The Wall (Colony B Book 1)

  THE WALL

  Colony B - Book I

  by

  Mikey Campling

  You Are Not Alone

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Get Your Free Starter Library

  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

  Thank You For Reading

  Now Claim Your Free Books

  Coming Soon

  Also by Mikey Campling

  Connect With the Author

  About the Author

  Copyright

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  This book is dedicated to all those who know that when we work together, we can build a world without walls.

  Mikey Campling

  mikeycampling.com

  Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.

  ― Maya Angelou

  CHAPTER 1

  The Hill

  A BIRTH. AND THE PARTY THAT NIGHT was bigger than usual. Everyone gathered in the square as if hoping to share the glory. The women queued up to peer in at the baby, then they shared smiles and said, “Perfect.” The men mostly stayed farther away, huddling in groups around the bonfire and giving each other sideways looks. “Wait and see,” they said and cracked a couple kegs of groundweed beer. Calum Davey slipped in among the drinkers, keeping an eye out for an unguarded mug. He caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye, but before he could react, someone grabbed his right arm and spun him around.

  “Got you! You little bastard!” Mac leaned over Calum, his face too close. The man’s florid face seemed huge, his greasy black beard matted, his straggly hair a wild and tangled mess. Mac breathed out and Calum flinched at the stench of stale beer and rancid meat. “What are you doing here?” Mac slurred. “Think you can hang out with the men, is that it?”

  “Get off me, you jerk.” Calum struggled to pull his arm free from Mac’s fingers, but the older man had a grip like a dirt python, and he wasn’t letting go.

  Mac laughed, sending fresh waves of foul breath into Calum’s face. “Why should I? Unless you’re going to make me—is that what you’re saying?”

  “Just leave me alone,” Calum said. “I’m sixteen, I’m old enough to have a beer, aren’t I?”

  “Old enough, yes. Man enough, no.”

  Calum stopped struggling and looked Mac in the eye. “You’d better back off before my dad—”

  Mac didn’t let him finish. “Oh, going to set your old man on me. The mighty cock of the roost.” He lowered his voice to a growling whisper. “You know, I think I might enjoy that.”

  “No, you wouldn’t,” Calum said. “But I fight my own battles.” He lunged forward, forcing Mac’s arm back, and turned his body to break the older man’s grip. With his left hand, he grabbed the knife at Mac’s belt and pulled it from its sheath. Then he spun clear of Mac’s reach and held the knife ready, making sure to use the reverse grip his sister had shown him, the cutting edge facing his enemy. Evade, disarm, disable—Siobhan had drilled the phrase into his mind, and now Calum narrowed his eyes, searching out his opponent’s greatest weakness. Mac was a big man and strong; he relied on his size and bulk to intimidate. The beer would make him unpredictable, but it would also slow him down and make him clumsy. I’m faster than him, Calum told himself. I have to be smarter too.

  “You little bastard,” Mac spluttered. He leaped forward, arms outstretched, but Calum sidestepped, and Mac’s momentum carried him forward, his grasping hands closing on thin air.

  Before his opponent could turn, Calum kicked out low and hard, aiming for the big man’s kneecap. But he mistimed it, and his boot only connected with Mac’s shin. “Shit!” Calum hissed. It wasn’t enough to put the man down.

  Mac roared and tried to spin around, but the beer must’ve done its work on Mac’s motor neurons, and he stumbled and lost his balance, staggering backward. He crashed into a group of men, his flailing arms knocking the mugs from their hands, then he fell, landing flat on his back at the men’s feet.

  “For Christ’s sake!”

  “Mac, you asshole!”

  One of the men aimed a kick at Mac’s side. Another turned to glare, looking for someone to blame. Calum dropped his hand to his side, letting the knife slip silently to the ground. “Don’t blame me,” he said. “Stupid jerk can’t hold his beer.” The man nodded then looked back at Mac, watching him struggle to his knees.

  Calum took his chance and darted away from the fire and into the darkness at the edge of the settlement. He spotted a familiar outcrop of rock and pressed himself against it, leaning his back against the cold stone. No one would bother him out here. He was safe.

  He looked back toward the fire and smiled. Mac had found a new way to occupy his time. The men he’d barged into did not like his attitude. They formed a circle around him, and the more Mac yelled and tried to push them away, the more they jeered and pushed back. There he goes, Calum thought, turning on the charm. “Stupid bastard,” he whispered.

  “Yeah, he is.”

  Calum tensed, ready to push away from the rock. He should’ve kept hold of Mac’s knife. A dark shape moved towards him. A man, no—a group. There were four or five of them. Someone snickered and said, “Sorry, did we make you jump?”

  Calum swallowed. What now? But then, a voice he recognized: “Ah, leave him alone.”

  Calum breathed a sigh of relief. “Siobhan, what are you doing out here?” He watched his sister separate from the group and walk toward him.

  “We were here first,” Siobhan said, and she was close enough for Calum to make out her smile.

  “We?” He peered over Siobhan’s shoulder, but her companions stayed in the shadows.

  “Just me and a few friends,” Siobhan said. “You know, just chilling out. Getting out of the settlement for a while.”

