Beyond These Walls (Book 5): After Edin

by Robertson, Michael

  “We have to try,” a boy said. “Going back empty-handed won’t look good.”

  “If we even get back.” A different girl this time. “At least when we lived in Edin, we only had to survive national service. In this place, we could die at any time.”

  The boy from the national service area looked up and William balked. A moment of eye contact, he returned his attention to the group. “Whatever happens, we need to give it a go. Standing around moaning about it won’t help anyone. Come on.”

  At first, the group remained where they stood, but after a second or two’s pause, some of them followed the boy. A few more seconds later, they cleared the building.

  When they were out of sight, William said, “He’s saved my life twice now. I feel like I owe him even more.”

  “But what can you do for him?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  Olga crouched down before hanging backwards off the ledge. “Come on, let’s get closer to the gate.” She dropped to the ground floor.

  William and Olga took their time because Samson had said ten minutes. It allowed them to move with caution, scanning the ground for loose metal that could make a rattling alarm as they hid behind collapsed walls, large rocks, and fallen bridges.

  The imposing wooden wall now just a short sprint away, Olga poked her head out and looked left and right. “Where are all the diseased?”

  “Are you complaining?” William led them through another doorway, which took them closer to the hunters’ hatch.

  Olga caught up to him. “Not at all. I just find it a bit strange.”

  “Make the most of it. It won’t be long before there’s hundreds of the things again. The war must have wasted quite a few of the locals.”

  Before William could expound on his theory as to how many diseased had fallen in the epic battle, a click called across to them. The back door pulled in just by an inch or two. Enough to show it had been left open. “Come on,” William said, checking both ways before he jogged to the wall.

  As he reached out to open the door, Olga said, “Something about this isn’t right. It’s way too easy.”

  “I don’t think you’ll have to wait long for shit to get harder again. Also, what other options do we have that aren’t risky?” Before Olga could counter, William pushed the gate open and ducked inside.

  Adrenaline flooded William’s system, his hands shaking as he locked the bolt behind them. A line of huts on their left. Their slanted roofs were the ones they’d seen when Magma had selected his next hunting party. “Where is everyone?”

  “There’s something seriously wrong,” Olga said. “Wait!”

  A small hut over by the fire. The door hung open, revealing a gap of about three inches. Samson peered out.

  Large enough for the three of them, William and Olga darted into the shed. It smelled of freshly cut wood, stacks of logs against the back wall. The smoke from the nearby fire filled the dark space. Samson gave them some bread, an apple each, and a piece of jerky.

  William’s mouth watered as he chewed on the salty meat. He sighed and leaned against the wall, sipping on the water. “Thank you so much, Samson. I don’t suppose you have any idea where Matilda and the others are?”

  Olga watched on, her cheeks bulging from where she’d stuffed her mouth.

  “No,” the tall and once jovial man said. “You’ll have to have a look around. I’d suggest hiding somewhere until night and looking then.”

  William shook his head. “That’s hours away. Who knows what will happen to them in that time?”

  “Fine.” Samson shrugged. “But if you get caught—”

  “Don’t rat you out,” Olga said. “You don’t need to tell us that again.”

  After looking from Olga to William, Samson nodded and backed towards the door. He peered out through a crack before saying, “Good luck,” and leaving.

  Another chunk of salty meat, William then bit off a mouthful of bread and chewed them together. “Thank god we bumped into Samson. I think we should finish this food and then go look for them.”

  Olga attacked her meal, nodding at William’s suggestion.

  Were William any taller, he’d have to crouch in the tight space. As he chewed, he peered through a gap in the door at the huts along the back wall.

  Olga knocked back the rest of her drink and placed the flask on the ground. She wiped her mouth with her forearm and joined William. “I reckon we should try to get onto the roof of those huts. If they’re anywhere, they’re in them.”

  “The guards by the gates will see us.”

  “Not if we remain at the back. The slant will hide us from their line of sight.”

