The Ruins Box Set

by T. W. Piperbrook

  A few shadows in the darkness nodded.

  “An attack before dawn will ensure that the guards are groggy from sleep, or hung over from drink,” Giovanni said, parroting Bray’s earlier idea.

  “What about the guards’ families?” asked a shadow in the front row.

  “Many of the wives and children do not understand the pain the guards cause, or they benefit too much to see past it,” Clara said. “We will do our best to keep the families quiet and contained, but it is possible we will face some situations.”

  “This is a war. There will be casualties,” Drew said simply.

  “Perhaps we can lock the families in their houses to protect them,” the shadowy figure suggested.

  “It is a nice thought, and certainly something to strive for,” Drew said. “But the realities of a battle won’t match what we plan. It is your job to make sure the other people around you are safe.”

  Kirby nodded gravely as she thought of Esmeralda, and some of the other quiet victims of the guard’s abuse. War had many victims. Hopefully they could minimize the bloodshed of the innocent.

  “We have enough among us to outnumber the guards by two to one,” Clara continued. “That is not an exact ratio, of course. For those guards who live in pairs, we will assign more of you. We will maximize our odds. Whatever happens, it is imperative that we do not allow the guards anywhere near the gate. We cannot allow them to warn The Gifted.”

  “Ideally, we take out most of the guards before anyone in The Learning Building is awake,” James said. “By keeping the battle away from the gate and the walls, our hope is to eliminate riling up any of The Plagued Ones. As you know, there is a possibility some might scale the walls. We will need to watch for that.”

  “Once we kill the guards, we will collect their weapons,” Clara said. “Their long knives will give us even better odds.”

  A shadow person adjusted in one of the back rows, speaking over the people in front. “What if The Gifted are alerted as we fight the guards?”

  “It is a risk,” Drew admitted. “But the cover of darkness will give us some leeway. Most in the building cannot hear what goes on here. It is simply too high.”

  “I can verify that is true,” Kirby agreed.

  Another shadowy figure interrupted, following up on the other’s question. “What about the other slaves? We do not know what they will do. What if they decide to fight us?”

  “Many are our friends, our families, or our acquaintances from the field, or the shops, as you know,” Clara said. “I do not think they will throw themselves in harm’s way to save the men who beat them. Once they see what we are doing, hopefully they will join us. They will not choose to side with dead men.”

  “By the time many realize what is happening, hopefully the guards will be dead,” Drew added.

  “What then?” one of the shadows asked, shifting nervously in the dark.

  “That is the next part of our plan,” Clara said. “I will defer to Kirby to explain.”

  All of the shadows, even the inquisitive ones, fell silent as they swiveled to face Kirby. Looking out over the silhouetted crowd, Kirby realized that she was probably a stranger to most. But they had an unspoken bond stronger than casual conversations or handshakes.

  “I do not know all of you, but I know your pain,” Kirby started. “I felt it the second I was enslaved here, along with the rest of you. This is not the first time I have been the property of another. For too many years, I suffered at the hands of people who treated me like an animal. I was forced into wars that benefited all except me. A life of enslavement is a fate suited for no one. A few days ago, most of you watched me fight against my friend, for the sake of the bloodthirsty guards. I will not allow that to happen again, to any of you.”

  A ripple of quiet enthusiasm spread across the crowd.

  “We have a bond that is stronger than most people who live in the wild. We will fight together, so that we can gain our freedom.”

  A few hushed, excited whispers permeated the shadows.

  “You have heard our plan for the guards. Once we have beaten them, we have a plan for The Plagued Ones.” Kirby paused. “As you know, the guards keep the bells for The Plagued Ones, and the keys to the gates, on them. We will take those bells and keys to the courtyard. We will use the bells to lure The Plagued Ones into the Feeding Pen, once the guards are defeated. We will mimic the guard’s orders and trap them, before we enact the next part of our plan.”

  A slight hesitation went through the crowd.

  “Only the guards can use the bells,” said someone. “The Plagued Ones will not listen. They will kill us!”

  “We believe the bells, not the people, drive their instincts,” Drew took over. “I think the ritual is so ingrained in them that it will not matter.”

  “What about Rudyard?” asked the first person to speak up, again. “He controls them. He is the reason they stay in line.”

  “I do not believe his presence is necessary,” Kirby said, making the argument Bray had sold her on all those days ago. “Once they enter the gate, they will head for the Feeding Pen, out of habit. They will obey their instincts for food. Our words might not even be necessary. We will stock the pen full of corn, so they will go inside and feed. We will close the door and contain them.”

  “They are used to feeding at night,” said another shadow. “This plan will be in the morning.”

  “It will be at a different time, yes. Our hope is to get The Plagued Ones away before Rudyard realizes what is happening. They will follow the bells to their food.”

  A few more people shifted, unconvinced.

  “Most of you have prepared to fight a revolt for months,” Kirby said. “Has there ever been a scenario where you did not expect to fight The Plagued Ones?”

  A few people conferred with one another, but no one disputed her.

