“You still haven’t answered my question.”
“That’s because you haven’t asked it.”
“Why did you throw away the first trial? You should have won.”
“I gassed. You had more stamina than me. I thought you’d be happy about the win.”
“I am. But what are you up to?”
“I’m trying my best, Spike. Give me a break, yeah? You focus on getting back to Matilda, and I’ll focus on what I’m doing.”
The conversation died between them, and Hugh felt Spike look across at him, but he didn’t look back. Part of him wanted to smile. If his plan worked, Spike would be just fine and Ranger would get exactly what he had coming to him.
Chapter 22
“Where are you taking me?” They’d bound Spike’s hands so tightly, the cord cut into his wrists. The hood over his head reeked of dust. The motes embedded in the fabric made it hard to breathe. Panic at being led blind also wound his chest tight. When he and Matilda were younger, she’d persuaded him to put his faith in her by falling back into her arms. They must have been ten at the time. It seemed like a good idea. She dropped him. Since then he’d struggled with exercises of trust.
The strong grip on his right shoulder must have belonged to a team leader or guard. They said nothing as they either shoved or dragged him, depending on where they wanted him to go. The muddy ground squelched beneath their steps, and he heard the sound of the crowd in the arena. The tight entranceway condensed the cheers, screams, and abuse. All of it swirled into a dizzying wall of noise, and it felt like his brain would burst.
Even over the sound of the spectators, as Spike entered the ring, he heard the gates to the arena being closed and bolted. Sweating, his throat dry, he fought to pull dusty air into his lungs. What the hell were they planning on doing to them?
It had been muddy on the way over, but now inside the arena, Spike walked over sludge, his feet twisting with every step while the hungry ground tried to steal his boots. His head spun and his ears rang as he followed the direction of his guide.
After what felt like a lifetime, Spike’s leader clapped their other hand on his shoulder, turned him slightly, and backed him into a wall he assumed to be the one running around the arena’s perimeter. Now closer to the crowd, their noise gained definition and he heard what some of them had to say. It ran from encouragement to death threats. Neither was helpful, so he shut them out again.
The loud and prolonged toot of Sarge’s horn both silenced the crowd and made Spike jump. His ears rang as much with the absence of noise as they had when it had been full volume. His pulse quickened as he listened to his own breaths in the confined space of his hood.
The loud hailer did such an effective job of projecting Sarge’s voice, Spike wondered if they heard it in Edin. Despite the distance between them, he imagined his mum straining her ears across the miles separating them. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls—if that’s even necessary; whoever brings their kids to something like this needs their heads checked.”
The crowd remained almost silent, only a small section laughing at the poor gag.
“Today’s trial is quite simple. Last cadet standing wins.”
Spike’s stomach clenched. What were they about to do to them?
“You get knocked down and you’re out. Guards!”
The strong grip left Spike’s shoulders and grabbed the top of his thick hood.
“In three,” Sarge said, “two … one!”
A rush of light hit Spike almost as hard as the sound in the tunnel had. Blinded for a few seconds, he blinked repeatedly in an attempt to regain his sight. A wall of watery colour materialised in the stands. Then he saw what waited for them in the arena.
Several guards stood in the centre by the hatch covering the pit. A weapons rack stood beside them. Before Spike had more than a few seconds to process it, the guards pulled the wood free. Instead of Billy Groves climbing out after all these years, diseased spilled from the hole like wasps from a nest.
The creatures’ shrieks emerged with them. Spike looked around the outside of the ring to see the other cadets were like him: frozen and bound.
All limbs, the diseased fell over one another as they tried to clamber to their feet. When they came up covered in mud, they looked worse than ever; as if the ground had birthed them. An uncoordinated charge, they ran on the edge of their balance, fanning out to get to the cadets, who had been equally spaced around the perimeter.
