The Last Survivors Box Set

by Bobby Adair

  Chapter 74: Fitz

  Every woman on the New Council was mounted and waiting when Fitz rode up behind the catapults. Even Kreuz, in charge of the giant contraptions, was on a horse.

  Fitz asked if each of them knew what to do, or had any questions.

  They’d been over their plans dozens of times. Everyone knew.

  Only one question was unanswered, and it was the only one asked.

  “We see a few demons trickling from the forest. But what about Winthrop’s army?”

  Fitz glanced toward the partially open gate.

  Kreuz said, “They’re marching out of the forest and forming up… well, mobbing up, really. They’ll come this way soon.”

  “Everyone hopes their husband or son is out there,” said one woman.

  “Some of them are in range of the catapults,” said Kreuz, pushing for the choice he thought Fitz should make. “They’ve passed the black flags.”

  “Are we going to fight our kin?” asked another woman, a challenge hiding in her words.

  “No,” Fitz told her. “Not if we can help it. I’m going out to talk with them.”

  “Not by yourself.” Ginger didn’t bother to make it sound like anything but an order from a mother to a child.

  “You’re coming with me,” said Fitz. “We’re taking the mounted warriors with us. We’ll convince the remnants of Blackthorn’s army to fight for Brighton and their families.”

  “Are you sure you can?” asked someone.

  Fitz nodded, even though she wasn’t certain. She turned to Ginger, “Fetch our two squadrons.” Turning back to the other women she said, “We all know our places. We all know what to do. Stand together to save your children and each other.”

  Fitz wheeled her big, black horse around and trotted toward the gate.

  Chapter 75: Oliver

  Panting from the fast pace, the weight of his rifle, and his load of ammunition, Oliver stopped walking. “Do you hear that?”

  Up ahead, Ivory had come to a stop, and so had Melora.

  Jingo stopped pulling the wagon. His heavy breathing was nearly as loud as the sound the wheels made rolling across the leaves and twigs on the forest floor.

  “What is it?” Jingo asked, standing up straight to listen.

  “The demons,” said Oliver. “They’ve gone quiet.”

  Beck looked around quickly, concern on his face.

  Ivory jogged back to the group.

  “We hear it,” Jingo told him.

  “What does it mean?” asked Beck.

  “Wait,” said Oliver. “Do you hear that?” he strained to listen, but the new sound wasn’t nearly as loud as the massive horde of demons had been.

  “Men,” said Ivory. “They’re chanting.”

  “Tear down the wall?” Melora asked. “Is that what they’re saying?”

  “Yes,” Oliver confirmed. “I hear it.”

  “Tear down the wall?” Beck asked. “Why would they say that?”

  “Those are Winthrop’s men,” Jingo guessed, looking at the others for their thoughts.

  “Winthrop?” Oliver felt a surge of anger and shame for what he still believed was a mistake. He regretted not killing the Bishop when he had the chance. “If Winthrop is here, nothing good will come of it.”

  “Have they allied with the demons?” asked Beck. “Is that possible?”

  Jingo shook his head. “I don’t see how.”

  “Winthrop is insane,” Oliver told them, looking at Beck for confirmation. “We both saw it.”

  Nodding, Beck said, “That, we did. And his insanity infected the whole army.”

  “What does that mean for us now?” asked Ivory.

  Beck scratched his chin as he speculated. “Maybe they’re going to attack Brighton.”

  “With the demons coming, too?” asked Melora.

  “They must’ve heard them,” Beck said as he looked around the group for any dissenters.

  “We saw Winthrop and his army in the Ancient City.” Ivory looked at Melora and Jingo to support his opinion. “I think they’re all insane. There’s no telling what they’ll do.”

  Melora added, “And the demons were running from them. The demons were afraid.”

  “Do you think the demons will hear their chant and run away?” asked Ivory.

  “Is that possible?” Beck asked, stepping over in front of Jingo. “What are your thoughts?”

  “I don’t know,” answered Jingo, “but one thing I’ve learned through my life is never to expect luck to fall your way. Hoping that the twisted men will grow fearful and run away is the kind of hope that gets people killed. I don’t think this changes anything. I say we push on.”

  With a nod, Ivory hurried ahead as he said, “We’re close, maybe another mile. Let’s keep going.”

  Chapter 76: Winthrop

  The forest fell silent as Winthrop rode into the light of the open field.

  With an unsteady hand, he mopped the sweat off his face and dragged his hand on his robe.

  His god-speak prayer worked.

  No, not a prayer. An incantation. The words that tapped into his power.

  The demons had sensed his omnipotence, and they’d silenced themselves, cowering in the shadows. He’d taken his fear and put it back into their simple black souls.

  Ahead, the men spreading out into the vast fields between the forest and the circle wall were chanting.

  “TEAR DOWN THE WALL!”

  They remembered his message to them.

  They were still his people, despite the quake in his own faith over these last few miles.

  And that was the whole of it; there was no danger from the demons, ever. There was only Winthrop’s faith. While his faith stood unassailable, the faith of his disciples, his warriors, was pure, and when they were strong in their faith, there was no horde of noisy demons that could stand against him.

