“He did what a father does,” Kirby said with certainty. “He might not have been a father by blood, but he looked after you. He taught you, and made sure you had what you needed to survive.”
William nodded through his tears. “And I will never forget him.”
A distant look came into Kirby’s eyes. It was the same, endearing expression he saw on his mother’s face, when she spoke of his deceased father. “Bray had an honor that everyone could see, in the end. I am grateful for every moment we spent together.”
William sniffled.
“Are you going to be okay?”
William looked over at her, blinking through a few more tears. Kirby reached over, pulling him into a tight hug. Together, they both cried, watching the sun sink in the horizon.
“You are not the only one who learned from him,” Kirby said, blotting her eyes.
“He taught you?” William wiped some of the dried blood from his face.
“When we were imprisoned here, I wanted to give up,” Kirby explained. “Bray convinced me to keep going. He lent me hope when I had none.” She gestured toward the courtyard, where a man and woman hugged. “I never thought I would see another day of freedom. And most of these people didn’t, either. And yet, here we are. Bray’s persistence was a large part of that. He was a hero.”
“You are right.” A smile bled through William’s sadness. “Bray always kept his promises.”
Kirby nodded as she reached for her back, scratching at something.
“Are you okay?” William asked her.
“I’m fine,” Kirby reassured him. “My warts are sore from battle.”
“Mine, too.” William nodded as he pointed to his knees.
Theirs was a shared pain.
Looking over his shoulder, William let out a shuddering sigh. “What are we going to do?” he asked, watching Kirby as he waited.
“As long as we are alive, there is hope, William,” Kirby said. “We will survive together. We will keep breathing, because that is all we can do. Because that is what Bray would’ve wanted.”
Looking at the orange sun setting below the wall, William said, “I think you are right.”
Chapter 80: William
William walked under the glow of a new morning’s sun, among a crowd of six hundred slaves as they headed along the path just outside the wall, next to the shortest row of crops. All around him, men, women, and children moved in tandem, holding each other for support, or staring up at a sky the youngest had never seen, beyond the walls of New City.
The survivors.
Most carried weapons, just in case any demons came from the forests, even though they hadn’t seen any in a few days. To their left and behind, the creaking, spinning windmills turned, oblivious to the changes behind the walls. For the first time in many years—longer than anyone living could remember—the crop fields were empty, absent the sweating slaves and the guards’ barking commands.
William turned his attention forward as they passed the western edge of the crops and came alongside the overgrown field Amelia had shown him from high up on the building’s roof, all those days ago. Not for the first time, he thought that the square stones looked much bigger when he wasn’t looking at them through the device called binoculars.
They kept on the path, walking past the rows of stones to a new area of overturned soil. Wagons and shovels sat near several long rows of plots that had been cleared from the overgrown weeds.
A new graveyard.
Stopping, the hundreds of survivors shuffled sideways, turning their attention toward four people who were already waiting at the graveyard’s edge: Drew, Kirby, James, and Gabe.
Clearing his throat, Drew spoke loudly enough that even those in the back could hear. The people bowed their heads as they listened. Kirby, James, and Gabe stood silently next to Drew.
William remained in the front row of spectating people.
“No words can express the depth of our loss,” Drew said, looking out over the grieving crowd, “but the people who lie in this new graveyard are among the bravest that New City has seen. They fought, so that the rest of us may have our freedom. They fought to break the bonds of our enslavement. They gave their lives in the hope that we will never have to suffer again. All are heroes.”
Gabe, James, and Kirby nodded in agreement. A few women near William wiped away silent tears. Looking over, he spotted Teddy among the crowd, who caught his eye, sharing a tearful nod.
“Every step we take inside the walls of New City, or outside, will remind us of their bravery. Every meal we eat as free men and women will recall their courage. We will celebrate their lives by living ours well, and making the most of our second chance.”
A few murmurs went across the crowd as men and women hugged each other, or their children.
Clearing his throat, James said, “All of us have suffered, starved, and lost loved ones, but this is a new beginning for all of us. These markers will forever commemorate our loved ones. Too many have been burned and forgotten. No more.”
Heads nodded vigorously.
Beckoning to the graves behind him, Drew said, “We would like to share the names of a few who have importance to us.”
Kirby stepped forward. “Clara, Giovanni, and Bray, may whatever gods you believed in look after you. You deserve peace in death that life could not give you.”
William felt a shimmer in his heart as his friend’s name was said aloud. A few people cried as they grieved their lost relatives. Others stepped forward, reciting the names of friends or family members. The survivors nodded sympathetically as they bonded in grief.
“We have a lot to figure out in the coming days,” Drew said. “But we will make those decisions as free men and women. Together, we will figure out where we go from here. We will live our lives in honor of those we have lost.”
Finished speaking, Drew, James, Kirby, and Gabe motioned to the graves behind them.
The crowd dispersed, heading to their loved ones’ markers.
