The Ruins Box Set

by T. W. Piperbrook

He would wait a day or so, to ensure The Gifted hadn’t detected anything, and then he’d get it.

  Chapter 32: Kirby

  “We are almost done for the day,” Rosita said, wiping some sweat from her forehead as she tossed another sheet of finished metal on the pile.

  Kirby nodded as she looked at the doorway.

  The guards were there, supervising, but none of them looked over.

  Ollie was gone.

  Still, she couldn’t forget his eyes on her earlier.

  Ollie’s looming threat lingered, long after he was gone. At any moment, he might come back and pull her away, to the smirks of the guards and the fearful stares of the other slaves. No one would help her, when he pulled her off to do whatever his greasy hands desired. She couldn’t get her mind off the ominous words he had spoken, when she had been in his house.

  I’m not through with you.

  In here, she might have a chance at defending herself, but outside, in an alley or in her home, she was defenseless.

  She thought about what Bray had said about finding an escape plan. A revolt was the ultimate goal. But what if Ollie attacked her beforehand?

  Kirby wouldn’t die without a final fight.

  She looked around. Most of the workers finished up their last, hard duties for the day. Soon, they would wind down, take off their work garments, and prepare for an evening of relative freedom. Finished with a long piece of metal, and finding no eyes on her, Kirby swallowed. She looked around.

  This time Kirby didn’t stop her impulse.

  She used her shears to make an extra snip. A piece of metal the size and shape of a finger fell into her waiting hand.

  She looked around again.

  No one was watching.

  Clenching a fist around the scrap, Kirby stuffed the sharp metal in her pocket.

  **

  The metal scrap felt like a bomb in her pocket as Kirby took the alleyways home. Every laugh made her turn; every footstep made her think someone followed. More than one pair of eyes seemed as if they fixated on her, even though she doubted that was true. She kept a wide berth as she turned every corner, afraid that hands would grab her and frisk her.

  She might be paranoid, but she had something to hide.

  Protection.

  That’s what the metal was supposed to be, once she shaped and sharpened it.

  But right now, it felt like a burden, an easy way to death, if she weren’t careful.

  When Kirby returned home from the machine shop, Esmeralda stood outside, hanging laundry. Four other women stood nearby, chatting quietly. Two held babies in their arms, while another held the skinny arm of a toddler. The fourth held Fiona.

  Hiding her nerves, the piece of metal still in her pocket, Kirby said, “Hello.”

  The women nodded. One of the women shifted the baby on her hips.

  Noticing Kirby, Esmeralda turned from her laundry and said, “Kirby, these are my friends Marla, Cindy, Louise, and Gayle.”

  The women politely smiled.

  “They stopped by for a visit,” Esmeralda said. Turning her attention to her friends, she said, “Kirby works in the machine shops. She was transferred from the fields.”

  “My husband works as a blacksmith,” Marla said, with a knowing nod. “He probably works near you.”

  “I was just assigned,” Kirby said evasively. “I don’t know many people yet.”

  The woman with the toddler, Cindy, winced. “I worked there before I had Cecilia. I can still hear some of the clangs when I lie down to sleep. The noises can be loud.”

  Marla said, “You’ll want to plug your ears with a piece of clothing. That’s what my husband does. He says it dampens the ringing he hears at night.”

  Kirby nodded, grateful for the tip.

  “We should probably get back,” said Marla. “Our husbands will return soon.”

  The others agreed. Gayle handed Fiona back to Esmeralda, before shuffling off, motivated by the other slaves returning to their homes. Kirby couldn’t recall a time where the people in New City didn’t feel the pressure of the guards’ schedule.

  With the women gone, Esmeralda smiled. “I washed our bedrolls,” she told Kirby, gesturing toward the items hanging to dry as she hugged Fiona. “They should dry by this evening.”

  “Thanks,” Kirby said, and she meant it. With so much time spent in the metal shop, normal tasks seemed like a tiresome burden.

