The Ruins Box Set

by T. W. Piperbrook

  “Don’t move!” Kirby warned.

  A few of the people on the beds rolled their heads toward her.

  For a long moment, she and the frightened women, children, and sick people stared at one another, sizing each other up. The knife-wielding woman’s hands shook, as she struggled for courage. The children stared at Kirby with sickly, bloodshot eyes.

  Movement at the room’s far side drew her attention. Kirby turned to find one of the sick men sitting up in his bedroll, feebly holding a sling.

  “Don’t do it,” she warned, her finger flush against the trigger.

  All at once, Kirby was back in her memory, reliving a similar standoff. Shortly after leaving that burning building, she’d broken into a small dwelling, confronting a woman and her three children. In the distance, she heard other doors slamming open, and the screams of the terrified villagers that her people were raiding. Swallowing, she focused on the mother and three children, whom she’d surprised.

  Caught unawares, the mother grabbed a metal fork, stabbing the air and trying to keep Kirby away from her children. Kirby trained her long, metal gun on the woman, decisions and conflict hurtling through her mind. For a moment, she was about to carry out her terrible orders, until she remembered the smell of burnt skin and the anguished cries of the dying people.

  Instead of shooting the mother and her children, Kirby had pressed a dirty finger to her lips, instructing them to stay quiet. She’d then slipped them out the back, shoving them towards the woods, before carrying out her orders and burning the dwelling. It was a small act of defiance that might’ve gotten her killed, if she’d been caught.

  Her memory of that day had given her comfort, a sense of hope, after too many haunting battles.

  She blinked back to the present, locking eyes with the knife-wielding woman, and the sling-holding man in the bed. A few more of the bedridden lolled their faces toward her from their makeshift cots, watching with sunken, fear-drenched eyes. Slowly, Kirby lifted her finger from the trigger.

  “I won’t hurt you,” she promised. “I’m leaving.” Quietly, she backed out of the doorway, toward the horses.

  She never made it.

  Too late, she spun to find ten women approaching up the path with slings and knives. She opened her mouth to speak, but words were useless. The people stared at her with malice.

  Surprising her with familiar words, a sharp-nosed woman said, “Get the rest of the way out of the ward.”

  Chapter 20 – William

  William choked back another scream as the monster swam towards him, getting closer. More of its massive back and its long, pointed tail rose above the water. He wasn’t going to wait for it to devour him.

  William ran.

  His feet pounded the narrow, rocky embankment as he wove in and out of shadows, racing for the other side of the tunnel. The fetid smell of animal feces and decay filled his senses. His boots skidded on slippery monster messes. He had no idea what kind of strange den he’d stepped into, but the thought of straying even a step toward the water terrified him.

  The water meant death. That’s all he knew.

  Several boulders blocked his way. He skirted around them, tripping over one and landing against the wall, scraping his wart-covered elbow. Pain pulsed through him, threatening to worsen. More large rocks lay ahead, forcing him to watch his feet.

  A splash distracted him. He turned to find the creature leaving its murky pool, clambering up onto the bank behind him.

  William slammed into something large and hard.

  Robbed of breath, he backed away from a chunk of Ancient stone, stunned. Only a few thin streams of light filtered around from it.

  To his right was the wall. To the left, the water.

  Behind him, the monster.

  The beast roared.

  Frantic, he lifted a leg, hoping he could climb onto the stone, but it was too high. He couldn’t push the stone, either. No; he had to get atop it.

  With a desperate grunt, he heaved himself upward, his fingers frantically searching for a crevice into which to stick his hand, just as water pelted his back.

  William lost his grip, falling to the ground and turning.

  The terrifying monster faced him.

  Blackish-grey scales covered the creature, which lumbered on four, squat legs. Water dripped from its tail. Two cold eyes sat on top of its flattened head. It opened its impossibly elongated jaws, and let out a loud, grunting roar, exposing rows of jagged white teeth. Those teeth could easily rip off an arm or a leg.

