The Last Survivors Box Set

by Bobby Adair

  “We needed to protect you.”

  “Why didn’t I ever meet her? Why didn’t they bring her to Brighton?”

  Ella paused. She’d expected the questions, and William deserved the answers. She just wasn’t ready. How could she ever be? She’d always envisioned this day, but she didn’t think it’d come until later. She brushed a lock of hair from William’s eyes, wishing the discussion could’ve come under different circumstances.

  William deserved to meet his sister. But Blackthorn had robbed him of that chance. He’d robbed them both.

  William stared at her impatiently. “How come I didn’t meet my sister?” he demanded. “Answer me, Mom!”

  The anger in William’s eyes was the same anger she’d seen when he’d found Frederick and Jean on the spikes. But unlike the anger directed at Blackthorn, this was directed at her.

  “An awful thing happened to me when I was a child, William. We had to keep it a secret. We did it so I could marry Ethan. We did it so I could move to Brighton and have you.”

  “What awful thing?”

  Ella swallowed. “You’re too young to understand.”

  “Too young to understand?” William scoffed. “Too young to understand? I’m old enough to kill a man! I’m old enough to carry a sword! But not old enough to know the truth?”

  William stomped the ground. For a second, she feared the demon spore had caught up to him, that his mind was succumbing to madness. But the tears in his eyes argued that he was human.

  Ella breathed deeply. It’d been years since she’d given voice to her secret. She hadn’t said the words since the night Frederick and Jean had confronted her, when she was scared, pregnant, and ashamed. She stared at the pale sky.

  “When I was thirteen, I was…attacked.” She paused, unable to say the words. She glanced up and noticed Bray staring at her. Her cheeks reddened with shame. She couldn’t do this. Not here, not now. “We’ll talk later, William. I promise. I need to find the best way to explain this to you.”

  William shook his head and walked across the hill. He clung to a neighboring oak and stared out across the landscape. Ella clenched her eyes shut. She felt awful for the boy. But she knew no way to rectify it.

  “Give him a minute,” Bray suggested.

  Ella nodded. She got to her feet and stood next to Bray, listening to the keen of the wind and the conversations of birds. They stared off over the hill, watching flakes of snow melt on the ground. After a few moments, Bray stuck his sword in the dirt.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. “We all know about Blackthorn’s temper. But this is the worst I’ve seen it.”

  “This is because of me,” Ella whispered, lowering her head. “All of it.”

  “You can’t blame yourself. He’s a twisted man. No one can be certain of his reasons.”

  Bray bowed his head. They both knew the truth; there was no need to argue it. Jean’s and Frederick’s heads on spikes were all the proof they needed.

  “If we’d gotten to Davenport sooner…” Ella started.

  “What would you have done? Fought an army of soldiers?”

  Ella shook her head. “But how can I live with myself? All those people… My daughter…”

  “If I let all the things I’ve done haunt me, I’d never sleep,” Bray said. He spat in the dirt and peered into the forest. “We should be on our way. There’s no telling where the soldiers are. They’ve probably been searching the forest for hours. If they’ve come this far from Brighton, they’ll keep looking until they find you. Their fear of Blackthorn will spur them on.”

  “Where will we go?” Ella glanced around her, as if she’d just woken from a trance. She realized she had no idea where they were.

  “I know a few places,” Bray said. “But we need to keep on the move.”

  Ella stared at the Warden. He had no more obligations now than he had back at the river, or at the cave. What if he chose to abandon them? She pictured herself and William defiled by demons, tormented by soldiers.

  She expelled those morbid thoughts and walked over to William. The boy had left the tree and was peering down the hillside. His eyes were locked on the ground.

  “We have to get going, William,” she told him.

  William didn’t move. He didn’t look back. She clung to his shoulders, embracing him while he heaved a thick sigh. Melora would’ve been fifteen years old. William would’ve had an older sister. In another world, they could’ve grown up together, kept each other safe.

  But not in this one.

  Ella heaved a guilt-ridden breath. “I’m going to explain this to you,” she told him. “I owe you that much, at least.”

  “Why not now?” William asked, his breath fogging the air.

  Ella glanced back at Bray. “Do we have a minute?”

  Bray glanced around the forest. “Not really. If you want to talk, you’d better make it quick.”

  Chapter 11: Ella

  “Ella! Where have you been?”

  Thirteen-year-old Ella stared into Uncle Frederick’s blazing eyes. It was after dark, and she’d been expected home from the market an hour ago. Ella shrank into her clothes. She held her hands downwards and mumbled an answer, barely aware of the excuses coming from her mouth. Her only concern was concealing her ripped dress.

  “There was a line at the merchant’s. They wouldn’t let me cut ahead.”

  “Did you sell the vegetables to Bernard like I asked?”

  Her throat stung with bile at the merchant’s name.

  “I did. He was busy. He lost count.”

  “Lost count? That doesn’t sound like Bernard.”

  Ella avoided her uncle’s eyes, afraid his gaze alone would uncover her secret. Bernard had threatened to kill her if she spoke a word. The lies he forced her to tell were almost as vile as his actions.

