Tales From Beyond These Walls | Book 1 | Fury Read online

  Fury - Book one of Tales From Beyond These Walls

  A Post-apocalyptic Survival Thriller

  Michael Robertson

  Contents

  Edited and Cover by …

  Copyright

  Reader Group

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  The Alpha Plague - Chapter One

  About the Author

  Reader Group

  Also by Michael Robertson

  Edited and Cover by …

  To contact Michael, please email:

  [email protected]

  Edited by:

  Pauline Nolet - http://www.paulinenolet.com

  Cover design by Dusty Crosley - https://www.deviantart.com/dustycrosley

  Copyright

  Fury - Book one of Tales From Beyond These Walls

  Michael Robertson

  © Michael Robertson 2020

  Fury - Book one of Tales From Beyond These Walls is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, situations, and all dialogue are entirely a product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously and are not in any way representative of real people, places, or things.

  Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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  Author’s Note

  If you’re reading this, thank you for checking out Fury: Book one in Tales From Beyond These Walls. It’s a standalone story and can be read as such. However, should you want to place it in the timeline of the main series of the Beyond These Walls books, it runs concurrently with book eight: Between Fury and Fear. The reason I chose to make this a separate book is because it doesn’t follow the storyline of the main characters. Their journey continues from the end of book eight through to book nine.

  Anyway, I wanted to give a little background to anyone diving in. To those who are coming from the main series, and to those who are starting on this book, I hope you enjoy Reuben’s story, and thank you for giving the book a try.

  Michael.

  December 2020.

  Prologue

  Lucie’s legs burned. Fatigue coupled with adrenaline. Were she alone, she’d be fine. Long gone, in fact. How did she get into this situation with a fucking rookie? “Come on, Danko!” A thickset boy. He might be handy in a fight, but fighting had to be the last option. Why fight when you could run? “If you can’t go any faster than that, you’ll be dead within a week.”

  Three of Fear’s soldiers chased them. Each one in their mid to late twenties. Experienced and armed. Two had batons like Lucie’s own, while the other had a machete.

  Lucie and Danko had gotten into a fight with some diseased. Danko had dropped his baton then, and before they’d retrieved it, the soldiers arrived.

  Fighting every urge, Lucie held back. The boy deserved a chance. And they were only a few streets from Fury. Get to the gate and the soldiers would turn back. They just needed to—“Oh, fuck!”

  Ten to fifteen diseased blocked the road ahead. A ragged mess, each of them lopsided from where their affliction had eaten away at their forms. Their jaws hung slack. The tracks of their crimson tears streaked their cheeks. Thick dry lines. They’d clearly been turned some time ago.

  “What do we do?” Danko yelled through his rasping breaths.

  “Don’t slow down. The diseased are easier to fight than the soldiers.”

  “Easy?”

  “Easier. Nothing about this city’s easy.”

  The road bent around to the left. The alley at the end of the curve was invisible until Lucie took it, slamming her right hand against the rough brick wall to help her deal with the right-angled turn. Her palm stung from the contact. Hopefully Danko would see which way she’d gone.

  Danko entered the alley a few seconds later and let out an, “Oomph!” He must have used the wall too.

  At some point she might have to leave the thickset rookie. There came a time in every chase when you put yourself first. Do as much as you can and then walk away with a clear conscience. They’d taught them that in training. There seemed little point in everyone dying because of the weak link.

  Fear’s soldiers entered the long alley as Lucie exited. They were still twenty seconds behind Danko. Forty behind her. Enough time for her to get away. The alley’s high brick walls added an echo that trebled their number. “You need to hurry up, Danko.” Were it not for his lolloping gait and weak lungs, she’d be home already.

  Twenty feet along the main road, she slowed her pace even more. Adrenaline flooded her system, rocket fuel spurring her on. Her muscles twitched and spasmed, daring her to go faster. She filled her lungs and let go of her breath. Filled her lungs and let go of her breath. At least she had a moment to recover. To put more in the tank for when they took off again.

  A large tower block on her right, Lucie jogged towards it. Slow enough to give Danko an opportunity. His final chance. When she’d first started, she’d needed one or two.

  The chunky rookie broke from the end of the alley. His mouth stretched wide, his face puce.

  Lucie waved at him and pointed to the block. She ran into the stairwell.

  The stairs were covered in debris, and the air filled with dust. Scant traces of the old wooden handrail clung to the rusty metal frame beside her.