  “If we succeed, we will have The Plagued Ones contained,” Clara said, reinforcing Kirby’s words. “If not, we will be prepared to fight them on our terms. Ideally, we will have many more slaves—free men and women—ready to join us. We will have the guard’s long knives, and our weapons. We will be in a position that none of us would have ever dreamed, with the guards alive.”

  More in the crowd agreed as they heard unity in the leaders.

  “If we fail with the mutants, we have another option in place,” Kirby took back over. “We have found a path that might provide refuge, if we need it, through a mountain pass to the east. As we prepare to enact the plan, a group of us will work on breaking a hole through the eastern wall, large enough to fit several people through at once. We will have a backup strategy, should we need it. If we succeed, we will move on to the final phase.”

  “Our goal is to take New City as our own,” Clara clarified, capping the discussion. “But this gives us another option.”

  “What is the last part of the strategy?” asked one of the shadows.

  “We will storm The Gifted’s building,” Kirby said resolutely. “We will have hundreds of people at our side—perhaps more, once others join us—to take down the ten of them. My friend, William, the boy most of you have probably heard or whispered about, is inside. We will free him, and take The Gifted’s weapons as our own. Once we have the building, we will have a stronghold to defend. We can pick off The Plagued Ones from the balcony, or however we choose. We will have the numbers—and the weapons—to succeed.”

  More of the initial excitement returned as the crowd envisioned an end to their enslavement.

  “The gods know we have suffered enough,” Drew told the crowd. “But if our fight is blessed, we will live out our lives in freedom, rather than under the heel of a guard’s boot, or under The Gifteds’ disdain. We will raise our families and our flasks in a city that is ours.”

  “Let us fight for our freedom, the way we pledged to each other when we started this group,” Clara said, finalizing the plan. “Let us turn New City into a place of which we can be proud.”

  M
urmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.

  Kirby looked out over the crowd of shadows, waiting for an argument, or a dissenter. None spoke out. They were all here for a reason. They knew what had to be done.

  “Over the next few days, we will have a group working on the escape route Kirby mentioned,” Giovanni said. “We will break a hole in the wall large enough to fit a few of us at a time. When we are finished, we will pass the word among us. We will let you know the night before we are to act. This will be our last meeting in hiding. Hopefully the next time we meet, we will be free.”

  “To our freedom!” Clara said, in a voice loud enough to inspire, but not to be heard outside of the small, dark courtyard in which they met.

  The Shadow People raised their hands in the air, expressing their excitement.

  With the meeting concluded, Kirby looked around her at the faces of the leaders in the dark.

  “Here,” Drew said, beckoning to the pile of weapons they had gotten out before the meeting. “You can help us pass them out. We will give four per person, so they can distribute them among their neighbors.”

  Reaching down, Kirby passed the weapons into one sweaty hand after another. She was surprised, but probably shouldn’t have been, to see Teddy’s face in the moonlight as he came up to receive a shank from her. They shared a look of resolve that needed no interpretation. A little later, a shaggy-haired man she had seen only a few times came up to meet her.

  Gabe.

  Gabe gave her a solemn, haunted nod in the moonlight. Neither had to speak about the battles they had endured in the courtyard. Theirs was a shared pain.

  The next time they saw each other, hopefully they would be fighting alongside one another.

  Chapter 54: William

  William crouched near the balcony railing under the light of the moon. He smiled as he heard hisses and smelled the familiar scent of his brothers.

  “Here you go,” he whispered, projecting his voice enough so the twisted men below could hear him, as he had the previous handful of nights. They were acclimating nicely.

  William dropped a few pieces of meat from the balcony, watching the shadows converge. A few hissed as they fought for the meager scraps of food. Finishing, they clawed at the rocks at the bottom of the building, as if they might scale the tower’s bulky barricade. They listened, but they were restless. That gave him a hint of trepidation that he was trying to see past.

  “I know this isn’t enough,” William said, repeating some of his similar mantras. “But we can get more together. I promise. All you have to do is listen to me.”

  A few upturned, bulbous heads looked up at him. In the moonlight, he saw a few glinting eyes. William reached into his robe, pulling out a few more pieces of meat and dropping it down to eager hands.

  He stood, making sure the demons saw his robe as he threw down the last bits of his saved breakfast and lunch. He had eaten only enough to give him strength, saving the rest for his brothers. With each bite he fed them over the past few days, the demons grew to anticipate the sound of his voice, looking up to him, the way they had done so many times in the forest. But still, he hesitated.

  He was worried.

  The commands of The Gifted were ingrained in them. How well would they respond, when confronted with the voices of their old masters? Six rounds of his gun wouldn’t stave off that many sets of biting teeth, if the demons decided they had enough of his placating words.

  William looked past the demons, to the empty cornfields, and to the dirt path that was mostly hidden under the cloudy night sky. He remembered that first trip up the path with Rudyard, when he and his friends had entered New City, armed with more guns than he had now.

  If only they had kept hold of them.

  But even that wouldn’t be enough.

  A piece of that conversation came drifting back, as William looked out over the crops and the heads of the waiting demons. He remembered Rudyard’s concern as he made sure to take their weapons.

  “I will not lie. We are bothered by the items you carry, the guns. They upset The Plagued Ones.”

