The Ruins Book 3: A Dystopian Society in a Post-Apocalyptic World

by T. W. Piperbrook

  Only nightmares.

  Too many mornings, William had woken up first, thinking about setting off with his horse, or just his bag. But he stopped before he did it. He recalled how Bray and Kirby had showed up after the battle of Brighton, or how they'd come for him during the battle of The Arches.

  If he ran, they wouldn't stop looking for him.

  He might get away, but they would keep searching.

  And they might die following him.

  Somehow, staying with them was protecting them, or at least that's what William had convinced himself. Or maybe he was a lonely, infected boy, scared of dying alone. Damn his curse.

  He'd stay with Bray, Kirby, and Cullen until they had to make the decision to kill him. Movement behind William startled him. He turned to find Bray approaching.

  "William? Are you all right?"

  William pulled his hood tighter, hiding his tears. "I'm fine," he said, as he turned.

  "You're upset about Spirit and Blackthorn."

  William nodded without answering.

  "I know you miss them," Bray said. "But it isn't your fault."

  William touched the side of his face, feeling the rough edges of his warts through the fabric of his hood.

  "If it didn't happen then, it might've happened some other time," Bray assured him. "Those men followed us. They snuck up on us. They might have been watching us longer than we know. You can't feel bad about what happened."

  "I know," William said quietly, avoiding Bray's eyes.

  "Why don't you go inside and get some rest? I'll keep watch."

  William nodded, then went back inside the stone building.

  Chapter 8: Kirby

  Morning sunlight crept over the long, sloping hill, sneaking through the cracks between the house's patchwork stones, illuminating William's, Bray's, and Cullen's sleeping figures. Kirby envied their rest. She had spent most of the darkest hours tossing and turning and thinking, certain that attackers would creep from the forest. During her nightly watch, the moonlight canvassed the hill, but it hadn't penetrated the tree line, or anything past it. Too many shadows seemed to be moving in every direction of the dark forest. Occasionally, she'd heard the screech of a mutant, but none came close. Now, standing at the doorway, with dawn on the horizon, she was grateful for the light, and a chance to move farther away from the strange men who had taken too much from what little they had.

  To what?

  Kirby wasn't certain.

  Maybe crumbled, rubble-strewn houses like the one in which they'd spent the night were the best hope. Would it be easier to accept that this was their fate, find a half-ruined house, and fix it, defending the land the best they could?

  Looking at William, she knew things wouldn't get easier. The warts were spreading faster than he was growing. He would spend too many years battling off danger to enjoy what little was left of his childhood. Maybe it was time to find a place from which they didn't have to depart each morning, before the earliest birds broke into song.

  Looking at the house in which they'd rested, she didn't hate it. A place like this might be good enough to keep for a while.

  Perhaps not this house, but another.

  Bray cracked his eyes, sitting up. "I'm alive," he grumbled. "No thanks to the savages who attacked us. I guess I'll find breakfast."

  "I already found some," Kirby said, holding up a rabbit in her hand that she'd caught, after the sun broke.

  "I knew there was a reason I brought you along."

  Kirby smiled. "How is your leg?"

  "It is sore, as I expected," Bray said. "It will heal and become a scar, as with most wounds. Until a wound kills me."

  "Hopefully you will be old and grizzled before that happens."

  "I think you would miss me, if I died," Bray said with a grin.

  "Perhaps."

  Kirby padded over to William. He had fallen asleep with his back to the others, next to a pile of rocks he'd cleared. His hood was pulled firmly over his face. His gun lay beside him. Crouching, she patted his arm.

  "William?" she whispered.

  She backed off a step, waiting for William to reacquaint to where he was. He rolled and looked at her with a clarity she only saw first thing in the morning, before the horrors of his past and the pain of his condition caught up to him.

  "Are we safe?" he asked.

  "We're safe," she assured him. "How did you sleep?"

  "Okay."

  He turned so he wasn't facing her. Movement behind her caught her attention. She was surprised to find Cullen awake and looking at her. The thin blanket they'd lent him lay next to him, unused. His hair stuck up at odd angles. He scrambled to his feet, scurried over to the door, and peered out into the emerging sunlight. Kirby regarded him. They hadn't spoken about how long Cullen would stay with them, but as long as he provided another set of eyes to keep watch, and another set of hands to help with things, she had no intention of forcing him to leave. Besides, she felt sorry for him. He had lost his brothers, his home, and the land with which he was familiar. He was more similar to her than she first realized.

  Cullen's clothes were so loose it looked as if he might shrivel inside of them and disappear. Parts of them hung off in tattered strips of fabric that looked as if they might tear away at any moment.

  "We should find you some better clothes," Kirby told him.

  Cullen glanced down at his naked, filthy skin. "I didn't think I would live long enough to care. Maybe we will find some on the way."

  Hearing the conversation, William sat up and said, "I have an extra shirt." He dug through his pack, pulling out a spare garment he'd taken from The Arches. "It is a little large for me."