  Calum shrugged. “Yeah, me too.”

  “Really? So you being out here has got nothing to do with dropping that old bastard McIntyre to his knees then?”

  Calum winced. Busted! He should’ve known better than to try and put one over on Siobhan. “It wasn’t my fault. He started it. He just picked on me for no reason.”

  “And you weren’t creeping around trying to sneak a mug of beer from under his nose?”

  Calum’s mouth hung open.

  “Not very smart, kiddo,” Siobhan said. “You know what Dad told you about that beer—it’ll rot your brain and you’ll wind up like Mac.”

  “Listen, Shiv, you won’t tell Dad will you?”

  Siobhan pursed her lips. “I might not mention it. Depends on how good you are at forgetting.”

  “Forgetting what?”

  Siobhan flashed him a wicked grin. “Me and my friends are just taking a little walk, but maybe later, if anyone asks whether you saw anyone out here, you might not remember. Understand?”

  Calum nodded vigorously. “Okay. No problem. I never saw you.” He returned his sister’s smile. It was a fair deal. If his dad knew about the fight there’d be a punishment for Calum, no matter what the rights and wrongs of it. But if he knew Siobhan was out on the h
illside and heading away from the settlement after dark, his dad would be furious, even though at eighteen, Siobhan was old enough to do as she pleased.

  “That’s settled then,” Siobhan said. “You go back now, and stay out of trouble. I’ll see you later.” She patted Calum on the shoulder then turned and walked back to her friends. Calum heard some anxious muttering, then Siobhan said, “It’s all right, he’s cool, don’t worry about it.”

  Calum raised his arm and waved, but the group disappeared into the shadows. They could’ve taken me with them, he thought. They could’ve let me hang around with them. Calum sniffed. He was only a year and a bit younger than Siobhan anyway. Maybe it would be different when he hit his seventeenth birthday. Maybe not.

  He started back toward the bonfire. There was no sign of Mac, and the party atmosphere had returned. Calum loitered on the edge of the firelight, listening to the rhythm of chatter and laughter. He skirted around the groups of men and mingled with the women and children. The high-pitched squeals and laughter of the children rang out in the still night air, and a few people had spread sheets of tarp on the ground and were sharing food. A young woman was playing guitar, her audience clapping along and joining in with the singing.

  Calum smiled to himself. This was his world, his life. And all this fuss and excitement was to welcome the newest member of their community, to celebrate the start of a new life that would be lived out here on the hill. It was a small world, but that was how it had to be. After all, where else was there to go?

  Calum looked down at his hands, turning them over in the glow of the firelight to see the pale scars. Grunge burns. They all had them, from the oldest member of the council to the kids who’d been born in the settlement. But he couldn’t complain about a few marks on his hands; at least they weren’t on his face. And his scars were less severe than those suffered by most people. That doesn’t stop the damned things from itching. He pushed the thought away. Scratching his scars would only make them itch even more, and his mom wouldn’t have much sympathy if he woke her up in the night, begging for a cup of her herb tea. But she’d still make it for him just the same. I should go and find her, he told himself. She might be getting worried.

  Calum headed toward the group enjoying their picnic. If there was food on offer, his mom would be there lending a hand.

  Sure enough, his mom was at the center of the group, sharing out food and offering it around. He watched her for a moment while she fussed over someone else’s toddler. She laughed and handed the child a drink, then she smiled and wiped the toddler’s T-shirt with a cloth when he promptly spilled most of his drink down his front. Another child, a girl of six or seven years old, tugged at his mom’s sleeve, calling her name at the top of his voice: “Helen, Helen, come and see, come and see.” His mom held up her hands in surrender, then suddenly, her mood changed. She seemed to sense Calum was watching, and when she snapped her head around she locked eyes with him immediately, giving him a shrewd look. Oh great, Calum thought. She’s heard about Mac already. He made his face a mask of innocence and gave her a tiny wave. For a moment, Calum recalled the way she used to beckon him when he was little, back on the ship: whenever she’d used his full name and crooked her finger, he’d known he was in trouble. She wasn’t going to do that now was she?

  Calum held his breath, but perhaps his mom hadn’t heard about the fight after all because she tilted her head to one side and gave him a smile, then she gestured toward the food, inviting him over.

  He looked at the mob of little children swarming over the food, and he grimaced. Yeah right, he thought, go and sit with all those knee-biters? No way. But his stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten a thing since the handful of long peas he’d harvested for lunch, and his mom made the best food in the settlement.

  Calum shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged over to his mom. When he looked back toward the fire he noticed Erin standing around with a group of girls, and she glanced in his direction. The firelight glittered in her dark eyes and gave a warm halo to her chocolate-colored hair. Oh man! Calum thought. I should go over and say hi or something. But he was already too near to his mom; he couldn’t just veer off suddenly and head toward Erin, it would look very uncool. He pulled himself up to his full height and concentrated on putting one foot in front of another. If he looked as foolish as he felt, he had no chance of impressing a girl like Erin. But when he looked back toward her, she gave him a warm smile, and his heart beat double-time against his ribs.

