The Last Survivors Box Set

by Bobby Adair

  “But you’re afraid of catching the spore, like everyone else,” Bray said.

  Ivory breathed heavily. “It’s not flowering season among the spores. I can’t be infected.”

  Bray bit his lip. “You know more than most. I’ll give you that.”

  “I don’t care whether your story about Davenport is true. You can believe me, or not. Maybe I should head back home now.”

  “You mean back to Brighton,” Bray said, a suspicious look crossing his face.

  Bray and Ivory appraised each other. A tension settled over the room that usually resulted in swords and blows. Ella’s heart galloped as she considered the possibility that she might have to intervene in a bloody duel. Before the conversation turned harsh, a voice called from the doorway.

  “He’s telling the truth.”

  Ella spun to find Melora and William standing at the threshold.

  “How long have you been there?” Ella asked.

  “Long enough to hear most of what’s been said,” Melora answered. “I’ve been with Ivory for days, and he’s never lied to me. He helped me when the demons came. He won’t hurt William.”

  Ella watched William. She watched Ivory. She wanted to believe Ivory. She really did. How much easier would it be if she didn’t have to carry an extra worry?

  “I believe him, too,” William said, breaking the silence.

  Some of the tension deflated from the room. Bray took a step backward.

  Ivory held up his bow and looked at Ella. “Look, you’re only trying to protect your son. I understand that. I’d be as wary as you are. You seem like good people. You’ve been charitable with me. You’ve given me food and a place to rest. In the wild, those things aren’t easily shared. I know how hard it is to lose someone to the infection, or to the burnings.” Ivory looked away as a tinge of emotion hit him. He glanced at Melora, and she gave him a supportive smile. “That’s why I’m going to tell you something. I know something that might help William.”

  “Help him?” Ella asked, confusion written on her face.

  “I have a friend.”

  “A friend?” Bray watched him, furrowing his brow. “I thought you were alone.”

  “I am, right now. But I know a person who lives in the Ancient City. I was with this person before I came across Melora. He was infected by the spore, but he never turned.”

  “You mean a demon,” Bray grunted, disbelief crossing his face.

  “Technically, yes. But he’s not like the rest of them. He’s survived, and he’s living out his days in peace. He’s the smartest man I know. He might have some insight or advice for William.”

  “A smart demon? A human demon?” Bray blew a disbelieving breath. The corners of his mouth creased into a laugh.

  “Yes. Everything I’ve told you about the Ancient City I’ve learned from him.” Ivory paused, studying their reaction. “I can introduce you to him. I can’t guarantee he’ll be able to help, but it’s worth a try.”

  “Where is this smart demon?” Bray asked.

  “In the Ancient City. He lives in one of the towers overlooking the ocean.”

  Bray shook his head in disbelief. “No one lives in the Ancient City by choice. Why would he live here?”

  “He hides because people fear his grotesque appearance. He looks like the demons, but he’s not one of them. It was he who found this bow.” Ivory held up the ancient weapon, prompting everyone in the room to look at it again. “It was he who restrung it and taught me how to use it.”

  Ella searched Ivory’s face for insincerity. Ivory looked between Ella and Melora. A surge of hope overrode Ella’s fear. What if Ivory was telling the truth? She wasn’t naive; she knew Ivory was trying to impress Melora. Maybe this was another story to earn her adulation.

  But if his story was true, it certainly explained how he could know all the things he’d shared with them. What if there really was help for William? She bit back tears as she thought about the ramifications of what he was saying. She’d always suspected people had lived through the disease, but the Elders of Brighton had burned that evidence to ash.

  What if William could have a life, after all?

  “We should listen to him,” William said again from the doorway, prompting everyone to turn and look at him. He stood next to Melora with a stoic face, nodding at Ivory.

  Bray looked skeptical. “This might be a trap, and you’re leading us somewhere so you can rob us.”

  “I swear by The Word that it’s not.” Ivory held their gaze. “I’m only trying to help.”

  “There’s only one way to prove it,” Bray said. “If you’re telling the truth, take us to this demon.”

  Chapter 38: Franklin

  Franklin sat up suddenly. He startled Fitz, who was still lying on the bed next to him.

  “We can’t preach in the Sanctuary,” Franklin reiterated.

  “No. Not while Tenbrook is discouraging attendance,” Fitz agreed.

  “But what if we could go somewhere that gave us enough of a crowd that not everyone could be punished? A place where Tenbrook had no way of isolating who was listening and who was not?”

  “Where would that be?” Fitz asked, sitting up.

  Franklin fell silent for a few moments before the idea materialized. “How about the marketplace? If we pick a time when the crowds are big enough, Tenbrook won’t be able to punish everyone.”

  Fitz furrowed her brow. “People will be reluctant to listen, after what happened to the farmers.”

  “Of course,” Franklin said. “But they’ll be there, and that might give us a chance to affect them.”

  Fitz thought on it. “You have a point. The People might be afraid to chant or recite words, but we can probably get them to stop and listen. Maybe we can build on that somehow.”

  Franklin asked, “How can we get them to participate?”

