The Ruins Box Set

by T. W. Piperbrook

  “Make it quick,” the guard called. “A few feet into the woods. That’s it.”

  William nodded appreciatively as he walked into the woods, slipping into a thick patch of pines that were hanging onto their needles. He looked over his shoulder. Berta and the guard were barely visible through the trees. He waited until they were looking away, talking. Then he scurried further.

  Before he knew it, he was running, weaving between more trees and over snow and getting farther from the house that was his prison. He’d only thought as far as the beginnings of the plan. Now that he’d executed it, he had no idea what to do.

  William wove through the trees, getting farther in the forest, certain that he didn’t have much time to explore before they came looking for him. He left tracks he didn’t have time, or the ability, to cover. The island was flat and snow-covered, with more roots than he’d seen on the first island—probably a reason there weren’t more houses, or inhabitants.

  Fear washed over William as he questioned what he was doing. He was taking a risk that might kill him. He kept going, his feet taking over for fear until he glimpsed water in the distance. Somehow he’d reached the edge of the island. He looked behind him, waiting for shouts of alarm when the guard or Berta realized he was out of sight, but he didn’t hear anything.

  Yet.

  He ran through more trees and thick bushes, climbing down the riverbank and onto an area of small rocks that bordered the river. Murky water swept past the island. Tall rocks jutted out of the river. A hundred feet away, the mainland was a place of freedom that he couldn’t reach. William looked at that patch of land as if it he might will himself over to it, even though he’d more likely drown.

  He looked behind him. No Berta, no guard. He couldn’t have much more time.

  Defeated, William was about to head away when he spotted movement on the opposite bank. Two figures crept through the underbrush, approaching the river. He tensed as he watched what might be soldiers, spying on him, waiting to report back to Deacon. But they weren’t soldiers.

  Demons.

  William watched with curiosity as two of the twisted men skidded down the opposite riverbank and to the water, kneeling on the shore and scooping water thirstily into their mouths.

  Without realizing what he was doing, William called out to them. “Hey!”

  His voice died over the rush of the water. The demons kept drinking.

  He shouted louder, “Hey!”

  The demons cocked their bulbous heads, listening. They looked around.

  William looked behind him, seeing or hearing nothing. He looked back at the demons. One of them shifted its head, catching sight of him as he waved his hands. William’s frustration grew as he realized he might not get another chance at freedom.

  “Over here! Please come and help me!” he called to the demons.

  The twisted men watched him, probably recalling some buried memory of drowning. Or maybe they knew the water was too deep. They rose to their feet, shoulders heaving as they stared, but they didn’t move. One of them leaned back down to drink some more water. Hopelessness washed over William as the other demon turned to look over its shoulder and into the woods, probably about to leave.

  Maybe my power is gone.

  “Please!” William shouted, his last recourse before he turned around.

  It was hopeless. The demons weren’t coming. The second demon stood next to its distracted brother, looking into the forest, and William said goodbye to his foolish hope.

  The demon turned back around, looking at him.

  It took a step.

  Chapter 56: Deacon

  “Deacon.”

  Four of Deacon’s soldiers walked into the hallway where he stood. All were apprehensive.

  “What is it?” Deacon asked, turning.

  “You ordered us to get a Savage, or two,” said one of the four men, whom he had sent out the day before.

  “Do you have what I requested?”

  The soldier looked as if he might soil his bowels, such was his fear. He looked at his friend. “We hunted for Savages in the forest, but none were close, so we crossed to the top of the western mountains. We managed to capture one and tie him up, but we had trouble getting him back.”

  “What happened?” Deacon asked.

  “He fell down the hill and snapped his neck.”

  Deacon shook his head in anger.

  The other soldier cut in. “That’s when we ran into these scouts. What they have to say might be more important.” He swallowed as he tried to deflect their failure. “We wanted to make sure they got the message back safely.”

  Turning to the other two, waiting men, Deacon asked, “What message do you have?”

  One of the scouts said, “Last night, we got close enough to the Halifax settlement to see smoke from a large fire coming from inside. The Halifax people were chanting and singing. It sounded as if all of the people were gathered in some sort of ceremony. We also heard screaming.”

  “Screaming?”

  “We can’t be sure who it was,” said the man, “but we thought we heard words in our language in those screams.”

  “As soon as we heard and saw the chanting,” the second scout said, “we marched through the night to get here and report back to you. It sounds as if they are preparing for something important.”

  Deacon looked at the gun over his shoulder, and back at the bridge. “Send me Bartholomew.”

  The first man was still nervous. “Do you want us to go after another Savage?”

  Deacon shook his head. “Not now. We have more pressing concerns.”

  Chapter 57: William

  William watched the demon wading into the river, fighting the flowing current. It screeched as it bumped into something under the water that William couldn’t see. The river was plagued with rocks, sticks, and who knew what else. There was no way the demon would make it.

  Cupping his hands around his mouth, hissing as loud as he dared, William urged, “Come on!”

