Dodging the first one’s windmilling attack, the creature stumbling past him and falling into the long grass, Spike then brought his weapon down on the skull of the third. A moist crunch and his sword stuck in the creature’s head.

  Once he’d wriggled his blade free, Spike swung it at the last of the group, removing its left leg at the knee and sending it crashing into the other one he’d knocked down.

  Spike didn’t give them a moment, stabbing both of them through the head while they lay on the ground.

  Heavy breaths rocked Spike’s frame as he watched the gates. Bleach led a charge in his direction. His usually immaculate brown hair bounced as he ran, his face red and glistening with sweat. “William!”

  After watching him for a second longer, Spike turned his back on him and Edin and sprinted towards the ruined city. Deep breaths helped him find his rhythm as he pulled in the smell of fresh grass and opened a lead on those who thought to chase him. The ruined city as his goal, whatever happened, he would find Matilda.

  Chapter 32

  When he burst from the long grass, fighting to pull air into his lungs, Spike stopped and looked behind again. If anyone had followed him, they’d clearly given up the chase. And in the scorching heat, he couldn’t blame them. Sweat turned his body slick, and his saliva had turned into a thick paste that he couldn’t swallow. He should have brought some water. But where would he have hidden it? And at least he’d made it. Whatever it took, he’d find his love.

  While resting on his knees, Spike hunched over and continued to regain his breath. Despite his hammering heart and burning muscles, the ruins took his attention. They stretched for miles both in depth and width. Large broken stones like none he’d seen before—not even in the wall—littered the ground. What looked like it had once been a road of black rock ran through the city. Tufts and patches of grass had ripped cracks into it like scars.

  Many of the buildings were made from brick and large grey stone. Skeletal metal bars jutted from the structures like broken fingers, snapped and pointing at awkward angles, reaching out as if with the intent of blinding someone. If only they knew how to erect structures like this in Edin. Instead of spreading outwards, they could grow into the sky. So many things had been lost to time. Forgotten techniques and technologies they might never rediscover.

  Sweat ran into Spike’s eyes, which he wiped away again, his entire body rocking with his deep breaths as he recovered from the run. The city might have stretched for miles, but he’d find Matilda. For a moment he forgot himself and cupped his hands to his mouth, nearly shouting her name. If he was to find her in the maze of ruins, he’d have to do it as quietly as possible. The diseased knew the place better than he did. They had every advantage.

  The densely packed derelict city ahead of him, Spike looked behind one last time. Over one hundred protectors would be on him soon.

  The rich smell of foliage around him, Spike looked at the vines and moss coating many of the devastated buildings. The broken structures loomed over him, but there had been a time where they would have stretched much taller. How high had the tallest one stood in its full glory?

  After just a few steps, the snap of popping glass raced at him through the ruined streets. His hand on the hilt of his sword, Spike bit down on his bottom lip as he slowly drew it from its sheath. He might have recovered from the run, but as he stood there, waiting for whatever made the noise, his heart sped and his breathing quickened again.

  When a diseased walked around the corner—its frame slumped as if it were being held up by a string attached to the top of its spine—Spike tightened his grip on his sword. What had once been a man, it had black trousers with a long tear running down the thigh. It revealed its shrivelled penis, the pathetic thing jiggling with its tired steps.

  It took for the creature to move several paces closer to Spike, its attention still on the ground, for Spike to clear his throat. The thing’s face snapped up. It glared at him through crimson eyes. Its jaw fell and it hissed as if the sound came from its stomach.

  The smell of rancid vinegar wafted towards Spike, and bile lifted up in his dry throat. He tasted the thing on the back of his tongue. A mess all around him, he twisted his feet to both widen his stance and sure his footing. He had to hold the line and let it come to him.

  But before it could run, Spike heard a scream to his right. Spinning around, he saw a second diseased just feet away. A panicked swing, but it struck true; he removed the beast’s head in one manoeuvre.

  Before he had a chance to set himself, the first diseased crashed into him, sending him and his sword flying. They both fell to the ground, Spike’s right shoulder landing on a large rock, white-hot pain tearing through his back.

  Spike gasped as he wrestled with the squirming diseased. The skinny yet strong creature writhed on top of him, making up for its light weight with frenzied movement, further smothering him with its foetid reek.

  Retching from the stink of decomposition, Spike held the beast back and stared into its dark mouth. Half its teeth were missing, and the others were so rotten they looked like they’d remain in his skin if it bit him.

  While keeping a strong grip on its narrow shoulders, Spike held the thing at arm’s length, his entire body shaking from the effort.

  The diseased screamed again, so loud it drove needles into Spike’s eardrums. The others would hear and soon there would be more. His strength threatening to give, he yelled and rolled the creature off him, kicking it away with both feet.

  Even as Spike looked for his sword, he heard the creature scrabble upright. No time to find his weapon, he grabbed a brick instead.

  Turning to see the beast swing, Spike ducked it, the creature’s shriek rattling off the walls around them. When it charged again, he launched the brick. It smashed into the centre of the creature’s face, halting its momentum and driving it backwards.

