The Ruins Box Set

by T. W. Piperbrook

  William shrugged, looking as if he wanted to escape the attention. “And I’ve never met a man who lives in the tunnels,” he said, with youthful honesty. He remained quiet a moment, before asking, “Have you known many infected?”

  “Only a few.”

  “What do you do with them?”

  Cullen looked as if he was caught in a question with no good answer. He looked at Bray and Kirby, but neither stopped him from responding. There was no use in hiding anything from William. They never had. “Over time, some of them grew confused, and we were able to lead them away in a ritual we called The Walk,” Cullen said. “But that wasn’t possible with all, or even most of them.”

  “What happened to those you couldn’t lead away?” William asked.

  “We took them away forcibly,” Cullen said, quickly adding, “We didn’t harm them.”

  “Did they come back?”

  “If they did, we never saw them.” Cullen looked grave. “Most of our people hide in the spring and fall, when the spores float on the wind, hoping we aren’t infected. We cover our faces, though it doesn’t always work.”

  “Our people tried that, too,” William said with sadness. “Eventually, they accepted that the spore was the will of the gods, and they stopped fighting it.”

  An uncomfortable silence settled over the room as Cullen stared at his dirt-stained fingers, and William looked away.

  “We should probably get moving, while we are fortunate,” Kirby said. “We can eat our breakfast once we get out of the house and into the forest.”

  **

  Before leaving, they scattered some rocks over the floor in the dwelling, obscuring traces of their stay, and then they hiked from the building down the long, sun-covered slope, heading farther south.

  The rising sun warming Kirby’s face was certainly preferable to bitter cold, but that didn’t quell her uneasiness. Months of travel in a saddle, high above the ground, left her feeling vulnerable on foot. It was strange traveling without horses. There was less of a chance of outrunning an attack by more mutants—or men.

  “We should keep heading away from the city,” Bray reinforced. “Perhaps The Clickers are territorial.”

  Cullen nodded, but he looked sad.

  “What’s wrong?” Bray asked.

  “I’m thinking about the others.”

  “Your brothers?”

  “Not them. They died. I heard their screams.” Cullen swallowed. “Our neighbors, the others that lived in the forests. I am afraid they met the same fate.”

  “Perhaps they heard danger, and escaped,” Kirby suggested.

  “I hope that is true. Some day, I will go back and search for them.” Cullen’s shoulders sagged and guilt crossed his face.

  Turning around meant death.

  They all knew it.

  The slope segued gently down into forest as thick, leafy trees surrounded them. They kept to the thickest areas of the woods, holding branches instead of snapping them off, avoiding streambeds, or areas of thick moss, where a boot might leave a track. They traveled for another day and another night, stopping only long enough to sleep and build small cooking fires. They had long passed any place of which Cullen had knowledge.

  Trees surrounded them as they set off on a new morning, under an auburn sky and a rising sun. Bugs circled their heads, nipping at their bare skin. The air was already humid.

  “The bugs are much more persistent than the ones up north,” Bray said, swatting away a buzzing gnat.

  “And larger,” Kirby answered.

  They walked in a single line, following a trodden game trail, until they reached a sparser area of woods, and spread out. A long, grassy field appeared through the trees. Stopping long enough to catch a squirrel, they built a small fire at the edge of the tree line, ate a quick breakfast, and rested. Ahead of them, the broad field of brown grass extended as far as the eye could see, going up a slight incline. They were putting out the fire when William spoke up.

  “Over there!” He pointed.

  Kirby followed his finger. Deep in the distance, a few hundred feet away, the top of some stone structure was just visible through the sun’s rising glare, rising above the hill. Finishing with the fire, they hiked toward it.

  “What is it?” Bray asked, as they got closer.

  “Some sort of building,” Kirby said, as they made their way up the slope.

  “The remains of one,” William clarified.

  The structure came into view the closer they got, enough so that Kirby could decipher some of its features. The stone—perhaps once a building—was now three enormous beams. Two were evenly spaced and rose high into the air, while another connected them at the top, forming a door-shaped structure with nothing in the middle, or around it. Somehow, the weathered frame had outlasted the rest of whatever building had accompanied it. All around the enormous door was large, rocky rubble. The same tall, brown grass that covered the field grew around it.

  “It is tall enough that a giant could go through it,” Kirby mused as they got close.

  “A giant?” William asked.

  “A very tall person, many times larger and wider than any of us,” Kirby said. “Clearly you do not have the same stories.”

  “I haven’t heard that one,” William admitted, marveling at the enormous entrance. “Is it true?”

  Kirby shook her head and smiled.

  Thinking on it further, William said, “But some of our stories are proven true, like the stories of the Tech Magic that you showed us how to use. And to you, horses were legend.”

  “A fair point. But I do not think the large people exist,” Kirby said with a half-smile. “More than likely, this was an important building, important enough that it deserved such a magnificent entrance.”

  “And now it is just a door,” William said with a shrug.

  “Perhaps it means there is a city nearby,” Bray suggested.