  He grinned and lifted his chin, but before he could wave or call out to her, she looked away, suddenly intent on her friends and their conversation. Calum’s smile dropped. What the hell does that mean? Does she like me or not?

  Something grabbed Calum’s leg, and he stumbled to a halt. He hadn’t been looking where he was going, and a small boy, maybe four or five years old, had latched onto his leg. “Hey! You got my leg.”

  “Cal!” the little boy shouted. “Come and play with me. Come and play.”

  Calum bent down and gently released his leg from the boy’s strong little fingers. “Hello, erm…kid. I can’t play just now. I’ve got to go and have something to eat.”

  “Oh, okay.” The boy laughed and ran away, squealing with excitement.

  Calum sat down on the tarp, next to his Mum. “Who was that kid?”

  “That’s Jake—Sean’s little brother.”

  “Oh, yeah. I didn’t recognize him. I haven’t been around to Sean’s house for a while.”

  “Where have you been, Cal?” Helen asked.

  Calum lifted his left shoulder in a half shrug, but Helen held up her hand to cut him off. “Never mind.” She gave him a knowing smile. “So long as you’re safe and sound.” She sighed and reached to one side, pulling a metal lunchbox from under the edge of the tarp. “Guess what—I’ve saved you some of the best food.” She held the box out to him. “Go on. Open it. There’s meat.”

  Calum took the lunchbox and lifted the lid carefully. “Two!” He grabbed the crow bone with one hand and the hunk of cold snake meat with the other. It was almost too much. Almost too good to eat. But then again, it would be a terrible shame to waste such riches.

  He sank his teeth into the crow meat, and for a moment, he wondered which of the flock he was eating. It was his job to take care of the ungainly bird-like creatures, and despite their mottled leathery wings and strange scaly faces, he’d grown attached to his charges. But then the rich, fatty taste of the roast crow skin hit his taste buds, and he didn’t care. Man, if only we could have meat every week.

  “So,” Helen said, “did you see your sister tonight?”

  “Yeah.” Calum ripped a piece of meat from the bone, nibbling it carefully to scrape every morsel into his mouth.

  “Didn’t want you tagging along eh?”

  “As usual.” Calum stopped chewing and glanced at his mom. He hadn’t meant to let Siobhan’s secret slip, but the meat had put everything else from his mind. He swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Mom, is it true what they’re saying about the baby?”

  “Ah, she’s a precious little thing,” Helen said. “Just like you were—a long time ago.” She ruffled his hair.

  “Get off,” he grumbled. “You know what I mean. Has it got no…no scars? None at all?”

  “As far as I know,” Helen replied. “It’s great, isn’t it? Maybe things are looking up.” She studied Calum’s face. “Why do you ask?”

  “I just wondered. Maybe the grunge isn’t so strong or something. Maybe it’ll change and we can go down.”

  Helen took a deep breath. “Off the hill you mean?” She shook her head slowly. “No, I’m afraid not. Not for a long time. A very, very long time.”

  “But if the baby—”

  “No, Calum. The baby…well, that’s great news. But it just means that we’re safe where we are. We’ve been so careful and this shows that we’re doing the right things to survive on this planet. It’s working, Cal. And that makes everything worthw
hile.”

  “Oh.” Calum looked at the crow bone in his hand. The small bone glistened, picked clean. He’d finished it already. He should’ve concentrated on it, enjoyed it more.

  Helen laid her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Cal. But we’re together here, and we’re healthy and we’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “It’s different for your generation. You don’t seem to remember what it was like when we arrived.”

  “Not this again, Mom,” Calum protested. “I was almost twelve years old—I remember plenty. I remember the ship and the sleep pods. I definitely remember waking up after we landed, and I remember when we had to stay inside all the time—when we all lived in the habs.” He grinned. “I remember when we had sugar.”

  Helen smiled. “All you think about is your stomach.” She looked Calum in the eye and her smile faded. “You’ve grown up so fast, but you were still a child back then. I don’t think you and Siobhan minded staying inside, but for those of us who went out to clear the hill and make it safe, it wasn’t easy. Things were harder than you realize.”

  “I guess so.”

  “It wasn’t just the grunge. I mean, we had to wear our suits all the time when we were outside, but most of the problems, you know, they were really…” She broke off and gave Calum an apologetic grin. “I’m sorry, I’m lecturing you again, and this is supposed to be a party.” She smiled. “How’s the crow?”

  “Yeah, it’s good.” Calum licked the grease from his lips. “Real good.”

  “That’s all right then.” Helen raised her chin and watched the crowd by the bonfire. “Things aren’t so bad. We have this place fixed up. We have the wall, and we have shelter and enough food. We can make a go of it here—I’m sure of it. It’s hard work, but it’s worth it to keep us all together. To keep us all safe.”

  Calum nodded at his mom’s familiar words, then gave the crow bone a final inspection, scraping off a scrap of sinew and chewing it. “The crow—was it the brown one?”

  “Hmm? Oh, yes. The brown bird. She was getting old.”

  “I thought so. She’d stopped laying.”