Beyond These Walls (Book 7): The Asylum

by Robertson, Michael

  A snarling and growling from the cell on his right.

  “Huh?” Max said. “There are diseased in here?”

  The phlegmy note came from deep inside the creature’s chest.

  “Shut it out, Max.” He raised his voice. “Dianna?”

  “Dianna!” the woman in the cell beside him said.

  “You’re not infected?”

  The woman on his right repeated, “Dianna.”

  “Do you know Dianna?” Maybe Max should have been more cautious, but one of them had to know something.

  “Know Dianna?” The woman sent it back to him as a question.

  Max shook his head and sighed. “Never mind.”

  “Let me out.”

  The most human thing she’d said, it halted Max mid step.

  “Please,” the woman said. “Let me out of here. I’ve been in here so long. I just want to be free.”

  “I’m not sure what free is,” Max said.

  “You’d have a better idea if you’d spent as long in here as I have.”

  “It’s not good outside, you know?”

  “It’s not good in here.”

  “There are too many diseased.”

  “Better diseased than—”

  The woman paused as a shrill cry soared through the hallways of the asylum.

  “If you let me out, I’ll make it worth your while.”

  The whole place stank, but as he talked to the woman, Max managed to pinpoint her stench, and he ruffled his nose. His stomach turned backflips.

  “Please,” the woman said, “I’ll do whatever you want.”

  His hands clapped to his ears, Max shook his head. Dirt mixed with the reek of human waste. The damp in the air turned the funk tangible. “I don’t want you to do anything.”

  “Come on, big boy. Come closer and let me out.”

  What harm would it do? The more he let out, the more people he’d have to help him find Dianna. The less time he’d have to spend inside his own head. They couldn’t all be nuts, could they? And those who were would be managed by the group. Also, what about the children? Hell, Dianna was no more than a child herself. If he started letting people out, he’d find her much sooner.

  The keys rattled in Max’s trembling hands, and he approached the cell door on shaking legs. “This is the right thing to do.”

  “Huh?” the woman said.

  Too many keys to choose from, Max picked one and stabbed it against the wooden door, looking for the response of metal against metal. At least if he found the lock, he could then methodically go through the keys on the ring.

  The woman on the other side of the door breathed in ragged waves. Slathering, she panted like an animal, forcing halitosis out into the hallway.

  “Do you know where the lock is?” Max said.

  “Higher,” the woman said.

  Tapping the wood along the left side of the door, Max worked his way up.

  “Into the middle more.”

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Totally blind in the asylum, everything had to be methodical. An inch at a time, he worked towards the hole with the bars in it and closer to the woman.

  “More to your right,” she said.

  At least she could still communicate. She hadn’t completely lost her mind.

  “Do you know Dianna?” Max said.

  “Yes.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you can take me to her?”

  “It’ll be hard in this darkness, but I’m sure I can, yes. Now come more into the middle.”

  Slow and steady. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  The woman moved fast, striking like a viper. Max screamed when she reached through the bars and grabbed his wrist. He dropped the keys and they hit the stone floor with a splash.

  She reached out with her second hand, grabbed his wrist with both, and tugged on his arm. His forehead slammed against the thick wooden door with a boom, the connection sending a splash of white light through his mind’s eye.

  The second tug slammed Max against the door again.

  He dropped the war hammer with a clatter and braced against the third pull. But the woman was strong and her grip true. She must have had her foot pressed against the other side of the door because she overpowered him, pulling his arm so the bars were up to his shoulder.

  “What do you want?” Max said. “I’m trying to get you out of there. Is that not enough?”

  The woman laughed. Several others in the asylum joined in. She screeched, “Dianna,” and again gathered a chorus of others as enthralled by the events as her.

  When Max felt something soft and warm, he didn’t work out what it was until the inmate said, “Have you ever felt a woman like me before?”

  As much as he wanted to withdraw, she had him pinned, using his trapped hand to rub her own breasts.

  “What does it feel like, sweetie?”

  His shoulder on fire with how hard she tugged, Max’s voice broke. “What are you doing? I was trying to get you out of there. What the hell are you doing?”

  “I want you to come in here. I’m giving you a sample of the goods.”

  If she pulled any harder, she’d dislocate his shoulder. Tears in his eyes, his voice wavering, Max said, “Let me go!”

  The woman’s voice deepened and crackled like distant thunder. “This place doesn’t let anyone go.”

  Before she could do permanent damage, Max closed a hard grip around her exposed breast. She screamed and let go.

  Withdrawing so quickly he slammed his hand against the bars in the door. The back of it throbbed as if he might have broken something, but Max managed to get free before she grabbed him a second time.

  Her arm flapping around like an octopus’ tentacle, she desperately tried to grab him, her hand slapping against the wooden door.

  Crouched down, Max retrieved his war hammer and then the key ring. The keys back in his pocket, he gripped the handle of his weapon. His hand stinging from where she’d dragged it through, he wound his hammer back. He should shatter her arm. Teach her a lesson.

  “I’m going to end you,” the woman hissed. “I’m going to get out of here, hunt you down, and gouge your fucking eyes out. You won’t fool us. We know you’re one of them. One of Grandfather Jacks’ lot.”

