Framework of the Frontier
Ruinland Ranger - I
By Sain Artwell
Ruinland Ranger by Sain Artwell
© 2020 Sain Artwell. All rights reserved.
Contact the author at [email protected]
Visit the author’s website at sainartwell.com
Sign up for the author’s mailing list at http://landing.sainartwell.com/signup
Cover Art by Cheunchin
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
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Afterword
About the Author
1
William Adams had scheduled their adventure with hot babes, gargantuan monsters, and treasure filled dungeons for Friday at eight p.m., or whenever the pizzas arrived. Back in highschool, these grease flaps had been the veritable heaven on dough. Now, the scent of oily cheddar was about as appetizing as the cardboard it was packed in — which is to say not very. But damn if it didn’t bring back memories of epic days. Of simpler days.
William drew a long steady breath.
“Sir, if you’re trying to cry. Don’t,” said Jake with the bored glare of a jaded teenage delivery man. “It’s sixty bucks plus tip. No pity discounts.”
“Right, right…” William counted the bills. Damn, that’s two weeks’ groceries. “Sorry, I’m a bit tired. Spent a cozy eight hundred miles on the highway only to find grandpa’s flat looted by my mom, but thank God Cheesus Deliveries never changes.”
“No dying of cancer or fifteen orpahns to feed? Man, you’re weak at this.”
“Here you go, sixty-six.”
“Thanks. Enjoy,” Jake said without meaning either and left.
William locked the door. Climbing upstairs, he was careful not to trip on the missing steps. The plan was to get them redone the moment he got a mortgage figured out for the renovations, or found some way to scrounge up the cash for materials. Despite the building being in its late seventies, it was, for the most part, in decent condition.
Sure the carpet smelled of mold and old people, the paints had long since faded into brown pastel shades, and it had no fiber connection, but the place was close to downtown, and the foundations worth repairing.
Just like the old gang.
Four familiar strangers turned his way when William entered the kitchen. Dice, books, and bottles were shuffled to make room for the pizza stack.
Mitchelle was quick to open hers, jiggling excitedly as she tittered through her nose. Though the smile in her russet eyes and lilty voice were still those of the ‘Mini’ he remembered, the decade had quadrupled the rest of her up to a point that made William wary of saying her old nickname. Once upon a time the girl had been crushed on by all four of them. Part of William felt a sting of guilt for thinking she was off putting now, but he knew he probably wasn’t much better off than her in the eyes of Abraham and Daniel.
The former was the same calm giant, only with several dozen pounds of muscle, a trimmed full beard, and, based on his website, made a comfy career as a database architect. William didn’t know what else Abraham had been up to, or how he used his money. Probably on something clever. He gave the pizza a content nod, folding it into a roll.
Daniel on the other hand made no downplay to hide his success. All evening, he’d been grinning at William with the same look of condescending pity he gave Mitchelle and Thomas. His short blonde hair was styled in a trendy sidecut, his teeth whitened, and his casual attire tailored into the ‘I’m a winning businessman’-look as perfectly as his social media feed of perfect girlfriends and luxury vacations. Not that he didn’t deserve it. He’d been a leader since middle-school and climbed up from shit that made William’s family look like the dream.
It boggled William’s mind how he’d actually even read the invitation in their old group chat.
Guess it doesn’t matter how distant they seem. Old friends are always waiting for you to reach out to them. Even if it’s only to remind them there’s someone worse off than you…
If Mitchelle was the flaking paint on the walls, Thomas was the missing stairs. He had a long thin stubble that matched his unkempt black hair, a gaunt body, and a lazy arrogance of a delusional tweaker who thought he was still the school’s rich kid.
“Sweet yo. Pizza and booze. It’s gonna be a blast am I right?” Thomas laughed, trying to exchange glances with everyone while popping open his third can of storebrand. He slurped the foam.
“How much were they Will?” Abraham asked while opening his wallet.
William dismissed him with a wave. “It’s fine. My treat.” Jesus, does he think I’m that poor?
Daniel placed a hundred dollar bill in front of William, rubbing him on the shoulder, giving him and Abraham his networking smile. “Let me take this one. Keep the change.”
“Sure.” William clenched his jaw, concealing his shame as he pocketed the ‘change’ worth three hour shift as mall security. “Thanks.”
“Anytime. Anytime. Let me know if you need anything else. I’m always happy to do small favors to old friends. You never know when we might end up collaborating on a project together.” Although Daniel faced William, his eyes remained on Abraham — the only person in the room he’d actually collab with.
“Oh, sorry! Should I pay? How much is my share?” Mitchelle asked as she rummaged her purse.
Daniel shook his head, giving her a casual wink. “Don’t worry Mini, I got you covered.”
Mini. Really dude? Come on.
“Hehe, thank you Dan.” Mitchelle put her purse away with a fussing embarrassment of a girl with a crush. It hurt to watch almost as much as her comments on Daniel’s social media updates hurt to read — she had one on nearly every photo. None of them had replies.
“Oh, hey. Yeah, lemme pitch in too
