Old American ruins. So handy for the plot. So usefully ominous.
Afterward, they never really figured out when the caravan ran out of day. The sky went brown-yellow fast, with lightning sparking up the sky and only rarely deigning to come down to the ground. And the rain bounced, getting muddy droplets into everything, making the whole excursion more miserable. Since it wasn’t exactly a steeplechase to begin with, Mike found himself so muddy and sore that it started to feel like armor.
Rain of frogs? he half-drunkenly mused as a scattering of half-frozen ones washed across the caravan. Sure, why not? I wonder if they’re the ones that taste good. Although the crunching sounds as the wagons rode over them kind of put Mike off the idea. Besides, the idea of a campfire was at this point a fond memory of days gone by.
His lieutenant rode up. If Mike looked at beat as Jimmy did right now, it was time to find something, anything, that looked like shelter. But Jimmy was smiling. “Captain, you will not believe our luck!”
Mike squinted at Jimmy. “You’re right,” he said. “I won’t. What have you got?”
“We found an Old American ruin.”
“What? Here? What the hell is it?”
“It looks like something they put things in, Captain. Big things; there are ramps to use, wide and tall enough for the wagons. No walls, but the hills have grown around it. Three sides are enclosed, and the fourth is covered with vines. I looked, and saw that there are two floors where we can get at.”
Mike frowned. “The rest?”
“Collapsed,” said Jimmie. “The two floors that are left look sound, though. No creaks, no shifting. I think that they were the top of the building, and have yet to be filled in by the dirt. There is enough room for us, and only one entrance. If this was a war I would say we could defend ourselves for quite a bit there, until of course our water ran out.”“Great. What were the monsters?”
“Ah, Captain, that is the problem,” said Jimmy. “We saw no sign of any. No beast-sign, either.”