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

  Because Hugh had failed the test in the labs and been sent straight to national service, he hadn’t seen his front room for a long time. He’d rarely come home to visit when he had the chance, choosing to spend time with his brother outside rather than be around his dad. But he had nowhere else to go for at least the next month.

  The small table took centre stage in the cramped space. Tailoring dolls stood around it, watching on in silent judgement. They were appalled at Hugh’s life choices. Why didn’t he want to be a tailor? Did he think he was too good for it? They wore clothes at various stages of adjustment. The room smelled like dust, like an old curtain that had been left in a cupboard for years.

  Although he could see his mum in the kitchen, she seemed lost in a battle against too many pots and pans as she tried to make their dinner. It took for Hugh to close the door and clear his throat before she looked up. She froze, her brown eyes—the eyes he’d inherited—filling with tears before she rushed forwards, strands of her curly hair falling from the loose topknot she’d tied on her head.

  “Hugh! My baby, you’re back.” Smaller than Hugh by a few inches, she wrapped him in a tight hug and squeezed as if in an attempt to drive the air from his lungs. “I didn’t want to believe you were okay until I saw it myself. Oh, it’s so good to see you.”

  As much as he appreciated the affection, Hugh didn’t know how to react, tensing in her arms. He’d as good as left home at the age of fifteen. And what hadn’t been trained out of him then had definitely been driven from him during national service. As much as he wanted to return his mother’s warmth, his body wouldn’t respond, his heart aching in the stark glare of her love.

  When she pulled away and looked him up and down, confusion darkened her stare. “What’s up, baby?”

  While fighting against his buckling bottom lip, Hugh said, “It’s been a long six months.”

  His mum threw another tight hug around him. “I’m glad you’re home.”

  The best he could do at that moment, Hugh closed his eyes and drank in his mother’s warmth.

  “Hugh!” The shrill call of an excited eight-year-old, Hugh looked up to see his little brother, James, hurtling towards him, bracing just in time to receive the boy’s body slam of affection. Where he’d been able to hold back with his mum, his little brother wouldn’t allow it, forcing Hugh to pick him up and hug him.

  “I thought you were going to die,” James said.

  “James!”

  Hugh laughed. “It’s okay, Mum.” He looked at James again. “I thought I was going to die too.”

  James had a cropped haircut of brown hair like Hugh’s. His mum did that to both of them to fight against the frequent outbreaks of lice amongst the kids in the tailoring district. They seemed to get it worse there for some reason. A smaller and slighter version of Hugh, his brother would probably be taller and straighter when he grew up. He looked like he’d have his dad’s height—hopefully, he wouldn’t have his dad’s outlook.

  While taking Hugh’s bag from him and shoving him towards their dining table, Hugh’s mum said, “Sit down. Your father will be home soon. I wouldn’t mind betting you need a good feed.”

  A few weeks back, Hugh didn’t feel like he’d ever smile again. Even though it was only fleeting, being around the people he loved helped light the smallest flame in his heart, and one side of his mouth lifted. He sat down at the table opposite James as they waited for dinner and for their father to return from work.

  “It’s no good,” Hugh’s dad said, shaking his head, his right cheek bulging as he spoke around a mouthful of food.

  Since Hugh’s dad had come home from work, he’d sat at the table, started eating his food, and not said a word. He wore the scowl Hugh remembered all too well. The bitter twist of a man exhausted from doing a job he pretended to love. What other choice did he have? He wasn’t a protector or a politician. The entire family had learned to let his dad get in from work and adjust to being home. Let him be the first one to talk to save the volatile outbursts he seemed so ready to deliver. Now he’d said something, fishing for a response, Hugh didn’t give it to him. He’d learned a long time ago that when the man started talking, it didn’t matter what anyone else had to say.

  After swiping his long ginger hair behind one ear, Hugh’s dad fixed him with his lazy green eyes. “You should be in the labs or tailoring with me. Why have they selected you to be in the trials? You’ll make a fool of yourself. You’ll make a fool of us.”

