The Last Humanity (The Last Survivors Book 3)
Page 22
"Please," said Tommy Dunlow, "I only mention that because I wish to restore my family to favor. We wish to stand shoulder to shoulder with the General and show our loyalty."
"Most men would actually stand shoulder to shoulder to show their loyalty," said Tenbrook, "rather than hide in alleyways and talk about it. Why aren't you with your cohort? Are you a deserter, here to beg forgiveness for your cowardice?"
Shaking his head, Tommy Dunlow said, "I've been invited into a plot to overthrow the government during General Blackthorn's absence. I've been assured that the General will not return. I think he will be murdered."
Tommy Dunlow had Tenbrook's attention now. "How many people are involved in this plot?"
"Two hundred."
"All deserters?" Tenbrook asked.
Tommy Dunlow nodded as he said, "All but one."
"And who is this one?" asked Tenbrook.
"The ringleader."
"Does this ringleader have a name?"
"He does," said Tommy Dunlow. "It is Scholar Evan."
Chapter 70: Oliver
Oliver stood in the temple, watching Franklin pace the stage with an ashen face. Franklin didn't notice Oliver for almost a full minute. When he finally did, he said to Oliver, "I didn't see you at the ceremony."
"When you burned Father Nelson?" Oliver spat the words as a challenge. He hadn't intended to confront Franklin about it, but his anger won out. "Just because I didn't let Blackthorn march me out into the square with the rest of you doesn't mean I missed it. I saw what you did."
"I had to." Franklin's voice trembled.
"You have to do a lot of things you subsequently say you'd prefer not to."
Franklin turned away and paced to the end of the stage before turning back toward Oliver. The threadbare Bishop's robe hanging on his shoulders dragged the floor as he paced. In a despondent voice, he said, "I thought you'd left."
"Soon." Oliver stepped up the stairs onto the stage, looking Franklin up and down as he did. "Where'd you get that?"
Franklin looked down at himself as he came to a stop in front of Oliver. "I found it in a closet in Father Winthrop's chamber. It belonged to Bishop Garrett."
"The Bishop before Father Winthrop?" Oliver asked as he leaned close to sniff.
"He died long before you were born," said Franklin.
With a sour look on his face, Oliver said, "It smells like Winthrop."
"Everything in there does." Normally Franklin might've harbored a smile, but not today. Oliver watched him tug the robe to adjust it on his shoulders.
"Are you going to have a new one made?" Oliver asked.
Franklin didn't answer. He looked toward the temple doors. Oliver followed his gaze. Out in the square, the cavalry was forming up. The ministers were waiting. His face showed his nervousness. Finally Franklin said, "I don't know that I should."
"Why?" asked Oliver.
"What if Father Winthrop returns?" Franklin grimaced. "I'm afraid to take the risk. If he thinks I had a robe made for myself because I want to remain Bishop, it'll go badly."
Oliver put a hand on the dagger now hanging in its sheath outside his pants. His small knife and his chainmail lay hidden under his garments. "I don't think Father Winthrop will return."
"Why do you say that?" His attention roamed to Oliver's hand resting on the hilt of the dagger. "What are you planning, Oliver?"
"You were always my friend, Franklin. Don't speak to me like I'm a child."
Franklin inched closer. "I'm not. I'm speaking to you as your friend. You've had hate in your eyes since—"
Franklin couldn't say it, and Oliver didn't mind. He didn't want to hear the words. The memory of Franklin's betrayal hurt more than the sores still oozing pus down his back. It hurt almost as much as watching what Franklin had done to Father Nelson out on the pyre.
Stoking his courage, Oliver stood up straight. "I'm not running away, not yet. I'm marching out with the militia. And I need you to help me. Remember what you promised me? You said you'd assist me in any way I needed."
Franklin mouth stuck open in disbelief as he formulated a protest.
Before he could voice an argument, Oliver said, "I need you to send me out with the soldiers. If anyone asks why, say that you sent me with Father Winthrop so I could tend to his needs. No one will question it."
"They won't, I don't think. But why would you want to do that?" Franklin's eyes turned from worry to pleading. "If you go out with them, there's a good chance you'll die."
"I know that," said Oliver. "If I was a full grown man, it might make what I have to do easier. But I'll get it done. I'll do what I have planned. All I'll tell you is to make your new robe."
