The Ruby Blade: Chapter 1

Part I: The Darkest of Hearts

Prologue

The golden glow of sunlight burned away the shadows of the dying night. Warmth peaked above the rugged Yukon horizon and touched upon the white, hoarfrost-glazed landscape. Two long trains of dogs mushed amidst glittering evergreens pulling a pair of sleds. Entering spring, the daytime hours lengthened, now almost seven hours of light compared to the glum four hours during the depths of December. The early start allowed the two sledders to witness the majesty of the aurora borealis. The waves of purple and green upon a starry sky. A clandestine battle of Earth’s magnetic poles and the charged particle assault from the sun.

Cold yet exhilarated from the experience, the two drove their long team of dogs back to the comforts of their lodge. Choosing to take their time, they broke off from the usual tourist-grooved trails to explore. They were regulars. The winter-to-spring transition was their favorite season, and they returned each year escaping their bustling lives of the gray cement confines of Manhattan.

Yet, as they took a curve on the unexplored region, enjoying the touch of light upon their bundled-up selves, they entered a part of the taiga long unventured, neglecting to see the sign wishing tourists no entry. They passed through a narrow canyon of lodgepole pines, likely a summertime logging road now overgrown with saplings still buried in the winter pack. Just as the two felt the uneasy tickle on the napes of their neck to turn back, they came upon the edge of the road.

A log cabin stood undiscovered for some unknown time. The small perhaps thousand-square-foot property rested in the shade of towering pines. The front porch sagged. A lone, second-floor room window peered down at them with a black interior.

The two sledders almost dismounted to snowshoe up and explore. Yet, a cold chill as pressing as the depths of night cut through their layers and settled in their bones. The dogs whimpered and shifted. The woods creaked, moaned, and the quiet of winter danced on their nerves. Without any word, the two partners hustled their dogs to turn around and leave the cabin, but a hasty retreat caused them to collide. The titanium rail of the sled smashed a hand. One of the sledders cussed. The shout echoed between the shafts of trees. The black shadows of the cabin interior swallowed the sound.

They ran.

They pushed their dogs to flee as fast as they could.

Hours later when the short day waned and the sun, which arched low over the horizon, readied to settle to sleep again, Search and Rescue found the pair of sleds. And a field of blood. Although scavengers had picked at the dismembered remains, the original deaths of the two exploring tourists were nothing short of barbaric. Hellish. Ghoulish.

Search and Rescue retreated from the mouth of the abandoned logging road–unused for more than a decade–and called for help.

The area was closed to dog sleds, hunters, both native and tourist. Several days later, military snow-track vehicles roared up snowy slopes in broad daylight. They stopped at the mouth of the road where recent storms had since buried the stained snow in fresh layers. Leading the company, a stern narrow-faced Major Zachary R. Lesman exited the leading vehicle and peered into the dark foliage ahead. Even at the peak hours of the day, the evil within these woods permeated. How did those tourists never notice?

Giving the signal, the rest of the soldiers unloaded. Weapons came too. Net launchers, long-shafted spears, swords, high-powered cattle prods. All of it experimental weaponry. The newly appointed and organized United States Marine Branch: Ghoul Response Force mobilized and infiltrated.

Lesman’s newly assembled elite special ops led first, spreading into cells of two or three each, the soldiers disappeared into the woods with seeming confidence. The rest of the heavy-loaded one-hundred troops waited. And waited. Drones flew in. At the end of the old road, they found the dilapidated cabin.

More tense moments.

Numbers confirmed. Half a dozen.

Soldiers moved in and flooded the forest in tight formations all bearing swords, thick-barreled rifles, and spears with long guards at the shaft end. Lesman sat in the recon snow-tracker, headphones on next to his comms officers.

As the short day continued its apathetic course, within those woods cries echoed. Howls. Shots and clash of steel and detonations.

Several days later, Lesman sat in his disheveled office with jangled nerves. The orange twilight light illuminated dust suspended in the air of his cramped and cluttered space. On his desk, he filled out nearly two dozen letters to let families know they lost their sons and two daughters in combat. Another dozen were honorable discharges, all awarded the Purple Heart. He lost them because the net launchers were imperfect. The spears, modifications and all, still were insufficient. If it hadn’t been for his special operative sword specialist, the entire company would’ve likely been lost. Progress, but at a cost. After he signed the last letter he clenched his hair in tight fists. Pinched his eyes shut. This was the last straw, the last time he signed condolences.

