The Ruins Book 4 Page 17

  Walking back to his tray, he nibbled at some of the fruit, sticking the meat and bread in one of his bureau drawers. Ignoring the hunger in his stomach, he set the tray where the guards left it, keeping the rest of his food hidden.

  Chapter 52: Kirby

  Five days after the fight, after spending three days in the cell, and the last two days in the metal shop, Kirby wiped the sweat of the mid-day sun from her face. She headed down the long, dirt pathway toward her house. Ever since she'd been let out, she'd spent long days working while Bray spent long days confined. She couldn't get the last glimpse of him out of her mind—his lifeless body lying on the ground.

  She knew he wasn't dead.

  Late in the evening, after the mutants were fed, she'd crept close to the courtyard, watching with anger as guards stood near the doorway to his cell. Too many snide remarks accompanied those visits. Days after the fight, Bray's loss was still a source of entertainment.

  Not much longer.

  Kirby looked to her left down an alley, finding someone near the back of a house where they'd agreed to meet, walking slowly enough that she could catch up. Anger laced her words as she stopped close to Drew.

  "We need to act," Kirby whispered, no room for arguments.

  Drew's face was a mask of seriousness. "I spoke with the others about you and Bray's plan."

  "And?" Kirby watched him, prepared to unleash more than a day's worth of fury. She would make a plan of her own, if they rejected her argument.

  "Your plan for The Plagued Ones is a risk, but no one can argue against it." Drew sighed, unable to contain the guilt she'd seen on his face, ever since she and Bray had fought in the arena. "It won't be much longer until we are all pitted against one another, or perhaps killed in some other, horrible way. I think the fight in the courtyard allowed the other leaders to see that." Drew looked sideways at Kirby, watching her remorsefully. "I feel badly about what happened to you, Kirby. If I could've stopped it…"

  "I know you couldn't," Kirby said, letting go of some of her anger.

  "In any case, I want to make sure it doesn't happen again." Drew watched her for a long second. "I have convinced the others of your plan. They are committed."

  "Committed?" Seeing the look in her friend's eyes, Kirby felt relief. That relief was weighed down by the guilt of what she'd done to Bray. "When will we meet?"

  "Tonight," Drew said.

  "With Clara and the others," she assumed.

  "No," Drew said. "With fifty of us."

  Kirby's surprise was written on her face. "Fifty?"

  "Two hundred people would easily be missed. We can't all meet at once. But we can pass the information to the others."

  Kirby nodded.

  Drew watched her intently for a moment. He looked as if he had something else to say. "After what happened in New Hope, I never thought I'd see you again, Kirby. It was a surprise finding you here, but it was bittersweet. I would not wish this life on anyone. Hopefully, we can outlive our enslavement and find our freedom. With luck, what happened to you will never happen again." A look of resolve crossed Drew's face as he appraised her, making a promise. "The rule of the guards—and The Gifted—is coming to an end."

  "I hope so, too."

  She thought she saw the hint of a smile on Drew's face as he snuck away.

  Chapter 53: Kirby

  Kirby, Drew, Clara, Giovanni, and James stood tall on a chunk of ancient stone, looking out over a silent, growing crowd that stood in the courtyard behind one of the buildings in Ashville. Shadows formed in rows on the ground as people appeared from the darkness, lining up and waiting for the leaders to speak. A palpable tension surrounded them, as men and women shuffled nervously, making room for others.

  The meeting was a risk.

  Hopefully, a last risk.

  Standing among the revolt leaders on that high perch, looking out over a crowd for which she couldn't help but feel responsible, Kirby's nerves carved a hollow pit in her stomach. She was apprehensive, but she was ready.

  When everyone was present, Clara said, "Let us begin."

  Clearing his throat, Drew spoke loudly enough that all the shadows could hear. "For too long, we have stayed idle as the guards beat, mistreat, and starve us. We have watched people dragged from the forest and imprisoned next to us, without the means to help. We have watched our brothers and sisters forced to fight or kill one another, for the guards' perverse amusement. We have lost our families to sickness, or intolerable working conditions. As slaves, we have worked for The Gifteds' profit, without reward or gratitude. No more. The time has come to fight back."

  An excitement that had built for months—years—boiled to a head as everyone in the crowd nodded. Had this been a rally, or a village gathering, the crowd might've cheered. Even as they stayed silent, Kirby felt an excitement brewing in them that was impossible to ignore. Bodies shifting in the darkness, living out a moment none would soon forget.

  Something far more important than a meeting in the dark was coming, and they were prepared.

  "Some of you have heard parts of the plan. Some of you have heard little," Clara said. "We will provide you with the details now, so everyone is clear. Your job is to disseminate the information to the others."

  Drew spoke up next. "Over the past days, we have greatly supplemented our weapons cache, enough that each of us can fill a hand, or two. Your efforts, and your risks, are appreciated. When we are all free, we will celebrate. For now, we plan."

  A few laughed quietly, or nervously.

  Clara took back over the conversation. "I, along with the others up here and some extra people, will take care of the guards on watch first, just before dawn. The rest of you will attack those in their homes immediately afterward. You will be assigned a guard's home that is close to where you live. When you have eliminated the guard, you will help the others around you. We will overwhelm and surprise them before they can defend themselves, or warn The Gifted. We will attack them individually, so they cannot help one another."

