Lying In Ruins

by Jami Gray

  He pulled the binoculars down and frowned at her. ‘Know that too.’

  She sighed.

  Debris crunched under his boot heel as he turned and sat next to her. ‘Thought you ‘Hounds were all about patience.’ He leant in and nudged her shoulder with his.

  She picked up a pebble and tossed it across the room, listening to the tiny pings as it disappeared amid the rest of the rubble. ‘I don’t like it here.’

  ‘Why?’

  She could feel him watching her. ‘Because if I was up to no damn good and wanted to hold a meeting in the middle of nowhere, the first thing I’d do is scout the surrounding areas for any unwelcome visitors.’

  ‘Raiders aren’t exactly known for their brains, darlin’.’

  Yeah, but what was that old saying? Something about assuming and asses? No way she wanted her ass hanging out there. She shrugged. ‘Maybe, but it’s not making my itch go away.’

  He sighed. ‘Don’t need you breaking out in hives.’ He got to his feet and offered his hand.

  Taking it, she let him pull her up. He tucked away the binoculars into one of his jacket pockets and headed back the way they came. Following in his footsteps, she said with saccharine sweetness, ‘You’re so thoughtful, Ruin.’

  He looked over his shoulder and winked. ‘Don’t let it fool you, sweet cheeks, your itch is contagious.’ He disappeared through the opening, leaving her shaking her head.

  They made it to the scattered remains of the long, rectangular building undetected. She followed Ruin as he slipped in through an empty doorway. Inside, they picked their way through collapsed beams that once supported the roof, piles of trash, broken tables and chairs, and curtains that were nothing more than rags. Torn up mattresses, who lost the battle with field mice, were tossed to the side, signs of old fires dotted the floor, while graffiti and scales of peeling paint lined water-damaged walls. Sunlight drifted through the missing roof to mix with dust motes, adding a hazy interior glow.

  Following Ruin’s carefully chosen path, she was grateful for the whisper of an occasional breeze playing through the desiccated remains. Not only did it lighten the heavy air, it broke the waiting silence and muffled their passage. They were halfway across the floor when Ruin lifted a hand, signalling her to stop. She stilled, her hand hovering over the hilt of her knife as she scanned their surroundings.

  Ruin crouched next to what appeared to be a pile of wood shoved against a wall. He lifted his arm, palm flat and, keeping an inch between him and the wood, brought it slowly down the uneven side. ‘Come help me with this.’

  Heeding his low-voiced command, she stepped up beside him so she could see behind the pile. When cool, ghostly fingers whispered against her face, she realised what caught his attention. ‘Is that a tunnel?’

  He nodded and rose. ‘Grab that end. If we shift this piece, we can squeeze in.’

  Staring at the half-hidden opening the itch at the back of her neck increased. ‘You sure about this?’

  ‘Nope.’

  Right then, that was comforting. She helped shift one of the longer pieces of wood, trying to stifle her sneeze as a cloud of dust drifted up. Ruin brought out a small flashlight from his pockets-of-plenty and aimed it into the opening. From her position behind him, she could pick out the graffiti covering the rough walls. She didn’t need his admonishment of ‘Stay close’ since there was no possible way was she letting him out of her sight. Just to be sure, she curled her hand over the waistband of his jeans as he stepped into the tunnel.

  They crept down the relatively clear passageway for about ten minutes before the darkness ahead began to lighten. Ruin slowed and she let go, wanting her hands free, just in case. He clicked off the light and she blinked a few times until her eyes adjusted. Ruin hugged one wall as he edged forward. She mirrored him on the other side. She let out a little, surprised gasp that made Ruin frown at her. Shutting her mouth, she continued to stare at the strange sight.

  The tunnel dropped them into the smaller round building. Early morning sunlight spilt through the arched openings ringing the high, domed ceiling. In the middle of the vast room, on a faded red, circular platform, stood a collection of animal statues held in place by poles under a canopy of shattered remnants of light bulbs. The surreal sight explained the moniker of Carousel. There was a large cat, its mouth opened in a ferocious growl and despite its faded colours, the details were disturbingly real. Next to it, a regal horse in dusty white with dull gold detailing was frozen in mid-stride, neck arched. Who the hell put an amusement ride in the middle of nowhere? Sometimes she wondered at the logic used by those of the past, because for all their advancements, they seemed enamoured of useless shit.