  Slipping on a piece of clothing that didn't fit perfectly, but fit well enough, Cullen said, "Thank you." He glanced at William, trying not to stare, but obviously having trouble. "I hope you aren't offended by what I said about you when we met. It's just that I've never seen someone talk with your condition." Cullen pried his eyes away from William.

  William shrugged, looking as if he wanted to escape the attention. "And I've never met a man who lives in the tunnels," he said, with youthful honesty. He remained quiet a moment, before asking, "Have you known many infected?"

  "Only a few."

  "What do you do with them?"

  Cullen looked as if he was caught in a question with no good answer. He looked at Bray and Kirby, but neither stopped him from responding. There was no use in hiding anything from William. They never had. "Over time, some of them grew confused, and we were able to lead them away in a ritual we called The Walk," Cullen said. "But that wasn't possible with all, or even most of them."

  "What happened to those you couldn't lead away?" William asked.

  "We took them away forcibly," Cullen said, quickly adding, "We didn't harm them."

  "Did they come back?"

  "If they did, we never saw them." Cullen looked grave. "Most of our people hide in the spring and fall, when the spores float on the wind, hoping we aren't infected. We cover our faces, though it doesn't always work."

  "Our people tried that, too," William said with sadness. "Eventually, they accepted that the spore was the will of the gods, and they stopped fighting it."

  An uncomfortable silence settled over the room as Cullen stared at his dirt-stained fingers, and William looked away.

  "We should probably get moving, while we are fortunate," Kirby said. "We can eat our breakfast once we get out of the house and into the forest."

  **

  Before leaving, they scattered some rocks over the floor in the dwelling, obscuring traces of their stay, and then they hiked from the building down the long, sun-covered slope, heading farther south.

  The rising sun warming Kirby's face was certainly preferable to bitter cold, but that didn't quell her uneasiness. Months of travel in a saddle, high above the ground, left her feeling vulnerable on foot. It was strange traveling without horses. There was less of a chance of outrunning an attack by more mutants�
��or men.

  "We should keep heading away from the city," Bray reinforced. "Perhaps The Clickers are territorial."

  Cullen nodded, but he looked sad.

  "What's wrong?" Bray asked.

  "I'm thinking about the others."

  "Your brothers?"

  "Not them. They died. I heard their screams." Cullen swallowed. "Our neighbors, the others that lived in the forests. I am afraid they met the same fate."

  "Perhaps they heard danger, and escaped," Kirby suggested.

  "I hope that is true. Some day, I will go back and search for them." Cullen's shoulders sagged and guilt crossed his face.

  Turning around meant death.

  They all knew it.

  The slope segued gently down into forest as thick, leafy trees surrounded them. They kept to the thickest areas of the woods, holding branches instead of snapping them off, avoiding streambeds, or areas of thick moss, where a boot might leave a track. They traveled for another day and another night, stopping only long enough to sleep and build small cooking fires. They had long passed any place of which Cullen had knowledge.

  Trees surrounded them as they set off on a new morning, under an auburn sky and a rising sun. Bugs circled their heads, nipping at their bare skin. The air was already humid.

  "The bugs are much more persistent than the ones up north," Bray said, swatting away a buzzing gnat.

  "And larger," Kirby answered.

  They walked in a single line, following a trodden game trail, until they reached a sparser area of woods, and spread out. A long, grassy field appeared through the trees. Stopping long enough to catch a squirrel, they built a small fire at the edge of the tree line, ate a quick breakfast, and rested. Ahead of them, the broad field of brown grass extended as far as the eye could see, going up a slight incline. They were putting out the fire when William spoke up.

  "Over there!" He pointed.

  Kirby followed his finger. Deep in the distance, a few hundred feet away, the top of some stone structure was just visible through the sun's rising glare, rising above the hill. Finishing with the fire, they hiked toward it.

  "What is it?" Bray asked, as they got closer.

  "Some sort of building," Kirby said, as they made their way up the slope.

  "The remains of one," William clarified.

  The structure came into view the closer they got, enough so that Kirby could decipher some of its features. The stone—perhaps once a building—was now three enormous beams. Two were evenly spaced and rose high into the air, while another connected them at the top, forming a door-shaped structure with nothing in the middle, or around it. Somehow, the weathered frame had outlasted the rest of whatever building had accompanied it. All around the enormous door was large, rocky rubble. The same tall, brown grass that covered the field grew around it.

  "It is tall enough that a giant could go through it," Kirby mused as they got close.

  "A giant?" William asked.

  "A very tall person, many times larger and wider than any of us," Kirby said. "Clearly you do not have the same stories."

  "I haven't heard that one," William admitted, marveling at the enormous entrance. "Is it true?"

  Kirby shook her head and smiled.

  Thinking on it further, William said, "But some of our stories are proven true, like the stories of the Tech Magic that you showed us how to use. And to you, horses were legend."

  "A fair point. But I do not think the large people exist," Kirby said with a half-smile. "More than likely, this was an important building, important enough that it deserved such a magnificent entrance."

  "And now it is just a door," William said with a shrug.

  "Perhaps it means there is a city nearby," Bray suggested.

  They walked around some of the rubble, marveling at the strong, stone structure, which was many times taller than either of them. Birds circled and cawed around the top, or perched on its ledges.

