Beyond These Walls (Book 5): After Edin Read online

  Before anyone else could comment, William said, “Okay, so how about we have a vote? Who wants to stay here, and who wants to move on?” While fixing on Max, he said, “Whatever happens, we will have to go outside and face them.”

  “I vote we stay for a few days,” Olga said. “It’s safe and we have beds. I can tolerate their patriarchal bullshit for a short time.”

  “I’m with Olga,” William said. “I feel more rested than I have in ages. It sure beats sleeping in old run-down buildings. Cyrus?”

  “I agree with Olga.”

  Max nodded. “I’m okay with staying. If they don’t gut me first.”

  “I need more rest,” Matilda said. “Artan?”

  “What does it matter what I think? We’re staying.”

  “Come on then.” William got to his feet and reached down to help Matilda stand. “You ready, Max? We might as well go outside and face them now. No point in prolonging it.”

  The rest of them got to their feet, save Samson, so William walked over and held a hand down to him. “Come on, man, chin up. I know this place isn’t perfect, and I know you’re still pissed about your hair—”

  “You think?!”

  “But it’s the best we’ve had since Edin fell. Let’s give it a few days at least.”

  Samson had the thick frame of a man. An adult who’d left his childhood behind long ago. He sat up, his wide shoulders tense. A second later, he relaxed them and nodded at William.

  They were all on their feet in the gloomy hut, but none of them moved, so William led the way.

  The fire was close enough for the smell of cooking meat to hit William the second he emerged. His mouth watered as he waited for his friends.

  “Look at the state of that,” Olga said, her voice quiet. “Those lazy men are sitting on their arses while the women cook for them. Some of them must be twenty years younger than the women. Why do they get to retire so early?”

  “And look at how fat they’ve grown,” Matilda said. “I bet those older men sit there doing nothing all day. They’d struggle to waddle away from here should their lives depend on it. How do they get so complacent in such a hostile environment?”

  “Edin’s politicians managed it,” William said.

  Artan’s eyes narrowed. “And look what happened to them.”

  Olga tutted and raised her voice. “I think it’s some kind of bullshit.”

  “Come on, Olga,” William said. “You’ve managed to get women on the tri-rings team already.”

  “So you want us to stop there? Be good little girls from now on and learn our place?”

  “No.”

  “Accept the one concession with grace and count our blessings?”

  “Just don’t try to change everything in the first day. Especially if we’re only staying here for a week, and especially after the scene last night.”

  “You’re blaming that on me?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  A ring of hunters had gathered beside the fire. Unlike the retired men, they sat on the ground rather than in padded chairs. Slate’s two black eyes had already turned yellow with bruising. He and his hunting party watched William and the others approach. The boy with the scars around his neck wasn’t with them.

  When they got close, Slate said, “Morning. I hope you slept well.”

  William lost his words for a few seconds. “Uh … morning.”

  Rita and Mary approached with a tray of cups filled with water. They handed them out, Rita saying, “It’s a little on the warm side, but it’s clean.”

  Matilda knocked hers back in one. “Thank you.”

  “Now sit,” Mary said. “We’ll bring you some meat and bread.”

  The warmth of the fire combated the bite of the bright spring morning. A clear line of sight into the barn, William pointed at the glass sun hanging from the ceiling. “How did you light up the barn last night?”

  Although he addressed his question at Mary and Rita, Slate called across to them, “Grandfather Jacks provides.” The hunting party around him bowed their heads out of respect.

  Too many people watched them, so William nodded and smiled.

  No matter how many times it had already happened, when the thud of another drum snapped through the community, William jumped where he sat. The hunters all turned towards the sound. They were clearly expecting this.

  Glances passed between William and his friends, but before any of them could speak, the hunter with the scarred neck walked around the side of the hut. Like all the other hunters, he only wore trousers. While the others had painted their bodies with stripes and spirals, every part of his exposed torso and face glistened with fresh animal blood.

