and broad shoulders. Darker skinned than the woman, he had a thick black beard. This group were clearly fit. They looked like they could run for days.

  The woman screamed, a blood-curdling call that quickened Olga’s pulse. She then released a shrill tongue roll before charging straight at the wall.

  More hunters appeared as if they’d been birthed by their surroundings. Their number doubled and then tripled. They threw their spears as they ran. Like the hunters from Umbriel, they attacked with deadly accuracy, taking down at least half the pack of diseased with twenty feet still separating them.

  The front runners split and pulled away to each side. Half of them went one way and half went the other. It opened a space for those at the back to throw their spears. The whip of the projectiles flew through the air. The squelch of them sank into the creatures.

  The pack of diseased dispatched, the group walked over to them, retrieved their weapons, and examined the diseased’s clothes. They took leather belts and smaller items. One of them relieved a diseased of their boots, pressing them against her own feet before she discarded the ones she wore and swapped them around.

  “Do you think they’re friendly?” Olga said while they picked over the diseased corpses.

  “You want to risk it?”

  “Dunno? Would it do us any harm to have some allies out here?”

  “If they’re allies. What if they’re in with Grandfather Jacks?”

  “Over half of them are women.”

  “So?”

  “From what I gather, Grandfather Jacks isn’t what you’d call a ladies’ man. I’d imagine most women would like to see his head on a spike. Especially strong women like this. If we partner with them, they might get us out of here.”

  Matilda’s cheeks sucked in from where she chewed the inside of her mouth. It added definition to her already high cheekbones. “I dunno. They can fight, there’s no denying that, but I still think we’re better on our own.”

  The group had moved quickly through the diseased. They’d stripped them of anything of value and now headed back the way they came.

  “This is our last chance,” Olga said.

  Matilda shook her head. “It just doesn’t feel right.”

  The group moved with a swagger. They were comfortable in the wastelands. How often did they get surprised by packs of diseased? Maybe they could have helped Olga and Matilda get away from their current situation. But maybe they would have handed them straight over to Grandfather Jacks.

  When they were nearly out of sight, Olga said, “Do you think we just made a mistake?”

  “I’d say so.” The man’s voice echoed in the deep cave.

  Olga spun around. What little light remained in the cave caught the glint in Peter’s feline eyes. He stepped forward from the shadows, from a tunnel that had been too dark to see. His face bloody and swollen, he grinned. Before Olga could reach for her knife, the echo of his punch rattled through her skull, her head bouncing against the cold steel ground. She gasped, her mouth filled with the coppery taste of her own blood, her ears ringing. Before she could get her words out, he punched her again.

  Chapter 12

  “It wasn’t easy climbing out of that chute, you know?” Although William aimed the comment at Artan, he watched Cyrus in his peripheral vision. The boy’s slumped shoulders lifted.

  Artan clearly saw it too, the very hint of a smile raising one side of his mouth. “We would have been screwed if Cyrus hadn’t made that rope. I should have got him to tie it to the pole; he would have done a much better job than me.” He reached across and laid a hand on William’s left shoulder. “Sorry about that.”

  William flinched as he imagined landing head first on the steel ground of the pit. “We’re all still here, that’s all that matters.” They’d been walking for an hour or two along the valley carved into the massive steel wall. The day had grown long, the horizon a deep orange from the setting sun. The wind had picked up, forcing William to stoop against it, his ears and nose numb. It might have been more hazardous to travel in the dark, but if they tried to camp up here for the night, they’d freeze to death.

  “I shouldn’t have ever let Trent do what he did,” Cyrus said. Before William could question it, the boy continued. “I went along with him. I let him …” He sighed. “I let him push people around who didn’t agree with him.”

  “What—” But it only took a glance from Artan to silence William. Let the boy speak.

  “Sure, we all saw what Magma was like when he came past us in the national service area. He slaughtered three people in front of us because they asked which direction they were heading in. But he also offered us a way out. We’d been on the roof of that hut for so long. And we were so hungry and thirsty.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up,” Artan said. “Most would have gone with him.”

  “But Jerry didn’t want to.” Cyrus’ bottom lip buckled. “Jerry said he’d wait.” He shook his head. “Trent wouldn’t have that. In Magma he saw something to aspire to. He very publicly offered Jerry the chance to change his mind.”

  “And he didn’t?” Artan said.

  Cyrus’ lips tightened. “And I didn’t stick up for him. I saw it coming. When Trent asked Jerry to reconsider, the air shifted around us. It was like a thunderstorm was about to break. It only took for Jerry to …” Cyrus lost his words, running a hand over his short hair. “For Jerry to shake his head. Trent kicked him off the roof. I should have done more. I saw it coming and I watched.”

  “What could you have done?” William said.

  All the while, Max hung back from the group
and stared into the middle distance. He might have been with them in body, but his mind had gone somewhere entirely different.

  Their feet tapping against the steel, the path stretched away from them as if it would never end.

  “I’ve always been spineless,” Cyrus said. “That’s what my mum called me. All the time. She said I wouldn’t make it back from national service. That I didn’t have it in me. She’d been saying that to me since I turned six.”

  “What did she know?” William said. “I’m proud to have you at my side.”

  A frown hooded Cyrus’ confused eyes. “But what do I bring to this group?”

  “You can climb,” William said. “And you’re light. God, I can’t imagine having to be a human ladder for Trent. Or that stocky little Ranger.”

  Cyrus shrugged. He clearly didn’t believe any of it. “How long do you think it’ll be before we’re off this damn wall? Do you think we’ll get off before night?”

  “And where are the girls now?” Artan said.

  The clouds above had turned dark grey, burying the sunset. A mirror image of the steel wall they crossed, they promised one hell of a storm. William swallowed, his throat tacky with dehydration. He placed a hand on his rumbling stomach. “I’m guessing there isn’t much deer hunting going on here either.” He lifted Jezebel. “Not that I’d catch one with this.”

  “If you ever need someone to hold your war hammer while you hunt, Artan?” Max said.

  “Oh my!” William paused at the top of another trap. “Good job this thing’s already been triggered.” A section of their path was depressed from where someone had already stood on it. “I’m not sure I would have seen the button in this light.” A steep chute ran away from them. It had a dogleg in it. “That must have hurt to go round that bend.”