Ruins: Trilogy

By Jay Harward

Ruins are all that's left. The name doesn't matter. A long time ago, alien creatures were brought here but somehow escaped and infested the city, but just because it was left in ruins does not mean that everything is lost.

The Ruins trilogy are three stories that follow the trials and tribulations of three men, set in different points in the city's fall--a scavenger who has to help a tourist find what she lost a long time ago, a father who wants to protect his family, and a soldier trying to save those who could not escape on their own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889602927

Book preview

Ruins

Trilogy

Jay Harward

Copyright © 2023 Jay Harward

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-88960-275-0 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88960-292-7 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Escape

A Ruins Story

Rescue

A Ruins Story

About the Author

The sun was at midday, the air frigid and cold, howling across the vacant highway. A lone man, tired and battered, walked down the ruined road. The air nipped at his clean-shaven face and gave him a big red nose, but he didn't care. He mustered through it. There was not much to see. The land was overgrown and wild, and what once remained of human habitation were now just ruins falling apart. Wooden homes and stone buildings lay in ruins; some were charred remains, and others just fell over and were collapsed piles of rubble. There were no trees or at least no large trees. Any that did grow were just saplings. It was mostly just tall grass and wild weeds. What happened here happened a long time ago, but still recent enough to be in living memory.

Soon the man found an old road sign. He stopped in front of it and looked to see what it had to say. What once was a sign that told motorists the name of the city they were about to enter had a new message haphazardly posted over it: Beware, you are now entering a quarantine area. Turn back now.

He gave it a quick smirk and continued walking down the road. It didn't take long before he saw it. The quarantine walls that surrounded the ruined city. The walls stood around twenty feet tall and went on for a while, wrapping itself around the entire city and slightly beyond. This area was slightly different from what the man had just passed. It wasn't as scorched, and many buildings still stood. The wall was overgrown but not as bad. He looked to the military checkpoint, tents, and metal barriers, all tipped over and left in tatters. Then his eyes went to the wall. There was a rather large shrine at the base of the wall—old picture frames, plastic flowers, and candles that could no longer light up—all remembering the dead. These things lay there as a silent memorial. The walls were meant not to keep people out but rather to keep what lay in the city in.

The man moved forward until he was only a foot away from the wall. Here he gently placed a hand on the concrete wall, cold to the touch, and began to walk alongside it. He couldn't help but close his eyes while doing this, taking deep breaths in and out until he just stopped. Opening his eyes, he saw in front of him an old military truck, long since abandoned, charred upon the hood and stripped till there was nothing but a metal husk. That's where he noticed it. In the shadow behind the truck just out of view, the man could see a small pile of concrete rubble lying on the ground and saw a hole was made into the wall, covered poorly by a piece of large sheet metal on the other side of the wall.

Before he moved any farther, he unholstered his .44 revolver and made sure it was fully loaded, turning the cylinder to inspect each and every bullet. After he was satisfied, he put the gun back into his holster and moved the rusted sheet out of the way.

As he stepped through the hole, he couldn't help but think about a single sentence with an ironic grin. Damn military should repair the wall sometime, he said to himself. The other side was an urban jungle. Buildings as tall as trees were everywhere, yet not a single person was in sight. The first thing he could see was that the streets, or what was left of them, were choked up with cars of all shapes and sizes, all of them going the same direction. Out. Some were torn apart by what looked like claws, some were flattened, and others were painted a red that he was sure wasn't part of the original paint job. Not paying any mind, however, he began to make his way down the clogged street, staying on the sidewalk, only on occasion being forced to move around a crashed car.

This was where he heard howls off in the distance, sounds of something alien, something hungry. Not liking his chances with whatever beast had made those sounds, he rushed down the road, making sure to avoid open sewer grates and dark alleyways, always staying in the middle of the road, never looking back, only going forward. He only stopped this when he reached where he was heading to.

His eyes went up and down the homestead several times, making sure of everything. The building was in great condition—nothing was falling apart, no sign of damage. Then he went to the windows. They were covered by white drapes and iron bars on the inside and out. Then out of nowhere, there was movement, but it was too fast to see what it was properly.