It took just one tug against his bonds for Spike to accept they were too tight. He needed another plan. He looked at the weapons again, but before he could make a decision, Liz burst to life. Her face streaked with tears, she screamed and ran for the rack.
Spike watched on as she drew the diseased to her. She sidestepped the first, sending it crashing down in the mud, but the second one hit her so hard the crowd gasped. In a matter of seconds, bodies smothered her, hiding her from view.
Still in the same spot, Spike’s throat drier than ever, he watched the guards from the middle charge to Liz’s aid. They lifted the diseased from her. Only then did he see the leather muzzles covering their mouths. And a good job too because they still had their teeth, the click of enamel signalling their desperation to drive the disease into their prey’s blood. One of the guards led Liz away while the others kicked the creatures, dispersing them so they charged the vulnerable cadets. They seemed able to make the decision between an exposed cadet and armed guard. They knew who the weaker target was.
While he’d been watching the chaos, Spike hadn’t realised he’d continued to tug on his bonds. Sweat and mud stung the cuts he’d now opened on his wrists, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. The diseased rushing him, he glanced over at Hugh. The boy wore a deep scowl and had widened his stance. When the first of the diseased reached him, he jumped up and knocked the thing back with a kick to the face. Mud splashed up where it fell. The beast didn’t get up again.
Spike charged the creature closest to him, meeting it rather than waiting for it to attack. He kicked it, driving air and a rancid vinegar tang from its lungs with a boot to the chest.
Where one diseased fell, there were several close behind. Spike could only do so much with his hands bound. As the next creature charged him, he took off, trying to find a route to Hugh across the muddy arena.
Because he had his hands bound, Spike ran like a chicken. The muddy ground threatened to send him flying with every step, but he couldn’t worry about it. Deal with it if it happened. He focused on Hugh.
As much as Spike wanted to shout to his friend, Hugh wouldn’t hear him over the sounds of the crowd and diseased. It took for them to be within about ten feet of one another for Hugh to look up. He then rushed towards him and they met in the middle. Maybe he understood the plan. Maybe he simply trusted Spike had one.
A few seconds to act, Spike spun around to see three diseased coming for him. Hugh had already knocked two down. Together they kicked them away, two of them falling and one standing back, cautious like an animal that had learned to fear humans.
“Let me untie you,” Spike said as he backed towards Hugh. His eyes on the trepidatious diseased, he fought against his shaking hands to free his friend.
Just as the knot came loose, the diseased charged them again. Hugh stepped in front of Spike and drove a hard fist into the beast’s face. The creature howled and fell into the other two, who were only just finding their feet. The crowd cheered.
It gave Hugh time to untie Spike before he took off towards the weapons rack.
Spike ran after his friend and saw the others locked in their own battles with the muzzled diseased. Jamie close by, he ran to the boy, shoved back the two creatures he’d been keeping at bay with his long legs, and quickly untied him.
It gave Jamie the confidence to charge. The diseased overpowered him and took him down.
Spike passed the guards charging to Jamie’s aid on his way to the weapons.
Before Spike could reach the rack,
Hugh jogged back and handed him what looked to be a replica of Jezebel. He had a broadsword in his other hand.
“Are you sure?” Spike said.
Hugh growled at him. They didn’t have time for debate. He attacked the next diseased to rush them, driving the tip of his sword through the centre of its face. The boy fought like Warrior. One hundred percent aggression, he hacked into the already downed creature. No way would it get back up again.
Many of the diseased were still on top of Jamie, giving Spike the chance to look around. Maybe they had the idea on their own, maybe they saw what he and Hugh had just done, but he watched Ranger and Fran untie each other’s bonds before they ran towards the weapons rack.
Several diseased on her tail, Fran lost ground to Ranger before she tripped and fell into the mud. Her hands out in front of her as she skidded along, she came to a halt, and three diseased jumped on her back.
Just the three of them left, Ranger made it to the weapons while Spike and Hugh stood back to back and waited for the diseased that were driven their way by the guards.