  She’d just passed the second floor when Danko entered. His tired, clodhopping steps called to anyone who wanted to listen. Here we are. Outnumbered and vulnerable. Come and get us! They were bleating lambs. She’d made an error bringing them here.

  A shake of her head as she reached the third floor. For every step Lucie climbed, Danko ascended half the distance. She should have left him. Her voice echoed in the stairwell, “You need to hurry!”

  Lucie reached the tenth floor. With the door to the roof in sight, three blue uniforms entered the building. Were they fucking with them? Surely they were faster than this? If anything, Danko had stretched his lead. Maybe they still had a chance.

  At the top of the stairs, Lucie kicked open the door to the roof. The loud crash went off like a gunshot in the stairwell. The strong wind dragged her long hair across her sweating face. Her collar itched; her eyes burned; her trousers clung to her thighs. A carpet of small white stones on the flat roof. They wore a skin of moss. Th
ey crunched beneath her steps. She’d rolled the dice. She’d bet on the rookie. Hopefully, he fought better than he ran. For both of their sakes.

  Every beat of Lucie’s heart slammed through her. A ticking time bomb counting down the moments. Her stomach lurched when she peered over the edge of the tower. A long way to fall. Her baton in her sweating right hand, she widened her stance. “There’s only three soldiers.” She dragged her hair away from her eyes. At least she had this moment to rest. The advantage she’d have over all of them.

  Danko’s heavy steps mixed with those of the stampeding three. She’d take two if the rookie occupied one. But what if he couldn’t?

  “No.” Lucie shook her head. “Don’t admit defeat yet.” She bounced on her toes. “You’ve survived in the army this long for a reason. You’ll get through this.”

  Bang! The door flew open, driven wide by Danko. He’d appeared like a spooked cow. Wild eyes. Galloping hooves. A thick frame he battled to control. He passed Lucie and ran to the edge of the roof. Her stomach flipped, but he stopped in time. A gap of about fifteen feet separated them and the next building, which stood ten feet lower than their current spot.

  “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about jumping?” Lucie said.

  The sun glistened off Danko’s sweating skin. He thew a shrug up with his wide shoulders. “We can make it.”

  “You might. I’m too short.”

  The thunderous call of Fear’s army on their tail. At least he’d maintained his lead over them. Danko stared at the now closed door leading back into the building. He fought to get his words out. “So what do you suggest?”

  “We fight them! What else can we do?”

  “They outnumber us.”

  “By three to two. You only need to take one.”

  Wide eyes, he shook his head. Only the slightest gesture, but it said everything. She should have fucking left him. Lucie stamped on the white gravel. “You’d best step up.” Desperation tore at her words. “Had I not waited for you, I’d be home free by now.”

  Danko stepped closer, drawn in by her argument. He gulped. He looked at the steel door and halted. “But they have weapons.”

  “We can do this.”

  “Did you see that fucking machete?”

  They had ten seconds before the soldiers arrived. Lucie widened her stance. She tightened her grip on her baton. They had this.

  Five seconds.

  Danko turned and ran. He reached the edge of the roof and boosted towards the neighbouring building. He landed on the other side like a sack of shit, his legs giving way.

  “What the fuck?” Lucie threw her arms wide.

  Danko got to his feet.

  Lucie cupped her mouth. “I waited for you!”

  “Come on, Lucie. Jump!”

  The skin at the back of her knees tingled. Knees that would shatter on the hard ground thirteen storeys below. “I can’t!” She stepped back from the edge. “I won’t make it.”

  Danko backed towards the steel door leading into the stairwell of his building.

  The blue soldiers were seconds away.

  Danko vanished into the tower block.

  The soldiers spilled out onto the roof. Three of them. They were all still armed.

  Lucie took the first guard’s baton to the chin. Her jaw cracked. Several teeth flew from her mouth on the back of a streak of crimson. Her legs failed her. A full-bodied kick smashed an explosion of white through her vision. Her ears rang. Her world spun.

  She turned weightless from where the three soldiers lifted her. She threw sluggish kicks into the air and twisted. The soldiers were too strong.

  Three men, one of them said, “You should thank us. This could be a lot worse for you.”

  They walked to the edge of the roof and tilted her in the direction of the opposite tower. The closed door Danko had run through.

  Lucie went up, propelled into the sky by the three soldiers. Weightless once more, the tower block rushed past her. Broken windows. Empty apartments. Abandoned hope.

