Between Fury and Fear: Book eight of Beyond These WallsA Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller
Michael Robertson
Contents
Edited and Cover by …
Copyright
Reader Group
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
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Fury: Book one of Tales From Beyond These Walls - Chapter One
About the Author
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Also by Michael Robertson
Edited and Cover by …
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Edited by:
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Cover design by Dusty Crosley - https://www.deviantart.com/dustycrosley
Copyright
Between Fury and Fear: Book eight of Beyond These Walls
Michael Robertson
© Michael Robertson 2020
Between Fury and Fear: Book eight of 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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Chapter 1
William’s shoulder ached, but he had this. Olga, Max, Gracie, and Artan were behind him. They might have meant to give their support, but they stood in a semicircle of scrutiny, judging his every step as he tiptoed through the long grass. He held his breath, his heart beating in his throat. One step at a time, he edged forwards. The blood drained from his right arm, and it tingled with the threat of pins and needles. But he continued to hold the spear aloft in his tight grip. His too tight grip. The memory of Artan’s teaching rang through his mind. Relax! Be at one with the weapon.
Too much closer and he’d spook the fox. He had to rely on his aim. William’s legs shook as he took his next step, touching down with just the tip of his right toe. He held his balance. Three … Two … He threw the spear. Hard. Thwip!
William’s entire frame sank as he put his heel down. His shot missed the creature by several feet. “Sh—”
But his words were cut off by Olga’s spear. Launched from at least ten feet farther back, it sailed past him. The tip slammed into the side of the fox’s head, went straight through its skull, and pinned it to the soft ground.
Hawk clapped, and Artan slapped Olga on the back as he said, “Good shot.”
William returned to the only job he could do while they were out in the wild lands. He gathered up the legs of the dear Gracie had killed earlier, and he dragged it along with them.
Artan and Hawk jogged over. They each took one end of the creature.
William kept his focus on the ground while saying, “I’m fine.” But he let them lift the deer and lay it along the back of his shoulders.
Hawk walked off while Artan rested a hand on William’s back. “You want me to help you?”
William shook his head. He shivered from where the day had grown long, the wind picking up in the open meadow. “I need to do this. At least it’ll keep me warm, eh?”
The weight of the deer now too much, William stared at Jezebel on the ground. Artan grabbed his weapon too and put it in his right hand. He slapped William’s back. “At least it’s not a stag.”
William rolled his eyes. “Imagine!”
A deep orange glow seared the evening sky, the setting sun obscured by the tall buildings in the ruined city. They’d spent the past few weeks on its periphery, growing stronger through rest and food.
“I think we’ve done enough hunting for the day,” Gracie said.
Every time she spoke, Olga’s face twisted like a mocking child. If Gracie noticed, and if she cared, she hid it well. Her voice chipper, she added, “We really don’t want to be out here when it gets dark.”
They’d been following Gracie’s lead for the past few weeks since they’d left Grandfather Jacks’ palace. Even when they’d stopped to let Matilda rest up so she could heal, Gracie had taken charge. Most of them were comfortable with it. She’d shown them where to hunt, and they’d eaten well. They had food, they had water from a nearby lake, and they had each other. It had been a simple existence and exactly what they’d needed. But the fact remained; they had to move on sooner rather than later.
Gracie took the lead with Artan at her side. They were heading back towards their ruined city. Olga and Hawk were next in line, and William took up the rear, sweating beneath the weight of the deer’s carcass.
While derelict, the city was far more modern than the ruins on the outskirts of Edin. Many of the towers were taller than any buildings William had seen north of the funnel. Some of them stood hundreds of feet tall. Skeletons of what they once were, but they maintained their structural integrity. At night-time, when the wind picked up, the place wailed a haunting symphony. Some nights it kept him awake. He grunted with the effort of carrying the deer. At least he could guarantee one thing: tonight he’d sleep like the dead.
William focused on the ground a few feet ahead of him and fell from one step into the next. The deer pressed down on his shoulders. Aches stabbed the base of his skull, and his head spun. He paused. As had the others.
It came again. A