  "My father had a superstition about doors," Bray said.

  "Oh?" Kirby asked.

  "He believed you should utter a prayer to the gods before walking through them. Too many Wardens were shot, or struck down, when they walked into a building. He considered them bad luck."

  "Do you believe the same?"

  Bray shrugged and smiled. "Some of my father's stories were hokum. When I got older, I became smart enough to know which was which."

  Walking around the nearest, enormous beam, William said, "My mother believed doors are lucky. Perhaps this door will lead us to something better."

  "Or at least farther away from those men," Bray muttered.

  With several large, determined steps, William stepped from one side of the massive doorway to the other.

  "Perhaps you were right about the city," Cullen said, calling their attention elsewhere, as he pointed south at the horizon.

  It took a moment for Kirby to see to what he was referring. The ground sloped downward, turning from field to forest, with trees spackling the landscape. But trees weren't the only things beyond that slope. Deep in the distance, a single, tall building rose majestically above the skyline.

  "Maybe the door is lucky, William," Cullen said.

  "Is that a building?" William asked, putting his hand above his brow to block the morning glare.

  "I think it is," Bray said.

  Kirby cupped her eyes, looking.

  "Another tower," Bray said, with a tone that showed his hesitation. "Maybe another city we cannot see from here."

  "Something is different, though," William said, walking forward as if he could discern more from a single step.

  "What do you mean?" Kirby asked.

  "Most of the buildings are crumbled at the top. But not that one." William walked farther, looking. "Do you see the edges? They are sharper than any I've seen. And it seems to shimmer in the sun's light."

  "It is probably the distance," Bray said with authority. "You cannot see the defects from here, and there is too much glare from the rising sun. I'm sure it is just as crumbled as the other buildings we've come across."

  "I am telling you, something is different," William insisted. "It looks like it is glowing. Maybe it is the city of the giants." Wonder filled his voice.

  Kirby wasn't foolish enough to believe his words, and she certainly didn't believe in giants, but she couldn't deny that something seemed different about the building. Before anyone could say anything, William moved. Grass whipped against the others' pants as they followed. William hiked as if some invisible force spurred him onward. With each step, he traveled faster, forcing them to keep up.

  "I think that building is farther away than you think," Bray warned. "It will take us some time to get there."

  "I know," William said, but he was clearly focused. "But I want to see what it is."

  William's enthusiasm was contagious.

  Kirby couldn't deny it.

  The building was intriguing.

  Chapter 9: Kirby

  They moved at a cautious speed as they reentered the relative safety of the forest, scaring up small animals, and a few birds that cawed as they burst from the overhead boughs. Kirby looked for markings on the hard ground, but she couldn't tell if anyone had traveled this way in a while.

  Seeing the tall building seemed to have sparked something in William. Gone was the depressed, forlorn boy who had lamented the horses, or spent hours in silence. He moved as if he hadn't spent the previous days running from merciless monsters. He moved as if he weren't an infected boy without a future, but a young man on the verge of discovery.

  Even Cullen, who was clearly exhausted, trekked at a faster pace, hope in his steps.

  They followed the forest for most of the morning, finding a few piles of mutant dung, and some bent branches. They didn't see any signs of humans, though. If people lived in the building they'd seen, Kirby couldn't envision it.

  The forest slowly thinned.

  Eventually, they saw the outline of the gigantic building through the trees, unmistaka
bly the one they'd seen from the hill. William moved faster again as the building grew in prominence.

  They halted at the tree line, on a small hill.

  No one spoke.

  Beyond the tree line and the hill, a patch of grass extended from the forest for a hundred feet. Past it, green corn stalks rose up higher than any of their heads, thick and planted in rows that went almost all the way to the building.

  They'd reached what had unmistakably been a city.

  Or still was.

  Beyond the magnificent building, a few more edifices rose into the sky, though none were as grand as the first. The other buildings were behind a wall that extended out from either side of the shimmering building, in the structure's midpoint. The building was clearly the central point of this place, whatever it was, but the wall coming out from its sides prevented a view of most of what was behind it.

  The towering, central edifice speared the sky, with sides smoother than most buildings Kirby had seen. Sunlight gleamed off the windows, which extended up and down the building's sides. Awe filled her as she realized how many were protected by glass, except for those on the first few floors, which were covered by stone from inside. She saw the tops of a barricade of boulders that seemed to extend across the building's bottom floor, protecting it. The building wasn't flawless, but it was maintained better than anything Kirby had seen since her homeland.

  "By the gods," Cullen whispered, as he stared.

  "That building has glass!" Bray said, shaking his head in awe as he pointed at the upper floors.

  "And not just a few windows, like the richest people in Brighton," William said. "I can see the gleaming everywhere!"

  "Incredible," Cullen said, looking as if he'd never seen such a spectacle. "You were right about the building, William. It is different."

  "Look over there!" William said, pointing in another direction. "What are those?"

  A ways between them and the building, on either side, two enormous, turning devices rose above the cornfield. A single sheet of metal led up to the round center of each, which was surrounded by blades that turned in the wind.