  If this woman had the ability to listen to reason, he might have engaged with her.

  The spray of spittle hit Max’s face when she spat from the cell. The patter of her bare feet ran away from the door. When she came back, quicker than before, Max moved aside at the last minute, narrowly avoiding the contents of her waste bucket. The rancid liquid spewed through the small barred window. The heady reek caught in his throat and he covered his nose with his forearm.

  What use was he in here? He couldn’t see a damn thing. Many of the people in the cells were quiet and subdued. But how could he trust a single one of them? Especially when they thought he had something to do with Grandfather Jacks.

  “I need to get back to the others,” Max said, speaking beneath his breath so the woman in the cell didn’t hear him. “There has to be another way. This isn’t working. I could be in here for days.”

  The smell from the woman’s waste bucket curdled the air, the stench getting stronger with every passing second. Max turned away from her cell and headed back the way he’d come. He needed daylight. Even with the diseased outside. Even with them calling him Mad Max. It would give him space to think straight. He needed a better plan than wandering the dark corridors of this hellish place like a lost inmate.

  Chapter 7

  Squelch! William tugged the spear from the dead diseased’s eye socket. Jezebel in one hand, the spear in the other. He closed in on the gate and used his foot to drag it across, the large metal frame swinging towards the wall. And he would have shut it in one were it not for the tonk of the solid door colliding with a diseased woman’s forehead.

  The diseased in the courtyard weaved through the solar panels, closing in on him. Several of them
screamed as if arguing with one another; as if each one wanted to be the first to tear his throat out.

  One eye on those charging across the courtyard, William clenched his jaw and shoved the gate with his foot. The creatures packed the doorway and shoved back.

  “They’re closing in on you, William.”

  Like he didn’t fucking know. William resisted the urge to look over his shoulder again. Whatever else happened, he had to get the gate shut. The sole of his boot pressed against the gate’s frame, he shoved for a second time, the muscles in his thighs burning, his standing foot slipping on the flagstone floor.

  One final shove helped William thread the steel tag embedded in the wall through the frame. He slid Artan’s spear into the hole in the tag. A wooden peg to prevent the diseased from shoving the gate open, they now gripped the bars of their prison and shook the steel frame. Wails and screams, they bit at the air, their rancid and bloody maws working overtime. But they were contained. For now.

  William met the first of the courtyard runners with a full-bodied swing. Jezebel’s wide arc ended in a crunch from where the head of his axe buried in the bald head of the diseased. He caught the next one on the upswing. A girl, no more than ten, his blow lifted her clean off the ground, her arms windmilling as she flew backwards. She hit the closest solar panel with a crack and slid to the ground.

  A diseased on his right, too close for William to swing at, he flinched. But the creature went down. Cyrus whooped and punched the air with a clenched fist before he retrieved another roof tile to throw.

  Sweat stung William’s eyes, his grip moist against Jezebel’s handle. Adrenaline threatened to take away his coordination, his heart hammering.

  The diseased weaved through the solar panels like dancers, their hips snaking to accommodate their mazy run. A hundred, maybe more, William yelled and attacked the next one to come close. A large man with long hair and tattoos, his skull might have been bigger than the last few, but it would have to be made from steel to win out against a blow from Jezebel.

  Already out of breath, William couldn’t keep this up.

  Olga screeched as if she’d heard his thoughts. “You need to get the hell out of there, William.”

  At least he’d closed the gate. He’d done the hardest part.

  William shoulder-barged the next diseased aside. A boy dressed in just a pair of trousers, he bore similar scars to Hawk.

  The majority of the pack came from the right, so William went left. He met the next diseased with a kick to the chest, knocking the creature back and jumping its flailing arms as he hurdled it.

  No need to look over his shoulder, the yells from the creatures behind told him all he needed to know.

  William jumped onto the glass surface of a solar panel, its centre decorated with the burst star of cracked glass. On his first step, the glass crunched beneath his weight. On his second, the panel split diagonally across the centre and slid away, dragging him back towards the diseased.

  White light burst through the back of William’s head, driven through his vision by a diseased knee, the creature leaping for where he’d been seconds before. It landed on the panel ahead of him and slid like he had.

  William stamped on the diseased’s head before it could get up. He swept the feet away from the next creature. Although where one or two fell, many replaced them, coming at him from all angles.

  Dropping onto his front, William shoved Jezebel beneath a solar panel’s metal frame before crawling under after her. He kicked his legs so the clawing hands couldn’t grab him, his trousers preventing their long nails from tearing his skin. But a tight grip wrapped around both of William’s ankles. The clench so strong it stung. They pulled him back before he could reach his axe.

  The rough stone dragged William’s shirt up and cut his front. He kicked out again, broke free and spun onto his back. But the diseased grabbed him again and pulled.

  William caught the panel’s frame just before it went from his reach, his arms burning with the strain. Although the panel blocked his view of the diseased, he saw it when it snapped at thin air, aiming a bite at where his shin had been before he kicked it free.

  Snapping his legs under the panel with him, William scrambled onto all fours and crawled out of the other side, retrieving Jezebel as he got to his feet.