He kept his eye on the second-floor window as the drapes began to rustle. Then he saw the creature's head pop out. It was a child; he couldn't tell, but they appeared no older than five. The man smiled, but the child ran away. He quickly walked up the steps, knocking on the door. For a few moments, there was nothing. Then he could hear something heavy. The sounds of muffled thuds were coming from the door, getting softer and softer in each passing second, until there was nothing but silence. Then the door opened, and a large black man stood face-to-face with the man. He was wearing a worn white T-shirt, stained with grease and time. There was a tattoo of a rose on his arm.

He looked at the man, and he looked at him. With no words said between them, he nodded, and he promptly walked into the house. The door slammed shut behind him.

Once inside, it didn't take long to figure out that home was actually an old apartment building as the hallway went on for some time, probably being at least a dozen rooms.

The hallway was alive. Many people walked in and out of rooms, talking and arguing. He went down the hall, passing a couple of scavengers who were resting up before going back into the city. For the most part, this was a place for people to rest or find work. That was why he was here. At the end of the hallway was one last door, probably once an office for whoever had owned this place. The door had a glass window, but it had been covered over by old newspapers, and for only a moment, the man couldn't help but give the headlines a read. Creatures from another world brought to Earth for study, Containment failure at research facility, curfew imposed in surrounding towns and cities, Alien beasts swarm city, evacuation begin, containment wall being constructed affect area.

Without hesitation or invitation, he pushed open the door and went inside. The room was small, and there was not much in it save for a table in the middle of the room and two figures sitting around it talking. One person he could make out was an older man. A long white beard rested upon his face. He had lively eyes that lit up when he saw the man.

It's nice to see you again, old friend. The older man smiled.

Yeah, you too, Abe. So you called me and said you needed something. Well, here I am, the man said.

Abe, the older man, nodded and got up from the table and gestured to the second person. Well, technically it's her who wants to hire ya. I'm just the middleman.

The woman stood up, and he tried to get a good look at her. She wore a gas mask—bad choice as it restricted one's sight and was utterly useless as nothing in the air was toxic here. She also had on a heavy leather jacket—better, it could offer some protection from the smaller creatures, so not a bad choice. He could even see the outline of a pistol in a poor attempt to hide it. By the size of it, he could guess it was a nice .32. A smaller and a more experienced scavenger could have made a better effort at hiding the weapon, not to mention such a small gun would provide little in the way of actual safety. At most, it would annoy any attacking creature. From all those things, it was not hard to tell he was dealing with an amateur.

She had her arms crossed and did her own check. Her head ever so slightly went up and down his body. Unlike her, however, he didn't give off anything he didn't want to. He made sure to hide what he needed to hide and show what was needed to be seen.

So what do you want, a tour guide? the man said sarcastically.

Sort of, she said, her voice muffled by the mask. Mr. Jackson told me you're the best Scav there is, and you're not afraid to go to the Red Zones. She then pulled out a rolled piece of paper and unrolled it onto the table. It was a map of the old city and the lands around it.

The man put his finger down onto the map and began to trace the outline of the walled-off sections. When the outbreak happened and all the creatures escaped the labs, they mostly stuck to the city. No one was sure why. Then again, at this point, did it really matter? The map was color coded with three distinct colors: green, which meant safe; orange, which meant danger; and then there was red. A red zone was generally near a nest or a popular hunting ground. They were spread about the old city here and there, but they were far and few between.

The girl pointed to some old neighborhood, and while it was in the red, luckily, it was only a few blocks in. So long as they didn't come across any hazards, which, given how the world works, was unlikely. Since it was midday, they would have to stop at another safe house along the way and spend the night. He was confident about going to a red zone during the day, but at night, well, there were horrors that one couldn't even imagine at night.

The man looked up at the girl. I'll do it for eight thousand, he said in a cold tone.

What?

That's how much it costs for me to get you there, the man said. If you don't like the price, feel free to offer me something else.

I don't have that much, but I can get you four thousand and a small cut of what we're getting.

Six thousand plus the cut.

The girl looked down for a second, pondering what he had offered. Five, then we got a deal.

All right, five it is, but I get paid half up front. Is that clear?

Understood.

Oh, and one more thing.

Yes?

Take off the fucking gas mask. It's not going to do a damn thing. It's just dead weight.

All right. The woman was quick to do as he said. As she took the mask off, he could see the woman's face. She was young, no older than twenty, twenty-five. She put the mask down on the table and grabbed a backpack from the floor. She rifled through it and pulled out a roll of cash. Two thousand here, rest when we get back.

We agreed half.

"It's a difference of five hundred. You'll get your three thousand when we reach the wall, or do you