  That was what mattered more to Hugh’s dad: the perception that he’d look like a fool. The truth was no one gave a shit about him, and if anyone did think him a fool, they didn’t need to look to his family to find evidence to back up that opinion. Just another tailor in the tailoring district, his only bragging rights came when someone semi-important in Edin called on his services. He’d mended a blouse for the wife of a politician no one cared about. He’d loosened some trousers for an apprentice protector. All tailors were the same: they were passionate about an art that simply served a function for most. They hated how underappreciated they were, but they were just another cog in the large Edin machine.

  The chink of silver against porcelain as Hugh, his mum, and James continued to eat. It felt to Hugh like he was dining with strangers. Except for the food. The familiarity of his mother’s cooking always made it feel like home. When he looked across at James, he found his little brother staring back at him. His eyes were two wide orbs of innocence.

  “So what was it like?”

  Hugh’s mum shot the boy down. “James!”

  While finishing his mouthful of roast potato, the rich flavour something he’d most definitely missed since being on a diet of stew and rough bread, Hugh shrugged. “I am his brother, Mum. He can ask me anything he likes. You all can.”

  The moody patriarch at the head of the table sniffed, shovelled another mouthful of his dinner in, and then chewed through it while speaking. “We don’t talk about national service, James. Everyone knows that.”

  The same shame Hugh felt thousands of times, he watched his brother flush red and drop his focus to the table. The same shame his dad used to put on him before he chose to not let it affect him. Most kids learn their fathers are human when they step into adulthood themselves. Hugh had had his dad’s number before he hit ten. A weak-minded man who, like so many in Edin, hadn’t ever fully returned from national service, he belittled those he should show the most love to just to make himself feel better.

  When James looked up again, Hugh met his eyes and smiled. “Ask me what you want.”

  “Did you meet anyone?”

  “James, I said—”

  “He’s asking the questions of me, Dad, not you.”

  Silence fell around the table as Hugh and his dad locked stares. Although his dad’s mouth hung permanently open, it fell just that little bit wider as if he might say something, but then he clearly thought better of it and returned to chewing his dinner.

  In hindsight, it would have been easier to let his dad shut his brother down. Hugh now felt the attention of his entire family on him. As he thought about Elizabeth, heat rose in him, his pulse quickening. Images of her bloody face strobed through his mind, the fear in her wide eyes before the diseased got her. “I’ve made loads of new friends,” Hugh said. “One of them, Spike—”

  “Spike? What kind of name’s that?”

  Hugh ignored his father. “He made it through to the trials too. He was really kind to me on national service. He saved my life.”

  James frowned. “How will you compete against a friend?”

  “Oh, I don’t expect to win the trials.”

  “Then why go?” his dad said.

  While maintaining eye contact with his little brother, Hugh said, “I think Spike will be the next apprentice. He deserves it, and it means he’ll be able to be with the girl he loves.”

  “Did you fall in love?” James asked.

  Time stopped and Hugh’s pulse quickened. He then worked his jaw as i
f practicing the words before he said them. Images of the wicked faces of Ranger and Lance flashed through his mind. They laughed at the death of his love. He smiled. “I did.”

  “Is she still alive?”

  James’ words took on a physicality, the directness nearly knocking Hugh from his chair. The glare of his parents’ focus pushed in at him from either side. His throat dry, Hugh nodded. “You betcha. She flew through national service as if she’d been born to do it.”

  “Is she in the trials?”

  “No, she never wanted to be.”

  “So why don’t you want to win? Doesn’t winning mean you’ll be able to be with her?”

  “We have plans to move into the labs together. She’s smart, and I want to return there. It’ll be a better life for us.”

  A shake of his head followed by a hard sniff, Hugh’s dad spoke to his plate. “He’s clearly too good for tailoring.”

