The Ruins Book 4 Read online

Ollie fell.

  Holding up his bloodied hands, he muttered curses he would take to his grave.

  "Stupid bitch…" He blinked his good eye as he looked at her, venom in his expression.

  His spiteful words ended here.

  Kirby raised the log high above her head.

  She finished him.

  Chapter 67: Bray

  Bray and Teddy raced through the narrow alleys. Mobs ruled. Everywhere they looked, slaves rampaged the filthy streets, brandishing their weapons. Some fought against the guards foolish enough to still battle them. Others battered at the locked doors of the homes where guards had barricaded themselves inside. Every so often, a door burst inward, ushering in a new string of cries and triumphant cheers as slaves swarmed inside.

  Passing a slave's hovel, Bray saw two parents holding their scared children, waiting for the violence to end. More than one house contained the slaves who had chosen not to fight. In others, he saw bodies strewn about the floors, sprawled over bedrolls or amongst pots and pans, presumably victims of the guards who had slaughtered them. No one—not even those who didn't fight—were safe.

  "Too many people are hiding in their homes," Teddy said.

  "I do not blame them," said Bray.

  "At least most of the guards in this area have been killed."

  Bray and Teddy looked toward some guards running in the direction of the shops. Close behind, a group of revolting men and women ran that way to cut them off.

  Bray felt a tug of trepidation as he looked north, in the direction where he suspected Kirby might be. "I hear a lot of commotion from the courtyard. We should get back."

  Teddy agreed.

  They headed north, stepping over bodies. A few wounded people stared at them from the surrounding houses, tending injuries, or receiving help from comrades. Children huddled close to each other, waiting for an end to the bloody battle.

  They had just turned a corner when a group of slaves ran down an adjacent alleyway, screaming and obviously in pursuit of someone. Thinking they might need help, Bray and Teddy raced after them, passing between several dingy houses with cracks in the walls. The path smelled of blood and vomit. Catching up to a winded, dirty man who had paused for breath, Bray asked, "What's going on?"

  "The bastard killed an unarmed woman and child," the slave said. "They weren't even fighting. They were in his way."

  The man pointed further down the alley, where a boy lay on his back, unmoving, a sharpened piece of metal sticking from his chest. Past him, a woman lay on her side, fresh puncture wounds beneath her ribs. Both were obviously dead.

  "Who killed them?"

  "Avery." The slave swallowed as he spoke the Head Guard's name. "He ran that way. The others are chasing him."

  Bray and Teddy resumed their pursuit. Veering around a corner, they discovered a mob of people gathered around a house. The bulk of the commotion came from the doorway, where a determined man smashed against the door. The people around him stepped away, allowing him a clear path.

  "Face me, you coward!" the man yelled. "Face us! Face what you've done!"

  Bray got close enough to recognize the angry slave.

  Gabe.

  Gabe's face still bore some of the bruises from the beating he'd received after his fight in the courtyard, when he'd killed his friend Jonah. His eyes blazed as he battered the door with his shoulder. The other slaves stepped back, afraid to get in the way of a man clearly on a path for vengeance. Bray couldn't blame them. Gabe's eyes were lit with the same anger Bray saw the day he'd been forced to kill his friend. Blood covered his knuckles as he pounded the door.

  "You are a coward!" Gabe shouted. "I heard how you laughed as you and the other guards pulled Jonah to the Glass Houses. I will laugh as you draw your last breaths!"

  After some more pounding, and no response, Gabe hesitated. A few slaves disappeared around a corner, returning a few moments later with torches.

  "Why don't we allow the gods to reap their vengeance?" a man proposed, sympathy in his eyes as he passed one of the torches to Gabe.

  Gave nodded as he accepted the torch. "If he wants to die a coward, let him. He will die in the place where he slept soundlessly, after he made me kill my friend."

  Angry tears flowed down Gabe's face as he held the torch to the door, watching the wood lick the flames. The other slaves threw torches through the windows, guarding them. Slowly, angry, licking fire engulfed the front door, and the interior filled with smoke. Gabe and the other slaves waited until the door had deteriorated before they kicked it in, tossing more torches inside.