  A few shadows in the darkness nodded.

  "An attack before dawn will ensure that the guards are groggy from sleep, or hung over from drink," Giovanni said, parroting Bray's earlier idea.

  "What about the guards' families?" asked a shadow in the front row.

  "Many of the wives and children do not understand the pain the guards cause, or they benefit too much to see past it," Clara said. "We will do our best to keep the families quiet and contained, but it is possible we will face some situations."

  "This is a war. There will be casualties," Drew said simply.

  "Perhaps we can lock the families in their houses to protect them," the shadowy figure suggested.

  "It is a nice thought, and certainly something to strive for," Drew said. "But the realities of a battle won't match what we plan. It is your job to make sure the other people around you are safe."

  Kirby nodded gravely as she thought of Esmeralda, and some of the other quiet victims of the guard's abuse. War had many victims. Hopefully they could minimize the bloodshed of the innocent.

  "We have enough among us to outnumber the guards by two to one," Clara continued. "That is not an exact ratio, of course. For those guards who live in pairs, we will assign more of you. We will maximize our odds. Whatever happens, it is imperative that we do not allow the guards anywhere near the gate. We cannot allow them to warn The Gifted."

  "Ideally, we take out most of the guards before anyone in The Learning Building is awake," James said. "By keeping the battle away from the gate and the walls, our hope is to eliminate riling up any of The Plagued Ones. As you know, there is a possibility some might scale the walls. We will need to watch for that."

  "Once we kill the guards, we will collect their weapons," Clara said. "Their long knives will give us even better odds."

  A shadow person adjusted in one of the back rows, speaking over the people in front. "What if The Gifted are alerted as we fight the guards?"

  "It is a risk," D
rew admitted. "But the cover of darkness will give us some leeway. Most in the building cannot hear what goes on here. It is simply too high."

  "I can verify that is true," Kirby agreed.

  Another shadowy figure interrupted, following up on the other's question. "What about the other slaves? We do not know what they will do. What if they decide to fight us?"

  "Many are our friends, our families, or our acquaintances from the field, or the shops, as you know," Clara said. "I do not think they will throw themselves in harm's way to save the men who beat them. Once they see what we are doing, hopefully they will join us. They will not choose to side with dead men."

  "By the time many realize what is happening, hopefully the guards will be dead," Drew added.

  "What then?" one of the shadows asked, shifting nervously in the dark.

  "That is the next part of our plan," Clara said. "I will defer to Kirby to explain."

  All of the shadows, even the inquisitive ones, fell silent as they swiveled to face Kirby. Looking out over the silhouetted crowd, Kirby realized that she was probably a stranger to most. But they had an unspoken bond stronger than casual conversations or handshakes.

  "I do not know all of you, but I know your pain," Kirby started. "I felt it the second I was enslaved here, along with the rest of you. This is not the first time I have been the property of another. For too many years, I suffered at the hands of people who treated me like an animal. I was forced into wars that benefited all except me. A life of enslavement is a fate suited for no one. A few days ago, most of you watched me fight against my friend, for the sake of the bloodthirsty guards. I will not allow that to happen again, to any of you."

  A ripple of quiet enthusiasm spread across the crowd.

  "We have a bond that is stronger than most people who live in the wild. We will fight together, so that we can gain our freedom."

  A few hushed, excited whispers permeated the shadows.

  "You have heard our plan for the guards. Once we have beaten them, we have a plan for The Plagued Ones." Kirby paused. "As you know, the guards keep the bells for The Plagued Ones, and the keys to the gates, on them. We will take those bells and keys to the courtyard. We will use the bells to lure The Plagued Ones into the Feeding Pen, once the guards are defeated. We will mimic the guard's orders and trap them, before we enact the next part of our plan."

  A slight hesitation went through the crowd.

  "Only the guards can use the bells," said someone. "The Plagued Ones will not listen. They will kill us!"

  "We believe the bells, not the people, drive their instincts," Drew took over. "I think the ritual is so ingrained in them that it will not matter."

  "What about Rudyard?" asked the first person to speak up, again. "He controls them. He is the reason they stay in line."

  "I do not believe his presence is necessary," Kirby said, making the argument Bray had sold her on all those days ago. "Once they enter the gate, they will head for the Feeding Pen, out of habit. They will obey their instincts for food. Our words might not even be necessary. We will stock the pen full of corn, so they will go inside and feed. We will close the door and contain them."

  "They are used to feeding at night," said another shadow. "This plan will be in the morning."

  "It will be at a different time, yes. Our hope is to get The Plagued Ones away before Rudyard realizes what is happening. They will follow the bells to their food."

  A few more people shifted, unconvinced.

  "Most of you have prepared to fight a revolt for months," Kirby said. "Has there ever been a scenario where you did not expect to fight The Plagued Ones?"

  A few people conferred with one another, but no one disputed her.