  Or crush a head like an overripe fruit.

  It plodded another step.

  Desperate, William held up his pathetic knife.

  The creature hissed and closed the gap, mouth agape, ready to rend soft flesh and grind bone. William wouldn’t last more than a moment against this thing. He’d never get away. He’d die.

  He spun, frantically jumping and pawing at the rock.

  He found a handhold.

  And then another.

  Barely in time, he pulled with all he had and rolled onto the rock, just as the creature slammed into the bottom. Gasping for breath, William got to his knees.

  The creature snapped and hissed.

  He looked down to find dark eyes and teeth below him, clawing futilely at the smooth stone, trying to get to him. William scrambled and turned, tumbling over the rest of the rock to the ground.

  He hit the pebbled floor hard on the other side, clutching his knife. On hands and knees, he crawled over the embankment. Sharp rocks tore at his palms. His knees burned.

  William tried standing, but the beast was already circling the rock. He was too late. He heard the scrape of its clawed feet on the rocks behind him, and smelled its rancid breath. At any moment, it would—

  There. A hole.

  The perfectly round break in the wall seemed like a gift from the gods. William leapt into it, caring not what might lie there, splashing through the dirty passage at the side of the tunnel, crawling as fast as he ever had. The creature’s throaty growl echoed behind him. William sucked in a breath and scooted through the enshrouding darkness. He continued as far as he could, bumping something. He pushed and pulled, but the obstruction wouldn’t budge.

  It was some sort of metal grate.

  Too late, he realized the death trap he’d entered. In desperation, he turned; the beast’s foul breath hit his face. It would be the last he would know of this world.

  A guttural sound filled the air—not the shriek of a beast, but the battle cry of a human.

  A squelch.

  The creature threshed wildly, whipping its head back and forth, inches from William’s feet in the small passage, sliding backward. More grunts. Hissing. William turned, but he saw only rapidly moving shadows. Teeth snapped. Claws scraped.

  Another round of squelches.

  Silence.

  William froze, his heart ramming against his ribcage. Then he saw a spear of light at the end of the passage.

  A long exhalation broke the quiet. “Filthy, disgusting beast,” a voice muttered.

  Bray!

  Chapter 21 – Kirby

  Kirby eyed the row of women twenty feet away, all of whom clutched their weapons.

  “Get out of the building,” the sharp-nosed woman demanded.

  Kirby froze. The rifle in her hand could easily pierce through a number of these women, or at the very least scatter them, giving her a chance at escape. What then? She envisioned the rounds ripping holes in the dirty people. A field full of women could easily turn into a field full of the dead.

  She might die, too.

  In a slow, but surprisingly understandable drawl, the woman questioned, “Why are you here?”

  “I came from the trail.” Kirby saw no reason to lie. “My friends and I were passing through.”

  “And now you’ve come to raid us.”

  “Raid you?” Kirby furrowed her brow. “I came to stash my horses, so I could return to help my friends.”

  “I o
nly see you,” the woman accused, looking around nervously.

  “We got separated,” Kirby explained. Looking at the sling in the woman’s hand, she put something obvious together. “Your men attacked us, when we tried passing through.”

  The women looked at one another cautiously.

  “Are these your sick?” Kirby asked, hoping to keep the woman talking.

  No answer.

  “This is your quarantine building, isn’t it?”

  “Quarantine?” the woman asked, not familiar with the word.

  “A place to separate them, so they can be treated without infecting the others,” Kirby explained.

  “Yes,” the woman affirmed. “They have a severe illness. Any fool could see that.”

  Kirby surveyed the woman, whose hair was twisted in knots. She held a bucket in her other hand, and so did some others. Their clothing was patched and stained; their eyes were tired. It looked as if they’d gone to get water.

  “Where are your friends now?” the woman asked, anxiously looking around.

  “I’m not sure, but I’m just as worried about them as you are about your sick,” Kirby said. “Maybe we can help each other. I have a proposal.”

