Retribution - Book three of Beyond These Walls: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller

by Michael Robertson

  Once Sarge had organised them in a line, Liz at the back, he said, “You’ll start at thirty-second intervals. Like with the last one, this is dog eat dog. Everything’s on the line for three of you. The only rule is you need to run the maze. Anything else goes.”

  A surge of adrenaline pulled Spike tense. He turned to look at Ranger behind him. The boy continued to rock from side to side as if trying to prevent his feet from being swallowed by the ground. He continued to stare from beneath his brow. He had it in him to kill for this. Hell, he already had.

  Spike jumped at the sound of Sarge’s horn and turned to watch Hugh run into the entrance, the crowd springing to their feet as they clapped and whooped. Unlike the tunnels, where many sections of the audience could see down them on account of them being straight, Hugh disappeared into the maze, and from the look of even those at the very top of the stands, no one could see where he went. Which also meant no one could see the underhanded tactics that one might employ to win this trial.

  The next toot of his horn, Spike sprinted off, his feet squelching as he ran.

  After he’d turned the first bend, the sound of the crowd grew quieter, muted because of the tall walls. What had been a public start now turned into a personal battle. He needed to get through it before Hugh to stand any chance of being the next apprentice. Whether his friend had a plan or not, Spike had his destiny in his own hands.

  Spike turned right at the first junction, then a quick left. When he turned left again, a searing pain ran through the sole of his right foot, and he fell to his knees. Something was in his shoe. It felt like a nail. He’d tied his laces tight so they didn’t get dragged off in the mud. For a moment, he held his right boot as if to remove it. Then he heard Sarge’s horn. Ranger was coming.

  Despite white-hot pain running through the base of his foot, Spike gritted his teeth, jumped up again, and took off. The pain he could bear. Losing to Ranger …? No way.

  The sound of his ragged breaths as he managed the searing sensation while sprinting with everything he had, Spike watched the path in front of him. Left, right, left, straight ahead, left, right, right. Every step on his right foot hurt more than the previous one. Which one would be the one to throw him back down to the muddy ground? While he ran, the horn blew twice more.

  His adrenaline running away with him, his thirsty gasps thrown back at him from the tall walls, Spike had no idea which way to turn next. Luck and determination would see him through.

  Right, left, right, left. Then he saw it: an exit.

  When Spike took another left, he emerged from the maze and looked around. He’d made it out first. He took in the crowd. The start of a smile lifted and he almost raised his hands aloft as he allowed his limp to get the better of him. It no longer mattered if the pain slowed him down. He could rest his foot now.

  Then Spike saw Sarge appear from where he’d walked around the maze. He had the metal cone to his mouth. “You’re the second through, William.”

  But Spike couldn’t see anyone else. “Second?”

  “Hugh’s already been and gone.”

  It took that moment for Spike to see the weapons rack. A space where one of them had already been taken. A battle-axe remained among those left.

  “Choose your weapon and get back through the maze,” Sarge said.

  As if on cue, Spike heard the shrill call of the diseased, accompanied by the loud roar from the crowd on the other side of the maze. If his foot hurt before, it now felt like his sole had been sliced open. What did they expect him to do? He couldn’t run back through.

  The noise level of the crowd rose, and Sarge’s smile spread from behind his cone. “Surely you saw the twist coming?” He laughed. “The way back through isn’t going to be anywhere near as easy.”

  Chapter 35

  Spike chose the battle-axe, wrapping a tight grip around the thick handle with both hands before he charged back into the maze, squinting from now facing the low sun. The sound of the crowd behind him drove him forward like a fierce gale, his right foot alight with whatever speared it, his legs tired from five months of pushing himself to the edge. All the effort and still Hugh held the number one spot.

  Upon re-entering the maze, the squelching grew louder because of the tight walls, which muted the crowd for him once more. When Spike rounded the first corner, he stopped dead. So did Ranger.

  Just a few feet between them, Spike had a weapon and Ranger didn’t. “What did you do to my boot, you cheating bastard?”