  She held onto her scream. The only power she had left. For what good it di—

  Chapter 1

  “I’m trying to treat today like any other, Mum,” Reuben said. “I’m really trying.” He laid the bread flat and buttered it. When he’d finished, he layered on the thin slices of cheese. “I’m going for a run to see Malcolm. Then I need to get a few things from the shop.” Butterflies danced in his stomach, flitting between anxiety and excitement. He took a steadying breath. “Yep, it’s just like any other day.” But it wasn’t just like any other day. He didn’t need his mum to tell him that.

  Reuben shook with adrenaline. He tried to fill Malcolm’s bottle with water and ended up with as much on his hands as in the bottle. “Eighteen today!” He screwed on the lid. “It always seemed so far away. I’ve been training hard like you said. Working at this my whole life. Dad will be so proud. That is, if they think I’m ready. I am ready, aren’t I?”

  Very little room to move in his bedsit, breadcrumbs covered the end of Reuben’s bed from where he’d made the sandwich. He swiped them away, grabbed his shoes, and sat on the end. His mattress’ old springs creaked. He tied the laces tight. “Yep, I’ll just keep training. It’s like any other day. I’ll go out for a run and keep busy. I’m gaining nothing waiting here.”

  While packing his backpack, the cheese sandwich wrapped in brown cloth, he repeated, “I’ll see Malcolm on my run and then go to the shop to get a few bits. It’s just like any other day.”

  Reuben opened his front door, letting in the fresh spring morning. The sun shone on the city. The slightest chill gave the wind teeth. He called over his shoulder as he stepped outside, “Bye, Mum. See you later.” Slamming the door behind him, he took off at a jog down the main road.

  By foot or on a bicycle were the best ways to travel around Fury. The city was too small for any larger modes of transport, and the streets were too tight to accommodate them. Not that they had any other vehicles. Other than their dogs, they had no tech in Fury. None of the neighbouring communities were willing to trade anything else.

  The river Rend ran through the city. A two-hundred-foot bridge stretched across it. Malcolm lived beneath the bridge. He’d always said he liked it there. That he liked the cold winters and damp springs. No point in challenging the lie. What could Reuben do? Offer to let him stay in his tiny house? And what would his mum think? She called his greatest strength his biggest weakness. He was too soft. He gave people too much.

  Despite the enormous steel wall surrounding the city, the wind always blew hard along the river, entering through the grates beneath their fortified boundary. It dropped the temperature by a few degrees.

  Out of breath from the run, Reuben picked his way down the steep riverbank with cautious steps. He unslung his backpack and removed the sandwich and drink. Malcolm always slept beneath a red blanket and always refused the offer of anything warmer. He took his daily sandwich and water, but insisted he needed nothing else.

  “If sir would like to look at the menu,” Reuben said to the red blanket, “I think he might be pleasantly surprised. Today, for the one thousandth, three hundredth, and eighty-seventh day in a row, I present sir with”—he held the wrapped sandwich out on the palm of his hand—“a cheese sandwich and Fury’s finest bottled water.”

  Reuben’s chest tightened when his friend didn’t move. “Malcolm?”

  Reuben pulled the blanket away to reveal a log.

  A deep and booming laugh, it resonated in the tight space beneath the bridge as Malcolm appeared from the other side. His hair a six-inch halo of white, he had a wide grin filled with wonky teeth. Mirth shone in his brilliant blue eyes. The man walked with a stoop from so many years of sleeping rough. It masked his six-foot-plus stature. He pointed at Reuben and laughed again. “Got ya!”

  While holding his hammering heart, Reuben rolled his eyes.

  “I don’t know whether to laugh about catching you out,” Malcom said, “or to cry because
no matter how many times I pull this trick, you fall for it. Do you really think you’re going to find me dead beneath this bridge every morning?”

  His face hot with his shame, Reuben shrugged. “You’ve told me not to worry about you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t. Is that such a crime?” He threw the cheese sandwich at his friend. After Malcolm caught it, he threw the bottle of water.

  “Come here!” Malcolm hugged Reuben before stepping back and holding him by the tops of his shoulders. “Thank you. As always.”

  Reuben shrugged, avoiding eye contact, his face on fire.

  “Wait a minute.” Malcom gripped tighter, and Reuben did his best to hide his wince. An old man, older than his years because of his lifestyle, but he still had the strength to crush rocks in his gnarled hands. “Today’s the day, right?”

  It pulled Reuben’s attention back to his friend. “I hope so.”

  “Nothing’s arrived yet?”

  “It’s early. There’s a lot of the day still ahead of us.” Always looking out for other people. His greatest weakness. Trying to make Malcolm feel better about his disappointment.