The Ruins Box Set

by T. W. Piperbrook

  “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 the 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 f
elt 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.”

  Cullen looked over his shoulder, clearly reliving the fear of the story.

  “We fled as far and as fast as we could, but the men pursued us through the forest. We took a route that we had planned in case of danger—a path between a few hills. We survived long enough to keep ahead of them. Eventually, darkness settled in. We were too afraid to light a torch. I still remember huddling in the dark behind a fallen log as the men passed by us, clicking. We held our breaths, certain they would hear us. Even our long knives and bows felt useless against so many. They kept going. Or so we thought.” Cullen smeared something from his eye. “When the moon hid behind the trees, they appeared with torches, overpowering us. They dragged us in different directions. I tried to fight, but they beat me, tore my clothes, and took my weapons. All I heard were Mason and Lincoln’s cries, mixed with my own.” Cullen twitched, as if the memory caused him physical pain. He lowered his head. “I think my brothers fought hard enough that they were killed. Somehow, I escaped and ran into the woods. I wanted to help my brothers, but their screams stopped. The clicking men were everywhere. All I heard were those awful noises. And so I ran.” Cullen stared at the trees, as if his brothers might rematerialize.

  “Is that when you reached the city?” Kirby asked.

  Cullen nodded. “Most of us live in houses that are far away from the cities, to avoid the constant threat of wandering Plagued Ones, or other dangers. But I had no choice. The men followed me through the night and to morning. I didn’t know where I was going until I reached the first buildings. I was just trying to get away. I am not sure why they cared about me. Perhaps it is a game they play, or something worse.” Cullen shook his head, as if he could erase the memories. “I made it through a few buildings, stumbling over the rubble. Eventually, I reached a building dark enough to crouch in without being seen. I watched a group run by me. And then I waited.” Cullen swallowed. “I’m not sure how long I stayed there, but eventually, I crept into one of the tunnels leading underground. I kept to the shadows, eating whatever I could find. I avoided the clicking men who hunted me. I stayed alive. Barely.”

  “You are fortunate,” Bray said.

  “Sometimes I wish I could trade my life for my brothers’.” Cullen lowered his head. “I tried to escape a few times, using the hole in the road I showed you, and other routes, until I saw them. I snuck back into the tunnels to avoid death. I am not sure how long I was there before you came.”

  “I am sorry to hear about your family,” Kirby said.

  Cullen nodded, but his grief was accompanied by fear. He looked nervously over his shoulder. “A part of me believes these monsters are part of a dream I am having.”

  “It isn’t a dream,” Bray said, gesturing at the arrow in his leg.

  Cullen’s eyes darted around the forest. He didn’t answer.

  “You said there are more people like you,” Kirby remembered.

  “We are spaced throughout the forests.” Cullen nodded. “Sometimes we trade with one another. A few of us are families. Others are people who have taken up with each other to survive. I fear the rest of the people are dead, killed by those men.”

  “You are settlers, then,” Bray said with a definitive nod.

  “Settlers?”

  “People who live outside, in the forests, away from the cities,” Bray explained.

  Cullen seemed confused. “It would be foolish to live in the cities. They are a place of danger, and too often a place The Plagued Ones roam. Except for a few cities, like the one we left, which are strangely empty. No one is sure why. But we don’t trust them, either.”

  “So there are no cities filled with people?”

  “None that I’m aware of.”

  Bray couldn’t hide his disappointment.

  “Your people don’t have guns,” Kirby surmised.

  “The weapons you carry?” Cullen guessed, looking nervously at the rifle in her hand. “I saw them, once, but we do not have them. If I had one, I would’ve fought harder. Perhaps it would have made a difference, but probably not.”

  “Where did you see the guns?” Kirby asked, clearly surprised.

  “A few men I had never seen carried them through the woods a long time ago. We hid as they passed by, afraid to come out. We saw them using them on a few Plagued Ones. They were as incredible as yours.”

  Kirby watched him intently, processing something. “Did those people wear green and brown jackets?”

  “Our attention was stuck on the weapons. I cannot recall their features. But I do not think so.”

  Kirby looked as if she wasn’t finished with the questioning. “Did their guns look the same as ours?”

  “They might have been different,”
Cullen said, dipping back into his confusion.

  “More people with guns might mean more Tech Magic, even if they aren’t your people,” Bray said.

  “Perhaps,” Kirby said.

  “I do not know what those words mean,” Cullen said. “I am sorry.”

  Bray studied Cullen. His eyes were sunken. His cheeks were sallow. His body was gaunt enough that he resembled some of the poorest people in Brighton, paupers who worked from meal to meal. Bray had felt similar hunger, eating scraps where he could find them, drinking rainwater from puddles, like he’d done in the Ancient City, or plenty of times as a Warden. Too many days of living like that was enough to drain a man’s will. It was easy to see how Cullen’s sanity had been shredded after the loss of his brothers, and the terror he’d faced at the hands of The Clickers.

  Looking away, Bray noticed the sun sinking below the horizon. They’d hiked most of the day without reprieve.

  “We should find a place to camp soon,” said Bray. “And I need to get this arrow out. Do you know the area?”

  “Not well,” Cullen admitted, looking nervously around. “I’ve only been to the city where you found me a few times. As I said, we usually avoid cities. But I think there are some broken-down buildings to the south of here of which Mason and Lincoln spoke.”

  “Let’s keep going. Hopefully we can find them.”

  Chapter 5: Bray

  After traveling the forest for a while, thick, leafy trees gave way to a grassy slope with weeds as high as their knees. They trekked up the rising hill with the same caution they carried through the forest. Chirping insects sang around them, in alternating patterns of loud and quiet that followed their footsteps. They’d almost reached the top of the hill when Bray saw the tops of the buildings of which Cullen spoke.

  Several dilapidated, stone houses stood farther back on the hill. Weeds and trees seemed to have melded with the sides, as if nature were trying to reclaim the small, squat buildings. Tall grass grew up around them. The houses were a mixture of rocks dug from the forest, mixed with pieces of Ancient stone that might have been pulled from a larger building.