The Last Survivors Box Set

by Bobby Adair

  William looked around him. They were climbing a large, grassy hill. The hillsides swooped broadly into the distance, fading into the wilderness and trees, but William was no longer afraid of anything in those woods. He had conquered the demons. He was riding with the strongest army. Winthrop hadn’t promised him anything, but maybe he’d even get his own building when they returned to Brighton.

  Maybe one day he’d even have his own men, who would die for him like they’d die for Winthrop, like William’s demons had died for him.

  He rode with that vision in his head for several hours, until the sun rose high into the sky, spearing the army with its rays and driving back some of the cold. William was grateful. He was returning to Brighton on the back of a horse, instead of on the blistered soles of his feet. He had a sword, a belly with some food in it, and the camaraderie of thousands of men who would fight shoulder to shoulder with him. It was a lot safer than running through the woods with Ella, Bray, and Melora.

  A flock of birds scattered from a nearby patch of forest.

  “What was that?”

  Several men stopped singing and looked up at the fleeing, noisy birds. They peered down the hill and into the woods. William followed their gaze.

  The men turned to Winthrop, awaiting his guidance while Winthrop halted his horse and prompted the others to follow suit. He turned his attention to the hill, appraising their surroundings.

  “Do you think they were startled by demons?” one of the priests asked.

  “No.” Winthrop shook his head confidently. “It is a sign from the other gods. An omen that we are on the path to righteousness.” He hit his horse’s side and started it moving.

  “The path to righteousness!” the priest repeated.

  “The path to righteousness!” someone echoed.

  The priests cheered. A few women took up the chant, spreading it to the army in front and the army behind, thousands of voices echoing into the woods in unison as they marched, unafraid. William smiled and lifted his voice with the others.

  Chapter 29: Oliver

  In the tower’s observation platform, Oliver leaned on the rail and looked at the compound and the bodies of the dead. The sun was behind the mountains in the west, but the sky still glowed blue. The evening chill was starting to set in. No demons were moving about. The few who’d been scavenging the flesh of the dead had filled their bellies some time ago and had disappeared to the far side of the settlement. Oliver didn’t know in which tower they were making their home.

  From below, the sound of labored breathing and feet on the wooden rungs let him know that his replacement was coming. Being the youngest of the group, none of the rest of them trusted Oliver to keep watch at night, so he usually got the afternoon shift, relieved by Beck when the sun went down.

  Oliver looked west to gauge the time. Beck was coming early for a change.

  Oliver stood up straight and walked the perimeter of the platform, looking for anything on the move in all directions. There was nothing. After the morning’s grenade explosion, it had been a slow day for wandering demons.

  Turning as the sound of his replacement reached the top of the ladder, Oliver was surprised to see that it wasn’t Beck, but Kirby. “Are you taking my watch?” he asked.

  “No.” Kirby emerged from the hole in the floor and stood up straight, taking a moment to catch her breath after the climb. “I’ve been down there all day asking and answering questions.” She drew another deep breath. “I don’t like being indoors. I need fresh air.”

  Oliver leaned over the hole in the floor to look down the ladder, checking for Beck, but he saw no one else coming.

  “It’s only me,” Kirby confirmed as she walked to the rail and looked toward the mountains.

  Oliver walked over and stood beside her. “Thank you for coming this morning.”

  “I said I would.” Kirby pointed west. “Beck told me your home is on the other side of the mountains.”

  “Yes,” Oliver confirmed.

  “Brighton and some smaller towns, all close together?”

  “Close?” Oliver had never thought of them as close. They always seemed far away, that was, until he’d journeyed out with the army and realized his perception of distance was inadequate for the world he lived in. “I suppose a person could walk to Coventry or Ashford in a few days.”

  “Are there other towns?”

  “Some smaller villages,” Oliver answered. “Nothing more.”

  “Nothing?” Kirby seemed surprised.

  “Maybe Jingo or Minister Beck knows—”

  “No,” Kirby interrupted. “They don’t. Both said there is only Brighton, Coventry, Ashford, and the villages you mentioned.”

  “If you knew,” Oliver asked, “Why did you—” Oliver stopped himself when he guessed the answer to the question he was asking. “You wanted to check to see if they were lying.”

  Kirby nodded.

  Oliver smiled devilishly. “How do you know I’m not lying, too?”

  Kirby smiled through her permanent sadness in a way that didn’t help make her look happy. “I trust you, Oliver.”

  “Really?”

  “If I didn’t,” she said, “I wouldn’t have come this morning.”

  “I trust you, too,” said Oliver. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have told you about my friends here in the tower.”

  “Your friends?” Kirby asked. “Is that what they are?”

  Oliver thought about it for a moment. “I haven’t known any of them for long, but yes, I think they’re my friends.”

  “Beck talks as if you and he have known each other a long time,” said Kirby. “You didn’t know him in Brighton?”

  “I knew who he was,” said Oliver. “He knew who I was, too. I was a novice for Father Winthrop, who was on the Council with Minister Beck, but I was of no importance. I never spoke with Minister Beck until the expedition.”

  “Beck told me about the army,” said Kirby. “He told me about this Winthrop character, and he told me about the slaughter. He said you two escaped together.”

  Oliver nodded. “We’ve been together ever since. In a way, we were together on the march from Brighton to the Ancient City, too. He was kind to me.”

  “Is that why you think he’s your friend now?”

  “I don’t know,” answered Oliver. “I haven’t thought about it exactly. We help one another. He saved my life. I was drowning in the river, and he pulled me out. I guess he could have left me and run away, but he didn’t. I don’t know what will happen when we get back to Brighton, if I go back there, but for now, I think we’re friends.” Oliver looked Kirby in the eye and asked, “Is that a mistake? Am I foolish to think that?”

  “I can’t know that,” said Kirby. “I don’t know how things are in Brighton. From what Beck tells me, he believes he’ll be some kind of king when he returns, except he has to handle some fellow named Tenbrook.”

  “He was planning to overthrow the Council, before the army marched,” said Oliver. “He told me he wanted to make Brighton a better place than it was.”

  “Is that what you want?” Kirby asked. “To make it better?”

  “Brighton is ruled by bad men that kill people.” He caught himself, took a breath, and said, “I’m sorry. Brighton is an evil place. At least that’s what I think most of the time.”

  “Are the people evil, or are the leaders evil?”

  Oliver cocked his head. “I haven’t thought of it that way, not really.” He looked toward the mountains and looked around at the dead settlement while he thought about it. “I think the people are victims. The Council, the blue shirts, the clergy, and the cavalry have all the power. They make the rules and enforce them. The people die, but are afraid to do anything but run away when they get a smudge. Most of the time they go to the pyre
like they thought nobody would ever find out.”

  “But Beck wants to change that, right?” asked Kirby.

  Oliver nodded.

  “Will he make it better?”

  Oliver turned back to look at Kirby. “I hope so.”

  “Do you trust him?” she asked. “Is he an honest man? Is he a good man?”

  “He’s a smart man.” In truth, that was the only thing about Beck Oliver was sure of. “Maybe the smartest in Brighton. I don’t know if he’s honest. I don’t think he’s lied to me. He’s been good to me. But, he’s on the Council, and the Council does evil things.”

  “He says that was all the doing of this Winthrop character and a man named General Blackthorn.”

  “Why is all of this important?” asked Oliver. “Are you going to go to Brighton?”

  “No,” Kirby told him emphatically. “I don’t want to be around people. I’m going to leave this place.” She looked west again. “Jingo told me he hasn’t ventured over the mountains in nearly three hundred years. Beck doesn’t know what lies west of Brighton. Nobody does. Three hundred years ago, it was a vast country of great cities, fruitful plains, and more mountains, all the way to the Pacific ocean.”

  Oliver looked at the mountains, and his surprise carried in his voice. “Another ocean?” He pointed. “That way?”

  “Very, very far, that way,” said Kirby. “That’s where I’m going.”

  “Do you hope to find those other cities?” asked Oliver. “Do you think they survived? Can I come with you?”

  “You don’t have friends and family in Brighton?”

  Oliver thought about Franklin and Fitz. Despite all that had happened between them, they were more than just friends. They were his family. Thinking about it now, he missed them.

  “You don’t want to help Beck with his revolution?”

  “I don’t know,” Oliver answered absently, still thinking of Franklin, feeling guilty for how he’d left Brighton. He felt like he owed Franklin an apology, but he wasn’t sure why.

  “I wouldn’t, either,” said Kirby. “Revolution is another word for war, and war is ugly.”

  “I know war,” said Oliver. He’d seen all he wanted of it on Blackthorn’s expedition.

  “Yes,” said Kirby. “I guess you do.” She drilled Oliver with a hard stare and asked, “I need to know whether to trust Beck.”

  “That’s why you asked if I trust him?”

  “Yes.” Kirby patted the butt of the handgun in her holster. “He wants me to give him my Tech Magic.” Kirby laughed rudely at that. “It’s not magic. He thinks guns will help him win his revolution with little blood and few deaths.”

  “You have more guns?”

  Kirby nodded. “Hundreds of them.” She waved a hand at all the dead people. “We were all armed. After we lost this war, I collected all the weapons and hid them where we keep our store of ammunition.”

  “You have hundreds of guns?” Oliver reiterated, because he couldn’t believe it. He was mesmerized by the thought of having a Tech Magic weapon of his own. “Can I have one?”

  Chapter 30: Fitz

  Fitz looked around the room she’d chosen as her new meeting hall. On the walls were painted renditions of old battles. In one, a single soldier positioned himself in the center of a circle of demons, his face regal and defiant. In another, a group of men stood in a tight row, holding polished, gleaming swords and wearing Blackthorn’s colors. Ornaments and glasses adorned several shelves, items that were worth more coin than Fitz had probably seen in her life.

  Sometimes the knowledge that she was living in Blackthorn’s house gave her a pang of fright, though she’d never admit that to the courageous women who followed her.

  A knock sounded on the door. “Lady Fitz?”

  “Come in,” she called.

  Two female riders entered, their cheeks red from a hard journey. Dirt was caked to the sides of their boots, and blood stained their pants. Fitz recognized them as the riders she’d sent out, Tara and Loren.

  “Are you all right?” Fitz asked, concerned.

  The women seemed uninjured, despite their ragged clothing.

  “We had to fight off a few demons,” Tara explained as she brushed a strand of dark hair from her face and motioned to a sword at her side.

  “We stayed on our horses, and tried to avoid as many as we could,” added Loren. “We rode through much of the night to get here this morning.”

  “You have news?” Fitz asked.

  Tara nodded.

  “Have a seat,” Fitz said.

  The riders surveyed the meeting room, seemingly uneasy in the presence of so many expensive things. Fitz smiled to allay their fears, beckoning them again to two chairs before they sat.

  Tara tapped her fingers on the table. “We found the army,” she said.

  A pit formed in Fitz’s stomach. “Alive?”

  “The ones we saw.”

  “How far away are they?”

  “Probably a few days’ march. They have a few horses, but most are on foot.”

  Fitz nodded. “How many are there?”

  “A few thousand,” Tara said, before adding an explanation. “That’s the amount of people that can fit in the largest farmer’s field at the beginning of Hay Road.”

  “I appreciate the description. One of the merchant’s wives has been teaching me my numbers,” Fitz said. “I’m learning. Do you know if the rest of the army was killed in Blackthorn’s war?”

  Tara said, “I’m not sure. We can only speak of what we saw. We found a spot on a hill overlooking their path through the woods where we could eavesdrop.”

  “What did you see and hear?”

  “The army was fighting off groups of demons while marching. That was slowing them down. They were tired, but they seemed to be making ground.”

  “Most of the remaining people are blue shirts and cavalry?” Fitz guessed.

  Tara shook her head. “No. The army seems to be a mix of blue shirts and the militia. I didn’t see any cavalry. The rest have banded together so much that you can’t tell most of them apart.”

  “You mean they’re all dressed the same?” Fitz asked, nodding.

  “No. Something else…” Tara paused as a flicker of fear crossed her face.

  “What?” Fitz asked.

  “Their faces and chests are covered with blood.”

  “From battle?” Fitz asked.

  “No,” Tara said, rubbing her hands together nervously. She looked around the room, as if someone might storm in and accuse her of lying. “They’re painting themselves with demon’s blood.”

  Fitz said, “I’ve never seen soldiers do that. Do you think this is a tradition we haven’t heard about?”

  “I don’t think so,” Loren cut in. “It doesn’t seem normal. We watched several of these men slaying demons. They cut them open and dipped their fingers in their blood, using it to paint themselves. They were chanting, talking about returning to Brighton. They were talking as if the battle drove them insane. They were talking about tearing down the circle wall.”

  Fitzgerald’s worry deepened. “They want to tear down the circle wall?”

  “That’s what it sounded like.”

  “Why would they do that? We’d be exposed to the demons.”

  “I’m not sure, Lady Fitz,” Loren said. “We’re just reporting what we heard.”

  Tara said, “They were chanting things like they were in a sermon, even though they were outside. We heard them saying they were immortal. They said they were the children of a new god. They said they were coming back to Brighton to save the rest of us.”

  “What about Blackthorn? Was he among them?” Fitz asked.

  “Blackthorn’s dead.”

  Fitz reele
d in shock for a moment. Blackthorn might as well have told her he was dying. Still, it was hard to believe the leader who had ruled since she was a child was gone, and that he’d never be coming back. “How do you know?”

  “We heard some of them chanting. They said he was the devil, and that they killed him,” Tara explained.

  “If Blackthorn is dead, who’s leading the army?”

  “Father Winthrop.”

  A cold shiver of fear ran through Fitz, but she forced herself to remain strong.

  Chapter 31: Oliver

  The wind had kicked up earlier that morning, driving thunderous waves against the beached ship, rocking the boat and grinding rusty steel against the rocks. Oliver felt like he was in the belly of a beast, groaning as it died. Still, he followed Kirby through the ship’s dimly lit, sideways corridor, taking care not to fall through doors into rooms below them.

  Jingo and Beck lagged behind. Jingo was old, and his joints were laced with the roots of the spore-warts that grew through his skin. Beck wasn’t used to this kind of activity.

  Melora had no interest in entering the ship. Her one and only experience with a boat when escaping the hordes of demons in the Ancient City was the kind of thing that bred phobias. To keep out of sight, she waited just inside the tear in the ship’s hull, watching for any twisted men who might follow the group. Ivory stayed with her.

  Kirby stopped in front of a large, heavy-looking door with a latching mechanism that appeared much too complicated for its purpose. Oliver watched as Kirby worked the latch, and then as she strained under the weight of the door, opening it downward and laying it on the floor.

  She crouched low to get through, and Oliver followed, glancing back down the hall to ensure that Jingo and Beck were still on their way.

  Inside, the room was nearly black. The only light came from the open door. Oliver lost track of Kirby in the darkness, and he dared not take more than a few steps.