  “Looks like they’re not letting it slide, then,” Max said.

  Slow and deliberate steps, the hunter fixed on Max as he moved to the steady drumbeat.

  William sipped his water to combat his drying throat.

  The scarred hunter gripped his spear with both hands.

  “I’ll bite his throat out before he gets anywhere near you,” Olga said.

  Max spoke from the side of his mouth. “I can fight my own battles.”

  Other than the drumbeat and the popping and crackling fire, silence settled over Umbriel. The bloody hunter raised his spear. Much closer and he’d be as good as declaring war. William bristled where he sat. If he started on Max, he’d be starting on them all.

  But the drumbeats stopped. The hunter dropped down onto bended knee and laid his spear on the ground as an offering to Max.

  Rita then handed a small container filled with water to the hunter. It had a rag in it.

  “I’m sorry I’ve offended you, Max. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to wash your feet.”

  Although Max opened his mouth to reply, Mary whispered, “Pushing him over wasn’t the problem. Refuse him now and you won’t walk away from this.”

  Under the watchful eyes of the entire community, Max stood up.

  Two younger boys appeared with a chair like the one the retired hunters sat in. They set it behind Max, who lowered himself into it. When he tried to remove his boots, the hunter knocked his hands away and did it himself, freeing Max’s feet before washing them. He avoided eye contact, focusing on the task at hand.

  From the other side of the fire, Slate said, “We apologise for offending you and yours. In Umbriel, we dance. We dance with friends and we dance with family. When we danced with your women—”

  “She’s not my woman,” Max said.

  Olga’s lips tightened.

  After a moment’s silence, Slate continued, “We’re sorry. Please know that. We overstepped the mark and didn’t explain our ways. Hawk has offered you his spear. It’s yours to do with as you see fit. If you so wish, you may snap it and retire him here. A wild hunter is a hinderance to everyone. Or you can give it to William. He knows how to use one.”

  William’s cheeks burned. Why had he said he could use a spear?

  “Please, decide Hawk’s fate,” Slate said.

  “It’s been a long few days for us,” Max said. “We’ve all lost loved ones and seen thousands fall to the disease. I was overemotional last night and take full responsibility for my actions. Hawk did nothing wrong and I apologise.”

  All the while, Hawk continued to wash Max’s feet.

  “I wouldn’t dream of taking what is clearly a calling away from this man. Please, I’d like it if we started again.”

  “No need to start again,” Slate said. “We’ve grown together and become better together.” He raised his cup of water. “Here’s to getting to know one another. Here’s to Grandfather Jacks.”

  The community repeated, “Grandfather Jacks.”

  Slate said, “Now we eat.”

  Many of those in the community cheered and the drummers—as often seemed the case in Umbriel—set the mood with a hammering rhythm. Thank the heavens William hadn’t reacted to Hawk’s approach. They’d made the right choice coming here. He reached out for Matilda and held
her hand. “Things are going to get better.”

  She smiled. “I think so too.”

  Chapter 29

  Would there ever come a time when William could ascend scaffolding and not feel the chasm beside him? The space where his dad should be, chamber pot in hand as they climbed, wondering if they’d see another eviction. The evictions had been fun to witness as a child, but as he’d grown older, he revelled much less in the punishment of others. He had less faith in Edin’s propaganda that those receiving the punishment were the bad guys. He knew Mr. P; he knew the truth.

  Umbriel’s scaffolding shook with the sheer weight of people climbing it. Like many things, they used today’s event as a cause for celebration, drumming and dancing, singing and shouting. Many people wore drums, but they also had one built into the top of the wall. About six feet tall, it had a diameter of at least four feet and it barked the deepest beat.

  The large structure creaked and swayed. Every movement sent a lurch through William’s stomach. But surely they’d partied like this on here in the past? He had to shout to be heard over the celebrations. “Has the scaffolding ever collapsed?”