  The truth was, Bernard had lost count. She swallowed as she recalled what had happened.

  **

  When Ella reached Bernard’s stand, she could smell the alcohol on his breath. She considered leaving, but the thought of coming home empty-handed made her persist. She didn’t want to disappoint Uncle Frederick.

  Besides, she valued her trips to the market. Her uncle had only just started letting her into town on her own. And so she started the transaction.

  Things began normally enough—Bernard took inventory, inspected the vegetables, and jotted down his totals. When he was through, he gave Ella a number. She frowned. Ella had been counting at the same time, and his number didn’t match hers. She respectfully asked for a recount.

  Bernard frowned and stared at her. Then his face changed. His eyes darkened, and he gnawed his lip.

  “I’m not sure I have enough silver,” he said, frowning.

  “You don’t?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure I can buy all of this.” He waved his hand at the full pushcart.

  Ella’s stomach dropped. Uncle Frederick entrusted her to bring back their silver. She couldn’t come back without it. She’d already gotten a late start, and though there were other merchants who might take the vegetables, Frederick and Bernard had worked out an agreement.

  “But Uncle Frederick said I had to sell all of them. He said I—”

  “Wait a moment.” Bernard scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I might have some more silver inside. Why don’t we bring your pushcart in? I’ll close the stand. It’s getting late, anyway.”

  “Okay,” Ella said, her hope returning. She decided to collect the silver, then scurry home to avoid a scolding.

  Bernard looked back and forth around the street. Then he covered his wares and helped her wheel her belongings inside. Bernard’s place was neat and well kept. A year earlier, the merchant’s wife had been taken in The Cleansing, and he’d yet to remarry. On
ce inside, Bernard asked her if she wanted a drink. Ella declined as politely as she could speak it.

  “I have to be getting back,” she said.

  Bernard retrieved a pouch of silver. He asked her to recount the vegetables out loud. She started tallying up the squash and eggplant, using the numbers that her uncle had taught her. Bernard stood next to her, watching. She continued on to the tomatoes. She was halfway through the vegetables in the cart when he put his hand on her shoulder. Ella didn’t think much of it. She kept counting; her only thoughts were on completing the transaction. It wasn’t until Bernard’s hands roamed that she realized something was wrong.

  Ella backed up a step, putting her hands in the air. She glanced behind her. The door was shut. She hadn’t even heard Bernard close it. She looked back at the man. The merchant’s face—round and friendly—had taken on an ugly sheen.

  “It’s all right,” Bernard told her.

  His outstretched hands said otherwise.

  **

  “Ella! Why are you so late?” Uncle Frederick barked again.

  Ella stared up at her uncle’s hardened face. She’d never seen him this upset.

  “I asked you a question,” he said. “Were you playing with the other kids at the edge of town?”

  Ella’s eyes welled up. She glanced at her uncle, barely able to meet his stare. She nodded. A trickle of blood worked its way down her leg. She prayed Frederick wouldn’t notice. “Yes,” she confirmed. “I was at the edge of town. I’m sorry, Uncle Frederick.”

  “Wash up and get ready for dinner. You won’t be going to the market alone for a while. Do you hear me?”

  Ella didn’t argue. She bowed her head and walked carefully to the wash bucket. She stooped down, praying her uncle would leave. After a few moments of silence, he did. She heard Frederick’s footsteps outside as he walked into the fields, presumably to tell Jean about her transgressions. Hastily, Ella had cleaned off, ignoring the pain between her legs, wanting nothing more than to forget what had happened.

  For the next few weeks, she immersed herself in her work, trying to move past the ugly incident. The few times she accompanied her aunt to the market, she avoided Bernard’s eyes, terrified the merchant might relinquish their secret. Thankfully, her aunt and uncle didn’t question her again, and she was able to keep the events of that day buried.

  Until a few months later, when her stomach grew too big to hide.

  Ella kept it covered as long as she could, praying each night before bed that the awful evidence would disappear. But it didn’t. Six months after the incident, Jean finally lifted her dress. She gasped at what she found. She told Frederick.

  Her aunt and uncle scolded her, demanding answers.

  They assumed it was a boy from town.

  Reluctantly, Ella confessed what had happened. Uncle Frederick’s eyes bulged when he heard the story, and he paced the house for the remainder of the evening. The next morning, he told Ella to wait outside while he and Jean spoke.

  When they called her back in, they told her what was to happen. The baby would be delivered at home, away from the eyes of others, and Ella was forbidden to set foot in town.

  Jean would claim the baby as her own.

  Jean had already had several miscarriages, but she still had her blood, and Frederick refused to give her up to The House of Barren Women.

  The child—Ella’s child—would be described as a gift from God, a blessing for their devotion to The Word. Ella would have the baby in secret; when the time came, Ella would be married.

  Frederick explained his reasoning to a distraught, tear-ridden Ella. Eligible young men wouldn’t want a woman that had been impregnated, he said, and they wouldn’t want one that had been defiled. By raising Ella’s baby as their own, Frederick and Jean would give her a chance at a normal life.