  Keeping her voice low as they entered the dwelling, Esmeralda said, “We were talking about some of the times we’ve spent with our little ones. Those moments will be over soon.”

  Kirby nodded. “The years go by quickly.”

  Esmeralda shook her head. “That is not what I mean. The guards came and talked to us this morning.” Esmeralda looked as if she fought back tears. “They will transition us to work duties soon, while the caretaking women watch the kids.”

  “I am sorry to hear that,” Kirby said sympathetically.

  Esmeralda sighed. “I was hoping I might get more time.”

  “I am sure Fiona will adapt to the change,” Kirby reassured her.

  “She has no choice.” Esmeralda looked at Fiona with guilt in her eyes. “And neither do I. One thing is certain: I will miss her during the day.”

  Kirby nodded empathetically. She didn’t know what was worse—living through suffering conditions, or adapting to them. Esmeralda wiped her face as she held her child.

  Hoping to distract her from a depressing mood, Kirby asked, “Do those women live close?”

  “A few,” Esmeralda said. “Marla and her child Jayden live two rows to the north. Cindy has the toddler named Cecilia. She lives a few rows behind us. Gayle and Louise are from farther back in the city. Last year, we had a few more infants nearby, but they moved.”

  “Moved?” Kirby asked. “I did not think we had any choice as to where we lived.”

  “We don’t normally. Caitlyn and Jeremy switched to a house on the eastern part of the city, when heavy rain collapsed their roof, flooding their house and damaging the walls. The rain changed the stream near the house, so it floods every time it rains. It was an unlucky accident. The guards decided to move them rather than repair it. Their old house is the corner house at the end of our row.” Esmeralda’s eyes grew reflective as she pointed.

  “It sounds as if you know the people here well,” Kirby said.

  “I have some free moments, in between caring for Fiona.” She shrugged. “I notice things. Of course, I will not have that luxury much longer.”

  Kirby felt sympathy for Esmeralda. But an idea percolated, as she listened to Esmeralda talk. Perhaps the flooded house might be a place where she and Bray could meet.

  Chapter 33: Kirby

  Kirby ducked into the small, dank house under a caving roof. Piles of rubble lined the floor. What was left of the ceiling was lined with cracks, allowing moonlight to seep through the dwelling. Her feet splashed into a few long-standing puddles as she crept far enough inside to be concealed by the house’s fractured walls. The place was damp, but it was safer than meeting in an alley, or in a dark corner where others might see. The shadows around it kept the lights from the other houses at bay. She saw no one near.

  After a little while, a lone figure came down a perpendicular alley and ducked inside to join her.

  “Bray,” she whispered.

  “Where did you find out about this place?”

  “Esmeralda mentioned it,” Kirby said. “It flooded a while ago. She doesn’t know I’m here, of course.”

  “How was the machine shop?” he asked.

  She could hear another question in his voice. He wanted to know about Ollie.

  “Ollie didn’t bother me,” Kirby said. “I saw him once, but he left me alone.”

  She could feel Bray’s relief bleeding across the dark space between them.

  Pulling the piece of metal from her pocket, she held it in a bit of ambient light. “I was able to take this.”

  Bray’s eyes widened as he
imagined danger. “Did anyone see you?”

  “If someone saw me, they would’ve pulled me away,” she said, trying to reassure herself as well as him.

  “Do you think we’ll be able to get more?” Bray asked.

  “I am learning how things work,” Kirby said. “The guards keep an eye on us, of course, but there are opportunities. I think I can get some more pieces out and away.”

  Bray nodded, but she saw the concern on his face.

  “This is not the first time I’ve done something like this,” Kirby assured him.

  Bray shifted in the darkness as he kept watch out the small, dank building and Kirby stuck the metal back in her pocket. Determining that no one walked nearby, he said, “I spoke with some of the Yatari today.”

  “The people who build boats,” she remembered.

  “I traded some information. I think I have that escape route I was hoping to figure out.”

  Kirby’s spirits rose as Bray described what had transpired with the men, along with the information he had traded. For a moment, she forgot about some of the other dangers of the city, as she listened to some of his inspiring words.

  “How far is this mountain pass?” she asked.

  “Less than a half day’s walk,” Bray repeated.

  “At a faster pace, it would take less time to reach it,” Kirby said, excitement in her voice. After a careful thought, she added, “Though, if mutants follow us, it won’t matter if the area is free of them.”

  “Probably true,” Bray said.

  Kirby fell silent a moment as she imagined two hundred slaves fleeing through the narrow pass. “I am trying to picture a worst-case scenario, in which we are forced to use this path. Having steep hills on either side might make it difficult to flee. Or to fight.”

  Bray explained his reasoning. “Aside from the assurances the Yatari gave me, I’ve fought plenty of battles in similar terrain. If we are lucky, the demons will come from one direction. Most will stick to the clear path to reach us. If we keep the demons on one side of us, the high ground on either side might help us. We can topple them, so they cannot surround us. It is not a guarantee of success, but it is better than running into the wild blindly. And it is certainly more than we had yesterday, when we knew nothing outside of the walls and the crop fields.”

  Kirby nodded. She knew nothing was certain, but the information was definitely useful. “Do you trust the Yatari?”

  Bray nodded. “They seemed sincere. I think they feel for us. Not enough to help us, but I believe what they told me. And I told them nothing incriminating.”

  “It was a clever move,” Kirby said. A wave of nostalgia swept over her as she thought of the boats in New Hope. As broken down and unusable as they were, she doubted she’d ever see them again. “Did you tell them the truth about the boats’ location?”

  “I told them the boats are far. I am uncertain whether they will go, but I did not lie,” Bray said.

  “Those boats will do nothing for anyone,” Kirby said, falling silent for a moment as she reflected.

  “Exactly what I thought,” Bray said. “But it was enough to get the information I needed.”

  Patting the ground around her, she searched with her hands through some of the rubble. Finding a round, smooth stone the size of half her palm, she held it up to the moonlight.

  “What are you doing?” Bray asked.

  “Finding something to use to sharpen my piece of metal,” she said. “Later—perhaps while Esmeralda sleeps—I’ll fashion it into a weapon I can use.”

  High spirits overtook Kirby. She had survived another day, spirited away a weapon, and had plans to get more. And Bray’s information brought them closer to a plan.

  “Between what you’ve found out, and my getting some metal, our plan might be closer to fruition than we think,” Kirby said optimistically.

  “Perhaps we should talk with The Shadow People,” Bray said.

  “I will see if I can catch Drew’s ear tomorrow.”

  Chapter 34: Bray

  When Bray returned home, Teddy knelt by the fire, cleaning some of their dented pots and pans. The house was otherwise empty. As usual, no one else had wandered in to mingle, as Bray often saw at other dwellings. In Bray’s time here, he had only seen the guard who brought him here and the guards who passed out rations near the door. Teddy was careful, as always.

  “How was your walk?” Teddy asked.

  “As pleasant as it gets, after a full day of standing,” Bray said, stretching his sore back.

  “Sometimes the hottest days make for pleasant nights,” Teddy said, sounding as if he’d used the line before. Or maybe it was what he’d told himself, in those days before his isolation. He scraped a stubborn food stain away from a pot.

  A few conversations drifted over from the courtyard, where several large groups of people hovered around the bonfires. None of the backlit faces looked in their direction.

  “They are talking about our lowered rations,” Teddy said, shaking his head. “The guards will be cutting down our portions in anticipation of the slow growing season.”

  Bray shook his head. “Dirty pig chasers. How did you hear?”

  “Aside from those people? Some guards talked about it outside the sewing rooms. It happens most years, though it doesn’t make it any easier,” Teddy said. “Those with children have it the worst. They have to stretch their rations further. The guards compensate for the extra mouths, but never enough.”

  Bray nodded, looking up at the shimmering tower. Not for the first time, he wondered about William’s treatment. Was he receiving plentiful meals like when they first arrived, or were his portions reduced to scraps?

  Standing near the door, Bray kicked off his boots, emptied some of the day’s dirt, and carried them back to his bedroll. He’d air them a while before putting them back on to sleep.

  “You rarely go without them,” Teddy noticed.

  “Old habits from the wild,” Bray said. “I’m always ready to move.”

  Finished with his cleaning, Teddy sat on the bedroll across from Bray, watching the clusters of people disperse from the bonfires. Quiet conversations grew louder as people finished up their talks, or said their goodbyes. Teddy looked as if he had something else to say.

  Surprise hit Bray as Teddy leaned over and whispered, “I wouldn’t meet in the flooded house anymore.”

  Bray’s blood froze.

  He looked outside, as if he’d stepped into some trap.

  “What did you say?” Bray asked, as if he might’ve misheard.

  Teddy kept on as if he hadn’t been questioned. “Too many people have used that place in the past. It is not safe. Do not meet there again.”

  A few women cackled as they let out a laugh they only dared at night.

  Bray watched Teddy suspiciously. Was Teddy giving another friendly warning, or did he want something?

  Perhaps Teddy meant to gain the meager share of Bray’s rations, his clothing, or some other benefit he couldn’t see. Bray had seen similar situations. Eventually, the secret would get out, no matter how many promises were made.

  His mistake could cost his life.

  Sticking with his denial, Bray said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I mentioned before that it was dangerous to have those you cared about in the city,” Teddy said. “And I meant it. Having friends here is a burden.”

  Bray clenched his fists, ready to spring from his bedroll and silence Teddy, if it came to that. He was preparing an accusation when Teddy spoke again.

  “I am one of The Shadow People.”

  Bray watched him suspiciously.

  “Drew told me you are trustworthy,” Teddy said, with a firm nod. “I needed to wait to be sure. I have been watching you, and reporting back to him. As you probably know, we have people everywhere.”

  “Who’s Drew?” Bray asked, not ready to give up on the idea that he might be ambushed.

  “You met him in Ashville, along with Cla
ra, Giovanni, and James. They vouched for you. And for Kirby, too. You do not have to worry. All of this information is safe.” Teddy nodded assuredly.

  Some of the tension left Bray’s body as they watched loud people walking past the doorway, too engaged in their conversations to hear.

  “Drew came to me when you first arrived. He told me about Kirby.” Teddy glanced discreetly over his shoulder. “He told me he needed to know more about you before we spoke further. Only when it was safe did he approach her and set up the meeting in Ashville. But of course, you know all that.”

  Bray nodded as the information lined up.

  A strange feeling overtook him as he watched his roommate—his new confidant. “You want escape, too.”

  Teddy nodded. “No one suspects me, because I rarely leave. They think the death of my family broke me. They are right. But it will not stop me from escape, or from helping others. When the time comes, Bray, I am ready to fight alongside you.”

  Chapter 35: Kirby

  Morning sunlight cast a bright hue over the alley outside of Kirby’s house, where people emerged. Throngs of people filled the alleys as people finished their morning rituals, preparing to head to the courtyard for the count before the fields, or their duties elsewhere in the city. A few children hugged their parents, sending them off to jobs that would leave them beaten down and tired by the time they returned.

  Taking a dirty bowl from Esmeralda, Kirby scrubbed away the remnants of another meager meal.

  “Thank you for your help with the dishes,” Esmeralda said.

  “It is no problem.”

  Kirby’s eyes burned from another night with little sleep. This time, it wasn’t due to the pain of her joints, or the nightmares that always seemed to plague her, or even because of Fiona; it was because in the night’s darkest hours, while Esmeralda slept, Kirby had quietly scraped away at the metal she kept hidden underneath her bedroll. Over the course of a night, she had turned a piece of metal into a weapon. She felt the sharp tip of it in her boot, pushing against her ankle, in a place where she could reach it. From now on, she wouldn’t be without it.