The unexpected blow landed hard, catching Kirby in the face, knocking her sideways as Ollie stepped back and let her fall. And then she was face down on the ground, between the bin and his fat, enormous boots. A delayed pain hit her as blood rushed to her swollen eye. Ollie kicked her ribs, rolling her against the bin.
She blinked, reaching for her boot.
“I told you I’d pay you back for what you did.”
The guards laughed.
This was the end.
She reached for her shank, wondering if she’d have the coordination to stab him in the leg before he stomped her to unconsciousness, or the guards cornered her.
“Stop!” a voice screamed, over the din of laughter and Ollie’s thunderous bark.
Kirby looked up to find Rosita wedged between them, her chin upturned in defiance.
“Stop, I said!”
Ollie’s face twisted with surprise as he gauged an unexpected threat. “You want a beating, too?”
One of the guards cut in. “She seems a little too chatty, as well. Maybe she needs a reminder to focus on her work.”
Rosita stood her ground, staring at Ollie through the fear on her face. Kirby’s fingers grazed the end of her shiv. She paused as she thought through an unintended consequence.
Rosita might die, if she fought.
“We have work to do,” Rosita said, with a voice she was trying to control. Jabbing a finger in the direction of the sheet metal, she added, “Rudyard will be angry if we don’t finish this pile.”
A thought greater than Ollie’s amusement crossed his face as he heard the name. Looking over his shoulder at the guards, a smile crossed his face. “I think she just threatened me with Rudyard.”
“You think Rudyard gives a shit what any of you slaves say?” one of the guards taunted.
“I know that he wants these done for The Learning Building,” Rosita said. “Leave us be, so we can finish. We won’t talk again.”
Ollie looked from Rosita to Kirby, contemplating something. Kirby held his gaze in defiant hatred, afraid to make a move for the shiv, or any move, lest Rosita be punished.
Kirby fought the screaming blood rushing to her face, and the adrenaline that told her to move, to fight, to stab. Rosita stood her ground, keeping her face even, even though her legs shook.
“Please go,” Rosita said.
Ollie eyed her for a long moment, looking as if he was torn between choices.
With a snort, he lumbered away, under the chuckles of his guards.
Kirby’s breath heaved as she recovered her wind, getting to her feet. She clapped her hand over her puffy, swollen face.
“Your eye,” Rosita said, with a regret in her face that showed she blamed herself.
“I’m fine,” Kirby swore, anger overtaking her pain.
As soon as she got home, she would make sure her shiv was sharp.
Later, when dinner was done and darkness set in, she would find Ollie and plunge it into his neck.
Chapter 39: Kirby
“By the gods,” Esmeralda exclaimed, clutching Fiona in fright as she surveyed Kirby’s face. “What happened?”
Kirby looked behind her, through the doorway, as if Ollie might be there. But Ollie was long gone, probably shucking off his boots and waiting for his wife to cook his meal. He would be out of the house at some point, though. After feeding the demons and having dinner, the guards strolled the streets, sipping their flasks and chatting with their friends. She would find him, and shove her shank through his neck.
Realizing Esmeralda waited for an answer, Kirby couldn’t help the anger in her voice, as she said, “It is nothing.”
“You were beaten,” Esmeralda said, crossing the room to study Kirby’s swollen, painful eye.
Kirby looked away. She didn’t need to confirm the obvious.
“Who did this?” Esmeralda said.
“Does it matter?” Kirby spat, with more venom than she intended.
“I am sorry. I just—” Esmeralda stepped back, clutching Fiona.
Kirby regretted her misdirected emotion. “It was Ollie.”
“I knew it,” Esmeralda said, as if she might have prevented something. “I knew when he came looking for you…” Esmeralda couldn’t speak the words.
“He hit me,” Kirby clarified. “That is all he did. And all he will do.”
She clamped down on more threats.
Instead of dragging Kirby through a painful memory, or more questions, Esmeralda moved to the hearth. “What do you need? Let me get you something. A wash bucket, some water…”
“I’m fine,” Kirby said, hating the lie.
Of course, she wasn’t.
Her stinging, sore eye screamed her story to anyone who saw it. Her injury would be another violent incident to talk about around the bonfires, or over meager bowls of supper, until a new, fresh event took its place. But it would never end—not for Kirby. Ollie would keep after her until she died, or worse—at least in her opinion—she wound up like Esmeralda.
Kirby couldn’t think of dinner. She couldn’t think of washing up.
All she thought about was revenge.
Forcing herself to sit and collect her violent thoughts, she watched Esmeralda scurry around the hearth. Kirby felt guilty for lashing out at Esmeralda, who bore the guilt of her attack, without reason.
Fiona stared at Kirby over her mother’s shoulder. Someday, she would be subjected to the same torment—things even a mother’s warnings couldn’t stop.
Everyone in New City would suffer, until the day something changed.
Kirby couldn’t guarantee the success of a revolt.
But she could guarantee one man’s life would end.
Reaching under her bedroll, she found the stone she’d used to sharpen the blade, tucking it into her pocket while Esmeralda’s back was turned. A moment later, Esmeralda brought her a flask.
“Here you go,” she said, lingering nearby as Kirby drank.
The lukewarm water felt strange as it went down Kirby’s throat. It felt as if she were living her last moments.
“Maybe he is done with you,” Esmeralda said, unable to sell those words to herself.
Kirby nodded, her thoughts focused on the man she wanted to kill.
“Some food in your stomach and some rest will do you good,” Esmeralda said. “They will help take your mind off what happened.”
Kirby couldn’t stay put any longer.
“I’m going for a walk,” Kirby said, trying to hide the bitterness in her voice.
“A walk?” Esmeralda seemed surprised.
“I need to get out,” Kirby said, standing.
“But The Plagued Ones will come through soon,” Esmeralda worried. “The guards do not like us out of our houses until after they eat.”
“I’ll be back in time for dinner,” Kirby said, feeling sorry for another lie.
She was sorry for a lot of things.
But Ollie would be sorry, too.
Kirby walked from the house, her shank jabbing into the side of her boot. She kept down the alleyway, passing houses full of chattering children, filthy parents, and workers washing up. She looked over her shoulder once, feeling another wave of guilt as she saw Esmeralda at the threshold with Fiona, watching her disappear into the crowd.
Chapter 40: Bray
Bells rang in the courtyard.
A couple of worried slaves jogged back to their front-row homes, just ahead of the feeding. The clangs increased in volume as the snarls grew over the wall, and the guards prepared to open the gate. Bray looked over at Teddy, who stood next to him at the doorway, along with a slew of other people staring from their houses across the dirt courtyard.
“I heard about your meeting,” Teddy said softly, under the din of the demons and the guards.
“The leaders are worried,” Bray said. “It is hard to tell if they will commit. The twisted men concern them.”
Teddy nodded. Of course, he understood.
The front gate creake
d as the guards opened it, allowing the first batch of filthy demons into the courtyard. The slobbering, wart-covered creatures paraded across the dirt, streaming toward the open gate at the other end, where guards rang the bells and shouted orders, luring them into the Feeding Pen as if they were a herd of cattle. A few demons looked sideways at Bray, obviously preferring a man’s flesh to a pile of corn, but none deviated.
Watching the hungry, twisted men, Bray asked, “If a revolt starts, what do you think The Gifted will do?”
Teddy mulled it over. “The Gifted view us as replaceable. They value our work, but they do not value us. I saw it on their faces when they killed those slaves. If it comes to it, they might send The Plagued Ones in to kill all of us.” Fear lingered in Teddy’s eyes. “It is probably the reason for the hesitation you heard in the voices of The Shadow People’s leaders.”
“They certainly raised that concern,” Bray said.
“Our people will fight, but I’m not sure what the rest of the slaves will do. If we are overrun and people flee, a revolt will quickly become an individual battle for survival.”
“What if we barricade the gate?” Bray asked.
Teddy looked over at the gate, and the twelve-foot-high wall to which it connected. “Rudyard has mostly kept up the wall through the toil of the slaves, but there are places where the wall has crumbled—especially in the back of the city. I fear The Plagued Ones could get over, as a few did that time with my daughter. If not, The Gifted have weapons that can surely break parts of the wall down. Or, at least, I suspect they do.”
Bray nodded. With as many devices as The Gifted had, he didn’t doubt they could figure out a way to let the demons inside.
He watched the batch of demons finish traipsing through the gate and into the pen. The guards stopped ringing the bells and quickly swung the Feeding Pen door closed. From over those high, wooden walls, Bray heard the gnashing of teeth and the cries of hungry demons.
The guards relaxed.
Looking among their faces, Bray noticed, “It seems as if the guards rotate their duties.”
“They do,” Teddy confirmed.
“Do they have a single set of commands for The Plagued Ones?”
“Not really. Mostly, they just urge The Plagued Ones from gate to gate. I think the words are secondary to the bells,” Teddy said with a shrug, looking at a few of the guards. “The Plagued Ones line up before the guards even let them inside. You can hear them over the wall, preparing for dinner. They are trained.”
“That’s what I’ve seen, too,” Bray observed, watching the guards herd the first batch of demons out of the Feeding Pen.
“Rudyard directs them from the other side of the entrance, of course, but I think they would line up, even without him,” Teddy added. Noticing the expression on Bray’s face, he said, “Have you thought of something?”
An idea gelled into a hope as Bray said, “I think I might have another plan.”
**
Bray walked through the alley. Pots and pans clanked through the open doorways as people started dinner. A few children peered cautiously from their homes, as if the demons might be waiting to pounce, even though they had already gone. Bray kept developing his idea in his mind as he walked down a few more paths, reaching the row where Kirby’s house was. Passing the squalid, stone hovel, he saw Esmeralda—her roommate—inside, preparing supper. No Kirby. Esmeralda met his eyes, but he looked away. He didn’t need to draw any more attention to himself by asking questions.
Frowning, he turned past the house, headed toward the nearest well. Perhaps Kirby was fetching water. He reached it to find a line of waiting slaves, holding empty buckets as they chatted. Kirby wasn’t there, either. Worry overtook him as he scoured a few more alleys, without luck.
Perhaps Ollie had snatched her away to a dank, putrid hole.
Bray’s fear intensified as he walked in the direction of Ollie’s house. Approaching carefully, he saw the door closed. Numerous voices, including Ollie’s loud, raucous voice, came from inside. It sounded like his family was home. Assumedly, Kirby wasn’t there. Fruitless alley turned to fruitless alley, as the last rays of light left the sky and everything turned dark. Every time he heard a laugh, he spun, as if he might find Kirby at the center of a circle of guards, but he couldn’t find her.
He was heading back to Kirby’s home when he thought of something. Taking a shortcut, he headed to the end of her alley.
Deep shadows surrounded the cracked, flooded house where they had met before. He approached carefully, looking over his shoulder. A thin scrape from inside echoed and died. Ducking, he made it through the threshold to find a silhouette inside, kneeling on the floor. The person turned in his direction.
“Kirby?” Bray identified her silhouette in the moonlight. “What are you doing?”
Ambient light struck Kirby’s face as she stood and backed away, as if she were hiding something.
“We weren’t supposed to meet here anymore,” Bray warned.
“You need to go,” Kirby said, with a quiver in her voice that told him more than words.
Putting two things together, he whispered, “Ollie.”
Kirby turned away, but not before he caught a glimpse of her face through the moonlight. He couldn’t see the details, but he saw enough. Bray clenched his fists.
“What did he do?” he asked.
Kirby stuck her face in a spear of moonlight, jabbing a finger at her swollen, bruised eye. “There. Do you see? Now leave, before you are discovered and killed.”
Bray fought against his rage. He wanted to march to Ollie’s house, pull him from inside, and kill him in front of the other guards. He wanted to unleash a pent-up anger that had been building since the first beating he’d received in New City.
“When did he do that?” he asked.
“Earlier, in the machine shop. He did it before I could defend myself. Someone in the machine shop stepped in. Otherwise, I would’ve killed him.” Kirby’s voice trembled with anger.
“I walked by his house looking for you.”
“He is there,” Kirby said, with enough certainty for Bray to know that she had been there, too. “He is eating with his family, with the door closed.”
Bray looked down, catching a glint of the piece of metal in her hand. Even a dim-witted guard could see what she planned. “You will die, if you go after him,” he said, trying to contain his own rage. “You will die for a moment of revenge.”
“I will die regardless,” Kirby said. “I would rather it be after I put a shiv in his neck.”
“It will be a last choice,” Bray warned.
“Perhaps so, perhaps not,” Kirby said. “Maybe I will get lucky and kill him without others around. But I will not let that stop me. Whatever it takes, he dies tonight.”
“It won’t be hard to figure out it was you, after what happened today in the machine shop,” Bray protested. “Even if they don’t put two things together, others will pay for your actions. When the guards find Ollie dead, they will penalize the other slaves. Some might lose rations. Some might even be killed.”
“I will give myself up, then.”
Bray threw up his hands. “You will die for a single moment?”
“What would you have me do? Wait for a revolt that might never come? Spend my nights planning, while Ollie takes my dignity during the day, or whenever else he decides?” Kirby’s voice was laced with venom he seldom heard. “I haven’t, and I won’t.” Kirby drew a deep breath. “Ollie will act before Drew and the others do. And then none of our planning will matter. Perhaps my actions will save women like Esmeralda from his abuse.”
“For every Ollie, there are many more guards like him, ready to touch women with their filthy hands,” Bray said. “And then what will your death be for?”
Kirby smeared tears from her eye. “For me.”
Her words hit Bray like a punch to his stomach. He opened and closed his mouth, robbed of words. He wished he could take away all the things that hau
nted her.
Of course, he couldn’t.
Bray looked over his shoulder, as if someone might be there to back up his argument. He needed to find a way to reach her. “A while ago, you told me you worried for the people who had no voice, who were beaten down and unable to make a decision. You regretted leaving those people behind. Do not leave them behind now.”
Kirby fell silent.
“Your death—your life—is worth more than a pig-headed man’s blood. If you are going to die, make your death matter.”
“When we were first in those cells, all those weeks ago, you asked me to give you some time,” Kirby whispered. “I did that.”
“I know,” Bray said. “And I am sorry we are still in this situation. This is my fault.”
Shaking her head, laboring through a weighty sigh, Kirby said, “No, it isn’t.”
Bray stepped toward her, embracing her in the moonlight. She trembled with rage as he squeezed her gently, hoping to defuse some of her anger. In a voice strong with a resolution he had every intention of keeping, Bray said, “If you go after him, I’m coming.”
“Foolish man,” Kirby said, but he could hear her admiration.
They stood quietly in the dark room, until some of the raw, fresh emotions of her attack passed, and Kirby stopped trembling.
“I came to find you for a reason,” Bray said, as he held on to her. “At least let me explain it, before we both run out to our deaths.”
Kirby laughed through the silent tears on her face. “Another plan?”
“This plan might be different,” Bray said, his original purpose for finding her resurfacing. “Let me convince you that a revolt might work.”
Kirby stepped back, but he could see her hesitation in her stance.
“It is worth discussing, before we throw our lives away,” Bray said.
Kirby nodded silently in the dark, waiting for him. She was obviously thinking about other things. But he had to get through.
Putting his thoughts into words, he said, “Teddy and I spoke about the demons tonight.”
He relayed he and Teddy’s concern that The Gifted would command the horde to kill the slaves.
The Ruins Box Set Page 87