  Blood ran from Ranger’s nose, over his lips, and dripped from his chin. He grinned through the glistening crimson. “I found a nail. I took two from the muzzle I removed from the diseased. I figured they would come in handy at some point—a second chance to get you and your little friend if the first attempt failed.”

  The gloating somehow made the pain in Spike’s foot worse, and he wrung his grip on the axe. He’d fantasised so many times about ending the boy, and now he had the chance to do it. The shriek of a horde closing in broke him from his dark thoughts. He had bigger things than Ranger to deal with. “I see you’ve run into Hugh. Or should I say, Hugh’s run into you.”

  Ranger wiped his nose. “I got a few licks in. Reckon you’ll be easier.”

  And there it was … A fight would only benefit Ranger. If Spike got dragged into it, he might lose. He’d definitely get slowed down. Hugh had already dealt with him. His hope of winning this rested on luck and determination, not petty squabbles with someone who shouldn’t have the right to even call himself a competitor.

  While yelling out, Spike charged. A clear confidence in the protector’s son that Spike wouldn’t use his weapon, he smiled, widened his stance, and raised his fists for the fight.

  Then, instead of standing toe to toe with him, Spike leaped from the ground and led with his right foot. He used the sole of his boot to kick Ranger in the chest, driving the boy back and sending the nail even deeper into his foot. While roaring from the pain, Spike landed, left the protector’s son on his back, and took off into the maze.

  The sun had dazzled Spike on his way back in. If it continued to dazzle him, then he was heading in the right direction. The decision for every turn kept Spike facing the sun as he ran through the maze. Left, right, right, right, left, left …

  The next turn revealed three diseased. Shoulder to shoulder, they blocked his path as they charged. Something about the wall of creatures in the enclosed Space nearly robbed Spike of his ability to act. Why the hell had he chosen a battle-axe? He had no room to swing it.

  Nothing else for it, Spike lifted the weapon above his head and brought the large shining blade down on top of the first diseased. The other two jumped back as he split the thing’s skull, a rush of warm blood spraying him. He kicked the now dead creature into its friends, raising his axe again before ending them in quick succession.

  After leaping the three corpses, Spike locked back onto the sun, jumping bodies of already fallen diseased clearly dealt with by Hugh before him.

  The bodies vanished when Spike took another left, and a long corridor stretched out in front of him. Two more diseased appeared at the other end. Had he found a fresh path? A quicker one than Hugh?

  Spike maintained his momentum, throwing another vertical swing at the beasts, taking down the first and then the second. It might have been unwieldy, but when it landed, the axe made easy work of the creatures. Maybe he’d chosen the correct weapon after all.

  Now running with a limp as the pain in his foot got the better of him, Spike turned a right bend, the wind driven from him as he collided into someone. He lost his grip on his axe and landed on his back in the mud. The furious and shrill insanity of a diseased crashed on top of him. Its teeth snapped at him from the other side of its muzzle.

  Despite the noise of the creature, the press of its body weight, its blood-red glare, and the same foetid vinegar reek that made Spike’s stomach churn, he had the wherewithal to pick up the sound of more approaching beasts. If any more landed on hi
m, he wouldn’t get up again.

  As the thunderous steps drew closer, Spike yelled, fought to drag his knees into his chest, pressed the soles of his boots against the diseased on top of him, and kicked it away.

  The creature flew backwards through the air, and Spike jumped up, retrieving his axe. The diseased leaped up again, but he ended it with a skull-splitting blow. Two more behind it, he used their recently expired friend as a shield, holding them back while he turned their lights off one after the other.

  The next left turn led Spike from the maze, the sun still dazzling him, the noise of the crowd damn near knocking him back in again.

  The hands of a guard grabbed Spike and shoved him out of the way while another one sent more diseased into the maze.

  His foot on fire, his ears ringing, his head spinning, Spike wiped the blood of the diseased from his face and looked around. He couldn’t see Hugh. His heart beat faster. Had he won? The slain diseased were absent from Spike’s path at the end. Hugh must have gone a different way. He’d beaten him!