  Of course, they did.

  William perked up, clutching the railing as an idea took root. He might have another piece to his plan.

  He might have a use for the gun, after all.

  Chapter 55: Kirby

  Kirby dipped her hands in the wash bucket, cleaning dirt away from her calloused hands as she looked around her squalid hovel. Since the meeting, she had worked with her head down, neither talking nor looking at anyone, hoping to avoid another dangerous encounter. A new, sharpened shank accompanied her wherever she went. She envisioned all the other Shadow People going about their business, anticipating what they were about to do. Every so often, she met the eyes of some stranger on the dirty paths, wondering if they were one of the people who would fight alongside her. A few she recognized from those moonlit moments on the stones in Ashville, when she’d passed out weapons.

  In whispered, passing conversations with Drew, she had learned that the hole in the wall was a few days from completion. In the night’s darkest hours, a few of the Shadow People close to the eastern side of New City were loosening enough stones to create a passageway, covering up the hole before leaving each night. When the time came, they would leave it open. Kirby knew the risk of their actions. If someone found that passageway, a plan would turn to a punishment—not only for the involved slaves, but for all of New City. Who knew what the guards and The Gifted might do?

  Finished cleaning her hands, Kirby picked up a rag and wiped her face. She blinked through eyes tired from days of constant focus, and a mind exhausted from nights ruminating. Not for the first time, she realized she was alone.

  She’d seen little of Esmeralda in the past few days. It seemed as if she had been quiet, ever since Kirby had been caught in the city. Esmeralda kept her distance, perhaps afraid to break any rules. Or maybe she was afraid to get too close to someone who had gotten on the wrong side of the guards.

  Kirby didn’t blame her.

  Looking around the small house, she saw a few dirtied pots and pans, crusted with the remnants of some cornmeal. It seemed as if Esmeralda had already eaten and gone back to work. Kirby hadn’t even seen her going to the shops. She had always headed off before they could walk together.

  Perhaps she was visiting Fiona at Isabella’s.

  Kirby stepped toward the doorway of the house and walked out in the bustling alley. Slaves scurried to and from their homes as they tried to make the most of their mid-day break.

  Kirby strode over to the laundry, checking a few hanging clothes to see if they were dry before returning inside to cook her lunch. Looking down the adjacent alley, she was surprised to find Esmeralda standing a handful of houses away. Fiona was in her arms. It looked as if she was hiding between a neighbor’s hung sheets.

  “Esmeralda!” she called.

  Esmeralda’s face paled as Kirby spotted her.

  Kirby looked over her shoulder, expecting a guard sneaking up on her. She saw no one except slaves. Forgetting the laundry, she walked toward Esmeralda.

  “Are you all right?” Kirby asked.

  “I’m fine,” Esmeralda said quickly, coddling Fiona.

  Kirby noticed she didn’t look all that dirty, for someone who had spent a morning working in a greasy shop.

  “I didn’t see you at lunch.”

  “I ate a little while before you got back,” Esmeralda said.

  “Would you like to join me while I eat?”

  Esmeralda looked around again before agreeing. Kirby walked back toward the house, with Esmeralda trailing.

  “How is everything?” she asked Esmeralda.

  “Good,” Esmeralda answered, keeping her eyes on Fiona.

  Kirby asked several more questions, receiving short answers. They fell into a strange silence as they returned to the house. Walking through the threshold, Kirby headed for the hearth to cook some lunch.

  Esmeralda sat on the bedroll, setting
Fiona down and half-heartedly playing with her.

  “How has she been adjusting?” Kirby called over her shoulder, as she started some water boiling.

  “She’s…fine.” Esmeralda hesitated as she stopped playing.

  “Isabella has been doing well with her, while you are at work?”

  Esmeralda murmured something that sounded like agreement.

  Once the water boiled, Kirby started some cornmeal. “I am hoping the guards will release Bray soon.”

  Kirby turned, finding tears rolling down Esmeralda’s face.

  “What’s wrong?” Kirby asked, abandoning the hearth.

  Esmeralda kept her gaze down, refusing to meet her eyes. “I saw the guards outside of Bray’s cell this morning.” Esmeralda wiped the tears from her face. “I saw them taunting him.”

  “Bastards,” Kirby grumbled. “Their treatment is nothing new.”

  “I am sorry for what you had to do in the courtyard,” Esmeralda said. “I am sorry they made you fight.”

  “It is no matter,” Kirby said, looking away as she battled some of the guilt that had plagued her since that day. Bray was alive. It was much better than another scenario.

  “It is my fault,” Esmeralda said, clutching Fiona tight.

  Kirby looked up suddenly as the words surprised her. “What do you mean?”

  Esmeralda slowly lifted her eyes. “I told Ollie you snuck out with Bray. It is my fault you were caught with him.”

  A realization slammed into Kirby as she stood suddenly, backing away from Esmeralda. She clenched her fists and looked to the doorway, as if another betrayal was coming. Perhaps guards were waiting outside for an incriminating statement. Only Esmeralda sat in the room, more tears filling her eyes. Sensing a change in the room, Fiona looked up from her mother’s arms, a curious expression on her face.