They’d judged it correctly from the ground. The walls out of there were covered in lumps and cracks, places for their hands and feet so they could scale away to freedom.
His limbs still dead from where they’d been crushed all night between the heavy bodies and the hard cold steel, William shook by the time he reached the halfway point. The metal wall icy to touch, a thin layer of dew threatened to coax his fingers free.
“What are you doing?” Hawk shouted.
All four of the boys froze.
“I need a piss.” The same nasal tone of the hunter who’d tried to take the deer meat and extinguish the fire.
“So take a piss, then.”
Max on one side of him, Artan on the other. Cyrus had climbed several feet higher. They all clung to the wall like petrified lizards.
“That’s what I’m doing,” the hunter said.
“Here, I mean,” Hawk said. “You’ve already held us up longer than you’ve needed to.”
“I get stage fright.”
The colour drained from Artan’s cheeks. Everything had gone wrong the night he needed to urinate in private. Were it not for his shyness, he wouldn’t have walked down into the ruins and Magma wouldn’t have found him. Although he probably would have gotten them eventually.
“What kind of a man are you?” Hawk leered. “You can’t even take a piss in public? Had we known that, we would have left you practicing on the scaffolding until you had the stones to join us.”
William’s fingers ached from where he clung to the wall. The tips numb from the cold, the tendons burned, threatening to spasm. He touched Jezebel’s axe head with the back of his own. If he needed to, he’d be able to grab her. For what good it would do halfway down the pit. They had to get the top. If they had even a slim chance of survival, they needed to be on level ground. He climbed several more feet, the others copying him.
The hunter whined his response. “Just let me take a leak.”
“I’m not stopping you. But do it there.”
“You don’t get what it’s like. You’re lucky.”
“Stop being a little girl.”
Several other hunters joined in.
“You need to man up,” one of them said.
Another one added, “I bet you sit down when you wee, don’t you?
“Want me to hold it for you?”
The boy’s voice broke from the force of his shout. “You lot are pricks, you know that?”
They laughed and clapped while they chanted, “Do it, do it, do it.”
William led the others in climbing higher.
“Fucking hell!” the hunter shouted.
A drum roll of footsteps from where the boys ran on the spot. They made a low tone, a collective roar of encouragement that grew in volume. They then erupted with cheers and clapping. Many of them laughed.
Now closer to the top of the pit, William focused on his breaths in an attempt to forget about his aches.
“Happy?” the hunter finally said. His voice grew fainter as he headed back towards them and repeated, “You lot are fucking arseholes.”
Just feet from the top of the pit, William now in the lead, he checked behind. Max, Artan, and Cyrus all nodded at him. They could wait for a short while. They needed to wait. The pasty complexion of panic had left Cyrus. His breaths came with a solid regularity. Somehow, they’d gotten through this.
A minute or two later, William poked his head over the lip of the hole. The hunters were gone. He climbed up, falling flat against the damp and cold steel. Thick rain clouds had moved in and blocked the sun.
When Artan climbed up, he hugged Cyrus. “Well done.”
Swollen bags sat beneath Cyrus’ eyes. “For what? Panicking?”
Artan had slid the handle of his war hammer down the back of his shirt like William had with Jezebel. He removed his weapon. “You held it together.”
“You held it together for me.”
“We need to support each other.”
Max patted Cyrus’ back. “Well done, mate. That wasn’t easy.”
Cyrus’ mouth fell wide. For a second he said nothing. He then nodded. “Thank you.”
Max shrugged and turned away from the boy. “How much of a prick is Hawk?”
“But we already knew that,” William said.
Max raised an eyebrow.
“At least he left that behind.” Artan pointed at the still-glowing fire beside the pit. The back leg of a deer was suspended over it, with most of the meat still on the bone.
“I say we eat it and then move on,” William said. “Who knows where the girls are now; a few more minutes to stop and eat probably won’t make much difference.”
“I’d say they’re already with Grandfather Jacks. And you heard the hunters, we’re only half a day’s walk from them. The full moon’s tomorrow night. We have time.”
“Although,” Cyrus said, “what’s the asylum?”
The question took the air from William’s lungs and he shook his head. “It sounds awful, whatever it is. And for Hawk to say he pitied them being in there …”
“Olga and Matilda are strong,” Artan said. “Let’s sit down and eat. It’ll take ten to fifteen minutes at the most. After that we can move on. It will also give the hunters more time to get away. The last thing we want to do is run into them again.”
Chapter 17
Barp!
“My God!” Olga said, stamping her foot. “I thought I’d get used to that sound.” Although, by the way Dianna twitched every time it went off, if anything, it would grow increasingly harder to bear.
It had been hours since Dianna had freed them. The broken girl with the broken ankle and her stocky and less vocal friend remained in the shadows. Maybe they were sleeping, or maybe they’d been watching them all night, gathering information to feed to their saviour, the High Father.
Barp!
Tiredness burned Olga’s eyes. She’d not slept a wink. The weak glow from the small sun gave her enough light to encourage her to try to make out her surroundings, but not enough for her investigations to yield any effective results. Maybe they were well and truly trapped. Maybe she simply couldn’t see the way out.