The axe moved as if it defied gravity. It turned Spike’s battle into a dance as he took the muzzled head clean off the first diseased to reach him. The body fell front first into the mud. As another one filled the space behind it, he brought his axe up into the bottom of its chin. It sent the creature falling back, an arc of blood lifting into the air.
The arena damn near shook with the crowd’s noise as Spike took two more down, aware of Hugh behind him fighting a similar battle. Then he looked at Ranger; a pack of diseased chased him away from them. Before he could watch the boy for too long, another beast from Jamie’s direction charged him, and Spike ended it.
His attention split between the diseased sent their way from the guards and Ranger, the next wave crashed into Spike and Hugh from both sides. Although he tried to swing, a creature from his right collided into him, sending him flying, and he lost his grip on his axe. Sarge’s horn sounded before he’d hit the ground. He hadn’t given him a chance. He was out.
By the time the guards had cleared the stench of vinegar and rot from him, the hot press of writhing bodies squishing him into the mud, Spike saw about ten of the vile things remained, and Hugh continued to fight them. A pile lay dead at his feet.
Ranger continued to run, several creatures giving chase.
Hugh finished off the ones he’d been fighting and ran after the ones on Ranger’s tail. The crowd cheered, clapped, and laughed.
Before Hugh got to them, one of them leaped onto Ranger’s back, taking him down to the sound of Sarge’s horn.
Hugh stopped as the guards rushed in to gather up the remaining diseased.
The crowd noise rose another level, but instead of taking the praise, Hugh fixed all his attention on Ranger. Caked in blood, the boy from the labs panted like an animal. He’d owned this task. Again. Regardless of Spike’s first place in the previous task, if the leaders were to think about selecting the next apprentice at that moment, could Spike really look them in the eyes and make the case it should be him?
Chapter 23
They’d worked out until every last drop of daylight the day had to offer had gone—which wasn’t a hard thing to accomplish in the depths of winter. Because Spike and Hugh had more training in them, they headed for the gym.
“I hope she’s in a better way the next time you see her.”
Spike looked at his friend, steam lifting from his sweating head. “Me too. I worry about her so much. I hate how powerless I am to do anything about it.”
“You’re doing enough.”
“Am I? I’m not winning the trials at the moment.”
“No, but you’re doing your best, and you’re still training so you can do better. I have a feeling you’ll be okay.”
Spike didn’t push Hugh for his meaning. Instead, he stared at the gym: light inside, but the curtains drawn. “It’s like when we were kids. She’d come into school covered in bruises, and there was nothing I could do about it. We knew what was going on. We all did, even the teachers, but no one intervened. They let her and Artan go home every night to that arsehole.”
“It’s one of the many prices we pay as a city for national service.”
“I’m sorry,” Spike said. “Listen to me; I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s felt frustrated by the torment and violence brought back into the city from six months outside the wall. Did you ever have it at home?”
While shaking his head, Hugh said, “No. My dad’s always been really engaged and emotionally available. Mum’s the same.”
“We’re the lucky ones, eh?”
Hugh looked away as he said, “We sure are.”
“At least we’re not in Ranger’s situation either. He has a dad that’s too busy for him, and there’s no one else in his life that wants to come and watch him in the trials. No wonder he has the capability to be such a prick.”
A few feet from the gym, Spike glanced out over the national service area. He saw the dining hall and the cadets’ accommodation beyond. After dark, the cadets were all supposed to be in their dorms—not that they always were though. “Did you know those in the trials were using the gym while we were in our dorms?”
As if unsure whether to take him seriously or not, Hugh watched Spike for a second. “Of course; everyone did.”
“Yeah!” Spike laughed. Was he the only one who didn’t know? Probably for the best because he would have tried to sneak out to watch them every chance he got. He’d already walked a tightrope to get let into the trials.