**
Walking with purpose, Kirby and William strode to the end of one of the fresh rows of graves, stopping a hundred feet from the forest. William swallowed as he looked out over the vast expanse of strange, long-stemmed trees. A few people strode close by, stopping next to the graves of their loved ones, most of which were marked with crude lines that meant something to them.
“I think he would’ve liked it here, so close to the wild,” Kirby said with a smile. “It was a good choice for his burial.”
They knelt down beside a gray, unmarked stone, listening to the call of birds and the chirps and chatter of animals. William looked from the graves to the crop fields, where the demon army used to roam.
“It seems as if even the wildlife is relieved,” William said with a sigh.
“I noticed that, too,” Kirby replied.
They stood quietly for a moment, listening to the sounds of nature without the bristling commands of the guards, or the looming fear of The Gifted.
After a pause, Kirby asked, “Do you have them?”
William nodded, pulling out the chisel he’d taken from the shops, and the round-ended piece of metal that went with it. Kneeling down next to the square gravestone, he picked a spot on the stone, placed his chisel, and rapped on it, etching letters into the stone’s face. Kirby watched with fascination as he slowly moved from one letter to the next.
“I’ve never done something like this before,” William admitted, growing more comfortable with each strike.
“I think you are doing a good job,” Kirby said, “though I wouldn’t know, for sure.”
William smiled as some letters appeared under his guiding hands.
“I’m glad we waited to mark the stone,” Kirby said. “You had a good idea.”
William nodded.
“It still fascinates me to see words written,” Kirby marveled. “The owners in my homeland never taught us our letters. Perhaps you can show me, sometime.” She ran her fingers over the first
indent in the stone.
“I would like that,” said William, as he finished. He paused to inspect the letters he’d carved. He’d had to guess at the word’s spelling. Of course, Amelia hadn’t taught him Bray’s name. Pointing at the letters, he read them off. “B-R-A-Y.”
“B-R-A-Y,” Kirby repeated, with a smile.
Voices drew their attention to some people nearby. A man and woman walked over to the next grave marker, bending down and uttering some words. Noticing William’s strange carvings, they looked over.
“Is that a name?” the woman inquired.
“Yes,” William said with a pride tainted by sadness. “It is the name of our friend, Bray.”
“I am sorry for your loss,” the woman said. “Our son is buried here.”
William offered his condolences as the man and woman quietly looked down at the stone in front of them, lost in grief. The stone had some of the same, crude markings as the others.
An idea took root in his mind. “Would you like me to carve your son’s name?”
Slowly, hope filled the peoples’ faces and they raised their heads. “You would do that for us?”
William looked down the rows of graves, watching the other people kneeling beside them. “Sure. I’d be glad to.”
Chapter 81: Kirby
Kirby stood next to Drew in the tower on the eighteenth floor, looking out over the sprawling city, and the people walking between the alleys and houses far below. Over the past week, they had cleaned up the building, replacing whatever books hadn’t been torn or destroyed. Most of The Gifted’s devices were intact, as were the cases in The Library Room, and the guns and ammunition in the weapons room.
“Plenty of knowledge resides within these walls,” Drew said. “Over time, it is sure to be a help to our people.”
“You are right,” Kirby agreed.
Drew gestured out over the city through the broken windows they had patched. “We have buried our dead. We have cremated The Gifted’s bodies. We have guards stationed on more than one floor on the building, who are now trained with their guns. We have plenty of food, and the means to produce more.” Drew paused. “Now it is time to start looking forward and putting new systems in place.”
Kirby nodded as she listened. Looking out over the city, she wanted to believe in a better future.
“You look unsettled,” Drew said, reading her expression.
“I am happy for every person here who has escaped enslavement, or fought for his or her freedom,” she clarified. “I am happy for the children who will not have to grow up under the guards’ or The Gifteds’ oppression. I am happy for the women who will no longer be subjugated.”
“Like your roommate,” Drew said knowingly.
Kirby nodded.
“How is Esmeralda?” Drew asked.
“She and Fiona are safe. They have taken a larger home that belonged to one of the guards, as many others have done, like a few people I worked with. In time, perhaps we can house some of our people here.”
“Or we can continue using the tower as a communal space.” Drew thought on it. Noticing her expression, he said, “Something still troubles you.”
“Each time I look at the streets below, or walk them, I picture the bodies we pulled through those alleys. Every time I walk through the courtyard, I have memories of what I’ve done, or memories of the pain the guards inflicted, as most people do.”
“In a world as old as the one in which we live, I don’t think you can find a place that hasn’t been touched by pain,” Drew said.
“You are probably right.” Kirby sighed.
“You have suffered deep losses, Kirby,” Drew said. “They aren’t easily forgotten. But this place is much different than our old settlement of New Hope. We have a place we can defend. We have weapons, and a wall. The systems The Gifted built weren’t perfect, but we can adapt them to our purposes. Perhaps we can find what we were looking for when we left our homeland.”