A loud crack followed by yet another barp! A small hatch opened in the bottom of the door. A metal plate about six inches in diameter shot through the space like a puck. The first time Dianna had moved in hours, she trapped it with her right hand and passed it to Matilda.
The next plate shot through Olga’s legs as she made her way towards the door. Dianna trapped that one too.
Whoever fired the plates into the room were careful enough not to poke their hands through. Olga imagined grabbing their wrists and pulling them, repeatedly slamming their head against the other side of the door until she knocked them unconscious.
The third plate shot in. Then the fourth. After the fifth, the hatch snapped shut. “Damn it,” Olga said, her face pressed to the door’s metal bars. So dark outside, she could only make out the back of the retreating silhouette.
Dianna tucked into the food and spoke with her mouth full, her cheeks bulging as she waved her metal spoon like a wand. “This place might be hell on earth, but the food’s always been good.”
The girls in the corner were clearly awake, the clink of metal on metal as they tucked into their meal. Matilda hadn’t started yet. She shifted forward so the light from the dull sun shone on her face. Her eyes wide, she shrugged.
“If they’re eating it …” Olga said.
A red sauce, chunks of gamey meat, and something doughy beneath it. The tomato’s acidity made Olga’s mouth water. Although she ached from head to toe from their journey, the cramps in her stomach eased a little at the prospect of food. “What is it?”
“Pasta,” Dianna said. “It’s made from wheat. The sauce is deer meat and chopped tomatoes.”
“It’s good.”
“I told you.”
“I’ll eat their food,” Olga aimed her voice at the two spies in the corner, “but that
doesn’t mean I’m prepared to take their bullshit.”
Matilda spoke with her mouth full. “We just need to pick the right time.”
“But if I don’t fight everything,” Olga said, “how do I test for cracks?” She turned to Dianna. “What’s your plan?”
The young girl shrugged. “I don’t see how I’m in a position to make any plans.”
The stone floor might have been warm compared to the funnel, but it still turned Olga’s bottom numb. She shifted to get more comfortable and sniffed a wet sniff, her sinuses clogged with the cloying damp funk in the air. “Whether we formulate a plan or not, I promise you we’re going to find a way out of here. I will not take this.” The two in the corner had clearly heard them, so Olga turned their way. “And what about you?”
“Grandfather Jacks provides.”
“Not you, I can see you’re all in. You?”
“Me?” the girl with the black hair said.
“Yeah, you. What’s your name?”
“Heidi.”
“What’s your plan, Heidi?”
A small voice in the dark, Heidi clearly hadn’t lost the plot yet. “Honestly, I don’t see that I have any other choice but to go ahead with this.”
“That’s bullshit.” Olga flinched when Matilda touched her leg. Maybe she should go easier on this girl, but maybe now wasn’t the time to be masking the truth. “If you let men tell you your place in this world, then you’ve already given up.”
“But if I get this over and done with,” Heidi said, “I can go to Umbriel and be safe. Maybe it’s a price worth paying.”
“You see an oppressive existence in Umbriel as the prize? Have you seen how the women are treated there? They’re expected to make babies and do all the hard graft. I’d rather live among the diseased.”
Heidi’s voice grew even fainter. “Not all of us are cut out for fighting the diseased.”
“And you understand what Grandfather Jacks plans to do to you? How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“You’re a kid. This shouldn’t be happening.”
“If I get it over and done with, the torture will stop. I can move on.”
She’d already been too hard on the girl. How could Olga blame her for making the best bad choice? Maybe getting through this and getting out would give her more of a chance in this world. But … she shuddered, who the hell did Grandfather Jacks think he was?
Yet another wall-shaking barp!
Crack! The lock on the door snapped open. Olga placed her food on the stone floor and stood up.
A haunting groan from the old hinges. In an attempt to loosen the tension in her body, Olga swayed from side to side. She rolled her shoulders and bounced on her toes. The others in the cell might have given up, but she wouldn’t. No way. Never. Matilda got to her feet and stood beside her.
Five guards entered one after the other. Each carried a pole. They spread out, the small sun catching their scowling faces. There were three men and two women. All of them had wide, well-fed frames. The women both stood about five and a half feet tall, the men closer to six feet.
“What the hell?” Olga said. “What’s with you two?” Matilda put a hand on her arm, but Olga pulled away and stepped closer to the guards. “You’re a part of this patriarchal bullshit? How can you get behind that dirty old man and what he does to little girls? Well, unlike you two, I will not give up on what it is to be a woman.” She jabbed her thumb into her chest. “I will not abandon my morals.”
Matilda stepped forward and spoke beneath her breath. “I’m with you every step of the way, but you can’t fight everything.”
“I can fight these arseholes.”
A fizz and crackle, the end of each guard’s pole lit up, vivid blue bursting from the darkness.
Dianna remained seated, but she shifted back into the shadows. “You need to get away from them.”
Olga shook her head and raised her fists. “They will not beat me.”
The blue light dragged traces through the air when one of the guards swiped it at Olga. It had clearly been designed to distract, but she wouldn’t fall for it. She ducked the next one and moved inside her attacker’s guard.
