The Last Survivors (Book 5): The Last Refuge

by Bobby Adair

  "Bray thinks they might've been killed," Ella said with a concerned expression. "He said it looks like a Warden's sword."

  "Either way, it's mine now," William said. "Finders keepers!"

  Ivory frowned as Ella herded William from the room.

  Chapter 11: Oliver

  "What now?" Beck asked.

  Leaning against the curved wall of the cylinder as he sat, Oliver looked up at Beck and tried to guess what it was he was getting at. If there was one thing Oliver knew about Beck, he was always thinking about where his conversations were leading, rather than what he was currently saying. "I don't want to discuss it."

  "Why not?" asked Beck.

  "I'm reluctant."

  "People only say that when they want you to ask them a second time." Beck smiled to show off his brilliant deduction.

  Oliver sighed. "I had ideas of how life would be outside the wall, you know, before I lost my bravery and failed to kill Father Winthrop."

  "I dare say your mistake was short-lived." Beck chuckled. "I have little doubt the demons killed him, along with the rest of the wretches on that hill."

  Oliver accepted that as true.

  "Tell me more about these ideas of yours," Beck said.

  Oliver shook his head. "They were silly boyhood ideas, adventurous and unrealistic. I'm not that old, you know."

  "I've noticed," said Beck, "but talking to you most times is like talking to an adult. You're an exceptional young man, Oliver."

  "I don't know about that."

  "Yes you do," said Beck. "You can pretend around other men so they won't know what you are, but I know. Let's dispense with the charade, okay?"

  "I'll try," said Oliver. "But you need to understand that even if you think I mostly speak like an adult, I'm still a boy. I'm still prone to doing boyish things and making boyish mistakes."

  "Everybody makes mistakes." Beck laughed. "Don't judge yourself too harshly."

  Oliver crinkled his brow and fidgeted, not wanting to admit his most foolish mistake. "I thought I'd do well out here in the wild. I thought I'd evade the demons with ease, or kill them when I needed to."

  "So far, true on both counts," interjected Beck.

  "I don't know."

  "Here we are," said Beck. "The truth is self-evident. And you have killed demons."

  "Okay," admitted Oliver. "I didn't think I'd be so hungry. I thought I'd be able to find food before I ran out of my supplies. Now after jumping in the river to save our lives, everything I brought with me is ruined, and I don't yet know how to hunt for animals. I don't know what plants I can eat."

  "You're afraid we'll starve?" asked Beck.

  Nodding, Oliver said, "The only thing I'm not afraid of is dying of thirst."

  "Because the river is so close?" Beck asked.

  "That, and the ocean," said Oliver, pointing east. "As long as I'm on this side of the mountains, it'll never be more than a day or two away."

  "You want to drink from the ocean?" asked Beck.

  "Sure," Oliver confirmed. "But it seems like you think that's a bad idea."

  "Perhaps," said Beck. "Like you, I've never seen the ocean before this expedition. All I know about it I read in ancient books, or heard in stories from people who have been to this side of the mountain. I don't know for sure, but it seems to me the water in the ocean is not drinkable."

  "Why?" asked Oliver. "Did the Ancients poison it?"

  "I don't know," said Beck. "All I've heard is the water is too salty to drink."

  "That doesn't make sense." Oliver lifted his canteen and shook it to show Beck it was empty. "If salt is all I have to worry about, I'm going to try it."

  "Later today or tomorrow," said Beck, "when we're rested enough to venture out, we'll go to the ocean, if for no other reason than to one day say we did." Beck smiled broadly and looked at Oliver. "Do you know anyone who has seen the ocean?"

  "I've only talked to a few people who know it exists. That is, outside of childhood stories nobody believes."

  "We'll do it, then," said Beck. "After that, what do you think? Will you go back to Brighton?"

  "I don't know," said Oliver. "I don't know that going back is a choice I have. I don't think I can get through the pass. It's sure to be full of demons following the trail of the army, don't you think?"