Hell has come, and Hell has gone, but the horrors still remain. Even in the remote corners of the Earth, they hid, waiting for the return of their master. Wake the Abomination. And Major Zachary R. Lesman of the Ghoul Response Force would be the one to find him and take his head off by his hand.

Chapter One

A cold wind picked up and blew the other way. Icy gusts carried down from the benches of the east mountains and descended upon the hollow streets of Evergrey City. The wind coursed past dark business buildings, empty parks, and houses abandoned and boarded up or closed tight with shutters and blinds letting little light escape. Even at the half-functional university campus, among winding walkways and ratty overgrowth, the weather-stained gray buildings sat dark and unpopulated. In the twilight hour, the city slept.

Five years after the War of Hell and Earth, most other cities had recovered. Nightlife sprouted up in certain districts where others were left in a decayed state none dared travel. Evergrey remained an exception. Aside from the odd patrol car, attending hospital staff preparing for night shifts, and a few lagging individuals speeding home, all was still. Silent except for rattling fences and particles of trash skirting across open lanes. On the city outskirts, an old, brown pickup truck crested the hill overlooking the bleak valley. It passed a faded and chipped “Welcome to Evergrey” billboard and descended toward the city. The truck exited the lumpy highway and fought against the cold gales as it wandered past weeded farmyards, condemned theaters, orchards, and scarred homes until it pulled into an apartment complex a mile south of the university campus.

The truck, full of boxes and bags and a mattress, grumbled to a stop. When the heater cut the cold settling evening leached through the glass. Dustin Olivan shook from his fourteen-hour stupor and exited. The icy wind sliced through his thin jacket and wrinkled, white button-down. His hand-me-down jeans, almost too big, also struggled against the cold. He suppressed a shiver and waited as Des put the truck in park and climbed out as well. The burly man beamed, unaffected by the cold. His thick mane of hair and scruffy beard protected him well.

“Freedom,” Des said. “Freedom at last.”

He stretched his arms and legs and groaned a deep groan. They had left early from their remote village. The journey took them out of the Canadian Rockies through Kelowna and the northwest United States. They passed cities and towns in various states of recovery or decay. From the moment Dustin had left Francois Village, that Canadian sanctuary, his stomach did somersaults, drifting between anxiety and nausea and fatigue. Was this stupid? Should he have left? No doubt spurred by a sleepless night his mind spun in circles. All the while, the ever-cheerful Pierce DesEvans played his mix of country and classic rock only stopping for fuel and food.

Now that Dustin had arrived in Evergrey, facing the large cinder block complexes of his soon-to-be home, he could answer those questions. Yes, this was stupid. He should have never left.

Des, undeterred by Evergrey’s effects, signaled Dustin to follow. They crossed the half-empty parking lot to the check-in office. Spalling concrete crunched underfoot. To their surprise, despite college check-in week, the office was closed. Des pulled on a locked door. No sign of life within, only a dark interior and dead bolted door.

“We got here too late,” Des said. “Did you get any information on your room or any of the likes?”

Dustin shrugged.

“So bizarre, it’s not even dark and it’s already a ghost town.” Indeed, for a college complex, cars sat empty and not a soul wandered about. Even on a chilled evening, lounging students normally sat smoking under plaza trees or rushed to and from college parties.

“This is Evergrey,” Dustin said.

“Warm welcome,” Des muttered.

Dustin nodded.

“Well, let’s see if anyone’s going to pick up.” Des knocked and rang the doorbell.

No answer.

Right as they gave up and turned to leave heavy footsteps came around a dark corner, lights spilled into the entryway through the clouded pane. Grumbles carried through the door and eventually a buzzer clicked and the door unlocked. A hefty woman with a no-nonsense attitude scowled and let them enter. She waited for them at the front desk. The room smelled musty and an old heater wheezed in the corner. No decorations adorned the walls, only permits and inspection certificates. Dustin internally sighed at his choice of living arrangements. He couldn’t complain, though. He picked the cheapest apartment in a cheap part of town.

“You’re late. Didn’t you read the email? We don’t do check-ins past seven,” she asked.

“Uh, I guess we did not, I apologize. We have been on the road all day. We can come back tomorrow,” Des said.

“I’m not allowed to turn away people, so let’s get this over with.”

“Are you the landlord?”

The woman gave an irritable grunt and turned her computer on. “My name is Harriet Norton, thank you for choosing Evergrey Suite Apartments,” she said in a flat, mechanical tone. Dustin passed the woman their registration information. “Since you’re a student we offer two payment methods. Are you paying by semester or month-to-month?”

“I believe the entire semester was cheaper, right? That was the option we were going with,” Des said.