  Before William could say anything else, a horn rang out from the other side of the fortress. “What the hell?”

  Magma appeared a few seconds later, walking towards the fire while holding Jezebel. He used the top of his battle-axe to encourage movement from their three prisoners. Two boys and one girl, they had their hands tied behind their backs. “Thank god it’s not Matilda, Artan, and Max.”

  “So much for searching this place,” Olga said. “I’m guessing we’re stuck here for the time being.”

  Chapter 12

  A woman walked ahead of Magma. She barely touched five feet, but what she lacked in height, she clearly more than made up for in attitude. A monobrow hooded her dark glare. If you fed this woman scrap metal, she’d chew it up and spit nails. She had two thick and uneven bands tattooed around her neck as if she’d done them herself while intoxicated. If she had more than three teeth in her mouth, it would have taken for her to smile to reveal them. She lifted the horn to her lips again, her ruddy cheeks bulging as she blew.

  The three kids walked behind the fierce woman and ahead of Magma. They couldn’t have been any older than fifteen. That age had been the best time of William’s life. The age Artan was now. Too young to worry about national service and old enough to enjoy his freedom. Anything felt possible then. All three kids walked with bowed heads, their cheeks sodden with their tears.

  “What have they done to Max, Matilda, and Artan?” Olga said.

  “I’m not sure. But I reckon Samson would have told us if he knew. What do you think about his suggestion to wait until it’s dark?”

  A tinge of roasting meat rode on the back of the smoke from the large fire. It filled the shed, mixing with the smell of freshly cut wood. They were already deep in the shadows, but when William retreated farther back, Olga followed him. She leaned into him, her face touching his as they peered through another gap in the wall.

  Magma stopped in front of the fire before a gathering crowd. Trent stood among them, his dead eyes lacking the anxiety of many of those around him.

  Two skinned and roasted deer on the spit over the fire, William salivated when Magma pulled a small knife from his belt, shaved a piece off, and slipped it into his mouth.

  As Magma chewed, animal fat dribbling over his bottom lip, he took in the crowd. His shoulders squared, he lifted his greasy bearded chin. He got to eat from the deer whenever he damn well pleased. They’d best recognise that.

  The horn sounded again and William jumped, startling Olga. He placed a hand on the base of her back, just where her body curved away to her bottom. He pulled back and cleared his throat, his cheeks warming as he whispered, “Sorry.”

  The angry woman blew the horn again. What looked like most of the community had gathered outside. About one hundred strong, Samson, like Trent, stood out among them. His voluminous hair and large frame gave him a unique silhouette.

  “I still can’t see Max, Matilda, or Artan,” William said.

  Olga sighed.

  He reached down and grabbed her warm hand, the reassurance as much for himself as for her. “Don’t worry; we’ll find them.”

  She squeezed back.

  Jezebel resting on his shoulder, the wide double-bladed axe just behind his head, Magma paced in front of the crowd. “Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, I’ve brought you here t
o—” He shot a glance at the snivelling girl with her hands bound. “If you don’t shut the hell up, you’re going to be roasting on that fire next to those deer. And I won’t do you the favour of killing you first. Although, I might skin you.”

  The mousy girl—so pale with grief her skin had turned almost transparent—bit her bottom lip and dropped her gaze.

  After he’d drawn a deep breath, his wide chest swelling and falling, Magma snapped his head from side to side as if trying to relieve his tension. Silence fell across the crowd, many of them dropping their eyes when their leader turned their way.

  Olga shook beside William. He kept a hold of her hand. If someone opened that door, they’d have no chance.

  “First, I want to congratulate Samson and his hunting party for bringing back some meat. Squirrels, rabbits, and rats certainly aren’t a feast, but they’re something. At least they’re contributing. It won’t be long before they bring back even better prizes as they hone their skills.” Magma swiped his thick hair back; so greasy it held in place. “We all need to bring something to the community, and hunters are now much more important than protectors. Good hunters will live like kings in this place. Like protectors did in Edin. There are no free rides here.” As Magma turned on the three prisoners, his eyes darkening beneath his thick brow, William squirmed as if he could somehow wriggle free of his discomfort.