  Chapter 22 – William

  William opened his mouth. It took a moment for fear to release its grip on his tongue, once he got out of the passage. Below him, on the embankment, lay the enormous body of the beast.

  William recoiled.

  In a sliver of light, he got a closer look at the ridges covering nearly every inch of the long, dark beast’s back and its tail. Black, glossy eyes stuck out from the top of the creature’s elongated snout. A long sword stuck out from its head. Bending down, Bray placed his boot on the scaled head and removed his blade with a crunch.

  “Vile, nasty thing.”

  “What…what is it?” William whispered in disbelief.

  “I’m not sure,” Bray admitted. “It’s dead. That’s the important thing.”

  “It looked dead to me, too, earlier,” William shuddered, “but then it followed me.”

  “Nothing could’ve taken all my stabs and survived,” Bray said, nudging it with a boot.

  William furrowed his brow, noticing Bray’s pistol. “Why didn’t you use your gun?”

  “I was afraid it would ricochet and hit you.” Bray smiled a bit and beckoned to the passage. “Besides, sometimes it takes a big blade to kill a big beast.” He puffed up his chest.

  William nodded, but he still wasn’t getting close to the thing.

  Seeing William hesitate, Bray asked, “Are you hurt?”

  William looked down at his body, searching for wounds he couldn’t see. His palms and knees stung, but he didn’t feel any other pain. “I think I’m okay.”

  Movement outside interrupted them. In the time they’d been talking, a handful of figures had crept close, behind the trees outside.

  “We’ve got more problems than a dead beast,” Bray muttered.

  William studied the trees behind which the men had stationed, and the furtive men lurking near the tunnel’s opposite end.

  “They’re waiting for us,” Bray hissed. “We’re trapped.”

  William looked around for his gun, even though he’d lost it on the slope. “Where’s your long gun?”

  “Gone, because of the demons,” Bray muttered angrily.

  “You’ve got your pistol, though.”

  Bray nodded, pulling it out.

  The men outside peered from behind the trees, trying to see into the shadowy tunnel.

  “There must be a dozen out there. And for all we know, more are coming,” Bray said.

  “Where’s Kirby?”

  “I sent her somewhere to be safe.”

  “So what are we going to do?” William asked nervously.

  Looking back at the hole in the wall, Bray asked, “Does that go anywhere?”

  “There’s some kind of metal grate at the end,” William said. “We can’t get through.”

  Bray swore, looking back and forth at the two groups of men. “If they have any brains, they’ll starve us out instead of rushing in here so we can shoot them.”

  “Maybe we can fight them off from the shadows?” William suggested.

  “I doubt we’ll have much luck,” Bray said gravely. “There are more of them, and they’ve got a better vantage point.”

  William looked back and forth between the groups. Bray was right. The Tech Magic guns held only a certain number of the precious, metal rounds inside. The spare ammo in he and Bray’s bags wouldn’t last forever.

  Another shudder coursed through him as he looked from the men to the monster, wishing he could take back a regrettable decision.

  Bray followed his gaze, cursing, until a thought struck him. “When you ran into the tunnel, did the men try following you?”

  “The demons distracted them,” William remembered, still feeling guilty about the unintended consequences of his actions.

  “They definitely saw me, but they didn’t follow me, either,” Bray recalled. A thought became clearer. “Maybe that means something.”

  “What are you thinking?” William asked, picking up on the idea in Bray’s voice.

  “You’ll see.”

  Chapter 23 – Bray

  Bray grunted, heaving the magnificent beast through the tunnel. The massive creature was as awkward as it was heavy. Every so often, he set it down, catching his wind. The creature’s thick, leathery skin was unsettling to touch; its oily blood streaked his skin and clothes. Before heading out with it, he’d also covered his face with the thick gore, for effect.

  Bray kept his focus straight ahead. He couldn’t see William behind him, but he sensed him, lurking in the shadows, holding his pistol.