  Spike forgot his pain and bounced on the balls of his feet until his right foot gave out and he crumpled into the sludge. He’d done it. Matilda would get Artan back, and he’d won the five points he needed to be the next apprentice. Then he saw a broadsword stabbed into the ground. It was covered in blood from fighting in the maze: Hugh’s weapon. But where was he?

  The noise of the crowd rose again, urging Spike to look to his left. His short and stocky friend walked from around the side of the maze. The same guard who had dragged Spike out of the way so his colleague could send in more diseased grabbed Spike’s shoulder. He didn’t turn around, his world crumbling as he watched Hugh. He’d gotten out so far ahead of Spike he’d had time to wash himself clean and return.

  “The water’s around there,” the guard said to Spike. “Go and clean yourself up for the ceremony.”

  The guard dragged Spike to his feet and encouraged him forwards with a gentle shove in his back. After just one step, Spike crashed down again, landing with a squelch as his knees slammed into the mud. With everything he’d been through over the past six months, he’d now lost it all to his best friend.

  Chapter 36

  Where Spike found the energy to keep going, he didn’t know. The nail still in his right boot, it dug in with every step through the cloying mud. The same stabbing feeling over and over, it ran so deep his socks squelched from what he assumed to be his spilled blood. But he didn’t care anymore. He just didn’t care.

  A guard led the cadets from the arena. Ranger, Fran, and Liz walked ahead of Spike and Hugh. Although Spike had his friend beside him, he didn’t look at the boy.

  Sarge waited for them outside, smiling as he clapped his hands. “Well done for putting on a good show. You all did well this year and were good value for the crowd.”

  That was all they were: entertainment for a baying audience. More kids sacrificed to keep the great illusion that is Edin alive. If enough people believed the bullshit, then it made it real. Why did they stick to their districts anyway? There were so many more citizens than guards or leaders. They could just say no.

  Spike clenched his jaw against the burn in the sole of his right foot. The threat of tears stung his eyes, a lump had swollen in his throat, and his heart ached, but the pain helped ground him. It kept his head where it needed to be for the ceremony at least. There would be time to fall apart later.

  When Spike finally returned to Sarge’s motivational speech, the man said, “You all need to wait here while we get the podium set up, and then we’re going to lead you in for the closing ceremony.”

  They were left alone for the first time that day. Spike still couldn’t look at Hugh, but he glared at Ranger.

  “What?” Ranger said, Fran beside him.

  “Don’t think you’ve gotten away with putting that nail in my shoe.”

  “What are you going to do about it? It’s over now, don’t you get that?”

  Without a second thought, Spike rushed at Ranger. Hugh stepped between them and held him back. For a moment, Spike wanted to swing for his so-called friend. What did he want the apprenticeship for? What did he gain in taking it from him?

  As if he could read Spike’s thoughts, Hugh gave him his answer, turning to Ranger and saying, “I came here with a plan.”

  Ranger shrugged and raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “I wanted to prove to you that you were nothing. I wanted to show you how I could beat you on every task. How I was fitter, faster, and stronger than you.”

  A darkness clouded Ranger’s face, and Spike noticed Fran gripping on to him tighter than before. “You didn’t beat me on all of them though, did you?”

  “Only because you took the coward’s route on the fourth task.”

  “Some would say the smart route.”

  “A coward would say that.”

  Despite the reddening of his cheeks, Ranger managed to keep his tone level. “You’ve proven yourself. Well done.” He looked past Hugh at Spike. “You’ve also beaten your best friend. And you know what? From what I’ve seen, you don’t even want this apprenticeship, yet you’re prepared to take it from him to prove a point to me. Some kind of pal you are. In fact, I wouldn’t mind betting he’s nowhere near as angry with me about the nail in his shoe as he is about you taking his chance at happiness away. His foot will heal while he’s trapped in the agricultural district, making late night visits to meet with Matilda in the square.”