  A soft hiss brought her attention back to Ruin. Following his silent demand, she slipped out and began making her way around the side of the merry-go-round, while he did the same on the opposite side. She passed a door blocked by a floor to ceiling pile of rubble. Ahead she could see another door, this one usable. Guess the tunnel was an easy route between the buildings. Trying to ignore all the glassy, staring eyes of the painted animals, she shook off the weird feeling of being watched, but it left her wired. When Ruin slipped up next to her, she started.

  He shook his head, his face carved in lines of frustration.

  Mimicking him, she indicated the same. There wasn’t much more to the room, but she could see why it would be the perfect place for a meet. No-one could approach without being seen. It was going to make hiding out here difficult.

  Following the same logic, Ruin kept his voice low so it wouldn’t carry, ‘Well, shit. Not much we can use.’

  Looking away from the staring, inanimate herd, she scanned the interior. There had to be some sort of concealment here. Tilting her head back, she studied the domed ceiling. Lined with planks, it was bare of any lighting fixtures or crawl spaces they could use. In fact, all they had was the damn carousel. She glared at the stupid thing, taking in the high curlicues ringing the top and framing various scenic paintings, each one topped with, were those grapes? Seriously? She continued to study it, determined to find something that would work. No way was she missing out on this damn meet, not if it got her closer to those who targeted Tabby.

  Determined, she left Ruin and stepped onto the platform. When it shook under her feet, she grabbed the nearest pole. A soft groan drew her gaze up. The pole was hanging on by a screw. She let go, then frowned, stepped off the platform, looked up, then back under the roof, an idea sparking. ‘Ruin.’ She backed away and studied the grape-topped crown.

  He was at her side in moments. ‘What?’

  She pointed up. ‘We can hide up top.’

  He raised an eyebrow.

  She grabbed his chin and lifted it.

  He followed her direction and frowned.

  Patiently she explained, ‘If we lie down, we can stay behind those edges. They’re high enough to hide us from those below.’

  He hopped up on the rickety platform. His gaze narrowed as he considered the ceiling. ‘If it holds our weight, it could work.’ Before he stepped down, a muffled thunk drifted from the tunnel.

  She turned towards the opening as more sounds drifted over. The rattle of pebbles underfoot, a muffled curse abruptly cut short, and the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps coming closer. Her pulse picked up, and her nerves stretched into razor wire.

  Ruin didn’t waste time. He grabbed her hand and dragged her to the back of the carousel. Keeping the contraption between them and the tunnel’s entrance, he grasped her waist and all but threw her up. Her hands caught the scalloped edge of the ride’s crown. The carousel rocked with a soft groan of wood as her weight hit. Gritting her teeth, she ignored the dull throb of her shoulder and pulled herself up and over. Knowing they were running against the clock, she did her damnedest to make it quick and not shake the thing apart. Thankfully the structure remained fairly level which lessened its shimmy as she climbed. Even better was discovering the roof was constructed of metal sheets, not the same dr
ied wood as the edges. It drastically lowered their chances of crashing through the weakened roof.

  She didn’t get a chance to note much more as Ruin swung up behind her and dropped flat next to her. Lying side-by- side, they stilled as the sounds drew closer. She stared at the back of one of the panels and concentrated on slowing her breathing. A touch on her arm brought her head around to find Ruin motioning for her to move towards the front. She raised an eyebrow in silent question. Correctly interpreting it, he motioned to the other side and then levelled both hands, shifting them up and down.

  His logic clicked. By laying on opposite sides of the roof, their weight would be more evenly distributed, keeping the roof somewhat level, eliminating any possible signs they were up there. She dipped her head and he inched carefully back, heading for the far side.

  Once he was far enough back, she stretched out and inched into position, the metal under her stomach vibrating faintly with his movements. The sounds of someone approaching grew clearer, hopefully drowning out any noises Ruin’s movements caused. In place behind the large arching panel to the left of centre, she forced her body to remain relaxed, keeping her gaze fixed on her goal. Under her, the carousel slowly stilled as Ruin settled in place. Barely lifting her head, she rolled her eyes up and saw Ruin in a similar position on the other side. Just in time too.