  The decision tore at her soul, but Ella heeded the words. She had no choice.

  And so Jean and Ella lived quietly for the next few months, avoiding the town’s gossip. Frederick attributed Jean’s absence to complications with her pregnancy, and he said Ella was helping her aunt. Thankfully, the spring Cleansing had already passed. When the baby was born, Aunt Jean took the lead in caring for her, but she allowed Ella to name her.

  Ella chose the name Melora. Her mother’s name.

  When Ella finally returned to town, she noticed Bernard was missing. The townsfolk said he’d snuck out past the wall. That he’d borrowed more silver than he could pay off. Or that he’d fled the Cleansing.

  But Ella knew better.

  A year later, she married Ethan and moved to Brighton.

  Chapter 12: Ella

  After explaining to William, Ella hugged him. He hugged her back, but didn’t speak. It took her a second to determine that William wasn’t ignoring her, but studying the landscape. The hill they’d run up was covered in rocks and debris. A few flurries clung to the ground.

  “What’re you looking at?” she asked, after several moments’ silence.

  William sucked in a breath and pointed. “Someone else came through here.”

  “How do you know?”

  Ella stared more intently, as if the rocky ground might give her a clue, but it seemed as common as any other patch of forest. William crouched and showed her.

  “See how the gravel was scraped away here? Someone was running uphill, and they dug their heels into the ground. You can tell by the snapped twigs and the compacted soil.” William walked sideways, examining the ground. “There are more traces this way. I think several people came through here, actually.”

  Ella glanced back at Bray.

  “What is it?” he asked. “What did you find?” He walked over to join them, analyzing the ground where William was pointing. “Those are probably just our track marks,” he explained. “This is the way we ran up.”

  “No.” William shook his head. He pointed a few feet to the right. “Those are our track marks there. These are from another group.”

  Bray hunched over and studied the ground, resting his sword in his lap. He scowled. He got to his feet and scanned the opposite side of the embankment.

  “Is he right?” Ella asked Bray. “Did others come through here?”

  “It looks like it,” Bray admitted. “But it was probably just soldiers. We’ll have to change direction.”

  “But why were the soldiers running?” William asked. “I see no fresh demon tracks. It looks like someone was fleeing the same way we are. It looks like they were headed away from Davenport.”

  William’s face flashed with triumph. Ella watched her son. She’d never seen him pick up things so fast.

  “Could there be survivors?” Ella questioned Bray. “Is he right?” Her heart filled with hope.

  Bray didn’t answer. He strolled the ground, tracing a path over the small hill and to the other side. He returned a few moments later.

  “There are more scuffs on the other side. A few of them overlap. It looks like one person was leading and two were following.”

  “What does that mean?” Ella asked.

  Bray paused. “The boy is right. Some people must have escaped the slaughter in Davenport. The tracks are fresh.”

  “Survivors?” Ella gasped.

  “It looks like it.”

  “We have to follow them!” Ella insisted. “What if it’s…? It could be—”

  She held her tongue. She didn’t want to give voice to the hope. Of the three hundred people living in Davenport village, what were the chances that the three escapees included her daughter?

  Bray stared into the distance. He held his sword at chest level. “If we follow them, we’ll be making a larger target for ourselves. There’ll be more evidence for the soldiers to follow. It wouldn’t be smart.”

  “We can’t lose track of them,”
Ella said firmly. “If there are survivors, we have to find them.”

  “I agree,” William reiterated, stepping close to his mother. His eyes betrayed his hope.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” Bray warned. “We should go another way.”

  William puffed his chest. “If you won’t help us, we’ll go by ourselves.”

  Bray stared at them, his eyes wandering from one to the other. He lowered his sword. “If you’re intent on catching up, we better get going.”

  Chapter 13: Blackthorn

  Having finished his business with Captain Tenbrook much earlier that day, General Blackthorn watched a cohort of the militia practicing its drills in the square. Captain Swan, who’d been sent several days prior with his squadron of cavalry to deal with Davenport, climbed the steps up to the dais. He crossed the empty expanse of the stage and came to a stop next to the General.

  “Speak,” said Blackthorn without looking away from the clumsy lines of militiamen.

  “I have just returned from the village of Davenport, General. As you instructed, not a single man or woman was left alive.”

  “All were complicit,” said Blackthorn. “All were guilty.”

  “All were guilty,” Swan repeated. “We spared Fathers Decker and Towson until the end. We persuaded them to identify each of the townsfolk from a list provided by Minister Beck’s census takers. Many children were among the dead who were not on the list.”

  “As expected,” said Blackthorn. “I presume some of the younger ones were not accounted for. Were Ella and William Barrow present?”

  “No they were not.”

  “Do you have cause to believe they were present when you arrived and managed to escape?”

  Swan’s jaw clenched. “I believe they were in Davenport prior to our arrival. Whether they escaped as we cleansed the abettors, or through good fortune, stole away before we arrived, I am not certain.”