The ruin, p.32
The Ruin, page 32
Instead, I focus on Mom sleeping fitfully in my lap. In the time it’s taken us to escape Matthew’s claws, her skin has gone translucent. Her lips have darkened to deeper shades of blue, and her breaths have become more and more ragged. There’s fluid in her lungs. It gurgles with each shallow inhale. There’s nothing I can do except hold her and whisper to her, assure her everything will be okay.
Memories of our years together creep into my thoughts as we pass places Mom and I have been. I’d spent the day in Arbutus with her and Ally when I was a freshman in high school. I’d been struggling with a bully, so Mom insisted we play hooky and try something new. We went to a Hawaiian Poke restaurant. I remember chewing on the raw, marinated tuna, then spitting it out into a napkin. The texture of the fish wasn’t great, but the flavors were delicious. Mom and Ally laughed when they caught me.
We zoom past Catonsville, and another memory of Mom helping me write to my pen pal at Hillcrest cuts through the haze.
The longer I resist my body’s commands to rest, the more my muscles ache and my head pounds. A wire cage wraps itself around my skull and drills into my teeth. Impossible hands tighten the screws binding it to my molars. I lean my head against the glass of the window, but the cold pane only provides temporary relief.
A sign for Frederick fades into the distance, and though I’ve fought hard to remain conscious, my eyelids slam closed and refuse to open again.
The car slows to a stop as Richard pulls off the interstate and turns onto an unfamiliar highway, waking me from a dreamless state. My heart slams into my ribs. Connor’s soft snores drift from the front seat. Mom’s unconscious form is still. Her chest rises and falls sporadically. The vein in her temple, all too visible, thrums with her thready pulse.
Beyond my window, scraggly mountains covered in budding trees loom against the horizon. Pines mix with oak, maple, and yellow birch. Outcroppings of shattered slate surround the road. Mist gathers around the rim of the forest, lending an ominous feel to the otherwise scenic route.
Richard’s face in the rearview mirror is impassive as he concentrates on the road before him. His hands are steady on the wheel as we snake through the ridge. We pass a dented metal sign for WV-29 South.
West Virginia, I think. I must have been out for a while.
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” I whisper.
Richard briefly turns his gaze to me, breaking his silent focus. “Unfortunately, yes. I wish I didn’t.”
I nod, rubbing the sleep out of the corners of my eyes. “How much longer?”
“It’s not far to the turn-off. We should be there in about twenty-five minutes.”
“What then?”
Richard shifts in his seat. “Then, things are going to be more difficult. We’ll have to carry your mother through the woods.”
My gaze travels down to Mom’s frail frame, and a sinking feeling settles in my stomach. I frown. “How far?”
“If we were all relatively healthy, I’d say, maybe three hours. With Valerie…” he hesitates, “I don’t know.”
Just weeks ago, I had balked at Richard’s stories. I would have denied the existence of the Ruin with my dying breath. Now, I’m following him into the unknown and leaving Mom’s survival in his hands.
Life is strange.
“Are you sure this is a good idea? You said they’re dangerous.”
Richard doesn’t answer. He adjusts his grip on the wheel. The skin over his knuckles tightens, whitening.
My thumb slides along the back of Mom’s hand. Her cold, thin skin is covered with blue and purple bruises. They continue up her arms and disappear into her sleeve. A man’s handprint wraps around her bicep. Hatred for Matthew surges through me, but I shove it down. It doesn’t matter anymore. He can’t hurt her now.
“Will they help her?” My voice is strained.
Richard lowers his head and sighs. “I hope so. They’ve helped others before. All we can do is try.”
“And, if they don’t?”
He reaches one hand into the backseat and squeezes my knee. “If they don’t, we’ll say our goodbyes.”
I stifle a sob and lay my hand across the top of his. Unlike Mom’s, his is muscular and full. His eyes widen.
“Thank you,” I mutter. “For coming back. For telling me the truth even though I refused to believe it. For getting us out of Plasmedics. I’m sorry I was so cruel. You didn’t deserve that.”
Richard shakes his head. “Don’t apologize to me, Kara. I deserved everything you said to me and more.”
