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

by T. W. Piperbrook

  They must not have.

  Something much worse than death was waiting for all of them.

  "They're coming!" cried Cullen. "Run!"

  Bray fired a few rounds, hitting the ancient stone and scattering the men. But more were coming. He might have a Tech Magic gun, but they had the advantage of high ground, and they clearly knew the area. A well-placed arrow would pitch him off the steep stairs.

  Cullen struggled to get past Bray and rushed downward.

  Outside, the horses squealed.

  The men ambushed us, Bray thought angrily.

  Bray turned and fled down the stairs, following Cullen, William, and Kirby. Arrows flew past, striking the ground below. Bray kept a fast pace, avoiding holes in the stairs that would send him sprawling. He'd just reached level ground when an arrow struck the back of his leg.

  He cried out, falling into a limp. "Filthy dirt scratchers!"

  "Come on!" Kirby shouted, turning behind her as she fired several shots at the upper level to protect him.

  They barreled down the walkway, heading in the direction of the room where they'd found Cullen.

  From somewhere outside, the horses squealed.

  Chapter 3: Cullen

  Cullen ran next to the strangers. He couldn't push away the images of The Clickers' jagged, sharpened teeth, or their cold, merciless eyes. What little, broken sleep he'd gotten was plagued with memories of those men.

  And now they were back, come to drag him away.

  "Let's hide in the room!" the talking Plagued One named William cried, as they fled.

  "Not a good idea," Kirby answered. "Our ammunition won't last forever. They'll trap us."

  Ahead of them, the walkway ended at a solid wall. To the right, the recessed area went into one of the pitch-black tunnels.

  "Down here! Into the tunnel!" Kirby yelled, veering toward the ledge over the first recessed area. She got close, bent, and turned to lower herself.

  The drop from the walkway was about ten feet—enough to roll an ankle, or snap a bone. Cullen knew how easily an unseen piece of metal could cut or impale. He'd been in the tunnels long enough. Kirby dropped successfully.

  "I'll help you!" Kirby cried, turning and reaching up to Cullen.

  He stared at her hand for a moment before he acted. Cullen wondered if this was his end. Perhaps the woman was a ghost, come to collect him and bring him to his final resting place. Or maybe the Plagued boy was some twisted god, sent to judge or punish him. And who knew what the man named Bray was here for? The clicks of the men snapped him to reality.

  Cullen allowed Kirby to help him down.

  On the walkway, Bray and the Plagued boy made loud noises with their metal weapons. Cullen heard a pained cry in the distance as one of The Clickers fell. When Cullen was safely down, Kirby assisted the others in getting to the ground. Bray grunted as he landed, contending with the arrow in his leg and clearly in pain.

  They ran in the recessed area through patches of sunlight, but up ahead was darkness.

  Instinct warned Cullen against dangers in the tunnel. Most of the tunnels were filled with large, rusty pieces of debris. Sometimes the metal was shaped like a large tube, blocking the entire passage. Occasionally, the long pieces of metal that extended one behind the other were crumpled and twisted, creating a hazard that could cut, or impale.

  A few times, The Clickers had spotted him, but he'd evaded them by slipping into the slimmest, grimiest hole he could find, staying still until they left. A few times, he wondered if they had seen him, and were savoring a kill. But now they had three more people to chase.

  Far behind them, footsteps slapped the floor as their attackers leapt from the walkway to the tracks.

  Just before the blackness of the tunnel engulfed them, Kirby found his sleeve.

  They entered.

  Cullen ground his teeth together to distract from the pain of too many blisters on his feet, caused by the holes in his boots. His clothes barely hung on his body. His stomach was a hollow, empty thing he couldn't remember filling. The men behind them had given up on arrows. Perhaps they were saving them for the end of a trap. Or maybe they're tiring us out, like wounded, cornered animals.