  “So far,” Magma said, pacing up and down in front of the prisoners, “you three have been useless. Less than useless. You’re weak, so you’re no good in the fields. You’re a liability outside the walls. You’re more likely to get your friends killed than you are to come back with animals from a hunt. And you!” He leaned close to the girl, a stick of a person in comparison to his powerful frame. “You do nothing but cry.”

  The girl continued to stare down, her light brown hair hanging in front of her face, her shoulders shaking. Even through the gap in the wood shelter, William saw her tears gather on the tip of her nose and fall to the ground.

  Olga jumped this time at the sound of a deep bass drum. A slow and steady beat, another teenage boy appeared, the drum hanging around his neck. The thing had been carved from wood, the skin over the top covered in brown deer fur. He stepped in time with the beats, the hooded person behind him also moving in sync with his rhythm.

  The hood didn’t hide the person beneath. William sneered. “Ranger.”

  “He’s not going to …”

  “But what can we do?” William said. He angled his head to see the rest of the crowd as best he could. “Matilda, Max, and Artan aren’t out there. We expose ourselves to help those kids and we’ll never see them again.”

  Olga clamped such a tight squeeze on William’s hand, he bit down against the sharp sting. He could have sworn some of the bones shifted.

  The short and near toothless woman with the horn led one of the boys over to a stump of wood. The bulkier of the two, the boy had short hair and a squat frame. Although stocky, he had the girth of a baker rather than a farmer, much more used to sampling grains than ploughing them. His face twisted, turning him ugly with his grief. It took for William to stand on tiptoes and peer through a gap higher up to see the wooden block better. A slice of thick tree trunk, the top of it stained brown with old blood. Deep axe marks scarred it. Some of the cuts were so deep, the next beheading could split the block.

  “No, please!” the boy said, twisting and turning in the grim woman’s grip. She let him go and landed a haymaker on his chin. The crack of it connecting snapped William’s shoulders to his ears. The boy folded to the ground.

  Some of the crowd winced and dragged air in through their clenched teeth. Many more watched on with the dull glaze of people who had seen this too many times before.

  “We can’t have freeloaders in this place,” Magma said to the crowd. “Survival will be hard enough as it is. You make yourself worth something and you have a home for life.”

  Ranger might have looked the part, but his trembling frame undermined his callous appearance. The drum still beat while the angry woman pulled the kid up onto his knees and bent him over the log.

  Counter to the drawn-out ceremony, Ranger wasted no time in swinging his axe at the boy.

  Shunk!

  The kid screamed a throat-tearing yell. The deep red gash in his neck belched dark blood.

  William’s toes curled and his stomach churned, but even over the insanity, he still heard Magma tut at his son.

  Ranger screamed this time, a sound to rival that of the not yet decapitated kid. He threw another hacking cut at the boy. More momentum than before, it turned the kid’s spasming body limp. His head fell to the ground with a soft thud. The drumbeat stopped.

  William pulled away from the slit in the wall as they beheaded the next boy. It sounded like Ranger did a more efficient job the second time around.

  “Please!” the girl screamed as the short woman dragged her to the block.

  Again, William pulled away, but the girl’s cries continued for longer than the boy before her.

  Magma spoke again. “We’ll show you mercy.”

  The squat woman had pulled the girl upright. The blood of the two dead boys covered her neck, face, and the front of her shirt. The deep crimson stood in stark contrast to her pale skin.

  While twirling Jezebel, the large double-headed blade spinning, Magma snarled. “Now take her from my sight.”