  "Let me out!" Avery screamed, as if the angry mob might allow him to escape his fiery prison.

  Of course, no one moved.

  Avery knew better than to pass.

  The room filled with more smoke and fire, licking some of the furniture and spreading uncontrollably, finding new things to burn, eventually finding a man's flesh.

  From inside the dwelling, Bray heard the agonizing screams a man who would rather die in the flames than let the forest-dwellers reap their vengeance.

  But they already had.

  Chapter 68: William

  William's eyes widened as he unlocked the door on the first floor. Weapons filled the room, organized neatly on wooden shelves, hanging on pegs, or stacked on tables.

  "Tech Magic," he whispered.

  Guns of various sizes lay next to their ammunition, packed away in special cases he'd never seen. A few were slipped in pieces of leather that he knew were holsters. Many of the guns looked stranger than the ones Kirby had given him. Some were older, or constructed in a cruder fashion.

  A few he recognized.

  William took an excited step as he identified the guns that had been taken from them.

  The demons behind William shifted, looking curiously over his shoulder. Others stood just beyond the doorway, waiting.

  William needed to bring as many weapons as he could, to help Bray and Kirby.

  Death or not, this was the end of his time in captivity.

  Stepping toward the shelf, he grabbed the long gun Kirby had showed him how to use, all those months ago. The weapon felt natural in his hands as he slipped the strap over his shoulder and tucked Amelia's gun in his robe. He grabbed hold of the other pistol and a holster he had carried in the woods, placing them where they rightfully belonged.

  A footstep echoed across the room.

  Too late, William turned to find a swishing robe coming toward him.

  Before he could react, someone slammed a fist on the side of his head, knocking him to the floor.

  Chapter 69: Kirby

  Kirby ran across the courtyard, leaving Ollie's body behind. She pushed away the stinging pain in her nose as she joined the embittered battle by the gate.

  Running into the fray, Kirby slashed at a Head Guard with a thick beard and a thicker neck, cutting his throat. He keeled over and fell. She gritted her teeth and swung at another guard, hacking his weapon from his hand. He cried out in surprise as she plunged her knife beneath his ribs, sending him reeling.

  Someone struck her with a surprise blow. She spun, facing a square-jawed guard with empty hands. Blood soaked his shirt and pants. It appeared he was making a final attempt at survival.

  He wanted her knife.

  Before Kirby could swing at him, he dove, knocking her to the ground. Pinned, she fought to keep hold of her weapon as he pawed her fingers with bloody, frantic hands. He released his hold on her weapon, striking her in the face. Kirby spat fresh blood from her mouth.

  "I've got him!" a voice cried.

  Strong hands ripped the man off her, throwing him aside. An ally she couldn't see lifted his blade high, jabbing it through the guard's back, and stopping his attack for good. The guard fell flat, emitting a final gasp. She looked up to find Drew reaching down and helping her up.

  "Come on," Drew said.

  Kirby smiled through her pain. "Thanks."

  They looked around, assessing the scene.
r />   For every guard, more than one of the repressed residents of New City attacked.

  "I think we've beaten them," Drew said with a smile.

  Together, they leapt into the smaller battles, assisting in finishing off the guards. When the last guard had cried his death throes, an eerie calm hung over the scene. The surviving people huddled together, assessing the condition of the wounded, or checking on their comrades.

  Noises from beyond the courtyard drew their attention.

  Not war cries.

  Shouts of triumph.

  A stampede of a hundred men and women raced across the courtyard, coming fast. A smile crossed Kirby's face as she saw Bray, Teddy, Clara, Giovanni, and James, and Gabe among them.

  Wiping the blood from her face, Kirby crossed the courtyard to Bray and embraced him. Both were hurt, stained and bedraggled, but neither had suffered any injuries that wouldn't heal.

  "Where did you come from?" Kirby asked, recovering her breath.

  "Farther back in the city," Bray said, cranking a thumb over his shoulder.

  "You have a sword," she noticed.

  Bray's smile covered most of his face. Pride overtook his expression, as he hoisted it up.

  "Are the rest of the guards dead?" Kirby asked.

  "Those that are alive in the city will be dead soon," Bray said. "A mob about the size of this one is banging down the doors of one of the shops, where some of them holed up. They are ferreting the others out of their hiding places." His smile remained as he added, "The guards are finished."

  Kirby nodded.

  The guards might be defeated.

  But she wasn't foolish enough to believe it was over.

  Chapter 70: Kirby

  Kirby looked around at the two hundred men and women in the courtyard, standing side by side around her. Their gaunt, dirty faces were stained and bruised from the fighting. Next to her, Bray, Teddy, Gabe, Drew, Clara, James, and Giovanni looked from the courtyard littered with bodies to the gate and the surrounding walls. They had only a moment to catch their breaths.

  "What's that noise?" asked one of the slaves, taking a step backward as more noises filled the void of the fighting.

  Snarls wafted from the other side of the gate.

  Mutants.

  Twisted men scratched at the walls, rattling the trinkets strung to the other side to keep the inhabitants inside. Anything with a brain and a hungry stomach could tell that things had changed in New City. The battle cries and bloodshed had alerted any demon within the range of hearing.

  The guards were gone, and Kirby suspected The Gifted might be, too.

  All that was left were the unmanaged demons.

  The noise of hundreds of scratching, clawing demons was enough to put fear in the heart of any slave, especially those with only shivs, knives, and pieces of metal to protect them. Kirby looked around at the people around her.

  "What happened to the others?" Kirby looked over at Bray, expecting more people to join them.

  "Most of those with families ran when the fighting started," Bray said. "They hid in the houses further back in the city. Others hid, too."

  With a grim expression on his face, Drew said, "We hoped they would join us, but the commotion from The Gifted's building scared them. They feared for their lives."

  Kirby nodded as she looked over at the two dead Gifted. She still wasn't certain what had happened. But there was no time to figure it out.

  "We gained some people, but we lost some, too," Clara said, as she shook her head. "Others are still in the city, chasing guards. More are dead."

  "We never had time to finish the escape route," James reminded them, his expression grim. "The parts we removed are covered up."

  A particularly loud snarl echoed over the walls, making the two hundred slaves tense.

  "Should we try the bells?" Drew asked, looking over at Bray, Kirby, and the other Shadow People leaders. His face showed he knew the answer.

  "I think we're past the bells," said Bray with a grunt.

  "The demons are too riled," Kirby agreed, thinking better of an earlier plan. "If we let them in that gate, we might be overrun and eaten before we lift our weapons. It is too much of a risk."

  "Then we'll fight them when they come over." Drew's eyes blazed with determination. "Certainly not all of them can get inside."

  "I'm not so sure about that," Teddy said beside them, with a regretful look of certainty. "They will find a way. They have before."

  Kirby looked again at the people around her—two hundred men and women with fear in their eyes, and weapons in their hands that were foreign to some of them, until today. When the mutants came over, fear would drive some of these people from the courtyard to the nearest house they could find. Even well-trained soldiers fled when the realities of a tough battle hit them.

  The people around her were tired from a long fight with the guards. More than a few were injured.

  A scratching noise ripped her attention to the western end of the gate, where the scratching grew louder. The tone of the snarls changed. A filthy, dirty hand found the top of the wall, pulling and grasping. Its other hand slapped its way into view.

  "They're coming!" Bray warned.

  More than a few in the crowd gasped as a nightmare of which they had dreamed for years became a reality, and a beast pulled its ugly head over the top of the wall, snarling and looking from the wall to the crowd. It angled a leg over. The crowd swiveled as one, as the demon got the rest of its body to the top of the wall, dropped, and fell into the courtyard. It rose, taking a staggering step.

  Hunger blazed in its eyes.

  It ran towards them.

  "Stand your ground!" Kirby yelled, hoping her words would inspire.