  “That’s the difficult part that I’m struggling with.” Fitz sat up and concentrated. “They’re all afraid of Tenbrook, and that will keep them quiet.”

  “Half the power of the sermons is the parishioners responding to what I’m saying. I didn’t realize how important that was until I preached to an empty room.”

  “You’re right about that,” Fitz agreed. “We need them to overcome their fear so they’ll speak.”

  “I wish Evan were here,” Franklin said, lowering his head. “He had a strange ability to understand people. If he were still alive, maybe we could work together.”

  “You know what, Franklin? I just thought of something.” Fitz’s eyes grew hopeful. “I remembered what we were talking about before. Remember what I was saying to you earlier, about the power of The People, standing together to protect us?”

  Franklin nodded.

  “Maybe that same power can protect them, as well. There is a great power in a crowd, Franklin.”

  “How will we force people to react, when the threat of death is so strong?”

  “I’ve watched a lot of the crowds between the town gatherings and the sermons. I’ve noticed the way people react when they’re standing with others. A lot of times, the crowd is just waiting for a loud, energetic few to bolster their courage. We just need to create a spark that will ignite the rest of the crowd into saying their catechisms. Once that happens, you can build on that energy.”

  “But who will be the first to speak, and risk being punished?”

  “I have an idea, Franklin. This might work.”

  Chapter 39: Fitzgerald

  Fitz found Joseph in the main room of the Sanctuary, scrubbing stains from the pews like Oliver used to do. He startled as she came in. She held up her hands and smiled to soothe his nerves.

  “How are you doing, Joseph?”

  Joseph looked over his shoulder at the Sanctuary doors. “I’m all right.
”

  He bent down and kept scrubbing the pews. His eyes flitted nervously from the bench to Fitz. Fitz took up next to the edge of the pew, watching him with a sympathetic smile.

  “It’s hard concentrating on my work, after what happened to those farmers,” Fitz admitted.

  Joseph paused. “I know.” He looked over his shoulder at the doors again and said, “I keep thinking soldiers are going to come in and rip us away.”

  Fitz swallowed. “It’s hard not to think that, isn’t it?”

  “Those farmers didn’t deserve a malicious death like that.”

  “Nobody does,” Fitz agreed.

  Joseph returned to his work. He shut his mouth, as if he’d already spoken too much.

  Fitz looked around the room. Noticing Joseph was only half finished, she asked, “Do you need help?”

  Joseph stopped and looked at her, as if no one had ever asked him that question. He looked back at the bucket of water. Fitz saw a dry rag hanging on the edge. Without waiting for an answer, she reached for it and went to work on the pew next to him.

  “Don’t you have other work to do?” Joseph asked.

  “I don’t mind helping,” Fitz said, scrubbing intently. “Working helps me take my mind off things.”

  “It does for me, too,” Joseph admitted.

  “Sometimes the work is the only thing that seems like it doesn’t change.” Fitz sighed.

  Joseph paused for a moment, reflecting on that thought. “I never thought I’d see Winthrop leave Brighton.”

  “Me, neither,” Fitz said. She paused for a moment before speaking again. “When I was emptying his buckets, I used to think he was one of the worst things I had to worry about. I wish that was the truth.”

  “But things must be better for you. Aren’t they?”

  Fitz watched Joseph for a moment. “It’s no secret that I’ve spent a lot of time with Father Franklin. It’s also no secret that I believe in the message he’s trying to spread. I think the clergy feels the same way as I do, even though they still fear him for what he did to Father Nelson.”

  “That’s true,” Joseph said with a nod.

  Fitz said, “But I also believe that he is trying to make things better in Brighton. Do you?”

  Joseph nodded. “He’s been very fair with me, so far.”

  “I was just talking to him about his next sermon. He mentioned how loyal you’ve been, Joseph. He’s going to need our help again.”

  Joseph stopped scrubbing the pew, focusing on Fitz. His eyes grew wide with fear. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s going to need our support when he speaks again.”

  “Another sermon?” Joseph asked. “You mean at the Sanctuary, right?”

  He stared at Fitz while he waited for an answer.

  “No,” Fitz said, smiling through her own nervousness. “At the marketplace.”

  “The marketplace?” Joseph stood and scooted away from Fitz as if he’d just been told he might die. “If we do that, we might be killed.”

  “It won’t be like last time. We don’t have to stand up there with him.”

  “We don’t?”

  “No. We have something else to do.”

  “What?”

  “Listen, and I’ll tell you.”

  Chapter 40: Bray

  Bray suppressed a laugh as he walked through the Ancient City streets next to Ivory and the others. How could he believe Ivory’s story? In all his years in the wild, Bray had never encountered a smart demon, and definitely not one that could talk. Sure, some were a little more agile, or a little more devious than the rest, but by the time he sank his blade into them, they squealed and squirmed the same. They were foul, stinking beasts, worth only a few coin at the nearest township for their scalps.

  Of course, he understood Ella’s hope.

  “Are you sure this demon lives in the tower alone?” Bray asked Ivory, looking sideways at him.