  "You may be right about that," said Beck, putting some thought into it. "I've heard tell of paths through the mountains both south and north of here. They're the paths taken by metal smugglers because they are shorter. The army had to take the long way because it needed the road. If we could find one of the paths, would you travel back with me? It will be safer for us both to go together than to go by ourselves."

  "I don't know."

  "You don't have to return to Brighton, if you don't want," said Beck. "I won't force you, but at least if we get back to the other side of the mountains, you'll be back among civilized men again. Even if you don't return to Brighton, you can settle in one of the smaller towns or villages. What do you say?"

  "I don't know what's going to happen to me," Oliver said, weighing his options. "But I definitely want to see the ocean."

  Chapter 12: Fitzgerald

  Returning from the marketplace, Fitz found Franklin sitting in the front pew of the congregation room, staring at the pulpit. His hand was poised above a notebook.

  "I looked all over the Sanctuary for you," Fitz said, worry in her voice.

  "I'm sorry. I was just making some notes. I thought a lot about our conversation about The Word and The People's devotion. I'm not convinced you're right, but I'm trying to get a new perspective on how the townspeople hear sermons." Franklin furrowed his brow and jotted something down. "I'm trying to understand what it is about what I say that bonds us together. Maybe that will also protect us."

  "Have you seen Tenbrook?" Fitz asked, lowering her voice to a whisper.

  "No. And no soldiers, either."

  "That's good." Fitz blew a relieved breath. She sat down next to Franklin. She smiled.

  "Most of my life, I've listened to Winthrop talk from up there," Franklin gestured toward the pulpit. "I've sat apart from the congregates. I was lucky, or unlucky, to have that privilege from a young age." Franklin grimaced as he thought that statement through. "When I was just a child, my parents were taken in the Cleansing. I remember standing on the dais while they were led away, too shocked to cry."

  "Is that why Winthrop took you in?"

  Franklin nodded. "He mistook my shock for a heart of stone. I didn't figure it out until later. If I'd cried, I probably would have gone to the orphanages like the others on that day."

  Franklin lowered his head.

  "I'm sorry, Franklin. Do you remember much about your parents?"

  "Only that they were farmers. I remember running in the fields with bare feet, thinking I could fly. I have a few memories of my mother and father tending the field, but not many. I think the distance has separated me from some of the people I'm talking to. I need to understand the parishioners better."

  "This sounds like a good way to do it." Fitz patted his leg. "I've been finding things out at the market."

  "I get nervous about you leaving the Sanctuary." Franklin furrowed his brow.

  "If the novices went, I wouldn't be able to find anything out." Fitz looked behind her, verifying that no one was lurking by the door. Speaking in a whisper, she said, "I've been talking to some people, Franklin. I've been trying to understand the power of your transformation of The Word, and how that affects people. The burnings weakened people's spirit, but I think the next sermon might be your biggest yet."

  "What do you mean?" Franklin asked, setting down his notebook.

  "I've been gathering up some people," she whispered.

  Franklin's eyes widened. "Already? You shouldn't be doing that so soon after the burnings, Fitz."

  "Our discussions are about The Word," Fitz returned. "Tenbrook can't fault us for that. As you know, most people are compelled to come to the Sanctuary
out of fear. But I'm trying a new approach. I think this one will work better."

  "What have you been telling them?" Franklin asked.

  "I'm trying to earn their trust, so they continue attending because they want to, rather than out of guilt or fear," Fitzgerald said. "We need people to participate—even the people from the other towns and villages, who might have never been to the Brighton sermons."

  Franklin nodded, still nervous. He looked around the room again, a habit since the burnings. "The quiet from Tenbrook makes me uneasy. He hasn't called any Elders' meetings yet. I assumed he would send for me."

  Fitz bit her lip. "Maybe he forgot about you."

  The look on Franklin's face told her that he didn't believe that. "I'm the only other Elder alive in town. I don't trust him, Fitz."