  He looked behind him again. Nothing. No Berta. No guard.

  “Keep coming!” he called, spinning again to face the twisted men.

  Inspired by the first demon, the second demon joined the first in the water, slogging through the current.

  The creatures looked as if they were walking at half-speed as they dragged one leg through the water at a time. They had managed to get ten feet from the opposite shore, slightly closer to William, but not nearly close enough. They kept going, getting deeper. The water seemed to be swallowing the twisted men whole—passing their waists and getting higher. William could no longer see their legs. It seemed as if they’d been cut in half and were floating.

  The demons snarled as they continued, as if they were racing toward a fresh carcass. The river foamed and spat around them, an angry god trying to bowl them over, or suck them down. The demons paused, looking from the water to William, sensing a tragic ending to what was likely a poor decision.

  William waved his hands as he coaxed them over. They were his only hope.

  “Come on!” he said again.

  He needed to get them across. If he didn’t, he’d—

  “William!” yelled a man’s voice.

  William spun to see movement. Someone was coming, far back in the forest.

  He turned back to the river, waving his hands frantically at the demons, which were struggling against the current, barely making headway. He wanted to charge into the water and pull them across. He wanted to make up for a foolish plan. He waded a foot into the water, holding his hands out to keep them coming. The demons watched his outstretched hands, as if he might reach out, grab them, and pull them to safety.

  One of the demons fell.

  It screeched as it went under, waving its wart-covered arms as it tried to recapture its lost footing, but the river had a firm hold, and it wasn’t letting go. The river swept it downstream, kicking and splashing. The demon didn’t know how to swim. Of course it didn’t.

  The o
ther demon stopped, watching its brother carried away. The drowning demon resurfaced several times, gurgling and spitting, before going under for the last time. William swallowed back his fear.

  “William!” the guard screamed again.

  Crashes through the underbrush got closer. The guard and Berta were probably following his boot prints in the snow. Soon William would have to explain his way out of death. He couldn’t get the screaming, gurgling Halifax man from his head, fighting against the sharp blades that were getting closer.

  It would be him in that device, or in that spiked chair, if things didn’t go well.

  He needed to make another decision. Should he run? Or should he stay and avoid a worse punishment? Perhaps he could make up a story about the demons. Behind him, a flash of clothing in the forest become a full-fledged figure as the guard charged in his direction, anger on his face. He’d caught sight of William.

  The guard’s sword was drawn.

  He was forty yards away, up the short slope of the riverbank, in the forest.

  William spun to face the river.

  Shock overcame him.

  The second demon was almost at his shore. The river, which had almost been up to its chest, was getting lower. The demon screeched in triumph as it pulled its legs through the raging current, finding strength that it hadn’t possessed moments earlier.

  Something else was driving it.

  It wanted blood.

  The demon’s eyes locked on the approaching soldier. William scurried out of the water just as the demon splashed ashore and ran past him, up the riverbank, screeching, and into the forest.

  The guard crashed through the last layer of trees and wilted brush, probably expecting a scared boy, and instead finding a charging demon. He fell back in surprise as the demon knocked him from his feet and to the ground. Teeth gnashed. The demon buried its hands in the guard’s soft belly, yowling in triumph as it found a warm meal, pulling out the man’s insides and holding them up. William fought for breath as he realized he’d been saved.

  More crashes in the forest delayed his relief.

  He crouched on his haunches, scanning the trees for more soldiers. The demon—his demon—looked up from the soldier’s stomach, its mouth full of innards. The person in the forest slowed down as they came upon the scene, mouth agape.

  Berta.

  She looked from the dead, eviscerated soldier, to the demon, to William. Fear passed through her eyes as she contemplated decisions.

  “William, are you all right?”

  “Stay where you are!” William screamed at Berta. “Don’t move!”

  Berta looked behind her, as if she might run. She was old, winded, and no match for a demon with a warm meal on its mind. They all knew it.

  “Stay back, or I’ll tell the demon to get you!” William screamed.

  Berta looked as if she didn’t understand. “I’m not sure what you—”

  “Walk toward her!” he cried to the demon.

  The twisted man obeyed William’s command, creeping toward Berta, the soldier’s innards dripping from its mouth.

  “Stop!” William shouted.

  The demon listened, shoulders heaving, clearly fighting its instincts as it kept from running toward her.

  “What are you doing, William?” Berta asked, clearly in shock.

  “Throw the keys to the building on the ground,” William ordered. “I don’t want to order him to hurt you.”

  **

  William stood outside the entrance of the small, dark building that had been his home for too long. The demon hung next to him, scratching and fidgeting. He stared at Berta with a look that might have been sympathy, if he hadn’t been left in the cold, hungry, and in the dark—if she hadn’t betrayed him. He motioned toward the back wall of the building with the sword he’d taken from the soldier.

  “Get all the way inside,” he said.

  “What are you doing, William?” she asked, not for the first time.

  William didn’t answer. As soon as Berta was far enough away from the door that he could close it, he shut the entrance and locked it. He’d left her with the scraps of food leftover from his meal. It was enough to keep her going, for a while.