Spike reached the gym before Hugh and pulled the door wide, the heat and funk of sweat hitting him as if he’d opened a rancid oven that hadn’t fully cooled. As he stepped into the humidity, Hugh behind him, he looked at the lit fire in the corner. It gave off enough light for them to train by, but added to the heat. Just being in the room turned his mouth dry.
The other four stopped what they were doing to watch Spike and Hugh enter. A smile, nothing more, Spike walked to the pile of rocks in the corner.
“We’re using them.”
Looking at Ranger, Spike saw a slight twitch at the sides of his eyes as if he struggled to keep his emotions in check. Liz, Fran, and Jamie busied themselves with their training. They weren’t with the protector’s son on this one. Not even Fran.
Two trials in and having not won one yet had certainly challenged Ranger’s good nature. His facade had started to slip, flashes of the boy he used to be streaking through him. They didn’t need to row though; better to use something else than waste energy on things that didn’t matter.
Spike and Hugh moved to the skipping ropes lying on the wooden floor close to the wall covered by the red velvet curtain.
“We’re using them too.”
His throat even drier for the short amount of time in the gym, Spike filled his lungs and then pressed his lips together to help him hold onto his response. When he looked at Hugh, he saw the same calm expression the boy always wore—too calm now, almost as if he felt nothing.
Spike moved on to the heavy chains that had been salvaged from the ruined city.
“And those.”
Of all the people there, Hugh had the right to call the shots, not Ranger. Even though Spike had been trying to avoid the grief, the look on Hugh’s face suggested he didn’t need to be doing it for his sake. He clearly felt comfortable with the potential confrontation. When he walked back over to the pile of rocks he’d initially gone to, Hugh followed him.
Spike expected Ranger to say something when he lifted one, but the boy managed to keep it in. Hugh lifted the largest rock there.
Ranger didn’t go back to working out though; instead, while Liz, Fran, and Jamie continued what they were doing, he said, “They’ve played to your strengths, you know that?”
Ranger had directed the comment at Hugh, but Hugh said nothing. Instead, he stared straight at the boy, the same calm appraisal in his brown glare.
“I reckon I’ll get a few trials that suit m
e soon. That’ll level the playing field.”
The lack of Hugh’s reply left Ranger’s echo to answer him, his face reddening. “What’s wrong? You forgotten how to talk, boy?”
At that moment, Fran moved to Ranger’s side and placed her hand against his back. Some of his tension left him with the loosening of his shoulders, and he nodded. Yet, when he spoke again, he still delivered it through gritted teeth. “I just want to say well done, Hugh. You’ve been an excellent competitor so far.”
Despite Ranger’s change of tack, Hugh’s expression remained blank and he continued working out. The atmosphere in the room wound tighter, the only sound coming from Hugh’s panting in time with each of his repetitions.
Chapter 24
The crunch of cartilage beneath his heavy blows, Hugh clenched his jaw and pounded Ranger’s fat head. Punch after punch, he beat his eyes closed, his face bloody and swollen. The boy had so many bruises, he looked like he had rocks beneath his skin, but Hugh didn’t stop, hitting his dad’s face again and again. That was the last time he’d humiliate him for not being a tailor. The last time …
Hugh stopped and stared down at the mess of a boy. His world blurred, the start of tears burning his eyes. While shaking his head, he lifted the unconscious kid into a sitting position. “James?” More tears streamed down his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it was you. I thought it was—”
Where they’d been swollen shut just seconds previously, James’ eyes flew open. His mouth—filled with blood—stretched into a rictus grin. While continuing to smile, Elizabeth’s sweet voice formed words with her glistening crimson lips. “Hi, honey.”
As Hugh woke, he heard the tail of his startled breath die in the darkness of his room. His heart pounded and he tried to see. While fighting to regulate his breathing, he listened to the deep rhythm of the other three sleeping boys. No matter how many times he blinked, he still saw nothing.
Retribution - Book three of Beyond These Walls: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller Page 11