A hard buzzing crackle, Olga’s entire back spasmed when one of the guards came at her from the side. She lost control of her limbs, her arms snapping and twitching, her legs shaking before they gave out and threw her to the hard ground. Another blue light pressed into the side of her neck, and her vision blurred. Her jaw snapped and she bit her tongue, damn near choking on the coppery flow of blood running down the back of her throat. When the third pole pressed against her thigh, she pissed herself for a second time, her body flipping on the hard stone like popping corn.
The barp came through as they pinned her snapping and bucking body to the ground with their magic. Zero control over her actions, Olga’s ears rang as her head repeatedly slammed against the stone floor. The ringing grew more distant as darkness closed in. Everything faded away.
Chapter 18
William ran his hand over the top of his head, his hair soft from where the thick stubble of his crewcut had grown out. They’d been walking for about half an hour, the grey clouds above threatening rain. When a large drop landed on his head, he said, “At last.”
Artan walked at the front of their line. He turned back and raised an eyebrow. William pointed at the sky. “Rain!” Another drop landed on his head. Then another. Then another.
As the rain grew heavier, William rubbed his hands over his head again, cleaning the diseased funk from his hair and then his face. He looked up at the sky and let it fall onto his tongue. The slightly muddy taste of rainwater drove away the gamey tang of deer meat and dehydration.
The other boys did the same as they walked along the deep ravine in the steel mountain. The walls ran up into the sky on either side at a gradient too step to climb, especially now they glistened with rainwater. Even their path turned slick, William’s feet sliding once or twice with his progress.
Jezebel slung over one shoulder, William kept a hand free to soften his fall should he slip. Artan maintained a two-handed grip on his war hammer. Maybe he trusted his balance more than William did.
Cyrus walked behind Artan, and Max took up the rear, his face locked in its usual scowl, his lips pursed. The narrow path prevented them walking side by side. Artan halted up ahead. A pit down to his left, narrower than the one they’d been in with the diseased but just as deep.
Filled with rocks, it took William a second to see the leg protruding from beneath the landslide. “He doesn’t look like he’s been dead long.”
While letting out a long sigh, Artan scratched his head. “At least it means they haven’t had time to re-arm the trap. Better him than us.” He moved off.
Cyrus remained rooted to the spot, staring down into the pit. William gave him a gentle nudge to encourage him forwards. The man in the pit hadn’t stood a chance. Some of the rocks were large enough to take a life on their own. So many had rained down on him, they’d all but buried him. Less keen eyes could have been forgiven for missing the man there at all.
For the second time in as many minutes, Artan halted. The wash of rain slammed down on them, cleaning away any trace of the diseased. William leaned around Cyrus. “Artan, what’s going on?”
Artan spun around, his finger pressed to his lips.
Were the rain not hammering his surroundings, William would have heard it much sooner. Holding Jezebel with both hands, he skirted around Cyrus and closer to Artan. “The hunters?”
Artan nodded.
“How far away?”
The path ahead of them bent around to the right. Artan shrugged. “Twenty feet. At the most.”
“Shall we climb up there?” Cyrus pointed at the wall on their right. A slightly gentler slope than that on their left, it led to a ledge about ten feet above. It would have been a challenge scaling the dark steel in the dry, let alone now.
“They’re ahead of us,” William said.
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Cyrus shrugged. He didn’t understand.
“They have no reason to come back this way. They’re heading to Grandfather Jacks’ community. We just need to wait it out and we’ll be fine. We need to give them a chance to move on.”
William passed Artan, who grabbed his arm in a tight grip, his eyes wide. When William dipped a gentle nod, Artan let him go. He needed to hear what the hunters were saying. Maybe they’d tell him something useful. Maybe he’d find out more about the asylum and its location. Straining to hear over the wash of rain, the strong wind slamming into him, he moved several feet closer to the bend.
The hunters’ voices echoed from where they’d clearly found shelter. In a cave of some sort, they must have been waiting out the downpour.
“You know what?” one of the hunters said. He had a deep boom to his voice as if he didn’t realise just how loud he was. “I think Grandfather Jacks is a lucky man.”
The silence suggested the boy walked on thin ice.
“Look at what he does. I mean, who wouldn’t want to welcome those two girls from the community into womanhood. Come on, Hawk, surely you’ve got your eye on that firecracker? She’s smoking.”
William glanced back. Max stood far enough away to not hear them.
“Although I like the other one,” the boy continued. “That girl has class.”
William only realised Artan had drawn closer when he squeezed his left shoulder and tugged him back. But William didn’t budge, his pulse quickening, his grip tight on Jezebel’s handle.
The loud hunter continued, “What I’d do to be in Grandfather Jacks’ shoes. Hey, where are you going?”
Hawk responded to the kid, “I need some space. I suggest you don’t follow me.”
“What’s gotten into him?” the boy said.
As Hawk’s steps drew closer, William continued to wring Jezebel’s handle. He’d take his head off if he came around the bend.
When Artan tugged on his shoulder again, William snapped away from him. This ended now.
“William, we need to get away. We can’t fight all of those hunters.”
Beyond These Walls (Book 6): Three Days Page 10