  Hugh knew he was smarter than his dad from a young age, but it took his dad a while to accept the reality. It only served to increase his bitterness. Never good for the ego to be thicker than your little boy. As he’d done for the past decade whenever he’d spent time with him, Hugh ignored the man. A few seconds later, his dad’s chair screeched over the hard floor as he stood up and then marched from the room. At least the drama stopped the questioning about Elizabeth. Before it could resume, Hugh diverted the conversation by turning to his mum and saying, “So, what’s been going on with you?”

  Chapter 3

  Unable to focus on anything but Matilda and her dad, Spike’s legs turned leaden as he walked towards his house. Where else could he go? It all felt too raw, and his family knew him too well. They’d realise something was up the second they saw him, and his mum would probe until she found out exactly what it was. If he stopped now, it would take him hours to come back, so without breaking stride, he threw the front door open and walked into his front room.

  Spike’s mum’s shrill scream snapped his shoulders into his neck. A plate smashed from where she dropped it, adding a tighter twist to his already tense frame. He braced when she charged at him, her arms flung wide. After the six months he’d had—diseased bearing down on him on a daily basis—he had to fight against his initial defensive reaction to swing for her, planting his feet as she crashed into him.

  Nearly half a foot shorter than him, Spike relaxed. After what he’d left behind at Matilda’s house, he should be grateful to be returning to the family he had. He pulled her in tight. “Hello, Mum.”

  While pulling away from him, words fell from his mum’s mouth like she had no control over them. “Oh, dear, look at the state of this place. I didn’t know what time you’d be back. I’ve been going out of my mind trying to keep myself busy.”

  As much as Spike appreciated his mum’s affection, his mind wandered back to Matilda and her dad. What was happening with them right now? How would she let him know if she had a problem? It took a few seconds of silence for him to realise his mum had stopped talking. He looked at her. “Huh?”

  Never one to hide her feelings, Spike’s mum’s eyes narrowed, and she sagged where she stood. She’d done national service. All the adults had. It changed a lot of people. Was she already seeing the manifestation of her biggest worry? Had she lost her little boy?

  “I’m sorry, Mum. It’s been a long six months, you know?”

  Her eyes remained on him for a few more seconds before she dropped her focus to the medal lying against his chest. As if testing the weight, she lifted it. “You got through?”

  Despite his worries, Spike smiled. “Yeah, I’m going back in one month.”

  While nodding, her voice weakened when she said, “That’s great news.”

  The deep baritone of Spike’s dad entered the room. “That is great news.”

  Spike smiled and turned to face him. “Dad! How are you?”

  Unlike his mother, Spike’s dad walked over to his son, lifted the medal first, and smiled at it before hugging his boy. “Well done, mate.”

  A flurry of motion, Spike’s mum moved around the room like a spinning top. She didn’t seem sure of her destination, but she needed to do something. “We have to celebrate. My boy’s going for the trials. My boy might become a protector.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Mum.”

  “You have a chance. How many others are in it?”

  “There’s six of us in total.”

  “Matilda?”

  Even hearing her name derailed Spike, and he physically sank. If her dad did anything to her …

  The motion stopped and Spike’s mum cocked an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

  “Look, Mum, I’ve had a hard six months. You know what it’s like. Sorry if I’m not very excited at the moment, I have a lot to process.”

  “Let me make you something to eat. You must be hungry.”

  During national service, he’d often thought of his mum’s cooking, but since leaving Matilda, Spike’s appetite had vanished. A nauseating lump resided where it had once been. As much as it would have been easier to explain what had happened when he’d gotten to Matilda’s house, it wasn’t his story to share. Matilda needed to decide if they should know.

  Before Spike could tell his mum he didn’t want to eat, his dad said, “The chamber pots need emptying. You look like you could do with some fresh air.”

  When Spike saw his mum’s bottom lip turn down, he grabbed her warm, chubby hands and rubbed his thumbs over the backs of them. “I love you, Mum. We have a month together, okay?”

  She nodded and they hugged.