“No…”
“I did. And, I’m sorry. I hope you know that. For all of this.” He wraps my hand in his, and I don’t pull away.
As I return my eyes to the scenery flashing by, my defenses shatter. The walls I’ve built in his absence crumble. I blink away tears and allow myself to be vulnerable. “I do,” I tell him. “And, I forgive you. For all of it. I understand. You made an impossible choice, and I never realized it hurt you, too. But, I see that now, and I forgive you… Dad.”
Gravel crunches under the tires as Dad pulls off of WV-29 South onto a narrow back road. The new path leads us onto a rickety covered bridge too tight for more than one car at a time. Luckily, we have the road to ourselves. The wooden slats rumble as we cross a wide swath of running water.
Connor stirs and stretches. When he realizes he fell asleep, he casts a guilty look in my direction. His eyes rove over Mom, and he offers me a sad smile. “I didn’t mean to pass out.”
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “You didn’t miss anything. I fell asleep, too. It’s been a long drive.”
“How is she?”
I shake my head. “Not great.” I can’t bring myself to say anything else.
The road forks and Dad steers the car to the left. The forest around us thickens. The gravel disappears, leaving only a two-track through the trees. Mom coughs, spitting flecks of blood onto her lips. I cradle her head and plant a kiss on her brow, but she doesn’t wake.
We pass a handful of dilapidated farmhouses and half-rotten, collapsed barns on the two-track, but soon, all signs of civilization disappear. About a mile up the road, Dad slows as we approach a bright yellow sign: “Dead End, No Exit.” An almost imperceptible path leads deeper into the woods through the trees to the right. He maneuvers Connor’s car through the gap. Shrill screeches fill the interior as thin, low-hanging branches scrape across the roof. Mom squirms in my lap, irritated by the sound.
The movement is reassuring. She’s still aware enough to respond. I cover her ears.
“We’re here.” Dad throws the car into park and switches off the ignition.
Surrounded by the shadows of the wild forest, the marrow in my bones chills.
My trepidation must be plain as day because Connor unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to face me. He reaches across the back of his seat and gently places his hands on my shoulders. “We don’t have to go in there, Kay. It’s your choice. We can turn back if this isn’t sitting right.”
I swallow and stare into the depths of the trees. Goosebumps break out along my arms.
“What do you want to do?” Dad asks. “You know our options.”
“We’ve come so far,” I whisper into Mom’s ear. “Through chemo, and radiation, and surgery, and everything at Plasmedics.” My forehead presses against hers. Her eyes flutter. “We can’t give up now. We have to try.”
“You’re sure?” Connor asks.
“No,” I answer. “But, we’re going to do it anyway.
“The supplies are in the trunk,” Dad instructs Connor. “Grab a pack. We’re losing daylight.”
Our heavy packs make circling through the mountains a difficult feat. Even after resting, my body protests such strenuous activity. There’s no clearly marked path through the trees. It doesn’t help that branches and thorny bushes continuously snag on the fabric of my grimy jeans and whip into my cheeks. Climbing over fallen trunks and avoiding hidden patches of scree near cliff edges slows our pace. We can’t afford to lose our footing, not this high up. One wrong move and we’ll be sliding into a ravine.
The landscape isn’t the only thing we need to worry about. Before we left the car behind and ventured into the woods, Dad warned us about the wildlife that makes its home in places such as these. “We’re not in the city anymore,” he reminded us. “You’ll need to be careful. The animals in this forest will defend themselves. Tread lightly.”
Trying not to trip and staring into the shadows in search of dangerous creatures has my senses on high alert. My eyes dart between the trees, and my ears prick at every unexpected sound. Black bears, coyotes, bobcats, cougars, and panthers lurk in the Appalachian Mountains, and those are just the predators we would be able to see. Others are too small to spot, like brown recluses and black widows. High in the treetops, wasps buzz. Worse yet, rattlesnakes like to hide in crevices and beneath the leaves.
“We should stop here to hydrate and eat,” Dad announces when we reach an outcropping in the mountainside. He snaps off a tree limb and pokes around before deciding the area is safe.