  Hopefully, the gods would give them luck; sometimes, he knew, they favored the foolish.

  Sunlight splashed over Bray’s face as he emerged from the shadows to daylight, carting the beast through the knee-high water. He took a few more steps, making sure he was in full sight of the men, before tossing the ugly creature into the murky water with an exaggerated heave.

  The beast landed with a big splash, rolling and floating on its back. “Here you go,” he called.

  Awe struck the faces of the men, as they surveyed the monster and the man who had killed it. They kept behind the trees, staring between him and the horrific, dead beast. None moved. Bray looked down at his kill. The beast’s underbelly was surprisingly smooth, but no less menacing than its tough, scaled back. Jagged, chipped teeth lined the interior of its mouth, which hung half-open, stained with the blood of its many kills.

  Bray looked between the nervously peering men, waiting for them to come out.

  For a long while, stunned silence pervaded, until, finally, uncertainty took over, leading to curiosity. Finally, a familiar, bearded man stepped out from behind a tree. Bray recognized him as the mud-slicked man he’d first seen, recognizable by the scars across the man’s nose and cheeks. His eyes were widely spaced. Bray lowered his hand to his scabbard, while the dirty, bearded man took a few, careful steps through the water.

  In a slow, dragging speak, he said, “You have beaten The Gray One.”

  Bray’s hand tensed on his blade, as the man’s eyes roamed to the fearsome, floating beast. He puffed up his chest. “It was a hard battle, but in the end, the creature was no match for me.”

  “You entered its Shadowed Wall.” A few of the men murmured.

  Bray glanced over his shoulder at the large mouth of the tunnel, and back at the man. He didn’t like the way the man was speaking, or the way the men behind him were mumbling and looking at the foul creature’s den.

  Maybe this thing was their god.

  More movement came from behind the trees, as four others slowly emerged, wading through the water, forming a line next to the man.

  In an instant, Bray regretted his bold plan. His heart hammered.

  “Only the infected are foolish enough to enter The Gray One’s den,” the man said.
“We made a pact to leave it at peace. You have broken that.”

  Bray looked between the men, trying to backpedal. “We had no choice. It attacked us.”

  The men traded long, indecisive glances.

  “You have done us a favor,” the bearded man said, surprising him and speaking for them all.

  “A favor?” Bray asked, confused.

  “The beast has wounded many of our people, and caused us much fear. No more,” the man said, with a grateful nod.

  The other men nodded and lowered their weapons. Bray opened and closed his mouth, relieved.

  “There are many of the Toothed Ones in these wetlands, but none as large, or as deadly, as this one,” the bearded man said.

  Bray recalled the gutted, dying demon he’d encountered in the building. Perhaps that gaping wound had been suffered by the terrible mouth of this beast, or one of its kind. He threw out his chest again.

  The men looked at each other with reassurance, as if a burden had been lifted. The relief and reprieve of hostility lasted until another man stepped forward from behind a tree. Blood spilled from a hole in his shoulder. Anger flickered in his eyes.

  “He might have killed the beast, but he wounded me and Alejandro.” The man pointed angrily up the slope, where six men climbed down, helping another. A bullet wound marred the second injured man’s thigh. Relaxed expressions returned to anger.

  “We were defending ourselves,” Bray said, taking a step back. “We meant no harm; we wanted only to pass peacefully through these lands.”

  “And yet you left your mark,” said the bearded man.

  “I told you, strangers are threats,” said the man with the injured shoulder, to his leader. “All who come uninvited must die so that our people remain safe. It is our way.”

  The bearded man lowered his head, appraising Bray. “You are right; it is our way.”

  Chapter 24 – Bray

  A whinny filled the air. Cries arose.

  Loud splashes drew the attention of Bray and the men, who looked to the distance to find two horses galloping through the marsh. Kirby sat atop one, while a pack of dirty, ragged women ran alongside her.