The Last Survivors Box Set

by Bobby Adair

  Bray grinned. Ella shot upright, stifling a scream. She stumbled backward. She raised her sword. When she recognized Bray, she yelled, “You bastard!”

  Melora and William rose to their feet, looking startled and confused. When they saw Bray, their faces lit up.

  “You shaved!” Melora observed.

  Bray stroked his chin. “I almost forgot what I looked like underneath.” To Ella, he asked, “What do you think?”

  She pursed her lips but didn’t answer.

  “How was the trip to Coventry?” William asked. “I wish you’d told me. I would’ve come.”

  Bray strolled up to the group, grinning as Ella composed herself. He unslung his pack and put it on the ground. From inside, he pulled out several stuffed pouches of dried pork, a bunch of carrots, and some apples.

  “Is that for us?” Melora asked, unable to contain her surprise.

  “Yep. Eat what you want.”

  William gratefully snagged an apple, and Melora did the same. Ella watched her children eat for a minute without taking anything. An irritated expression started to form on her face.

  “Have some, Ella,” Bray said. “You need to keep up your strength.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not having any?”

  “I got my fill in town.”

  “I bet you did.” Ella frowned as she took an apple, crunching into it.

  “I even bathed for you.”

  “It’s nice to bathe once in a while,” Ella said. A slight smile crossed her face. “How was it in town? Did you see any soldiers?” Her smile morphed to concern as she noticed the cuts. “What happened to your face?”

  Bray took his time answering. He grabbed a strip of pork and munched on it while he tucked the rest of the food back in his bag. Then he settled down and rested on his haunches.

  “A little tiff. Nothing to worry about.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” Ella said, looking away.

  “To answer the question you asked before that, I did see a few soldiers, but they didn’t seem to know anything about you. Or at least, not that I heard. I didn’t linger, though.” Bray bit off a piece of pork. “I did hear something else. It sounds like General Blackthorn is raising the troops for an expedition.”

  “What kind of expedition?”

  “No one knew. But they took the opportunity to screw the Wardens on skins.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The prices went down again. As if they weren’t low enough already.”

  “Oh.” Ella looked at the ground. She took another bite of apple.

  “I smell demons. Did you run into them?” Bray looked around the forest.

  “Yes. Five of them,” Ella said.

  “Where are they?”

  She pointed in the opposite direction, but Bray didn’t see anything moving. “Did they run off?”

  “No. We took care of them,” Ella said simply.

  Bray smiled. Her dress, which had been clean before he left, was stained with demon blood. “You’re learning. You’re almost a Skin-Seller. All I need to do is teach you to cut scalps.”

  “I left the scalps for you,” she replied without looking.

  “We can trade them in town when we come back through. Maybe we can split the coin among us.”

  “Consider it payment for the food.” Ella finished her apple before wiping her hands on her skirt.

  William stared at Bray and Ella, amused by the conversation. He had finished his food. “Are we leaving soon?” he asked. “I’m bored of this place.”

  “Yep.” Bray stroked his chin as he peered toward the east. “I’m going to skin those demons, then we’ll head to the Ancient City. If you’d like, I can show you how to cut off the scalps.”

  “I’d like that,” William said. “I’d like that very much.”

  Chapter 53: Franklin

  “I don’t want another girl from The House of Barren Women!” Winthrop’s bark made him sound like an oversized merchant’s son, complaining for another meal he didn’t need. “Fitzgerald belongs to me. I earned her. I want her.”

  Franklin glanced over his shoulder at Winthrop’s bedchamber door, wishing he’d closed it all the way. The girl he’d brought from The House stood outside in the hall, hearing every word of Father Winthrop’s tantrum. He’d said no ugly whore from that House was as beautiful as Fitzgerald. He’d said all the rest of them were dusty-crotched, toothless hags with coarse horsehair and calloused man-hands.

  He wanted Fitzgerald.

  Winthrop whined that he didn’t want to give his manly gift to another strange woman, who knew not how to please him and was too stupid to learn. He was tired of talking and telling. He wanted to lie on his back and revel in pleasure. He wanted to hear the voice he’d become accustomed to in his ear. He liked a particular taste on his tongue and a special smell in his nose. A new girl meant new smells and new tastes.

  He wanted Fitzgerald.

  “I tried to wake her, Father.” Franklin had told the lie so many times now it sounded true. “She’s been delirious with the fever.”

  “I’ve waited all day,” Winthrop shouted.

  “She’s puking,” said Franklin. “She’s covered in it. She smells foul. And she can’t get to the outhouse on time.”