  Ivory nodded. “Yes.”

  “Maybe he has his own harem of Barren Women. Demon women.” Bray let out a raucous laugh.

  Ivory bit his lip, but didn’t answer.

  Bray looked toward Melora, Ella, and William, but none of them said a word. They all held the same hopeful look. They walked through a narrow street filled with tall, narrow buildings made of ancient stone, buildings that seemed too tall to be functional. Bray decided to test more of Ivory’s knowledge.

  “I wonder how the Ancients got to the top floors of these buildings,” Bray mused. “That must’ve taken some work.” Turning to Ivory, he asked, “Why did they build these buildings so high, anyway?”

  “A lot of people lived in the Ancient City,” Ivory said. “They had to accommodate them all.”

  “Why not build further into the woods?”

  “They did a lot of important things here,” Ivory said. “I guess everyone wanted to be in the same proximity as each other.”

  “Didn’t it take them all day to get to the top?”

  “The Ancients had devices that carried them from the bottom to the highest levels. They didn’t have to worry about that as much.”

  Bray grunted. “That still seems like a waste. They should’ve spread out more in the wild. Who’d want to live close enough to smell someone else’s chamber pot?”

  Ivory shrugged. “It’s not that different in Brighton.”

  “Good point.”

  Ivory looked apprehensive. Bray wondered if he was reconsidering his story about the demon man. As soon as we get to this tower, his lie will be exposed. He probably told it to get in Melora’s pants.

  Bray was still thinking about that when a screeching demon ran out of a nearby doorway. He drew his sword, intercepting the thing.

  “Watch out!” he yelled at Ella.

  Bray stared down the advancing demon as it snarled and hissed. The creature’s lopsided head sagged to one side. One of its legs was wounded. Its arms were dotted with warts. Bray raised his sword and slashed through the meat of its shoulder. He used his boot to stave off its still-swinging arms, kicking it over and wrenching his blade free. When it hit the ground, he speared it in the stomach, watching it kick and squirm in a final battle against death. When it stopped moving, Bray leaned down and went to work on its scalp. His blood raced with adrenaline. He looked at Ivory.

  Talking demon, my ass.

  Chapter 41: Winthrop

  Winthrop looked up at the decaying, ancient stone towers, layers and layers of them, with pillars in between, standing as tall as mountains, covered with all manner of plants and trees. Birds flew off the towers in great flocks as his army approached, squawking and filling the slivers of sky between the ancient monoliths.

  They’d reached the home of the beasts.

  “They’re running from us, Father.”

  Winthrop looked at his disciples, far ahead on the street fighting demons. He looked left, right, and behind. It was the same all around. “You’re lying, my son.”

  “No, Father. Some of them are fighting, but many of them flee. How will we kill the demons if they run away?” the nameless priest asked.

  Winthrop hated when his followers asked questions that were beyond their comprehension. So, he answered in god-speak, raising his hands to praise the grandeur of the monoliths, finding an inspiration for a new chant. There was something to these massive stone monsters that made his soul sing. Of course, it wasn’t a song with the clarity and satisfaction of a dirge, inspired by the slaughter of mindless demons, but it satisfied in its way.

  “Shall we go into the towers to chase them when they run?” asked the nameless priest.

  “If we’re to find their nests,” said Winthrop, slipping into human speech without realizing he had, “how else are we to find their progeny and slay them at the breast? All of them mu
st die—their old, their young, their women, their sick, and their warriors. All. Do you understand, my son?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Kill them all. Give me a carpet of their corpses to walk upon as I stroll the streets of their city. That is the way it must be. For they must know I am their conqueror. I am the god who rules their hell, come to take their souls. Bring me their souls, my son!”

  Chapter 42: Ivory

  As they walked toward Jingo’s tower, Ivory reconsidered his decision to bring the others. He still wanted to help William, but he could tell Bray didn’t believe him. Melora, Ella, and William were hopeful, but wary.

  What if the meeting didn’t go as well as he intended? Besides, he hadn’t consulted Jingo. He hoped his teacher wouldn’t be angry.

  Ivory wasn’t lying. He really did think that Jingo could help William, or at the very least, offer some advice. He reflected on the conversations he’d had over the years with Jingo. Jingo expected something of him. He’d always known that. For years, he’d learned under Jingo’s tutelage. But what good was the knowledge if it couldn’t be shared? Maybe this was the start of something that would make Jingo proud.

  He told himself that once the group met Jingo, they’d believe what he had been telling them, even though part of him wanted to turn around and head back to the museum.

  He looked over at Melora, who smiled. She’d come to his defense in the ancient building.

  It will all work out, he told himself, as he caught sight of Jingo’s tower in the distance.

  Chapter 43: Ivory

  Ivory peered into the dark lower floor of the tower, even though he knew Jingo wouldn’t be there. Rarely was Jingo on the ground level unless he was coming in or out of the building, or cleaning up one of the splattered demons that had taken a misstep on one of the numerous flights of stairs. That was one of the reasons Jingo kept to his quarters or on the roof. Even though the area was one of the safer ones, demons sometimes wandered in.