  He left the miserable building behind.

  Chapter 58: Deacon

  Deacon’s eyes burned with anger as he surveyed the lone weapon on his desk. He looked back up at Bartholomew. “Jonas. Kirby. Heinrich. Ruben. Probably all dead, the way things sound. Without guns, we are in a position I do not like. But war is coming. We will not fall to the people of Halifax. We will defend our land, as we always have.”

  “Such is our duty,” Bartholomew answered instinctively.

  “We will enact our plan for war.”

  Bartholomew nodded. He knew what that entailed. Everyone on the islands did.

  “Double the numbers of soldiers at the bridge. Our soldiers can take shifts resting in their houses. The peasants, hunters, and farmers that live farthest from the bridge should occupy the tradesmen’s houses.”

  “I will inform everyone at the marketplace.”

  “Tell the people that we must be prepared to fight. All of them should sleep with their weapons at their sides. All should be ready.”

  “Yes, sir. I will have my men coordinate with the islanders. We will move some of the islanders to the tradesmen’s. I will have the children gathered, so they can come here to the second island, as we have planned. If I hear anything, I will report it to you.”

  “There is no need,” Deacon said, standing from his desk and retrieving the gun, slinging it over his shoulder. “After I instruct the soldiers to look after The Important Ones and the children, I will be joining you. As of tonight, I will be keeping watch near the bridge with the others.”

  Chapter 59: William

  William crept away through the trees, looking in all directions as he clutched the sword. The demon snuck next to him, licking some of the soldier’s gore from its fingers. William had left his demons behind, and yet here he was, with another of his brothers. He didn’t have time to second-guess his decision.

  He’d saved himself. He’d done what he had to.

  He stopped to listen. He had heard nothing since the tortured cries of the gutted soldier, but eventually, someone would check the building, and find him missing. Or they’d miss Berta.

  He needed to figure out what to do.

  The bridge might as well be a route to suicide. One demon would never be enough to get him over the wooden bridge, past the soldiers, and through an entire island. And that wasn’t even counting an escape over the main bridge. He might get lost in the woods and stave off death for a while, but they would hunt him. They would follow his tracks in the snow. He was one of the strangers. He’d never blend in.

  Pushing away panic, William headed through the trees and toward the river. There was no escape from death in the middle of the island. His only thought was to head for the water. Maybe he could find some way off. He made his way through the trees, the demon behind, until he came to a section of the riverbank covered in tree roots. The demon hissed as it looked out over the water.

  The twisted man didn’t like the river. Neither did William.

  He thought about crossing it. But he couldn’t get the image of the first, drowning demon from his mind, kicking and fighting as the current took it. William could barely swim. And he wasn’t nearly as tall as the demon next to him. Only fate had prevented the twisted man from suffering the same end as its brother. For a split second, he considered riding on the demon’s shoulders, but that was likely to topple both of them over, and they’d both drown. He didn’t even know if the demon would comply. He’d ordered them to do things, but he couldn’t envision a scenario in which he climbed atop one.

  Escaping in the river didn’t seem feasible.

  But was anything worse than staying here on this island, waiting to get caught?

  William might as well have stabbed Deacon with the sword he held. He’d killed a guard,
and imprisoned Berta. He might as well have locked himself inside that room with the screaming, impaled soldier and the other one, waiting for death.

  There was no going back from what he’d done. Unless he could convince Berta to keep his secret, but he doubted it. A guard was dead. There would be questions. William swallowed.

  He’d made his choice. He needed to find a way off the island.

  Following the riverbank, he traveled south, stepping over roots and rocks, searching for another way off, holding the soldier’s sword. Perhaps there was something else on the island—another building, a clue to a way off. Thick trees bordered the riverbank as he traveled the island’s perimeter, curving with the land and reaching the southernmost point. He kept going. On top of a fallen log, he found a length of long, thin rope, and a place where a man might’ve sat. In another area, as the island curved and headed north, he found a ripped article of clothing, or a blanket, tied around a branch hanging over the river, but in none of those places did he find a building, or anything else.

  The longer he traveled, the more he feared he’d made a fatal decision.

  Soon, he had traveled nearly the entire length of the island. William stopped short as he saw the distant buildings—the one housing The Important Ones, and the one where he’d seen the man tortured. He didn’t realize how close he’d gotten. His heart jumped as he surveyed the horizon. His demon stopped next to him, watching handfuls of people walking in the distance. The lone horse was bent over, looking as if it was feeding. He only had a second to look at it before a man walked over to it, bringing something and placing it nearby. Water, perhaps. The soldier looked around. William ducked.

  The soldiers would hunt for him soon.

  With no other choice but to turn around, he retreated back into the forest.

  Chapter 60: Deacon

  Deacon strode down the main road of the first island, a group of soldiers close behind him under the afternoon sun. All walked with arms at their sides, silent, ready to obey. They were his Trusted soldiers. His men.