  The faint sounds went quiet. She didn’t need the visual to know that whoever arrived was studying the room. It was there in the expectant silence creeping through the room. She didn’t dare move and continued to hold Ruin’s gaze. Normally, in a situation like this, she was on her own. Yet staring into his steady gaze, she found a strange sort of calm. It wasn’t until his lips formed the word ‘breathe’ that she realised she was holding her breath. With a slow blink, she let out a silent exhale and looked away.

  Below them, their unseen visitor finally decided it was safe because he moved, and the crunch of gravel turning under his foot broke the quiet. She closed her eyes, laid her cheek against the cool metal and listened to him move around. An ear-piercing squeal of metal over cement cut through the room, followed by the clatter of wood.

  ‘Watch it, asshole!’

  ‘Fuck you, dipshit.’

  A harsh grunt followed the witty conversation, and suddenly the carousel rocked. Unprepared for the movement, Charity’s cheek slammed against the roof with bruising force. She bit her lip to keep her pained yelp silent and her watering eyes flew open, her hands scrambling for a non-existent purchase on the metallic surface. Somehow she managed to brace her palms and toes against the high edge and the centre drum. Spread-eagle, she tried to become part of the roof.

  ‘Ow! What’s that fer?’ The whiny question came from idiot number one, AKA Dipshit.

  ‘What? I need a reason to dump ya on your ass now?’ answered idiot number two, or Asshole.

  ‘What the hell’s this anyways?’ Dipshit’s question held youthful disdain.

  ‘Don’t know, don’t care,’ growled Asshole. ‘But if ya don’t shut yer piehole, I’ll shove a pole up yer ass and add yer squealing carcass to whatever the hell it is.’ Catching the hard, mean tones, Charity made a note to watch herself around that one.

  The structure rocked again as heavy soled shoes—probably boots—hit the platform creating a dull echo. ‘Looks like the shit back home.’

  Charity didn’t need to see young Dipshit to follow his path as he wound through the painted animals, his footsteps easy enough to trace. So were his grumblings. ‘When we going home, Pit?’

  ‘When we’re finished,’ Pit the Asshole snapped.

  Another thud sounded almost directly below her. ‘Hate hiding out in the damn boonies.’ Another thud.

  ‘Stop kicking shit.’ Heavy footsteps drew close, then landed on the platform below. She wrinkled her nose in silent protest against the sour stench wafting up, recognising the combination of sweat, dirt, unwashed bodies, stale blood and rancid sourness as eau de Raider.

  Ignoring the threat in Pit’s voice, the kid kept on with his whining, ‘Don’t know why we can’t check shit out in town. Ain’t nobody know who we are.’

  A squawk came from below and the carousel rocked in tandem with three solid thumps and a protesting groan of metal. ‘Shut. Yer. Trap.’ The thud of a body hitting the ground was accompanied by a harsh, choking gasp. ‘Stop yer damn yammering and get yer ass outside and make sure no-one’s around.’

  The sounds of scrambling were followed by the rapid beat of running feet. Guess Dipshit didn’t want to stick around. She didn’t blame him. Pit’s threat chilled even her blood.

  She listened to Pit move around as he vented, ‘Gonna make them pay fer saddling me with some dumbass who don’t know shite. Should’ve gutted him before we got here, saved me a damn headache.’

  She flinched when wood splintered against a wall as the Raider continued his rampaging monologue. Finally, he wound down to the occasional curse.

  ‘Considering your behaviour, should I be concerned?’ The casual question slipped into the room like a well-honed blade, smooth and lethal.

  Curiosity as to who joined their little get-together drove Charity to carefully shift her head until she found a gap on the panel. It wasn’t much, a minor break between boards, but it gave her a slender sightline to the tunnel’s entrance. From her limited position, she made out an average frame in dark clothes. Facial features were blocked by the edge of the carousel’s roof and movement would be required if she wanted more. Hopefully, Ruin had a better angle.