  Before it could get up, Spike ran over to it, grabbed a two-foot-square piece of the black road, and dropped it on its head. Somewhere between a crunch and a moist pop, it turned the beast limp.

  While fighting for breath, Spike spotted his sword. He stumbled over, lifted it from the ground, and quickly untied his bag of bread from his waist. At this rate, it wouldn’t be edible for long.

  A second or two to compose himself, his bag now strapped to his back, Spike heard the cry of more diseased, and his entire frame sank. Even if Matilda was in this city, how long would he last against an army of diseased? Was he chasing a dream? Should he have run from the gates in the first place? He could go back now. Sure, he’d get a scolding, but why had he come here? He needed more than hope to get him through. But he knew she was in the ruins somewhere. If he ignored it, he’d never forgive himself. And what would life be like without her?

  Overwhelmed by the choice, he looked at the many paths in front of him. After one final breath, Spike forced himself to move and broke into a jog, heading deeper into the ruined city and in a different direction to the noisy diseased.

  Chapter 33

  Spike moved at a steady jog, watching the ground as he ran. The scatterings of hard debris would break an ankle the second he lost his focus. The sound of the diseased remained on his tail. He’d been running for at least twenty minutes, and he still had no idea where to look for Matilda.

  Because he couldn’t run forever, Spike slowed to a walk to catch his breath. If he was Matilda, where would he go? When he looked up, the conversation he’d had with her weeks ago on the roof of the gym came flooding back. The ruins on the steep hill. “Of course.” He smiled. “I’m coming for you, Tilly.” The smile vanished when he heard the shriek of the diseased. They were getting closer.

  Other than the scuffle of shifting rubble beneath his steps, Spike made very little sound as he ran. It allowed him to listen to the beasts on his tail. Could they smell him? However they tracked him, they clearly weren’t giving up. The ruins on the hill were too far away for him to get to. He needed a better plan in the meantime.

  When Spike rounded the next corner, he saw the tall ruins of what must have once been a monster of a tower. Its top now a jagged point, it looked like a giant had reached down and snapped it off. Yet it still stood at least ten storeys high. A corpse of what it used to be, the walls were wrapped in vines, and empty holes sat where there had once been windows. The sounds of the diseased getting louder, he stared at it for a few seconds. It’ll work.

  Just a few feet from the entrance, the screams closer than ever, Spike ducked inside, the floor as treacherous as the rest of the city.

  Although the first level stretched away from him with the potential for places to hide, Spike ran for the next floor, the old stone staircase bending in the middle and turning back on itself. He turned again and headed for the second.

  The heavy pant of several diseased entered the building below.

  Spike turned and ran for the third floor, but when he got halfway up, he skidded to a halt. A gap from where the stairs had collapsed prevented him from going any farther. It stretched too wide to jump, and he had nothing to hold on to if he wanted to climb across.

  The vibration of the diseased chased him up the stairs. He looked down the gap in the middle to see at least ten of them, maybe even more. They were still on his tail and they weren’t slowing down.

  Chapter 34

  When the mob reached the point where Spike had been between the second and third floors, he waited and listened. Their snarls and hisses were half-hearted and confused. They’d lost him and they knew it. They must have followed his sound rather than scent; otherwise they’d have smelled him by now. His arms shook from clinging onto the vines on the outside of the building. While holding his breath, he slowly climbed backwards down them.

  Every vine Spike grabbed felt like it could come away in his grip, but they held. Years of melding with the ruined architecture, they covered the old tower like a second skin. Maybe they even kept the thing standing, the symbiosis of entropy.

  The sounds of the diseased remained between the second and third floors. Their conference consisted of snaps, snarls, and groans. Could they communicate with one another? Probably not. They seemed like the ultimate selfish being: driven by a single-minded desire to destroy. Once they’d turned their prey, they returned to their lives of solitude.

  When he got to the first-floor window, the vines thinned too much for him to continue his climb. Spike peered in. As he craned his neck—his body shaking with fatigue—he saw the creatures. They looked to be waiting for a sign as to his whereabouts. Sweating, he slowly stepped back in through the window and onto the first floor. His heart in his mouth, he listened to the creatures above. They still hadn’t twigged.

  Spike walked on tiptoes down the stairs, doing his best to keep his breathing even as he made slow progress towards the ground floor. Twitching spasms ran through his legs, daring him to run, but he fought against the urge.

  At the bend in the stairs halfway between floors, Spike looked up through the middle. The creatures remained in the same spot. How long would they wait? Did they only respond to sound, conserving energy until they had something to chase?

  At the bottom of the stairs, Spike looked back up again. He’d done it. So it must be sound they chased. As long as he kept the noise down, he’d be fine.

  When Spike turned to face the exit, he froze. An involuntary gasp left him to see the creature in the doorway. The beasts above fell silent before screams assaulted him in stereo, from in front and from two floors up. The diseased in front ran at him while those above thundered down.

  In one fluid movement, Spike drew his sword, brought it around, and hacked into the neck of the creature in the doorway. It distorted its scream and it fell, but he hadn’t killed it. He didn’t have time to kill it.