  They walked around some of the rubble, marveling at the strong, stone structure, which was many times taller than either of them. Birds circled and cawed around the top, or perched on its ledges.

  “My father had a superstition about doors,” Bray said.

  “Oh?” Kirby asked.

  “He believed you should utter a prayer to the gods before walking through them. Too many Wardens were shot, or struck down, when they walked into a building. He considered them bad luck.”

  “Do you believe the same?”

  Bray shrugged and smiled. “Some of my father’s stories were hokum. When I got older, I became smart enough to know which was which.”

  Walking around the nearest, enormous beam, William said, “My mother believed doors are lucky. Perhaps this door will lead us to something better.”

  “Or at least farther away from those men,” Bray muttered.

  With several large, determined steps, William stepped from one side of the massive doorway to the other.

  “Perhaps you were right about the city,” Cullen said, calling their attention elsewhere, as he pointed south at the horizon.

  It took a moment for Kirby to see to what he was referring. The ground sloped downward, turning from field to forest, with trees spackling the landscape. But trees weren’t the only things beyond that slope. Deep in the distance, a single, tall building rose majestically above the skyline.

  “Maybe the door is lucky, William,” Cullen said.

  “Is that a building?” William asked, putting his hand above his brow to block the morning glare.

  “I think it is,” Bray said.

  Kirby cupped her eyes, looking.

  “Another tower,” Bray said, with a tone that showed his hesitation. “Maybe another city we cannot see from here.”

  “Something is different, though,” William said, walking forward as if he could discern more from a single step.

  “What do you mean?” Kirby asked.

  “Most of the buildings are crumbled at the top. But not that one.” William walked farther, looking. “Do you see the e
dges? They are sharper than any I’ve seen. And it seems to shimmer in the sun’s light.”

  “It is probably the distance,” Bray said with authority. “You cannot see the defects from here, and there is too much glare from the rising sun. I’m sure it is just as crumbled as the other buildings we’ve come across.”

  “I am telling you, something is different,” William insisted. “It looks like it is glowing. Maybe it is the city of the giants.” Wonder filled his voice.

  Kirby wasn’t foolish enough to believe his words, and she certainly didn’t believe in giants, but she couldn’t deny that something seemed different about the building. Before anyone could say anything, William moved. Grass whipped against the others’ pants as they followed. William hiked as if some invisible force spurred him onward. With each step, he traveled faster, forcing them to keep up.

  “I think that building is farther away than you think,” Bray warned. “It will take us some time to get there.”

  “I know,” William said, but he was clearly focused. “But I want to see what it is.”

  William’s enthusiasm was contagious.

  Kirby couldn’t deny it.

  The building was intriguing.

  Chapter 9: Kirby

  They moved at a cautious speed as they reentered the relative safety of the forest, scaring up small animals, and a few birds that cawed as they burst from the overhead boughs. Kirby looked for markings on the hard ground, but she couldn’t tell if anyone had traveled this way in a while.

  Seeing the tall building seemed to have sparked something in William. Gone was the depressed, forlorn boy who had lamented the horses, or spent hours in silence. He moved as if he hadn’t spent the previous days running from merciless monsters. He moved as if he weren’t an infected boy without a future, but a young man on the verge of discovery.

  Even Cullen, who was clearly exhausted, trekked at a faster pace, hope in his steps.

  They followed the forest for most of the morning, finding a few piles of mutant dung, and some bent branches. They didn’t see any signs of humans, though. If people lived in the building they’d seen, Kirby couldn’t envision it.

  The forest slowly thinned.

  Eventually, they saw the outline of the gigantic building through the trees, unmistakably the one they’d seen from the hill. William moved faster again as the building grew in prominence.

  They halted at the tree line, on a small hill.

  No one spoke.

  Beyond the tree line and the hill, a patch of grass extended from the forest for a hundred feet. Past it, green corn stalks rose up higher than any of their heads, thick and planted in rows that went almost all the way to the building.

  They’d reached what had unmistakably been a city.

  Or still was.

  Beyond the magnificent building, a few more edifices rose into the sky, though none were as grand as the first. The other buildings were behind a wall that extended out from either side of the shimmering building, in the structure’s midpoint. The building was clearly the central point of this place, whatever it was, but the wall coming out from its sides prevented a view of most of what was behind it.

  The towering, central edifice speared the sky, with sides smoother than most buildings Kirby had seen. Sunlight gleamed off the windows, which extended up and down the building’s sides. Awe filled her as she realized how many were protected by glass, except for those on the first few floors, which were covered by stone from inside. She saw the tops of a barricade of boulders that seemed to extend across the building’s bottom floor, protecting it. The building wasn’t flawless, but it was maintained better than anything Kirby had seen since her homeland.

  “By the gods,” Cullen whispered, as he stared.

  “That building has glass!” Bray said, shaking his head in awe as he pointed at the upper floors.

  “And not just a few windows, like the richest people in Brighton,” William said. “I can see the gleaming everywhere!”

  “Incredible,” Cullen said, looking as if he’d never seen such a spectacle. “You were right about the building, William. It is different.”