  The newcomer stuck close to the walls. Despite the morning light seeping in through empty window frames high in the ceiling and stretching in from the doorways, his dark clothing blended with the shadows. A trick Charity was familiar with, having used the same one, once or twice.

  Pit stomped over from the far wall, coming into her line of sight. Built like a cage fighter, the Raider was big and solid. From her vantage point, she could see ink crawling out of the dingy colour of his shirt and up the base of his shaved skull. What the hell did they feed Raiders to get them that size?

  ‘Nothin’ fer you to be concerned ‘bout, River Man,’ Pit snarled, closing in on the newcomer.

  ‘That’s close enough.’ The ice-cold command was followed by the soft click of a safety being released.

  Pit rocked to a halt, his fists going to his waist. ‘Gonna shoot me to get out of our deal?’

  ‘No.’ River Man remained unruffled. ‘However, I have no problem putting a bullet between your eyes if you come any closer.’

  That got a harsh bark of amusement, but Pit held his position. ‘Ya sure your employer—’ the word was sneered, ‘—would like that? He didn’t strike me as the forgivin’ type.’ Unruffled and confident, River Man said, ‘He trusts me to protect his interests, which is why you are dealing with me, instead of him.’ The smaller man’s head tilted to the side as he lowered his gun. ‘Of course, if you would rather deal with him directly, I’m sure it can be arranged.’ There was something disturbing in his voice.

  Something even the thickheaded Pit didn’t miss, because he lost some of his bluster and muttered, ‘Don’t need no personal meetin’.’

  A flash of teeth emerged from the pulled up hoodie as River Man’s gun disappeared into a pocket. ‘Yes, well, considering how things played out with Tank’s personal meeting, I’m sure that’s a wise decision.’ That earned a low growl from Pit.

  Charity’s body stiffened at the subtle confirmation of Reznik’s role with the Raiders. Despite her self-directed disgust at overlooking Reznik’s hunger for power, she kept her focus on the conversation below.

  River Man kept going. ‘Why don’t you bring me up to date on where things stand with our last order? I do hope you have better news for me.’

  From her spot she saw Pit’s jaw flex as he gritted his teeth. ‘Ain’t our fault Crane’s people attacked us.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  Pit stared him down. ‘Your man was supposed to keep ‘em busy. Obviously, he didn’
t do so good with that.’

  Great, add one more thing to worry about—a mole was dug in somewhere by Pebble Creek. Ruin would be foaming at the mouth to let the Vultures in on that tidbit.

  Now it was River Man’s turn to be pissed. ‘And your men were supposed to bring those kids here, not stop on the way to get their rocks off.’ He leant in, his voice low and whip-sharp. ‘My employer is not pleased, not pleased at all. You losing those kids screwed his plans.’

  ‘Since Crane’s guts are decoratin’ his office,’ Pit snarled, ‘your boss got one of his wishes, so you best pay up.’

  River Man straightened slowly, never taking his attention from the burly Raider. ‘My proof?’

  Pit dug a meaty hand into his pocket, pulled something out and tossed it to the Broker, who caught it.

  ‘What’s this?’ River Man held up the small wrapped package. Duct tape circled stained paper. Seeing it, Charity thought she knew what was inside and her heart winced.

  Sure enough, Pit’s cruel amusement confirmed her guess. ‘Yer proof. Crane’s finger, the one he inked with that damn pansy ass Mick design.’ Pit folded his arms over his chest. ‘Go ahead, look fer yerself. I promise to stand right here while ya do.’

  Seconds ticked by before River Man finally unwrapped the grisly package. For once, Charity was grateful she couldn’t see the details.

  Obviously impatient, Pit broke the silence. ‘That work?’

  River Man took his time re-wrapping the Raider’s proof. ‘It’s acceptable.’ The package disappeared into another one of the Broker’s pockets. ‘Were you able to remove the Vultures from the picture?’

  ‘Vultures weren’t anywheres around. Lest not close enough to stop us,’ growled Pit. ‘It was just Crane, his pansy-assed second and the other big idjit.’

  ‘I assume you mean Simon and Boden.’ Whoever the Pebble Creek mole was, they had a direct line to Crane’s operation.