  Before Hugh could reply, the sound of Sarge’s horn rang out. A guard appeared a moment later and motioned for the cadets to follow him. As Hugh passed, Spike looked at the muddy ground. From the way Hugh limped, he must have had a nail in his boot too. He deserved the pain and a whole lot more.

  Chapter 37

  Every step took more effort than the preceding one, as if the mud had grown a deeper thirst to cling onto Spike’s boots. The nail reminded him of its presence every time he put his right foot down. He kept his focus on the ground and walked with a slow trudge. To look up would force him to see Hugh. At that moment, there was no one he wanted to see less.

  A cursory glance showed Spike his dad, Matilda, and his mum were waiting in the arena with what looked like the other cadets’ loved ones. No one waited for Ranger, but Magma stood amongst a line of protectors.

  As Spike passed Matilda, his mum, and his dad, he kept his attention on the ground. He’d failed them. After everything he’d put them through, he’d failed to live up to his part of the bargain.

  A podium had been erected to the right of the arena’s entrance, pressed against the surrounding wall to give the best view to most of the crowd. The maze made it impossible for everyone to see. Made from wood and covered in fresh mud, the three steps of varying heights looked like they’d seen a lot of use. They’d once been painted white, much of the paint either chipped off or caked in old mud. The kind of thing they dug out twice a year and forgot about how filthy it was until the next time they needed it.

  Hugh suddenly stopped in front of Spike, forcing him to look up. He stared at the back of the boy’s head and balled his fists.

  Spike jumped when Hugh turned around, catching him in his moment of fury.

  “You deserve this,” Hugh said.

  “Are you winding me up?”

  Hugh didn’t answer. Instead, he charged at Ranger, screaming a shrill war cry before he tackled him to the ground. “Third,” he shouted, punching Ranger in the face. “How does it feel to come third, you loser? You murdering piece of shit.”

  As much as Ranger tried to cover himself against Hugh’s attack, the flurry of punches rained down on him in such quick succession, he didn’t stand a chance.

  Spike winced to watch Hugh smash Ranger’s head from side to side. Blow after blow after blow. Spittle and snot shot from Hugh. “You piece of shit scumbag. Don’t think this ends here, you murdering little weasel.”

  The crowd had fallen so quiet Spike heard the sound of squelching footsteps from Sarge
and several guards rushing to Ranger’s aid. Magma didn’t, watching on with what looked to be disgust at his boy’s inability to defend himself.

  Over as quickly as it had started, Hugh twisted and squirmed against the guards’ restraint as they dragged him from the arena. His heels left a trail through the sloppy ground. As he passed Spike, the fury left him. Tears streamed down his face and he said, “Well done, my friend.”

  His head spinning, Spike watched Hugh continue to fight while screaming, “Ranger Hopkins is a psycho! He killed Elizabeth and many others. He’ll sell anyone out to get ahead. Don’t trust the little rat.”

  Hugh fell quiet again when he passed Matilda. Spike strained to hear what they said to one another. Matilda looked washed out. Probably shocked from what she’d just witnessed. Although, after she talked to Hugh, the flash of rage he’d worn just seconds ago gave way to a similar pallid hue, his face falling slack. Whatever she had, it looked like it was catching.

  After they’d dragged Hugh from sight, Spike let his body relax with a long exhale. He’d talk to Matilda after this to see what had happened. For now, he needed to focus on what Hugh had just done for him. By attacking Ranger, he’d just handed him the apprenticeship.

  Chapter 38

  Fran and Liz stood together on the platform closest to the muddy ground. It must have had a number three painted on it at some point, but Spike couldn’t see where it had once been. Besides, the height of the step said everything it needed to. Ranger stepped onto the next one, the number two spot. He kept his focus on the ground, his clothes caked in damp mud, his ears and the sides of his head swollen and red. It took all Spike had not to offer the boy one of his own smug sneers, but he was better than that.

  As Spike stepped up onto the winner’s platform, the crowd cheered him. He smiled at them and tried to keep the pressure off his right foot to prevent his appearance of good humour being derailed by a hellish wince. After all these months, the thing he’d worked so hard for had finally happened. All thanks to Hugh.