  His throat dry and his pulse raging, sweat burned William’s eyes as the screams closed in on him again. The solar panel had bought him seconds at best.

  Chapter 8

  “I just need to retrace my steps,” Max said to himself as he slowly walked in the pitch dark. “One foot in front of the other, go back the way I came in, and everything will be fine. Simple.”

  The pressing darkness around Max smothered him like a thick and itchy blanket. Getting out would be very far from simple. But what other choice did he have? With no lights, he couldn’t do anything effective in this place. The reek of the woman’s waste still in his nostrils, the cries of distress and torment the soundtrack to his retreat, he continued his search for the exit.

  His breathing heavy, his feet slammed down hard from where he misjudged his steps. The stone floor made for an uneven ground, but not as uneven as he anticipated. His hands out to either side, the war hammer gripped in his right, he walked out of there with exaggerated steps as if he wore clown’s shoes.

  Ten to fifteen steps later, the murmurings of Mad Max at the back of his mind, Max swiped his hands out in front of him. “Where’s the wall?” He met thin air. “It should be here.” Another step forward, another slash of thin air. “When I find it—Mad Max—I can turn left. But if I can’t find it …”

  Mad Max.

  Violence flashed through his mind: blood, breaking bones, bleeding eyes. Max slammed the heel of his right hand against his forehead. “Get out. This isn’t how it works. There aren’t any diseased here.”

  His breathing quickened and his chest tightened.

  Mad Max.

  “Just calm down, Max.” He drew a deep breath, inhaling the damp and stale air. “Stay calm and keep your head. You’ll find the way out of here.”

  Bang!

  “Argh!” Max jumped away from the sound on his right.

  Someone had slammed against their locked cell door. “Get me out of here,” the woman said. “Please, I’ve done nothing wrong. Please! It’s so dark. I’m not sure how much longer I can take this.”

  “You and me both,” Max said.

  “You’re a guard. How is this anywhere near as bad for you as it is for me?”

  “I’m not a guard,” Max said.

  “Sure you’re not.” The woman’s tone turned darker, the edges of her words sharpening, cutting to his core. “You’re bound to say that because if we get a hold of you, you’re done for.”

  “I’m not. I—”

  Mad Max.

  Little point in talking to the woman, Max turned away from her and continued to reach into the blinding darkness. It reminded him of a game he used to play with his brothers. They’d take turns putting on a blindfold and they’d pretend to be one of the diseased. They’d walk around the house with their arms out in front of them, trying to find the others. One time, his brothers put his blindfold on and all of them went out. It took him at least an hour before he gave up and realised he’d been in the house on his own for most of the time. The memory of a smile tickled his lips and he muttered, “Bastards.”

  The images of childhood were shoved aside by memories of his brothers when he’d last seen them. Of Matthew. When he’d gone back home after being freed from the labs in Edin, Matthew had been the worst of the lot. His left cheek had been torn away. A flap of bloody and fleshy skin as large as Max’s palm hung down. It exposed his jaw, showing the skeletal workings of his gnashing teeth. And then when he stabbed him … he winced at the memory of the stench that came from him as if his guts had already rotted. Max gripped tighter on his war hammer as the actions of ending his family ran through him. As he lived it all over again.

  Ma
d Max.

  “Just keep walking, Max.” He shook his head as if it would discard the memories. But they were seared into his mind. He’d take them to the grave. “Just keep walking.” The gnashing teeth worked in his mind. A cross-section of his brother’s face, his bones mechanical as they chewed the air.

  Mad Max.

  “Huh?” Louder this time, Max turned one way and then the other. “Who said that?”

  Laughter came from Max’s left. It started quietly and grew. First one inmate, and then one in the cell next to her.

  Thuds then joined the chorus from where they kicked their cell doors. Not just them, but others too. Maddened horses in stables, they wanted the hell out of there. Thud. Thud. Thud.

  The thuds stopped, but the laughter endured. It morphed into something else. It ran away with the women, shrill and insane. They’d lost control.

  “You’ll get out of here, Max.” He shook his war hammer and nodded to himself. At least the sounds helped him avoid the doors on either side. They kept him in the centre of the dark corridor. The correct corridor? Who the hell knew? “Better to keep walking than give up,” he said. “Get out of here, get back to the others, and get a better plan than this. It’s madness to walk through the dark and expect to find Dianna.”

  “Dianna?” someone on Max’s left said.

  Even if he had to fight every diseased between the palace and the asylum to clear a path so the others could join him, then so be it. He needed company when he returned to this place.

  Mad Max.

  The head of Max’s war hammer hit the wall first. He reached out to the cold stone. “There shouldn’t be a wall here.” He turned left, tripping on the uneven floor before stumbling forwards and slamming into a cell door with a thud!

  An inmate inside screamed. A child’s scream. Fear rather than madness. The kid sobbed and muttered one word on repeat. “Mama, Mama, Mama.”

  Max blinked as if he could will his stinging eyes to see through the darkness. “Mama’s not here,” he said.

  The sobbing child gasped. The crying stopped.

  “I need to find a way to get you out of here. To get you all out of here. But it’s not safe at the moment. I will be back, I promise.”