Kirby nodded, trying to convince herself.
“Give yourself a chance to be happy, Kirby,” Drew said. “After so many years of strife, you certainly deserve it.”
Chapter 82: William
William looked around his bedroom. Weeks after the battle, he still recalled the times he’d spent huddled under his covers, thinking, planning, or listening for footsteps. Now those footsteps belonged to the free people who had volunteered to keep watch out the windows, or clean up the building.
He looked over at Kirby, who cleaned one of her guns on another bed.
“Without the protection of demons, we need to stay vigilant,” Kirby said, turning the pistol she’d reclaimed in her hand. “We’ll need to watch out for anyone who might attack us, like The Clickers.”
“What will we do, if they come?” William asked.
“We’ll be ready,” Kirby said resolutely.
William nodded. They had enough people—and Tech Magic weapons—to ensure The Clickers were never a problem again. He sighed, looking past Kirby and out the window, watching the sun setting over the city.
“You seem tired,” Kirby said.
“I suppose I am. I spent lots of my nights awake here,” William said. “At least toward the end, when The Gifted were alive.”
Kirby paused and set down her gun. She could sense William’s unease. “You don’t just seem tired. You seem restless, too.”
William nodded. “I guess that could be true. Every time I thought about escaping this building and finding you, I pictured things differently.”
“How so?”
William thought on it. “I guess I always thought we would return to the wild.”
“That’s what I thought at first, too, until I met The Shadow People and heard what they planned,” Kirby admitted.
“After so many months of travel, the wild seems more like our home than this place does.” William shrugged. “Or maybe it is the memories I have here that make it hard to sleep. I know this place is safer than anywhere else we are likely to come across.”
“And yet, you think about it,” Kirby said with a knowing smile.
“I suppose I do.” William’s gaze wandered back outside. “But I know it would be foolish. You have a friend here. And we have everything we need.”
“It has been nice reuniting with Drew,” Kirby said. “I never thought I would see him again.”
Kirby fell silent, returning to cleaning her pistol. She let the conversation die. Still, William thought he saw a faraway look in her eyes that he knew too well.
**
William tossed back and forth in his bed. He couldn’t sleep. Every so often, he peered through the darkness at the bed beside him, watching Kirby’s blanket rise and fall as she breathed. He couldn’t stop thinking about their conversation.
The Gifted were dead. The slaves’ war for freedom was over.
William should’ve been comfortable.
But he wasn’t.
He peered out the window at a bright sky littered with stars. The moon hung on the horizon, casting a glow that reminded him of the nights he’d spent creeping around, aching for his freedom.
Now that he had his freedom, it felt tainted.
The shimmering building felt like one of the Ancient’s museums, bottling up the ghosts of the people who had walked its floors. Each time he closed his eyes, he heard the screech of feasting demons in The Library Room, or the death cries of The Gifted.
William tried unsuccessfully to sleep, until the first beams of light shone through the windows and he sat upright. He softly got to his feet so as not to disturb Kirby, crossed the room, and looked out the northern windows.
He was surprised—but probably shouldn’t have been—to see a small band of travelers approaching from the forests.
“Kirby!” he hissed, startling her from sleep. “Wake up!”
Chapter 83: William
William, Kirby, Drew, and a handful of New City free men and women traveled down the stairs, past the secured doors, and out into the s
unny fields, carrying their weapons. On either side of them, the enormous windmills creaked. Noticing them coming, the band of visitors stopped midway up the path.
“Keep your guns ready,” Kirby instructed the people around her.
The men and women heeded her instructions. William kept his hand near his holstered gun. As they continued, he noticed the men wore loose white garments, with strange adornments around their necks. The visitors looked like some of the people he’d seen from up high, but never up close. With relief, William noticed they bore only sheathed blades at their sides.
“Good morning,” Drew said to the newcomers, as they got within fifteen feet.
The strange men looked around the fields, processing a change from what they were used to. One or two eyed the guns warily, probably second-guessing their decision to approach.
“We are looking for Rudyard,” said one man, looking back and forth as if he expected demons to spring out and ambush them.
“Rudyard is dead,” Drew said simply. “And so are the rest of The Gifted.”
The two groups watched each other warily.
Leaving no room for guesses, Drew added, “We own New City now. We are the new owners of this land, and everything on it.”
William swallowed. He knew the importance of staking claim to a piece of land that others might try to take. To his relief, the men didn’t seem as if they were in for a fight.
Stepping forward, holding up his hands to show his good intent, the man said, “My name is Xavier. Our people have traded here with The Gifted for many years. We would be willing to trade with you, too, if that is agreeable.”
“You are the Yatari,” Kirby said.
Xavier nodded. “We are here for a peaceful meeting. Perhaps we can come to a similar agreement as we had with the previous owners.”
The men shifted nervously, perhaps wondering whether the people in front of them might take their things forcefully and kill them.
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