  "Me neither. But for now, we should focus on making the next sermon the best one yet." Fitz smiled and brushed Franklin's shoulder. "I'll tidy up some rooms while you take notes."

  "Okay, thanks," Franklin said, trying to quell his worry.

  Chapter 13: Ivory

  Ivory was dozing, but he couldn't keep from peering through the archway at Melora, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the next room. She pulled out a brush, quietly taking a few tangles from her hair. She didn't notice he was awake. Ivory recalled some of Melora's stories about her family's encounters with demons in the woods. She seemed as tough as anyone he'd met. He smiled. Sensing his gaze, she turned and caught him staring.

  "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" she called through the archway.

  "No, I was just dozing."

  "I'm going to nap, too," Melora admitted. She replaced the brush in her bag, pulled out a blanket, and spread it on the ground.

  "Where are the others?"

  "Downstairs."

  "I bet it's nice to be with your family." Ivory smiled.

  "It is," Melora said, but she averted her eyes. Was she hiding something? Or was she just tired?

  "William showed me the sword he found."

  "I heard him showing you from the other room. He demonstrated for me while I was with him on the lower floor. It's almost as big as he is." Melora smiled. "He's becoming quite intelligent about the woods. He's learned a lot while we were traveling."

  "He definitely seems smart." Ivory watched Melora settle underneath her blanket. "Your mother is nice. And Bray, too. Did you say you were related to him?"

  Melora shifted under the blanket so he couldn't see her eyes. "No, we met him outside of Davenport. We've been traveling together."

  "I see. For a second I confused him for your father."

  "No." Melora bit back a laugh. Changing the subject, she asked, "Can I still try your bow when we wake up?"

  "Sure."

  "It's a little more comfortable here without demons surrounding the building," Melora said with a smile, rolling to face the doorway to the hall. "Maybe you were right about this area being safer."

  "I wouldn't lie to you."

  "Well, I'm going to nap. Sleep well, Ivory."

  "You, too."

  Ivory pulled his bow and his bag close to him. Then he closed his eyes.

  Chapter 14: Winthrop

  With no place shallow enough to ford, Winthrop's army worked their way down the river until it spread out into a delta of swamps and shallow fingers of water all flowing toward the endless sea.

  "Our scouts tell me we can cross here," one of Winthrop's nameless priests told him as he stood looking across a brackish pool of stinking water. "There are plenty of demons in the swamp that way."

  "Then we'll have plenty of meat to fill our bellies," said Winthrop as he looked at the murky brown water, imagining what manner of greedy monsters might be living beneath the surface, anxious to sink their teeth into his divine flesh.

  Pointing up and down the shore at the army, all standing on the shore, the nameless priest said, "We wait for you to lead us, Father."

  Winthrop balked. That cold, clear water in the canyon in which he'd been immersed was one thing. In that water, he'd been able to see. If any monsters had come to take a bite of him, he'd have spotted them and been able to call on his disciples to slay them. In this soup, he'd have no such opportunity. He'd lose a foot or a leg before he knew what was attacking him. Winthrop's bowels threatened to spill.

  I'm a god.

  Still, the brown water.

  "Father?" the nameless man persisted.

  Winthrop looked left and right. Nothing but more brown water. He looked over the tall trees across the bank and saw the tips of the Ancient City's crumbling spires. He had to take his army there to fulfill his godly destiny. He had to.

  Surely there must be something to avoid the brown water.

  Wait!

  I'm a god.

  I can walk on it.

  I need only to will it.

  "We shall all go together," Winthrop told his priest. "Tell my people to proceed."

  The priest stepped into the water, walking until he was waist deep before he turned to face Winthrop's army. He pointed at the far bank and addressed the men. "The demons are there. Our god commands us to cross the water and slay them. Let's go!"

  Everyone on the bank shouted their war chant, took a few moments to get in sync, and then the mass of them lurched forward, stepping into the brown water without the slightest hesitation.