Oliver turned and walked down the stairs.
"Wait!" Franklin cried, leaving the stage and following after him. " What does that mean? I have to get out to the dais. The other ministers are already waiting. You can't leave without explaining."
"There's nothing more to be said." Oliver looked over his shoulder. When he was sure no one was listening, he pulled Franklin close. In a cold, determined voice, one with enough harshness to let Franklin know he was serious, he said, "Out there in the wilds with the militia, I'll find the right time, and I'm killing Father Winthrop."
Chapter 71: Tenbrook
Tenbrook stood on the dais between Franklin in his laughable old frock and Evan under his transparent disguise of loyalty. The formalities were all completed. The announcements all made. The cheers that had once echoed off the walls of the square had dampened, giving way to the sobs of crying women and the clomping of hooves.
General Blackthorn rode tall in his saddle toward the road out of town. Just to his right, but definitely behind, rode Minister Beck, looking awkward and pretentious at the same time. Father Winthrop balanced precariously atop the sturdiest horse in town. Tenbrook suspected the horse would not live to see the Ancient City. What horse could bear such a burden for long?
The cavalry lined themselves behind the ministers in double-file, following them out. People up the street cheered anew. Tenbrook felt a surge of elation. He ached for the anticipation of glory that he always felt when he led his squadron out to battle the demons. But he'd have to set those pleasures aside. He was in a new role now, one with exceedingly more complex problems to solve and more devious enemies to fight. He glanced over at Evan. The scholar watched the procession with a placid face. Who else was involved in his seditious scheme? Was Franklin? Were others in the Academy? Tommy Dunlow had said nothing of the clergy, but Tenbrook had already decided he wouldn't leave that question to chance. He'd find out exactly who the traitors were. He had plenty of ways to convince men to divulge their secrets.
In the coming days, he'd use all of them.
LOOK OUT FOR THE LAST SURVIVORS BOOK 4 COMING SOON!
A Tiny Story About Reviews
"But daddy, why do you need eleventy-zillion reviews for your book?"
"My sweet little lima bean, daddy doesn't need quite that many, maybe a few hundred or a thousand would do the trick?"
"What trick, daddy?"
"Silly sweetie pie, daddy wants to buy you a vintage Cabbage Patch Kid for your birthday but because Stephen King is cornering the market on reviews, daddy can't afford one."
"I don't understand why Stephen King put all the reviews in the corner and won't share them?"
"He's mean to his reviews and smashes their feet with a sledgehammer so they can't ever go to another author."
Sniffle. Sniffle.
"Don't cry, pumpkin. Don't be frightened. Some of those poor, disabled, five-star reviews might drag their mangled, bloody legs out of Stephen King's torture chamber and find their way to daddy's new novel."
"That's okay, daddy. I don't need a vintage Cabbage Patch Kid. You can buy me a box full of nothing like you did on my last birthday."
"But I still need to buy my new prosthetic feet. Without lots of reviews, I can't do that either and if I can't do that, I'll never be able to dance at your wedd
ing when you grow up."
"If only there was another way, daddy. If only somehow readers could just go out to the site where they purchased the book and click on a star rating. That way, it wouldn't matter how many little golden stars Stephen King smashed with his sledgehammer."
"That's what I love about you, sweetie pie. You're a dreamer."
MAKE OUR DREAMS COME TRUE AND LEAVE A REVIEW
...it only takes a minute and helps more than you can imagine. Thanks!
-Bobby and T.W.
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Typos
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If you find a typo in THE LAST HUMANITY, let us know at: http://www.bobbyadair.com/typos
Other Things To Read
Since Book 4 in The Last Survivors series isn't out yet…
If you'd like to read something else by T.W. Piperbrook, the CONTAMINATION series might be your thing. It's a fast-paced, action-oriented zombie series with a twist. Check out the CONTAMINATION BOXED SET (BOOKS 0-3) to start.
If you'd like to read something else by Bobby Adair, the Slow Burn series has racked up over 3,700 five-star reviews and has been topping the charts for nearly two years. If you're interested in an edge-of-your-seat page-turner to cleanse your reading palette after The Last Humanity, this could be a good choice. Check out the SLOW BURN BOXED SET (BOOKS 1-3) to start.
Text copyright © 2015, Bobby Adair & T.W. Piperbrook
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This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental.