The Ruins Book 3

by T. W. Piperbrook

  Her fear crept into her throat as Bray emerged from the alley next to his house. Seeing no one around, he approached and embraced her. She kept hold of her pot.

  "Bray," she whispered, unable to pry her attention from his bruised face, his swollen eye in the ambient light. A feeling she hadn't expected choked her throat.

  "Where are you staying?" he asked, knowing each moment was a risk.

  "Ten rows up from here. Ninth house in," she hissed. She looked over her shoulder, afraid that her time might end before she had a chance to say what she had to say. "I have something important to tell you."

  She signaled him close, hissing directly in his ear so no one could eavesdrop. Bray listened intently as she told him of Drew and the things he'd said. Some hope entered his face as he processed the information.

  "I thought I heard someone outside your cell the other day," he whispered, putting two things together. "I didn't know who it was." Changing topics, he said, "I fear Cullen is close to death. We need to keep any eye on him. We need to keep him safe."

  Kirby nodded. "He is even more unstable than when we found him."

  "Perhaps I can speak with him, when I get a chance," Bray whispered. "You keep an eye out for Drew."

  "I will."

  Somewhere close by, a voice echoed between two houses. Bray squeezed Kirby one more time, before she hurried back to Esmeralda.

  Chapter 49: William

  "You seem tired," Amelia said, as she led William downstairs to his quarters.

  "I am," William said, and he wasn't lying.

  Between his full stomach, and a day spent looking at and discussing books, he was spent. It was a different kind of exhaustion than hiking for hours in the forest, evading demons, but it was tiring nonetheless. It was tough keeping up the façade to which he'd committed. Each meal, every conversation, took a mental toll. He hoped he was making headway toward earning The Gifted's trust.

  He followed Amelia down the stairs in the comfortable silence that came after a full day's worth of talk. Other footsteps drew his attention. Two sinewy men he didn't recognize passed them, presumably going to the seventeenth floor to watch. He listened as their footsteps faded. Soon he'd reached his quarters. William stopped as he waited for Amelia to unlock the door. As usual, he watched her keys.

  "Some rest will do you good," Amelia said with a smile as she fixed her hair.

  William entered the room, yawning. Before Amelia left, he turned. "Are my friends still in the long building?" he asked, expecting the same answer he'd been receiving for days.

  He was surprised when Amelia paused. "They were let out."

  "When?"

  'Today."

  "Today?" William's tiredness evaporated as he snapped awake. "Where are they?"

  "I'm not sure," Amelia admitted. "Rudyard told me in the afternoon, in our quiet time after lunch. He came to my quarters."

  William studied her friendly smile. He wanted to scream every foul word he knew at her. Here she was, discussing names and books and eating fancy meals with him, while his friends were out of the building and in New City. She'd withheld the information from him all day. So had the rest of them.

  William choked back his anger.

  Withholding a response that would certainly gain him nothing, hating the pleading crack in his voice, William asked, "Can I see them?"

  "Perhaps later," Amelia said evasively.

  Forcing back a stronger reaction, he said, "I would like that."

  Amelia closed the door, locking it.

  **

  William stared out the window at the bonfires. The people around them were little more than pale silhouettes. He couldn't make out any faces, and even if he could, he couldn't communicate with anyone. He was trapped in the tower many floors up, away from his friends.

  He wanted to break the glass, yell to them, and find some way to escape.

  He wanted to set them free.

  Who knew what unimaginable horrors they'd been through since they'd been let out? William's guilt grew into a pit in his stomach that he could no longer ignore. He'd held off his feelings under the guise that his friends were safe, perhaps wanting to believe the words Amelia and the other Gifted told him. But he saw only lies on her face now.

  She didn't care about his friends.

  She never had.

  Somehow, some small part of him thought that by playing along, he'd do the right things to set his friends free. It was a child's hope even he didn't believe. He'd played along for a reason, though. Days of compliance had bred a small amount of trust of which he could take advantage.

  He needed to find a way out.

  William glanced at the locked door on the other side of the room. All of the doors had separate keys, or at least most of them, judging by the number of keys in Amelia's pocket. He'd already ruled out taking them, or the keys from another one of The Gifted.

  Another thought struck him.

  Ever since he'd lived in Brighton, William had heard of scoundrels breaking into people's homes while their owners tended the fields, or while they went to the market. Most of the bandits made off without being caught, stealing peoples' food and possessions. Some even stole their bedrolls. William wasn't sure how those thieves did it, exactly, but he heard they used the sharp ends of several knives, or pins small enough to fit inside locks. Somehow, they gained access without keys.

  If a scoundrel could do it, so could William.

  But how?

  He had no weapons, no sharp objects.

  He thought of the devices on the eighteenth floor. The weapons under the glass cases in the second room were locked and inaccessible. There were plenty of devices in the main room, though, like the microscope. Perhaps there were a few long pieces of metal in that device, or pieces in some other strange metal contraptions on the tables that he could use. One of those had to hold the secret to these locked doors. Maybe he could find a way to pry off a few long metal pieces and use them as tools to get him out of his oversized prison.

  It would be extremely difficult.

  But he had to try.

  He needed a sneaky way to get what he wanted. Tomorrow, he would look around and see what he could find.

  Chapter 50: Amelia

  After locking William in his room, Amelia walked downstairs, heading for one of the lower floors. Stopping at another door, she knocked, waiting for footsteps to cross the room and the door to open. Tolstoy stood at the threshold.

  Beckoning her, he said, "Come in."

  Amelia followed him into his private quarters. Tolstoy's room always filled her with marvel. On the side of the room, a wide, intricately carved bed sat near the wall, covered by sheets of the grandest quality. On the far end of the room, by the window, sat a magnificent desk, more impressive than any of the small desks upstairs, illuminated by a few candles. Pieces of ornate, carved wood comprised either side, with a chair that matched in quality. An attached piece rose behind the desk, holding a small library of books, stacks of paper, and writing implements. Hanging on the wall on either side of the desk were drawings of the human anatomy.

  Amelia glanced at a few of the pictures, which contained drawings of normal humans. Some were altered, showing bodies and skeletons swollen with the weight of infection.

  Catching her glancing at a few of the drawings, Tolstoy said, "I fear we will never figure out the mystery of our intelligence, but I will keep trying. How is William doing?"

  "He is very astute, as we expected," Amelia said, sweeping back her hair, refastening it. "He seems to pick up on most things I tell him. He asks questions that show comprehension beyond his age."

  "I knew his intelligence, when we first laid eyes on him," Tolstoy confirmed. "I knew he was one of us." Tolstoy glanced over at one of the books on his desk, seemingly anxious to get back to his studies.

  Amelia hesitated. She looked at her shoes. "But I am concerned. He asked about his friends tonight, when I dropped him off in his room."

  "What did you tell him?
" Tolstoy's gaze was back on her.

  "I told him they were let out."

  Tolstoy watched her for a moment. His gaze wandered out the window. "How did he react?"

  "He wants to see them," Amelia said. "He misses them. It is difficult for him to understand why he is here, while his friends are outside. He has asked so many times that I had trouble putting off an answer any longer."

  "He has spent his life in the company of humans. But children are easily molded." Tolstoy nodded sagely. "In time, he will forget about them."

  "I hope." Amelia looked at the wall. "Though I am not certain."

  "If he saw them, it would only make things worse. He needs to be kept separated. Talk with him. Perhaps you can speak in a frank manner that he understands. That is why I chose you as his teacher; your nature is more agreeable than mine, or some of the others."

  "Perhaps if he thought they were safe, he might worry less about them," Amelia suggested. "I know he cannot see them directly, but perhaps I can prove they are okay. It might heal him from his separation."

  "Do what you think you need. If that doesn't work, we will need to figure out another way." Tolstoy looked at Amelia intently. "We will do whatever it takes, Amelia. William is the first of our kind we have found in a hundred and fifty years. Whatever we do, we will keep hold of him."

  Chapter 51: William

  William cracked his eyes to a bright ray of sunlight. Sitting up, he shielded his face. He remembered lying in bed, but he didn't remember falling asleep. Hours keeping vigil the night before had yielded no sign of his friends.

  But it was morning.

  Perhaps Bray, Kirby, and Cullen were in the fields.

  He doubted he'd see them, but he'd try.

  He rubbed his bleary eyes and walked to the northern windows, scanning the tall, green rows of corn, the path down the center, and the lower crops in the field. Field Hands and Head Guards filled the path, pulling wagons, or inspecting them. He saw at least a hundred workers, and he suspected there were more he couldn't see. They occupied the rows of crops, spaced out, tending to their duties, or pulling wagons down the dirt path. He couldn't identify anyone from up so high.

  He kept staring until he heard familiar footsteps out on the stairwell. Amelia's. William smeared away the sleep from his face. He needed to put on the mask that gave him the best chance at surviving.

  Amelia unlocked the door and opened it.

  "Good morning," she told him, with her usual smile, the same one she'd worn when she trapped his friends that first day. "How did you sleep?"

  "Really well," William lied.

  "You're looking for your friends," Amelia said, gesturing toward the windows.

  William saw no point in lying. "Yes. I was hoping I might see them."

  "I figured you wanted to." Amelia watched him. "I have a device I can show you that will help. It will let us see them, from up high."

  William opened and closed his mouth on his excitement. "Is it the microscope?" He knew the question was silly as soon as it left his mouth.

  Amelia laughed. "No, but it is close. I think you will like it." Amelia swept back some loose strands of hair, refastening them in her metal hair clip. William froze as he studied the small, two-pronged clip that he'd seen her wear many times, but hadn't paid much attention to. Until now.

  Maybe he had found his way out.

  "Come with me and I will show you."

  William nodded, unable to let go of a simmering idea.

  **

  William followed Amelia up the stairs, staring at the hairpin. What if it was an answer? If he could bend the two ends, maybe he could twist the device into something that could open the door. It was a small hope, but it was the best chance he'd had since arriving.

  Still, how would he get it?

  She would feel it if he tried taking it.

  He needed to figure out a way to get it, that she wouldn't notice.

  He was surprised when Amelia passed by the entrance to The Library Room and continued up a flight of stairs he'd seen but never traveled, at the top of which was a single door.

  "The roof," she explained, with a smile.

  She unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing a large, flat area of Ancient Stone.

  William's face filled with wonder as he walked out behind her. Waist-high walls surrounded the enormous, square area. Queasiness overtook his stomach, as it always did when he was up so high. He watched the soaring clouds dot the sky above him. The morning sun shone over the tip of the roof's eastern wall.

  He had been on some tall buildings before, but this rivaled the highest. He walked with Amelia to the southern side of the building, looking out at the buildings that extended far into the distance—the small houses, the larger shops, and the unused, crumbled buildings behind the city's back wall. People walked in all directions below them, between the paths separating the houses, and the paths separating the shops. He could see fewer details here than he could from his room, or from the balcony.

  "It is nice to see the city from here sometimes," Amelia said.

  "You said we were going to use a device to see my friends," he reminded her.

  "We will," Amelia said, gesturing in the other direction. "They are on the northern side of the building."

  William nodded. He already knew that.

  Reaching the northern wall, they stopped at the edge. He watched with surprise as she pulled out a strange device from the folds of her robes—a device with two metal tubes, connected in the middle, and pieces of glass on both sides of the tubes' ends.

  "These are called binoculars," she said with pride on her face. "They are made of coated aluminum. Most of the coating wore away, but they still function."

  "Binoculars," William repeated with wonder.

  "We got them in one of the underground buildings," she explained.

  He looked at the tubes, which were ruddy from some material that had mostly worn away. Amelia gestured off the side of the roof, over the cornfields. The workers appeared even smaller from the higher floor. Amelia held the device up to her eyes. William startled as he realized she looked like some sort of insect, or some strange creature.

  "There is nothing to be afraid of," she said, laughing softly as she sensed his nervousness. "The binoculars are harmless."

  "They work like the microscope," he remembered, from what she'd told him in his room.

  "Yes, they make things appear larger, so you can see them. Let me show you."

  She aimed the device down at the cornfields, looking for several moments, swiveling and twisting a strange knob. Finally, she pointed toward the middle of the path, which was no more than the width of her finger, from up so high. She pulled the tubes closer together so they might fit him.

  "Look through this end," she instructed, showing him the correct side. Tapping the knob, she said, "If you are unable to see, turn this piece."

  William put the device to his face, following her instructions.

  Amazement swept over him as he saw some of the people in the farming fields below. What had appeared to be tiny, miniature humans from so far away were now visible in clear detail. He saw a woman with a tan, dirt-stained face, bending down and retrieving some fallen corn. A man further down the row broke off a fresh ear and tossed it into a wagon. Amelia gently touched his shoulder, redirecting him.

  "I found your friends earlier. You'll need to look this way a little more, I think," she said.

  William swiveled as she moved him. He stopped. His pulse pounded through his chest as he spotted a familiar face, one he never thought he'd see again.

  Bray.

  Perspiration dotted Bray's forehead as he wheeled a wagon down the center of the one of the rows. Several bruises shone through the stubble on his cheeks. One of his eyes was puffy. But he was alive. William's hands shook as he held the binoculars to his face. He was afraid to look away lest he realize this was some trick.

  "Let me see if I can find the others," Amelia said, patting hi
s shoulder.

  William didn't want to give the device up, but he did. His hands trembled as he handed it to Amelia. After some more looking, she gave them back and gestured in another direction, on a path between some corn stalks, a little way east.

  William put the device to his eyes again. A woman with dark, tangled hair snapped a piece of corn from a stalk. Not just any woman. Kirby. Tears stung William's eyes and misted the glass of the strange, incredible device. He felt as if he might reach out a hand and touch Kirby, even though he knew that was impossible. Or was it?

  "Can I talk to her from here?" he asked, his voice shaking, even though he knew it was probably impossible.

  "No. It only makes people and things look close," Amelia said.

  He pulled the device from his face, then put it back, testing what felt like a miracle. He held it away and wiped his eyes. The pit in his stomach that had haunted him for nights ate away at his gut. He wanted to talk to his friends, to be next to them. He wanted to use this device, or some other, to whisk them all away from here. They were alive, but they were clearly beaten.

  Seeing them only made the pit in his stomach worse.

  Amelia took the device and located Cullen, who was wheeling another wagon from the path into the cornfields. His face was similarly bruised, but he was alive. William caught a glimpse of him before he disappeared between some tall stalks.

  "See?" Amelia told him. "Your friends are safe, as I told you. You do not have to worry."

  William nodded, blotting his eyes before using the device again.

  "I know you are sad you can't see them. But it is interesting to watch them, isn't it?" Amelia asked.

  "Yes," William said. "Can I watch a while longer?"

  "Go ahead. We have a while until breakfast."

  He kept searching from face to face to find his friends again. Eventually, he spotted Bray.