  Winthrop looked toward his brothers in the heavens, then looked at the water ahead of him, already full of his faithful minions. They flowed off the bank beside and from behind him. Winthrop was in the midst of all of them, lost to any lurking river monster that might be waiting. With so many tempting feet down in the water, how would a long-toothed monster find his divine feet walking on the surface?

  No chance. No monster could.

  That was the faith Winthrop needed. He walked down the sloping bank. Once at the water's edge, he raised his chin, focused on the far shore, and took a long, confident stride out onto the water's surface.

  A strange thing happened.

  The water was too evil to support Winthrop's weight, and it gave way under his foot, throwing him off balance. He fell face first into the murk and mud.

  Chapter 15: Ella

  "William, come here a minute," Ella said, watching his curious face as he explored one of the walls in the lower floor of the building. Every so often, he stopped to knock on it with the big sword he'd found, admiring the ancient material. He looked at her for several seconds as if she'd appeared there, even though she'd been following him for a while. She felt guilty for the way they'd argued outside.

  Looking around to make sure no one else was near, she asked, "What are you thinking about?"

  "I was just thinking how nice it would've been to have traveled here a hundred years ago."

  Ella furrowed her brow, confused. "Why a hundred?"

  William waved his sword at the wall. He beckoned at the rooms upstairs. "In Brighton, we fix a stone when it falls out of place. We scrape the green, fuzzy plants that grow outside the walls. No one did that here."

  "That's because no one lives here," Ella said with a shrug.

  "But that's exactly my point," William said. "We could've taken care of them, if we lived here. Each year, the condition of the city gets worse. If we'd been born earlier, we would've seen so much more. And if we'd lived during the times of the Ancients, we would've seen everything!"

  Ella laughed warmly at his reasoning. She couldn't dispute it. "That's a nice dream, William. But we can always imagine."

  "That's what I've been doing." William's reflective face turned into a smile. "I imagine this is my house, and all the pedestals downstairs are protecting the things I own."

  "What would you keep down there?" Ella asked, playing along. For a minute, she was able to pretend they were back in Brighton, walking home from the marketplace like they'd done so many times before.

  "I'd have all manner of weapons," William said, holding up his sword. "But not like these. I'd have devices that could stop a man with a tou
ch. Devices that would compel men to tell the truth. And objects to take me from here to Brighton in less time than it takes to prepare a meal."

  "Wow. You'd be the most powerful man in the Ancient City." Ella grinned.

  "I'd be the most powerful man in all of the townships, never mind here."

  "What would you do in Brighton?"

  William puzzled on it for a moment. "I'd bring back some of my belongings, just to show them off. But I wouldn't sell them. I'd already have all the coin I needed."

  Ella reached over and ruffled his hair. "I hope I'd be allowed to stay with you."

  "Of course," William said, his expression darkening. "But all the people in Brighton wouldn't come near us, or touch us."

  "No, they wouldn't," Ella said, a pit growing in her stomach as the playful game turned serious.

  "No one would burn anyone. No one would be in pain. They would listen to me, and do what I said." His voice turned stern.

  "That'd be nice, William." Ella pulled William close. She kissed his forehead. To her relief, he allowed her. She leaned back, watching his eyes wander across her face.

  "It's fun to pretend, isn't it?" she asked, blinking back tears, trying to calm her nervousness.

  "Yes, it is, Mom."

  "I need you to do something for me, William."

  William's expression turned serious. "What is it?"

  "I need you to hide the lump on your neck from Ivory."

  William nodded. "Okay."

  Ella pulled his shirt higher on his body, ensuring he was covered. "We don't know much about him yet. We don't know who he might tell."

  "I'll hide it, Mom," William said. "I promise."

  William smiled, then broke away and resumed inspecting the wall.

  Chapter 16: Ella

  Ella sat next to Bray on the steps of the ancient building, chewing her nails. The warmth of the mid-day sun couldn't erase the nervous chill in her bones. She studied the cracked, upheaved road. A squirrel skittered over a vine-covered wall, appraising them before dipping out of sight. They'd left the barrier behind them partially uncovered.