“No,” I argue. “We have to keep going. Mom needs – ”
“Valerie needs us alive and healthy so we can keep going.” He tosses the stick aside and holds out his arms, assisting Connor as he settles Mom’s limp body on the ground. “We can’t help her if we pass out in the woods, Kara.”
“He’s right,” Connor pants. His pack lands with a thud beside a boulder. “I need a break. She’s light, but she’s dead weight.” I scowl at him, and he holds up his hands. “Sorry, bad phrase. You know what I mean.”
Dad retrieves a water bottle from his pack and cracks open the lid, drinking deeply. Connor does the same, then gestures for me to follow. Reluctantly, I do as I’m told. It’s a relief to lift the hefty bag off my shoulders and set it down, if only for a few minutes.
Several water bottles and granola bars later, we stuff our trash back into our packs and resume the trek, leaving no trace of our presence behind.
“Stay in the shadows,” Dad commands. His weak leg trembles as he dodges a puddle of mud. “The village is just over the crest of the hill, but we don’t know what we’re walking into.”
“Shadows. Got it.” Connor grunts and shifts Mom’s weight. Unable to see the ground beneath him, he plods straight through the sludge. His foot slips, and I cringe. Tension knots his forearms and biceps as he regains his balance.
We’ve been hiking through the forest for more than five hours, and though both Dad and I have tried to help carry Mom across the treacherous terrain, Connor has shouldered most of the burden. I don’t know how he did it, but whatever inner well of strength he’s been drawing from is running dry.
My arm flings out to steady him as he slips again. “Are you alright?”
“Just tired,” he answers, but that’s an understatement. He’s practically dead on his feet.
“I can help,” I offer. “You don’t have to push yourself so hard.”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“I’ll always worry about you.” My fingertips gently trail down the back of his arm before I let my hand drop to my side. He’s dripping with sweat.
“I promise, Kay.” He’s determined. “Your mom and I will be okay. We can rest at the top of the hill. Why don’t you go see what Richard needs?”
I watch him warily for a moment as he shakes off his shoe, flinging mud onto the moss. His grip on Mom’s knees and his arm around her torso never waver. As long as Connor has her, she’s safe. There’s no question about that.
“Meet me at the top?” I ask, though it’s not really a question. Where else would he go?
Connor raises his eyes to the summit and sucks in a deep breath. He blows it out slowly, preparing for the steep incline. “Give me five minutes. We’ll be there.”
“Okay.” I plant a kiss on his cheek, then turn to climb.
Dad waits near the edge of the trees, cloaked in the shadow of a towering 0ak. As silently as I can, I pick my way through the sparse brush and join him. As I reach the treeline, the harsh light of day momentarily blinds me. My eyes have become accustomed to the depths of the woods.
Rapidly blinking, I realize we’re standing at the border of a shallow valley. A ragged mountain looms over a cluster of wooden, cabin-like buildings beyond a sturdy log wall and heavy-looking gate. Time has smoothed the once-rough structures. A fast-moving stream burbles through the center of the clearing, wrapping around the left side of the barricade and disappearing into a different patch of trees. Two people guard the entrance, but the area is otherwise clear.
“Is that…” I start to ask, but my words trail off.
“The village of the Ruin,” Dad answers. “We made it.”
“It’s real,” I mutter in astonishment. “I mean, I knew it was. Well, I wanted to believe it was. But, now that we’re here, it’s surreal.”
“I know the feeling.”
“I kinda thought it would be smaller?”
A sharp crack sounds from less than a foot away. I turn, expecting to see Connor disentangling himself from a patch of burrs or kicking aside a fallen limb. Instead, I find a squat, balding man with distrustful brown eyes staring back at me. He presses the barrel of a rifle against my sternum. Frantically, I search for Connor and Mom. Two more guards, a woman with a messy gray bun and a boy no older than twelve, flank them as they ascend the remainder of the hill.
“Easy,” Dad says, throwing his hands up in surrender. Another man, taller and thinner than the one threatening me, presses a shotgun to his back. “We’re not here to cause trouble.”
“Then why are you here?” the taller guard snaps. He nudges Dad with the barrel of his gun. “You didn’t wind up here by accident.”