  They moved as fast as they dared, their boots crunching over objects they couldn't see. Every so often, Cullen heard the scrape of Kirby's, Bray's, or William's rifles along the wall as they got too close to the sides of the tunnel, or a burst of noise as one of them used their weapons. Every few feet, one of his comrades slowed, avoiding some fresh, new obstacle, stretching the human chain. Cullen looked over his shoulder, finding nothing but dark. They'd never lose the men. Each time he thought he'd avoided them, they returned. Each time he slept, he awoke to the voices of men on the hunt. The Clickers wouldn't rest until they found and slayed them all.

  A piece of metal scraped Cullen's calf. He cried out in pain.

  "Are you okay?" Kirby whispered.

  "Fine," he breathed, with no time to assess further.

  Distant light drew their attention. Getting closer, Cullen saw a large, gaping hole in the ceiling that he recognized, about thirty feet over their heads, where the road above had collapsed. "I know this part of the tunnel," he said, instinct taking over for fear.

  "Is there a place to get out?"

  "There is a long device up ahead," he remembered, thinking. "Or at least, the remains of one."

  "A train?"

  "Is that what you call it?"

  Kirby asked, "Where is the next exit?"

  "Much farther." Cullen shook his head as a memory returned through his haze of fear. "I might know another way out, through the object you call a train."

  An arrow skidded past them on the floor. Cullen waited for the cry of one of his companions, or a new, stabbing pain in his back, but neither came.

  They reached the large area of sunlight. On the edge was the hulking wreckage of which he'd spoken. The rotted, tube-like device occupied most of the tunnel—a giant, looming behemoth. Time had eaten away most of its bones, sparing only the strongest metals. Through a gaping, rusted hole in the front, more debris than Cullen could see clearly lay inside. The object went further than the eye could see, curling into the darkness. Last time, he had almost gotten bitten by some vicious, small animal he couldn't see. Who knew how many creatures were inside? But too many predators chased behind.

  "There is a way out through the device," he told his companions. "We'll need to go inside."

  They lost hold on each other, moving quickly and crossing the last fringes of sunlight.

  When they reached the large object, Cullen rounded the right-hand side, found a familiar step on a piece of metal eaten by rust, and boosted himself inside. The others followed. Through the rusted empty frame of the front window, Cullen watched The Clickers emerge into the far edges of the sunlight, a hundred feet from the train. A few arrows thudded into the metal, sending rippling echoes through the tunnel. Bray, Kirby, and the Plagued boy used their metal weapons through the front of the object, knocking down a few of their attackers. Cullen looked around. He'd forgotten how many holes in the object's floor might catch a foot. Too many Clickers chased them. They'd never escape. They'd never—

  "Cullen! How do we get out?" Kirby snapped him to reality.

  "Follow me!" he hissed, leading them farther back into the strange object.

  They watched their feet as they ran with what little ambient light they had. Occasionally, a hole in the tunnel's ceiling allowed light to filter through the time-battered device. One metal tube led to another, and then another, with some gaps between them that forced them to leap. Each time they jumped, the person in front caught the next one behind as they landed. Cullen's feet ached with each jump, but he pushed on.

  Eventually, Cullen climbed on a piece of metal in the middle of one of the tubes that he remembered, a square box that was high enough to reach a part of the device's roof. The others followed him with effort, climbing onto the box, and then up onto a new, rotted floor high up in th
e air.

  "Be careful where you step," Cullen warned. "We are on the object's roof."

  Daylight glimmered overhead.

  "The tunnel collapsed here, worse than in other parts," Cullen explained, pointing. "Above this spot, you can catch hold of a ledge. If we grab it, we can crawl up and sideways to the street."

  The others paused, uncertain.

  Footsteps beat the tunnel outside the train.

  More arrows slammed into the sides of the device next to them, or from inside.

  "They will catch us with an arrow, if we do not move," Cullen insisted, his voice wavering. "With or without your weapons."

  "I'll boost you," Bray said, grunting from the arrow that was already in his leg. "Lead the way."

  Bray cupped his hands, making a foothold for Cullen. Using it to gain leverage, Cullen jumped, catching a ledge he could barely see. He hung for a moment, struggling to heave himself over on weak limbs. And then he was crawling on a bed of dirt and stone.