  The people tensed. Men and women clutched their knives and shivs. Drew stepped forward in front of the crowd. With a war cry that echoed from his lungs to the approaching demon, he rushed to meet the creature, planting his long knife in its chest and pulling it back out. One of the creature's hands flew to the wound, but it took another step, its free hand thrashing and groping. Drew kicked it, sending it toppling. Standing above it, he thrust his weapon into its face. The creature writhed once and was still.

  More dirty hands slapped the top of the wall. Three more bulbous heads appeared.

  A handful of dirty beasts dragged their way over the wall, oblivious to the death of their brother. They kicked and clawed, swinging over the wall and falling to the ground, finding their feet and immediately running. Inspired by Drew, a few people took courageous steps forward, wielding their weapons. The brave people hacked and slashed, cutting the demons' bodies and fighting them back until they convulsed on the ground and grew still.

  "That's what we have to do!" Kirby yelled. "Slay them as soon as they arrive!"

  The people cleaned their dirty weapons on the ground, inspired by an easy win.

  A hope became a plan. Taken a few at a time, the mutants weren't much of a threat. The two hundred men and women could pick them off as they came over, whittling them down until the last mutant was killed. Looking over at a few others, she saw victory flicker through their eyes. They had the numbers, and the advantage of a protecting wall. Their weapons weren't ideal, but they were good enough.

  "Pick them off as they come over!" she yelled, to some more encouraging cries.

  "Destroy the filthy beasts!" yelled a woman, bolstered with courage.

  The snarls on the other side of the wall ceased.

  The scampering of the demons died down.

  "What's going on?" Drew asked, looking between Bray and Kirby.

  "Maybe they realize they are coming in to death," said another man, hopefully. "Perhaps they have given up on the wall."

  "Or maybe they are fleeing," said the woman, her knife shaking in her hands.

  The crowd grew quiet as they listened. A few shifted impatiently, clutching their weapons with trepidation in their eyes. A few looked around the courtyard, as if an attack might come from another direc
tion. Peering over her shoulder, Kirby saw only rows of dirty houses, scattered flasks and clothing in the alleys, and dead bodies.

  Nodding toward the wall, Bray said, "They're still there. I can hear them."

  Kirby tensed. It was true. The scampering and hisses were still audible, even though the beasts had stopped trying to get over the wall. The trinkets stopped rattling.

  A scraping noise sounded from the gate's middle.

  The gate creaked and swung slowly open.

  Rudyard stood the threshold, holding a battered, bloodied William, pressing a heavy gun against the boy's head. A mob of demons hissed behind him. Several Tech Magic guns were slung across his back.

  "Stupid, wretched humans," he spat. "Now you will all die."

  Chapter 71: Bray

  Bray didn't need to inspect William up close to understand the beating he'd taken. Red drool dripped from William's cracked lips. His cheeks were swollen and bruised. He raised a swollen eye to the crowd, looking as if he was barely conscious. Rudyard choked him with a robed arm, pressing the barrel of the gun tight against his skull.

  Rudyard's eyes roamed from the crowd, to the battered hovels, to the bodies of the slaves and guards. They stopped at the corpses of The Gifted.

  "Stupid humans," he repeated, as if someone might agree.

  His attention returned to the front row of slaves, stopping at Bray and Kirby, who had stepped to the head of the crowd. The demons snapped and snarled from behind him, clearly fighting an instinct to run, to feast. William mumbled something no one could hear. Rudyard tightened his arm around William's throat.

  "You have earned your deaths," Rudyard spat. "All of you!"

  Unable to tamp his anger any longer, Bray yelled, "Let the boy go!"

  Rudyard shook his head as he returned a shout. "He will watch The Plagued Ones suck the marrow from your bones before he goes to his gods."

  Behind Rudyard, the mutants grew more agitated. A few tripped over each other's feet, anticipating a meal that would sate them for days. Bray clenched his sword. He wanted to race to Rudyard, plunge his sharp blade past his sneering lips and out of the back of his head. He wanted to take his pathetic life and rip William away and to safety. But a few hundred demons would chew his flesh before he made it that far.