  His army was powerful.

  His army was the earthly manifestation of his divine might.

  His golden horde of blood stained beasts would purge the human realm of weakness and infidelity.

  “TEAR DOWN THE WALL!”

  Winthrop bellowed at the sky.

  Brighton’s gate stood tall, far across the fields.

  His army bellowed, too, and then took up the chant again.

  “TEAR DOWN THE WALL!”

  With the tremors in his bowels subsided and his need to piss forgotten, Winthrop rode his horse through the ranks as the laggards flowed from the forest.

  And seeing him move away from the trees, with his silent permission, the army lurched forward, too.

  Winthrop closed his eyes and turned his face toward his brother, the sun, basking in the warmth on his skin.

  He relished the ecstasy of power, savored the special fleeting moment of trepidation before his faithful smashed into his foe. It was like that moment wrapped in a woman’s touch before pleasure came. It was like when the fire crackled, and the flesh started to singe, and the pyre song first touched his ear.

  It was the kind of moment that gave a mortal a peek at divinity.

  “TEAR DOWN THE WALL!”

  But men were stupid, hairy things, barely a step ahead of the pigs they bred and ate to fill their bellies. And women, they were the most ignorant creatures his brother gods had ever created. They were good for one thing only.

  None of them had the soul of a god trapped in human form, not like Winthrop.

  None of them would ever see the divinity hiding in the world. Not like Winthrop.

  The special moment passed.

  Winthrop sighed as it slipped away.

  It was time to do his earthly work and ram his brutes into Brighton’s soft underbelly and take his place on the throne
above his worshippers.

  Winthrop opened his eyes and looked toward the gates.

  “TEAR DOWN THE WALL!”

  He gasped.

  It can’t be.

  No, it can’t be.

  A line of cavalry stood abreast in the field half way from the forest to the wall. Riders staring, motionless except for their long hair flapping in the wind.

  And there in front was the devil himself.

  Winthrop’s bowels turned to water and overpowered any strength he had to stop the stench from dribbling onto his saddle, to stem the flow of urine down his leg.

  He’d killed the Blackthorn Devil with the Devil’s own sword.

  He’d carried the body in his arms for his disciples to see.

  He’d ascended to his divinity on that day on a hill covered thick with the bodies of the dead, swarming in flies, and stinking of the most horrid ills of a reeking world.

  But the devil had resurrected itself.

  How?

  Now it was a more fearful thing than it had ever been before, a raven-haired banshee with ice blue eyes and bloody red lips, sitting astride a frightful obsidian monster of a snorting horse, in front of squadrons of cavalry brothers, all risen from the dead, from that muddy mound of blood and dirt near the Ancient City.

  The powerful blood magic of ten thousand souls must have turned that mud into a cauldron for birthing gods and devils.

  Winthrop bellowed fear into the air, begging his god brothers to come to his aid.

  He couldn’t face a reincarnated Blackthorn beast on his own.

  “TEAR DOWN THE WALL!”

  Chapter 77: Fitz

  “Men of Brighton!” Fitz yelled at the mob.

  “TEAR DOWN THE WALL!”

  Fitz turned to Ginger and nodded at the mounted warriors lined up in a long row in the field, blocking Winthrop’s army. “Keep them here.” Fitz spurred her horse to a trot.

  “No!” Ginger called after her.

  Fitz sat up straight in her saddle, doing her best to look regal as she crossed the grass. When she neared the mob, she called, “Men of Brighton, listen to me!”

  “TEAR DOWN THE WALL!”

  The chant wasn’t as loud. Some in the mob were quieting to listen.

  The mob, fully out of the forest and coalescing into an intimidating force, was nearly half way between the trees and the wall. They slowed their advance as many of the raggedy men and women came to a stop.

  “Listen to me!” Fitz yelled, as she turned her horse to ride across their path. “Stop, men of Brighton! Hear what I have to say!”

  “Tear down the wall!”

  The chant weakened so much that most mouths hadn’t echoed it. All eyes were on Fitz.

  “Hear me!” she told them again, as she turned her horse to get back near the center.

  The mob was mostly silent, eyeing Fitz and the long line of women on their horses standing between them and the main gate. Only Winthrop was still talking, bellowing loud nonsense and waving his hands at the sky.

  Fitz noticed the disorganized mob had its horsemen, a dozen or so scattered near the unruly center, all near Winthrop. Most were looking at him, some in disgust, others in fear, most in awe.

  “I am Fitzgerald,” she called, “leader of the New Council, the new government of Brighton.”

  Murmurs swept through the mob.

  “General Blackthorn is no more.” Fitz stopped her horse, so the stomping of its hooves would not cover the sound of her voice. “General Tenbrook the sadist, Blackthorn’s handpicked successor, is dead, and so are his blue shirts and cavalrymen.” She waved a hand at the fierce-looking mounted women behind her. “We rule Brighton now. The People. All of us.”

  Quiet spread across the mob as they stared at her. A few angry voices shouted insults.

  Some in the mob took up the chant again.

  “TEAR DOWN THE WALL!”