  As Magma’s fierce little helper led the girl away, the girl continued to fight and cry. What did they have planned for her? Would she become another toy for Ranger? William clenched his jaw. If he touched Matilda …

  Back to the gathered crowd, Magma said, “We don’t carry deadwood in this place.” Close to the roasting deer, he sliced another piece of meat from its hide. This time he wiped his thick glistening lips with the back of his sleeve. “Now get back to it.”

  The crowd dispersed and William said, “We need to find the others before it’s too late. We can’t wait until tonight.”

  Olga shook, fixing William with a fiery intensity, spittle flying as she said, “And we need to make those fuckers out there pay!”

  Chapter 13

  “We need to go now,” William said as he pulled back from the gap in the wall. “Every second counts.”

  Olga peered through. “It’s still busy out there; but you’re right, I don’t think it will get any quieter than this.” She took William’s hand and dragged him from the wood shelter.

  The second they were outside, Olga took off. William chased after her as they sprinted for the row of buildings lined up against the back wall. Their roofs were slanted, and, like Olga had said, they should hide them from the guards’ line of sight. If he’d had a better suggestion, he would have offered it.

  Although the crowd had left the fire, the two headless bodies still lay sprawled on the ground as a potent reminder of what happened to those who didn’t contribute. Smoke rose from the roasting meat on the spit.

  Olga reached the huts first. The lowest part of the long slanted roof stood about eight feet from the ground. Without slowing, she kicked off the wall and caught the roof before scrambling on top and vanishing from sight.

  A second later, William joined her. Unlike Olga’s soundless leap, his foot hit the back wall with a boom. “You were right,” William said as he lay down, “they can’t see us from here.”

  “I know.”

  Like the walls of the wood shelter, the huts’ roofs were made from trees cut in half. The flat sides faced down. Also, like the wood shelter, the logs didn’t lie completely flush. It allowed them to see into the spaces below. The hut beneath them had mattresses and scraggly sheets spread out on the floor, but it lay empty. “I hope they’re in one of these,” William said.

  The roof stretched over all the huts, the low end of it attached to the back wall. Olga led the way, her arms and legs spread wide. She kept low enough to remain from the guards’ line of sight and shifted sideways like a crab.

  When they reached the next
hut, William had already broken into a sweat. The midday sun found a break in the clouds and pressed down on him. The pulse in his temples throbbed with the start of a dehydration headache. Fiery rods of pain spread beneath his shoulder blades. No matter how fit he considered himself, this movement hadn’t ever been a part of his training regime. But if he stood up, they’d see him.

  Each hut lay empty. Each one apparently providing night-time shelter for ten to twenty people. No doubt many would sleep under the stars in the summer. The conditions were so cramped, maybe many of them had already moved outside.

  The huts were about eight feet wide. From how far the roof stretched, they had maybe eight to ten huts in total. What would they do if they were all empty?

  Sweat stung William’s eyes and he blinked while Olga traversed the roofs of the hut ahead of him, pausing several times so he could keep up.

  “Nothing in this one,” Olga said and moved on to the next hut.

  The penultimate hut had just six beds in it, each one raised from the ground on their own wooden frame. More space and more comfort. “This must be where the protectors stay,” William said.

  “But it’s still empty.”

  William nodded for Olga to keep moving.

  Someone sobbed inside the final hut. William shifted to be next to Olga and peered closer, inhaling the scent of freshly cut wood.

  Just two beds in the space, Ranger sat on one, his cloth hood hanging from his grip, his shoulders hunched.

  The ground damn near shook when Magma entered, his black hair a thick and greasy mane. He swayed with his steps, a swagger so fierce it was a wonder he didn’t fall over. Jezebel in a two-handed grip as if he wanted an excuse to use her, he said, “What’s up, boy?”

  Ranger shook his head and continued to cry at the ground.

  “Spit it out, son. We don’t have time for this nonsense. What’s wrong?”

  Ranger jumped to his feet and squared up to his old man. Their thick chests touched. “What’s wrong? What do you mean what’s wrong? Have you seen what you’re making me do?”