  Spike’s dad returned with the two heavy chamber pots and offered Spike the smaller of the two. Spike reached for the larger one, and for the first time ever, his dad let him take it.

  After Spike had emptied his chamber pot over the side of the wall, he took in the view he hadn’t seen in a long time. Like everything else in Edin, it looked different since he’d returned. The sun had started to set on the bright and cold October day, the red glow of it bouncing off the large lake that provided their drinking water. The distance from the gates in the bottom of the wall to the lake had seemed impossibly far. Now Spike wondered how so few made the short run for survival. The grass swayed. Maybe from ground level it stood taller than it looked, but it didn’t appear to be as overgrown as the meadow he’d crossed to get to the ruined city.

  Suddenly, the eviction horn sounded below. Several diseased in the field, they all perked up at the sound. The people around them who were yet to empty their chamber pots waited for the evictee to emerge, some of them shifting from side to side as if giving themselves a few more feet of space would allow them to be in the best spot for dumping their pot.

  A man in his twenties burst into view, tearing through the long grass at a sprint. He looked fit and fast. Maybe he’d be one of the lucky few. Even as Spike considered it, a diseased collided with him. But the man held it off as both of them fell to the ground.

  While the man wrestled the creature, one of its brethren leaped at them. The man freed a leg from his struggle and kicked it away.

  Another one came at them from the other side. When the man defended against the newest arrival, the one who’d attacked him first dove in and bit him.

  The man’s scream echoed across the expanse of meadow before dying out as the diseased all stumbled to their feet and shuffled away.

  Silence ran along the wall in both directions while everyone waited.

  They didn’t have to wait long. A sharp spasm snapped through the man’s right leg. His jaw opened impossibly wide. The scream looked to escape his lungs as if the man played no part in the generation of the sound. His body no longer belonged to him. After he’d jumped to his feet and looked around, his raised shoulders sagged. The desire to attack would go unsated for now.

  As he watched the man turn into another diseased in a meadow filled with the grotesque things, Spike wondered if the evictions were part of the problem. Surely, they added bodies to those already attack
ing the cadets on national service. How many rookies had been taken down by evictees while building the wall? He shook his head to himself. The numbers had to be small. Each eviction added just a drop to the ocean of horrible bastards out there, but why add to it in the first place? Compliance and show. If people witnessed the effect of the justice system, they would behave. At least, that had to be the angle they were going for. Poor Mr. P; it made it hard to trust the justice system when you personally knew an evictee who didn’t deserve the brutal treatment.

  Spike walked away from the wall, his dad following him. He looked at him as if he’d been watching his boy for a while, but Spike said nothing.

  As happened on the way there, many eyes fell to the medal around Spike’s neck while he passed them on the wooden platform. He didn’t want to wear it, but they were ordered to if they went anywhere outside their homes. Some people bowed their heads while many simply stared. He did his best to ignore them all.

  At the bottom of the first flight of stairs, the wooden structure creaking with the weight of people on it, Spike’s dad walked a little closer to him. Spike said, “Have you seen a woman evicted since I’ve been away?”

  “There’s rarely women evicted. I haven’t seen one in months. Why?”

  “No reason. I’m sure I’m being paranoid.”

  “A little bit of paranoia can be healthy in this city.”

  “Not when you’re relying on them to give you a crack at being the next protector. I have to trust the system to be fair if I do my bit.” He flinched when his memory of Mr. P crashed into his mind.

  A man who didn’t know his own strength, when Spike’s dad patted him on the back, Spike stumbled forward a step. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. I have faith in you.”

  Spike walked down to the next level, looking out across Edin. The older he’d gotten, the smaller the place had looked. Now it seemed tiny. The walls kept everyone penned in like animals.

  When they were away from the wall, Spike’s dad caught up to him and walked at his side. “I’ve missed you a lot. I don’t need you to say anything back, but I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. How proud your mum and I are. We prayed for you every night.”