The woman nodded and continued on her computer. Dustin handed over the rest of his information and her eyebrows raised. “Canada? What brings you here of all places?”

Dustin hesitated, stomach knotting up, but Des gave no help. “Cheap tuition. A scholarship.”

She grunted. “All you need is blood in your veins and air in your lungs to get a scholarship here.”

“Yes, in fact, this is our first time here. I’m sorry, we didn’t realize you’d already be closed, Harriet. Is there a curfew in Evergrey?” Des asked. She returned a flat gaze at Des and sighed.

“Not strictly speaking,” she said. “It’s the fear of Hell that sets the curfew. You shouldn’t be out in case ghouls are about.”

“Does Evergrey still have ghouls?”

The woman shifted and glanced over their shoulders at the dimming outside. “No one has seen one north of Willburry Section since the war ended. But you never know. Just last spring there was that ghoul nest up in Alaska the army sprung. If they’re somewhere like the Yukon they’re definitely here. Where it all started.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. A cheap plastic clock ticked. The decrepit heater continued on its futile attempt to fight off the unseasonal chill. Des gave a light-hearted chuckle to break the tension.

“Good point,” he said. He wrote the check while Harriet continued.

“If you haven’t been here before then keep a wary eye. Wake and the Bringers only disappeared. This is where most of them came from. They were citizens of this very town. Even the rich upper-class people like William Albakent were in league with Hell. The ghouls are hiding in abandoned houses. They could all attack at any time. Everyone locks their doors in Evergrey City. And remember this, even the fool-headed ones never forget.”

“So there are still ghouls in the South?” Des asked.

“Not sure,” the landlord shrugged. She fidgeted with papers and a slight twitch took to her eye. “People have been getting bold and moving down there. Or desperate. Supposedly haven’t run across anything yet. But there are still some streets people won’t search.”

“That sounds like an improvement,” Des said. He signed the check and handed it over to the landlord. Dustin squirmed with guilt.

The rent was only twenty-four hundred for the whole semester, but that was still twenty-four hundred meant for Eve, Des’ quiet but brilliant daughter. She strove for high-quality schools where without a huge scholarship—to Des’ frequent complaint—would likely cost thousands per month.

“If you’re new to Evergrey, then I am obliged to continue on the note of ghouls. It’s a city ordinance that we make sure all new residents are aware of high-risk ghoul sites,” the woman stated. She pulled out a basic map of the city. Across the small sprawl were shaded blue, green, and red sections. “Blue zones are student interest areas, shopping areas, the campus, as well as gyms, and theaters and the likes. Green is residential and regular shopping areas, including clubs and bars going after dark on the weekends with higher police or ROTC patrol. Otherwise, as you’ve discovered, everywhere clears out a couple of hours before dusk. Winter is especially so, with the sun going down as early as five. Now, the red zones are abandoned parts of town. To the Northeast, you have Albakent Grove. To the Northwest, Lawson Lane, which has an especially bad area where an old abandoned auditorium lies, probably passed it coming in from Eugene. Go nowhere near there especially.

“This last area, however, Southern Evergrey, especially anything south of Willburry Section, is suicide. You can download a more detailed map at evergreycity.gov. That map breaks it down to even red homes within green zones as well as green homes within Southern Evergrey.” She pointed at the southern part. The whole district was shaded red. Anything south of the highway. The divide was so prevalent a literal wall split the city in two from those abandoned regions.

“You said, there are green areas.”

The woman nodded. “Yes, mostly the streets directly opposite the wall. They don’t go far past. But as five years have passed and the war seems to be over, poor people, mostly illegal immigrants, go down there for cheap housing. Nothing bad has happened, yet, but I’m not holding my breath.”

“Thank you, Harriet, that information is helpful,” Des said, smiling.

Though, not for the reasons she thinks, Dustin thought.

The lady gave Des a flat stare and nodded. “If that’s all, here is your key. You’re on the third building, third floor, third apartment,” the woman said.

“That’s easy to remember. Thank you for your help,” Des said.

“Uh-uh,” the woman said, clearly no longer interested. With all the paperwork and contracts signed, deposits handed over, and money in her bank account, she no longer cared a wink about them—so long as they didn’t break anything.

They left the dingy office and its drab walls and sunken waiting couches and entered back into the chilly evening air. Des had a grin and slapped Dustin on the back.

“I’m not going to lie, Dustin, I know college is just half the goal, but of all the colleges to go to, you’ve picked a strange one.”

Indeed, as they walked towards his new home, Dustin couldn’t agree more.