  “Look over there!” William said, pointing in another direction. “What are those?”

  A ways between them and the building, on either side, two enormous, turning devices rose above the cornfield. A single sheet of metal led up to the round center of each, which was surrounded by blades that turned in the wind.

  Kirby’s jaw dropped in wonder as she found a new spectacle at which to look. “Windmills,” she said.

  “What?” Bray asked.

  “Devices that provide power,” she said, realizing that she might as well have been speaking another language. Explaining, she said, “They use the wind to do things without the touch of men.”

  “Windmills,” Bray repeated, with obvious amazement.

  “There are more buildings behind the wall,” William said. “Although it is hard to see them from this distance.”

  It was true. The shimmering building was the only one in clear view, at the forefront of the place, whatever it was. Kirby looked for a place one might enter. She was too far away to see a door on the building’s sides, but it didn’t look like the barricade of boulders covered them. She also saw what looked like a gate in the wall on the building’s left side, leading to whatever lay beyond.

  “It is definitely a city.” Kirby was robbed of more words. She blinked, as if the gleaming building, the ones behind the wall, and the windmills might disappear, but they remained.

  Perhaps Kirby’s golden palace in the clouds did exist.

  Perhaps the stories were true.

  Chapter 10: Rudyard

  Rudyard dragged his finger along the thin, stiff page, following the symbols and pictures with his eyes. Midday sunlight reached through the window of the tall building in which he sat, illuminating the pile of books next to him on the eighteenth floor of the Learning Building. Turning the page, his eyes roamed from one drawing to the next.

  He knew that understanding came with time. All around him, shelves full of books reminded him of the knowledge yet to be gained. The odor of his untouched food wafted from the plate on the grand table across the room, the last plate not yet eaten. Soon, it would lose its heat, and it wouldn’t taste as good.

  Tearing his concentration from the books, Rudyard stood and stretched his legs. He had to get back to his duties. He walked to the table, retrieved the plate of food, and brought it back to his desk by the window, careful to slide it away from the books, so he wouldn’t damage them. Steam rose from a plate of potatoes, corn, and meat. Spearing a bite with his fork, he shoved it into his mouth. He chewed.

  And stopped.

  Far in the distance, past where the windmills turned, the crops grew in the sun, and the patch of grass led to the forest, something moved through the edge of the trees at the top of the small hill. He watched for a moment, certain that he was envisioning human shapes in the foliage. Or maybe the sun was playing tricks with his eyes.

  More movement.

  Clothing.

  Rudyard dropped his fork with a clatter loud enough to echo across the vast room. He looked behind him, as if someone else might’ve noticed, even though he was alone. When he looked back out the window, the human figures were gone, but he could still see them in his mind, peering at the building. His home. Their home.

  He ran to get the others.

  Chapter 11: Kirby

  The enormous windmills spun in slow circles, driven by a breeze. A few clouds rolled across the blue sky, pierced easily by the sunlight, some of which cast a glare off the windows of the magnificent building. Kirby couldn’t hold her awe.

  “It was a smart thing to build the windmills here. There is a nice wind.”

  “Whoever lives here is intelligent,” William said.

  “Not like the barbarian tribes we’ve seen,” Bray muttered. “Or the men behind us, if they are still there.” He looked over his shoulder, as if he might catch
a glimpse of The Clickers, though enough time had passed that Kirby doubted they’d see them.

  “The building is remarkable,” Cullen said, wiping his eyes as if he might have dirt in them. “I have never seen anything like what covers those windows.”

  “You haven’t seen glass?” William asked.

  “Not in that shape,” Cullen admitted. “Most has been in fragments, or ground beneath a traveler’s boots. I have never seen the sun reflect something so brilliantly.”

  “Only the merchants had glass in the windows, from where we came,” William explained.

  “Merchants?” Cullen asked, hearing another foreign word.

  Avoiding a more detailed explanation, William said, “The windows were rare.” Pointing at a place a few floors up from the bottom of the magnificent building, he noticed something else. “What is that little room jutting out from the rest of the building, without a roof?”

  Kirby stared the distance between the forest and the building, scanning the place where William looked. “A balcony,” she said. Seeing another question on William’s face, she added, “A place where people stand. And a railing to protect them from falling. Perhaps it is a place to keep watch.”

  She regarded the balcony, and the tops of some of the smaller, less grand structures behind the long, extending wall that came out from either side of the building. Farther down from where they stood, a dirt path divided the rows of corn in half, seemingly running from the crops to the building.

  “With knowledge like these people have, they must be intelligent, like you said, Kirby,” William suggested.”Maybe they can teach us.”

  “Or kill us,” Kirby warned.

  Staring at the city, it was easy to imagine either of those scenarios. Kirby kept a firm grip on her rifle as she weighed options. They could turn, go back into the woods, and forget what they’d seen. But they would always wonder.

  “I can’t say this is the same as the stories you heard at The Arches, Kirby, but it is the closest thing we’ve found,” Bray said.