  Slate walked just ahead of him, half naked from the waist up, a spear in his hand. The lead hunter laughed and shook his head. “No, we’ve never had a problem. I mean”—he looked up at the next level, the entire structure groaning as it swayed—“it could happen, but what’s the point in worrying about it?”

  Well, that helped. Matilda walked behind William, Artan behind her; Cyrus, Max, Samson, and then Olga at the back. Many of Edin’s residents had already climbed the scaffolding, jostling for position along the top walkway amongst mostly women and children. Maybe the retired hunters stayed on the ground for this one.

  Like with the scaffolding in Edin, the structure had ramps leading from one level to the next. William followed the hunters to the top, gasping when he looked over the side at the sea of diseased. The first time he’d looked at one since entering Umbriel, the slight respite had made him almost forget the horror. Crimson stares, snapping jaws, palsied movements. An insatiable desire for destruction.

  “That large drum,” Slate said, “is designed to call the creatures to us.”

  “Why?”

  “So we can see if there are any young hunters ready to join us outside the walls.”

  The gaggle of teenage boys at the other end of the top floor suddenly made some sense. They were afforded more space than the spectators and they gathered near a bucket filled with spears.

  Now they’d climbed to the top platform, Slate nodded at the wannabe hunters. “You need to join that line and go through the trials too. I’m sure it’ll be a breeze for you, but let them go first, yeah? We don’t want to disparage them before they’ve given it a try.”

  William stood aside to let Artan, Cyrus, Max, and Samson through before he joined the end of the line.

  As Matilda and Olga followed him, Slate blocked their way with his arm. “Not you two.”

  “What?” Olga said. “This again?”

  William moved close to his small firecracker friend. He spoke for the benefit of her and Matilda. “While I agree with you and would feel much safer in a hunting pack if you were both in it, we can’t try to change too much too soon. Let’s not have this conversation now, yeah?”

  “What? You want me to know my place, is that it?”

  “You don’t need to fight me about this. Believe me, if I could give you my spot, I would.”

  “Why did you tell them you could throw a spear?” Matilda said.

  William shrugged. “Ego. How could I not feel inferior around that lot?” The hunters lined up, ready to watch the trials. “But we need to be sensible and pick our battles. I’m not suggesting we don’t fight them, but please, for the sake of everyone else in the group, let it slide for now.”

  “It’s some kind of bullshit, if you ask me.” Olga folded her arms across her chest.

  “I agree. But maybe me making a tit of myself will help you take your mind off it.”

  It took a gentle tug from Matilda to coax Olga away. They moved over to one side to be with the drummers and spectators. Hawk, the hunter with scars around his neck, sidled close to Olga.

  Slate might not have been able to hear their conversation, but he clearly witnessed the outcome. He thanked William with a nod before raising a hand to silence the drummers. Squalls and screams from the diseased horde, the lead hunter shouted over them. “Praise be to Grandfather Jacks, the high father.”

  The community responded in unison, “The high father.”

  “Now I know you’re all aware of the rules for joining the hunt, but our guests aren’t, so I will explain it for their benefit. Every few days, we open trials to see if any of the young hunters are ready to join us. They need to call out the diseased they’re going to hit and take them down with a spear. If they do this three times in a row, they’re ready to hunt.”

  The crowd were agitated, many of them bouncing or swaying. Many were smiling.

  “So there’s little else to say other than, let the trials begin!”

  The crowd cheered, the drums banging while the first of the boys pulled a spear from the bucket and walked to the edge. He used his weapon to point down into the crowd of diseased. His voice rang out from the wall, a warrior’s cry. “The bald one with the blue coat.” He pulled his spear back and launched it.

  The crowd gasped as if frustrated for the boy when he missed by several feet. They clapped him as he walked away.

  Several more wannabes launched their spears over the wall’s spiked top. All of them missed on their first attempt.