  "If we succeed, we will have The Plagued Ones contained," Clara said, reinforcing Kirby's words. "If not, we will we be prepared to fight them on our terms. Ideally, we will have many more slaves—free men and women—ready to join us. We will have the guard's long knives, and our weapons. We will be in a position that none of us would have ever dreamed, with the guards alive."

  More in the crowd agreed as they heard unity in the leaders.

  "If we fail with the mutants, we have another option in place," Kirby took back over. "We have found a path that might provide refuge, if we need it, through a mountain pass to the east. As we prepare to enact the plan, a group of us will work on breaking a hole through the eastern wall, large enough to fit several people through at once. We will have a backup strategy, should we need it. If we succeed, we will move on to the final phase."

  "Our goal is to take New City as our own," Clara clarified, capping the discussion. "But this gives us another option."

  "What is the last part of the strategy?" asked one of the shadows.

  "We will storm The Gifted's building," Kirby said resolutely. "We will have hundreds of people at our side—perhaps more, once others join us—to take down the ten of them. My friend, William, the boy most of you have probably heard or whispered about, is inside. We will free him, and take The Gifted's weapons as our own. Once we have the building, we will have a stronghold to defend. We can pick off The Plagued Ones from the balcony, or however we choose. We will have the numbers—and the weapons—to succeed."

  More of the initial excitement returned as the crowd envisioned an end to their enslavement.

  "The gods know we have suffered enough," Drew told the crowd. "But if our fight is blessed, we will live out our lives in freedom, rather than under the heel of a guard's boot, or under The Gifteds' disdain. We will raise our families and our flasks in a city that is ours."

  "Let us fight for our freedom, the way we pledged to each other when we started this group," Clara said, finalizing the plan. "Let us turn New City into a place of which we can be proud."

  Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.

  Kirby looked out over the crowd of shadows, waiting for an argument, or a dissenter. None spoke out. They were all here for a reason. They knew what had to be done.

  "Over the next few days, we will have a group working on the escape route Kirby mentioned," Giovanni said. "We will break a hole in the wall large enough to fit a few of us at a time. When we are finished, we will pass the word among us. We will let you know the night before we are to act. This will be our last meeting in hiding. Hopefully the next time we meet, we will be free."

  "To our freedom!" Clara said, in a voice loud enough to inspire, but not to be heard outside of the small, dark courtyard in which they met.

  The Shadow People raised their hands in the air, expressing their excitement.

  With the meeting concluded, Kirby looked around her at the faces of the leaders in the dark.

  "Here," Drew said, beckoning to the pile of weapons they had gotten out before the meeting. "You can help us pass them out. We will give four per person, so they can distribute them among their neighbors."

  Reaching down, Kirby passed the weapons into one sweaty hand after another. She was surprised, but probably shouldn't have been, to see Teddy's face in the moonlight as he came up to receive a shank from her. They shared a look of resolve that needed no interpretation. A little later, a shaggy-haired man she had seen only a few times came up to meet her.

  Gabe.

  Gave gave her a solemn, haunted nod in the moonlight. Neither had to speak about the battles they had endured in the courtyard. Theirs was a shared pain.

  The next time they saw each other, hopefully they would be fighting alongside one another.

  Chapter 54: William

  William crouched near the balcony railing under the light of the moon. He smiled as he heard hisses and smelled the familiar scent of his brothers.

  "Here you go," he whispered, projecting his voice enough so the twisted men below could hear him, as he had the previous handful of nights. They were acclimating nicely.

  William dropped a few pieces of meat from the balcony, watching the shadows converge. A few hissed as they fought for the meager scraps of food. Finishing, t
hey clawed at the rocks at the bottom of the building, as if they might scale the tower's bulky barricade. They listened, but they were restless. That gave him a hint of trepidation that he was trying to see past.

  "I know this isn't enough," William said, repeating some of his similar mantras. "But we can get more together. I promise. All you have to do is listen to me."

  A few upturned, bulbous heads looked up at him. In the moonlight, he saw a few glinting eyes. William reached into his robe, pulling out a few more pieces of meat and dropping it down to eager hands.

  He stood, making sure the demons saw his robe as he threw down the last bits of his saved breakfast and lunch. He had eaten only enough to give him strength, saving the rest for his brothers. With each bite he fed them over the past few days, the demons grew to anticipate the sound of his voice, looking up to him, the way they had done so many times in the forest. But still, he hesitated.

  He was worried.

  The commands of The Gifted were ingrained in them. How well would they respond, when confronted with the voices of their old masters? Six rounds of his gun wouldn't stave off that many sets of biting teeth, if the demons decided they had enough of his placating words.

  William looked past the demons, to the empty cornfields, and to the dirt path that was mostly hidden under the cloudy night sky. He remembered that first trip up the path with Rudyard, when he and his friends had entered New City, armed with more guns than he had now.

  If only they had kept hold of them.

  But even that wouldn't be enough.

  A piece of that conversation came drifting back, as William looked out over the crops and the heads of the waiting demons. He remembered Rudyard's concern as he made sure to take their weapons.

  "I will not lie. We are bothered by the items you carry, the guns. They upset The Plagued Ones."

  Of course, they did.

  William perked up, clutching the railing as an idea took root. He might have another piece to his plan.