“No, we didn’t,” I answer. “We need your help.”
“Help?” The squat guard studies me. “You wandered into the middle of the mountains looking for help? What kind of stupid are you?”
I shoot the man a disdainful look. “I’m not stupid.” I point to Connor. “The woman he’s carrying is my mother.”
“And?” the gray-haired woman asks.
“And, she’s dying.” The truth is bitter on my tongue.
The young boy rakes his eyes over Connor and Mom. “She doesn’t look so good.”
“Shut up, Aspen,” the woman barks. “That doesn’t concern us.”
Connor shifts uncomfortably as the woman raises her gun higher, aiming it at his face.
“You don’t understand,” Dad starts, but I interrupt before he has time to finish his sentence.
“I know about the Ruin.”
“Don’t call us that!” she shrieks. The furious woman takes several steps toward me, backing me into the trunk of the oak. “We do NOT answer to that name.”
“Calm down, Bella,” the squat man instructs. “I’m sure she meant no harm.”
“He’s right. I’m sorry. I only meant I know about your people and what you can do. My mom needs your help. She needs the Sharing. That’s why we’re here.”
“How do you know about that?” Bella growls, her face inches from mine.
“It doesn’t matter. We don’t help strangers anymore,” the thin guard answers. “We haven’t for a long time.”
“We aren’t strangers,” Dad tells him. “We’re part of the clan, or at least, my mother was. My name is Richard Edwards, and Kara is my daughter. This is her mother, my wife, Valerie. The man carrying her is Kara’s boyfriend, Connor.”
“Edwards?” the man guarding me repeats. “I’ve heard that name.”
“You’re the traitor’s son,” Bella chimes in. She shifts her hateful gaze from me to my father and takes several steps back. “Lilliana, the one who broke the laws and left.”
“I am.”
“You thought you could come here and demand something of us because of your blood?” The taller guard scoffs. “That’s not how it works. Your mother made her choice. You’re not welcome here. Neither is your daughter. You don’t belong.”
“Please,” I add. “How can you hold my grandmother’s mistakes against us? I had nothing to do with her decision to leave, and neither did my dad. He wasn’t even born.”
Bella opens her mouth to speak, but the squat guard cuts her off.
“Bring the sick one closer,” he instructs Connor. “Now.”
The young boy shoves Connor forward. Connor casts him a look of contempt look but follows instructions. He stops in front of my guard, and the balding man lowers the rifle from my chest. An audible sigh of relief escapes me.
He watches Mom draw several ragged breaths before raising his eyes to mine. “How much time does she have?”
My voice cracks. “We don’t know. Not long.”
Tense silence fills the forest as the man considers my words.
“Bram, we can’t,” Dad’s guard insists. “You know what she said.”
“Let her decide,” Bram tells the thin guard. “Take them to the gate. Not this one. He stays. We can’t have him exposed.” Bram brings his eyes to Connor’s. “Hand over the mother. Wait here in the forest. Do you understand?”
Connor swallows and looks to me for guidance. When I nod, he answers, “I do.”
The thin guard rolls his eyes and swings his shotgun over his shoulder. “This is a bad idea,” he grumbles as he reaches for Mom. As gently as he can, Connor passes my mother into the guard’s arms.
“You think everything is a bad idea, Orrin,” Bram retorts.
“I happen to agree,” Bella adds.
“Then, I guess it’s a good thing I’m in charge of the watch today. Shut your mouth and get to the gate. No more arguing.”
The late afternoon sun sinks closer to the horizon as Dad, Bram, Orrin, and I wait outside of the village gate. As soon as we arrived, Bella and Aspen abandoned us, returning to their posts in the forest. No doubt, they’re keeping a close eye on Connor from somewhere in the trees.
At the guards’ insistence, we left our packs with Connor before they escorted us into the valley. One of them contained a small, red tent, which he’s busy assembling under the canopy of the massive oak. Every few seconds, his head turns in our direction. I know he’d be down here in an instant if I needed him, but it wouldn’t be safe. I don’t know how close he could come to one of the Healed without being infected. I’m not willing to take that risk.