  The next boy was either several years older than the others, or he’d developed early. As tall as William at over six feet, he had a thick upper body and a square jaw. The morning sun glistened off his dark skin. “The one with a missing eye.”

  He loosed the spear, the projectile travelling so fast William lost sight of it. Until it embedded in the creature he’d nominated, blinding it by slamming into its other eye. The crowd erupted, dancing and singing as the boy retrieved his second spear.

  “The fat one with the afro.”

  Two out of two, when the boy returned with his third spear, William’s entire body tensed. How could he follow him?

  “The woman with the blonde hair.” He loosed his spear with the same pace and power as his previous two throws.

  The scaffolding rocked and swayed when the woman went down. The hunters rushed to the boy and clapped his back. They led him to a pot filled with deer blood, decorating him with similar patterns to their own. Although, the effect was diminished because of his skin’s pigmentation.

  Olga and Matilda stood out in the smiling crowd, both of them stony faced as they watched on. Olga might have been the more vocal of the two, but William knew Matilda’s hard frown. Her fury would spill over at some point.

  When all the young hunters had taken their turns and failed to meet the requirements to go beyond the walls, Cyrus stepped up.

  The same silence as he moved to the edge, spear in hand. He pointed the tip of his weapon down, his voice warbling as he said, “The woman with the black hair and burn scars.” He grunted with the effort of the throw, and his spear stuck the fat belly of a man at least ten feet away.

  The silence held until Artan stepped up, Cyrus clapping him on the back as he walked away. Sallow cheeks, dark bags beneath his eyes, the skinny boy said, “The man with the long hair next to the woman in white.”

  Artan nailed him, the crowd erupting once more.

  His next spear ready, he pointed it down again. “The woman in white.” He hit his second target.

  Just before nominating the final diseased, Artan glanced at his sister. She’d turned ashen and bit her bottom lip. “The woman with the red top.”

  Artan missed by such a distance, William winced in anticipation of the crowd’s boos. He’d clearly failed on purpose.

  “So close,” Slate said as Artan passed him. “Maybe next tim
e.”

  When Max hit one, Hawk clapped louder and longer than anyone else, winking at him as he stepped up for his second attempt. Max’s cheeks flushed red and he missed by several feet.

  Samson missed on his first attempt.

  By the time William picked up a spear, his hands were slick with sweat. The crowd had fallen silent, making Slate much easier to hear. “I’m excited for this one. I believe William is something of an expert hunter. Come on, William, show them what you can do.”

  William’s throat locked and his words wouldn’t come. He saw every face both below and around him, fixed on him with expectation. He coughed, half-heaved, and coughed again, banging his chest with a closed fist as if that would help him get his words out. “That one.”

  Slate laughed. “Uh, which one, William?”

  “The old man with the long white beard.” He yelled as he launched his spear. His shot made Cyrus’ look accurate. Fifteen feet wide, maybe even more, the silence closed in on him, suffocating him.

  Slate’s jaw fell and it took him several seconds before he clapped his hands. “Let’s hear it for our challengers. Well done, all of you.”

  As William passed the head hunter, the crowd clapping and cheering, Slate leaned close to him. “We’ll get you practicing with one of the retired hunters. It’s probably just getting used to the feel of our spears.”

  It would have been easier if he’d been a prick about it. William kept his attention on the walkway as he passed his friends and walked down the ramp to the lower level of the scaffolding. Why had he said he knew how to throw a spear?

  Chapter 30

  Now the hunters had gone out for the day, William, Max, Cyrus, Artan, and Samson returned to the scaffolding on the back wall. They waited on the top level, the wild meadow of the wastelands stretching away from them. Many of the diseased from earlier had now dispersed, the fresh spring breeze free of their vinegar taint.

  Slate had told them they’d meet a retired hunter up there, and it didn’t take long for an older man to shuffle up the final ramp. A man in his fifties, he had closely cropped white hair and crow’s feet streaking away from his green eyes. He walked with a limp and a scowl.