  "Come on!" he hissed behind him.

  The others followed, boosting each other up, joining him in the near dark.

  Their ragged breathing filled the air behind him as they crawled.

  The smell of rusted metal and damp earth filled his nostrils, but Cullen kept going, padding over the debris on hands, boots, and knees, his new companions behind him. He kept his eyes on the patch of light at the end of the tunnel. The terrifying thought hit him that the ascending piece of stone might collapse and throw all of them back in the hole, burying them, or sending them into the arms of The Clickers.

  And then they were in the sunlight.

  They emerged, shaking the dirt from their clothes and faces. Only tall, crumbled towers greeted them. No monstrous men with jagged teeth. No bows with arrows pointed at their chests.

  "They aren't here," said Cullen in shock.

  "Let's move, while they haven't seen us," Kirby said.

  Noises echoed behind them.

  She spoke too late.

  Chapter 4: Bray

  Several filthy, jagged-toothed men emerged from the hole, getting up their bows. Bray spun and fired a few rounds from his long gun, knocking one man backward and into another. His leg burned from the protruding arrow, but he had no time to deal with it. Beside him, Kirby and William used their weapons, sending a few more Clickers sprawling onto the street, or ducking back into the hole. A man's cry echoed from somewhere beneath the earth as he fell. But more were coming. Past the collapsed street above the subway tunnels, clicks emanated from some buildings. The men were everywhere.

  "Follow me!" Cullen said to Bray and the others. "I will try to lose them!"

  They continued down the street. Pieces of stone lay everywhere, tangled with green vines. On both sides of them, tall towers rose high above the earth, with multitudes of glassless windows. More of the footsteps came from behind.

  An arrow skidded across the ground near Bray's foot.

  He turned right, catching sight of a man waiting in an alley, crouched beside a block of Ancient stone, raising his bow. Bray fired his gun. Bullets ricocheted off the concrete boulder, chipping off pieces of stone and striking the man with debris, a bullet, or both. He fell writhing.

  On the other side of him, Kirby used her gun on another man lurking in the opposite alley. Bray looked behind, noticing most of the pursuing men were farther back. He fired a few rounds at their attackers, sending more men scattering.

  "There are too many," Kirby said. "We are better off running."

  They moved more quickly through street after decrepit street, looking over their shoulders, scanning the buildings, the windows, and the alleys. Bray pushed through the pain of the protruding arrow, keeping pace with the others. Cullen led the way, taking a few rapid turns, bringing them through a street with smaller, squat buildings that were far less impressive than the towers in the city's middle, but offered too many places to hide. Every so often, they broke their rule and picked off a few men who seemed to appear from nowhere, nocking arrows. Bray fired at a few men who got close enough to aim their bows from behind. After a while, the clicks faded in the background.

  The city fell silent.

  "Maybe they are reconsidering battling people with guns," Bray said quietly.

  "Or they are biding their time," Cullen warned.

  At the end of a street on what seemed like the city's southern side, they saw forest. More tall towers breached the sky around them.

  "The woods are thickest on this side of the city," Cullen said, his eyes darting about nervously. "I think it might be safer than other ways. Perhaps we can get out undetected. I will take a few more turns to ensure we lost them."

  "Have you tried leaving this way before?" Bray asked.

  "I've never gotten this far," he admitted. "I didn't think I'd live this long, after they trapped me."

  They kept to the road's edge, moving quietly and quickly, but they saw no more men behind them.

  Reaching the end of the road, they passed a set of beams, one on either side. The beams were about twice as tall as a man. Numerous marks notched the sides, as if they'd been hacked away at, or perhaps they were a warning to whoever dared venture in the city. A few were spattered with old, dried blood.

  Cullen's eyes darted nervously around. "Hopefully we won't get an arrow in the back on the way out."

  **

  Bray glanced over his shoulder at the tall, fissured monoliths, certain that vile men with sharp teeth were lurking in doorways, or poking through the weed-covered windows, watching. The air was quiet and still. Even the birds seemed to have ceased their squawking. A demon shriek would have been preferable to the uncomfortable silence. William, Kirby, and the strange man named Cullen hurried next to him under the beating sun as they followed a road away from the city. Bray watched the strange man that had led them away. Cullen might not have his full faculties, but he had saved them from what had been a certain death in the tunnels. He rubbed at the dirt caked to his face.

  In front of them, the road curved more sharply, turning from ancient stone back into forest. Plenty of the tall, long-necked trees sprung up on either side of the road, surrounded by swaths of tangled brush. Bray was grateful for their concealment.

  "We might have lost them," Kirby said, still looking over her shoulder at the tops of the buildings, visible down the curved road.

  "For now," Bray said, favoring his wounded leg.

  "We need to get that arrow out of you," Kirby told him.

  Bray looked at the long, thin shaft protruding from the back of his calf. A circle of blood stained the fabric of his pants around it. "We'll do it when we've covered more ground."

  Breaking a silence he'd kept since the tunnels, William said, "The horses."

  Bray turned and looked behind them, as if the steeds might be galloping after them.

  "We have to go back for Spirit and Blackthorn." William's fear turned to anger as he pointed his rifle, as if he might fire his Tech Magic weapon down the empty path behind them.

  Bray felt a similar sting of anger. He wanted to find the men and kill each of them. He wanted to make them feel the pain of the arrow in his leg that burned with each step. But he knew better. "The horses might be in another city by now. They will take our lives, if we stop."

  "They took our horses, and the supplies in our saddlebags," William said. "Almost all our spare ammunition, except for what we have in the bags on our backs."

  "We do not have enough resources for another war like the one at The Arches," Kirby warned.

  William clenched his teeth and averted his eyes. Bray felt sorry for him. But there was no time to discuss it now.

  "We should veer into the forest," Bray suggested."There isn't much of a road here, besides pebbles, but it is a worn trail that can easily be followed."

  They transitioned from the overgrown road into the dense woods, avoiding leaving obvious tracks, while William fell silent again. Thankfully, the ground in the forest was hard. The trees were a mixture
of those Bray had seen up north, and some leafier ones, with different foliage or stems. He looked up at the boughs, afraid that the strange men might be perched and watching, ready to leap, grinning around red, crooked teeth. The chirp of a bird startled him. He turned and aimed his gun.

  "I hear the clicking noises even when they aren't there," Cullen whispered. "I hear them in my sleep."

  "They mean death," Bray said solemnly. "The blood of the men's kills is written on their faces, and in their vicious, flying arrows."

  "Those clicks can mean many things," Cullen said. "At least, that's what I think."

  "Do you believe they will follow us?"

  "I wish I knew."

  For the majority of the day, they hiked through dense forest, putting as many thick trees between them and the dangerous men as they could. Occasionally, a squawking bird made them jump, or a squirrel wove through the underbrush, earning the attention of their rifles. Each noise reminded Bray of the monstrous men. He'd seen plenty of attackers, but none so stealthy.

  After making enough headway that he thought they were safe, he asked Cullen, "Who are those men?"

  "I don't know their true name, other than what I call them," Cullen said.

  "The Clickers," Bray repeated. "I didn't see their tracks, in the city. We looked."

  "They are very careful. You will not normally see them until they are there." Cullen shook his head. "That's what I've noticed."

  "You said the people you were with got dragged away."

  "My brothers," Cullen said. His face twisted in pain as he dug up a memory. "Both are dead. I am sure of it."

  "What happened?"

  "Mason, Lincoln, and I lived in the forest, northwest of here. A few days ago, we went on a hunt. When we came home, we found those men in our house, going through our things. For as long as I've been alive, we have heard rumors of the people in the forest with sharp teeth, but we had thought they were stories. Some say they eat the flesh of men. Others say they sacrifice people like us to The Plagued Ones. No one knows for sure. Seeing those men, we knew the stories were real. We backed away, trying to get far from them. But they spotted us. More men came from the trees—enough that we wouldn't be able to fight them all."