  Dust shaking from the staircase above, Spike jumped the grabbing arm of the creature he’d wounded, and burst back out into the city. Too many to fight, he dipped his head and ran.

  Chapter 35

  Because he didn’t want to lead the diseased to his destination, Spike spent the day losing them. He’d entered many buildings one way and exited another, weaving an untraceable escape from the monsters. It had taken several hours, but when he stopped—his breaths ragged and his throat so dry it bit a sharp pinch every time he swallowed—he listened. Nothing followed him. For the first time that day, nothing followed him.

  A small building close by, Spike saw the doorway blocked with fallen debris. Like many of the buildings in the city, it had vines crawling up its walls. The top missing like with so many others, he climbed the vines. Before he descended the other side, he looked up at the ruins on the hill, the strong sun setting behind them. He’d get there tomorrow. “Hold on, Tilly, I’m coming.”

  After descending the other side, Spike sat in his open-air cell. It reminded him of the hole. Except this time, the diseased couldn’t reach through to him.

  Still no water, Spike chewed on his bread, so dry he found it almost impossible to swallow. He stared up at the slowly darkening sky. No way could he look for Matilda at night. Bad enough when he could see where he was going.

  Once he’d finished eating, his skin cooling as the sweat on it dried, Spike leaned against one of the rough walls and closed his eyes. The tormented scream of the diseased rang through the darkening city like the howling of wolves.

  Chapter 36

  Spike woke to the bright sun shining down on him through the top of the wrecked building like an interrogator’s spotlight. It set fire to his eyes and it took him a few seconds to get his vision back. It helped when it moved behind a grey cloud, dropping the temperature a little. Because of the angle he’d slept at, a sharp pain ran down the right side of his neck and streaked through his back. But at least he’d slept. His mouth tasted like stale bread, his tongue sticking to the roof of it as he swallowed. On top of the pain in his neck and back, every muscle in his body ached, rooting him to the spot. What was he doing here? How could he hope to find Matilda in this mess of a city? Was she even still alive? But he had to check the ruins on the hill. It would be pointless to give up before he’d been there. Also, if he’d managed to survive a night, then she sure as hell had.

  While getting to his feet, Spike did his best to suppress his groan. Not that he’d heard anything outside the walls of the small building, but better to be safe.

  The same vines Spike had used to access the building lined the walls on the inside. After strapping his bread bag around his waist and resheathing his sword, he reached up and grabbed the knotted vines. A tug to test their strength, the entire plant moved but held. He started his climb.

  At the top of the wall, Spike fixed on the ruins on the hill. Matilda had to be there. When they were on the roof of the gym, she’d told him that was where she’d go. It would have taken more than a few diseased to get in her way. But why would she have gone there rather than headed back to Edin? In his haste to get to her, he’d not considered it. Surely if she had the skills to get through the city, she had the skills to get home. As he thought about it, he focused on what he felt in his heart. She was alive. He couldn’t prove it, but he knew it. And even if she hadn’t made it, he had to find evidence before he gave up his search.

  Just before Spike climbed down, he froze. Beneath him, standing on the opposite side of the wall to where he’d slept, stood a diseased. Somehow, the thing hadn’t noticed him yet.

  Spike slowly drew his sword, holding his breath as if it would somehow quiet the action.

  After swinging his legs over so they hung above the beast, Spike counted down from three and slipped off the wall, leading with the tip of his sword. His weight and momentum drove his blade through the top of the creature’s skull. He let go of his weapon, allowing it to fall away with the monster.

  The uneven ground made an unfortunate landing pad, Spike’s foot turning on a rock. He slammed down against his left shoulder, fighting to contain his yell.

  Deep breaths helped, and as Spike got to his feet, he tested his ankle. He could still stand. While riding his rapid pulse, he looked around, leaning down to the dead diseased to retrieve his sword from its new flesh sheath. It came free with a moist squelch.

  After a few seconds of near silence, his senses on high alert, Spike nodded. No other diseased in the area, he gulped again and moved off at a quiet jog in the direction of the ruins on the hill.

  Chapter 37

  For the second time in as many minutes, Spike faced the sky with his mouth open and walked into a large rock. His shin lit up with a sharp pain as he went over the top of it and landed hard. The rough ground tore fire through his palms. Everything aching, he rolled onto his back and opened his mouth like he’d been doing for the past half an hour since it had started raining. It had taken a while to quench his thirst, but he’d now drunk enough of the hot downpour to sate the dry pinch at the back of his throat.

  Spike got to his feet again and looked up the hill. While green and grassy from where nature had taken the city back, now he’d gotten closer to it, he saw it sat upon a base of black rock. The ruins looked hundreds of years old. Thousands even. What would it have looked like back in the day? What had the structure been? It had clearly been built to a higher standard than the thick wall surrounding Edin. Maybe they’d had the luxury of being able to travel for supplies. Everything they built in Edin had to be scavenged by a handful of protectors, or made from what surrounded them. Most of their weapons came from scraps brought back from the ruined city. It was why they broke apart so easily.

  The place certainly had metal in abundance. Spindly rods of steel poked from every fallen structure. The ancients must have used it to strengthen their buildings so they could dominate the skyline.

 

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