  But the voices grew weak as a few demons screeched from the forest behind them.

  “I ask you,” called Fitz, “do not make war on your wives, your sisters, your mothers, and daughters. Do no—”

  A sudden tsunami of demon howls washed out of the forest, drowning out every other sound.

  The mob froze as everyone processed what was happening, what they already feared. The demons were coming, and Winthrop couldn’t protect them.

  Heads snapped around to look at the forest behind them.

  Panic slapped Fitz as she understood that Winthrop was no longer the threat.

  Her horse reared and whinnied, nearly throwing Fitz out of the saddle.

  She desperately reached for the pommel as she squeezed her legs on the beast.

  The horse spun and snorted.

  It stomped, suddenly fierce, ready to charge.

  It smelled what it was bred to kill.

  The forest came alive with an ooze of pale, dirty skin that flowed out of the trees and onto the road.

  Demons.

  A flood of them.

  A syrupy nightmare horde, engulfing the earth.

  How could the world hold so many?

  And still, they came.

  Chapter 78: Bray

  They were nearing Brighton, and already Bray could tell it was a bad idea. Demon howls filled the forest. The twisted, nightmare mass that Bray had seen was close. He didn’t need to lay eyes on it to know. And somewhere off in the distance, Winthrop’s army chanted, as if they were answering the demon cries. The forest had gone otherwise quiet as the birds and animals held their breath, trying to avoid being disemboweled and consumed.

  “We should turn around,” Kirby said, worried.

  Bray glanced over his shoulder, but he didn’t respond.

  “We’re almost at Brighton, and we’ve seen no sign of your son or the men who took him.”

  “He might be just ahead.”

  “Any kidnappers would’ve gone in the other direction, like we should be doing,” Kirby warned. “This isn’t smart.”

  Bray didn’t know how he’d convince her to keep going. What he wanted to say, but couldn’t, was that William was with the army.

  “It would be suicidal to get close to that many demons,” Bray said. “But I know these woods. We can approach Brighton from a little further east.”

  “What will that do?”

  “It will give us a view of the front gate through the fields surrounding Brighton, but we should be able to avoid anything that’s going on.”

  “And if you see William?”

  “At least I’ll know where he is,” Bray said. “Then I can figure something out.”

  Hesitantly, Kirby followed him as he veered away from the ancient road they’d been following. They picked paths between the trees, weaving through a patch of dense woods. The chanting in the distance seemed to have stopped, but the demon howls had gotten louder. The horses’ ears were swiveling and their nostrils flared.

  Bray and Kirby rode through the woods until they saw light beyond the trees. Bray couldn’t see anything else, but he envisioned what might be waiting for them out in the fields outside of Brighton.

  “How far is Brighton past the fields?” Kirby asked.

  “About a mile,” Bray said.

  They were almost at the edge of the forest when the howls reached a fever pitch, and thousands of battle cries pierced the air. Bray’s horse reared back and he steadied it with the reins. There was no calming the anxious beast, just as there was no stopping what was happening.

  The battle had already begun.

  Chapter 79: Jingo

  Everyone stopped.

  The sound of the howling monsters changed. They were no longer pursuing. They were fighting.

  Around Jingo’s group, nothing moved except t
he leaves.

  Looking at Ivory, who was scanning the forest for danger, Jingo said, “It’s starting. We have to run, or we’ll be too late.”

  “It’s not far to Brighton,” Ivory called back.

  With a determined look in his eyes, Beck put his hands on the back end of the cart, ready to push.

  “No,” Jingo told him. “You go ahead. You’re barely on your feet now.”

  Ivory came jogging back. “I’ll pull it. I’m stronger and faster.” Looking at Jingo, he said, “Get out of the harness, fast.”

  “We’ll hook up another,” Jingo suggested.

  “No,” Ivory told him with an unassailable finality. “We’re almost to the edge of the forest. I can run this cart the rest of the way in the time it takes to tie off the other harness. Push, if you want to help.”

  Melora was there beside them now, her rifle at the ready, checking the placement of the hand grenades hanging from her belt. She looked as though she were ready to slaughter the entire horde on her own. All the petulance over the previous week had vanished.

  Oliver unslung his rifle, inspired by Melora’s apparent resolve, and readied himself to shoot.

  Jingo gave them each a glance as he hurried around to the rear of the cart. “Beck, get the weapon off your back and get ready to fire, but be careful where you point it.” Jingo smiled widely enough that even the warted side of his face looked happy. “Don’t shoot me in the back.”

  Panting, Beck nodded.

  Ivory got the harness over his shoulders and started pulling.

  Melora ran ahead, and Oliver did his best to keep up with her.

  “This way?” she called, pointing forward as she glanced back at Ivory.

  “Yes,” Ivory answered, as he put his head down and put all his effort into running with the load. “We’ll hit the trail that leads to the east gate. It’s just up ahead. Once we’re there, we’ll follow it into Brighton.”

  Chapter 80: Winthrop

  Surrounded.

  Every demon on the great flat earth was barreling out of the forest behind Winthrop’s sacred army of immortals.