  “Wash her and bring her here.”

  “And if she dies?” Franklin asked, very much afraid that Fitzgerald might be dead. He hadn’t seen her since he left the temple to go to the market a few days ago. When he returned, she was gone. He’d assumed she was somewhere in the temple doing her chores. As the day wore on, and he hadn’t seen her, he became worried. He searched the whole of the building and didn’t find her. He asked the working girls. No one had seen her since that morning. None had seen her leave. She’d just disappeared.

  Franklin had even gone out into the town square in front of the temple and asked if anyone had seen her. No one had.

  He concluded finally that Fitzgerald was in Winthrop’s bedchamber, so he’d made up an excuse to knock and quickly let himself in. As much as it irked Franklin to find Fitzgerald in Winthrop’s company, he panicked when he saw only Winthrop inside, still in his chair, reeking from days without a bath, in a hot room with a big fire.

  Before Franklin could escape, Winthrop had demanded that he bring Fitzgerald to him.

  That’s when Franklin knew he had a problem. He’d concocted the story about Fitzgerald being ill, and told Father Winthrop that he’d have to go to The House of Barren Women for a substitute. He all but ran out the door with Winthrop hollering after him that he didn’t want anybody but Fitz.

  Franklin’s hope as he’d come up with the idea of going to The House was that he might find Fitz there, her having chosen to escape back to a less unpleasant place than the temple.

  Sadly, she wasn’t at The House of Barren Women. Franklin had asked the Housemother, Mary, several times, even going as far as to threaten the woman. At the end, she’d offered to let him search The House for as long as he liked. Then she’d cackled a lot, and reminded Franklin what a fool he’d been to defend the thieving whore.

  Franklin ignored most of it as his temper burned. When he finished his search, he grabbed the first young-looking woman he saw and dragged her out with him. Father Winthrop needed something. If he was in the mood and Franklin couldn’t produce Fitzgerald, then he damn well better have a substitute.

  “Boy!” Winthrop yelled. “Boy, listen to me!”

  “Sorry, Father.”

  “Spend your time daydreaming when you’re in your room, not when you’re with me,” Winthrop told Franklin. “Do what I say. Do it now.”

  Franklin looked at the riding crop with which he’d been forced to beat Oliver. He thought about picking it up from where it leaned on the wall next to the bed a
nd beating Winthrop. He was tired of listening. He should be spending his time in search of Fitzgerald, though he was out of guesses on where to look and what to do.

  He was sick with worry that something terrible had happened to her. He was heartbroken at the possibility that she’d given up on Brighton, him, and their plan, that she’d gone over the wall, that she was free, and that she was happy.

  Franklin spun around and went into the hall, slamming Winthrop’s door closed behind him.

  Panting from exertion and anger, Franklin looked at the Barren Woman standing there waiting, a girl not much older than him. Her face conveyed her fright. Franklin felt bad for her, but she wasn’t his problem. “He’s in a foul mood, but you’ve no need to fear. He won’t hurt you. He’s not that kind of man.”

  Mostly true.

  The girl looked at the closed door. She didn’t believe Franklin.

  Franklin looked at his feet and huffed, feeling the urgent need to rush off and find Fitz.

  He looked back up at the girl and took on an authoritative tone. “Take off your dress and anything you might be wearing underneath. Do it now.”

  The girl didn’t hesitate. She’d been told by men to do that too many times in her young life.

  Once her clothes were on the floor, Franklin picked them up and folded and stacked them outside the door. “You’ll go inside. Don’t say anything, not at first. He likes to do all the talking. Go over by the fire, stand there, and let him see you.” Franklin looked her up and down. She was young, and she was pretty. She was exactly the kind of girl Winthrop would ask for. “He’ll like you. Believe me on that. When he sees you…” Franklin nodded. “He just needs a minute.”

  Franklin put a hand on the girl’s shoulder and steered her toward the door. “He may ask you to start talking once he decides that he likes you, and he will decide it. Trust me. When you start talking, don’t say anything of any importance. He doesn’t want to think. He just wants to hear your voice. He likes the sound of a girl’s voice before he beds her. He’s odd that way. When he’s ready, he’ll put you on top, so you don’t need to worry about being squeezed to death under his fat belly.” Franklin smiled and cocked his head, hoping to lighten the girl’s mood with the smallest of silver linings. “He usually finishes quick, though sometimes he goes twice.”

  The girl nodded her understanding.

  “When he’s done,” said Franklin, “he may ask you to stay. As often as not, he does that.” Franklin shook his head emphatically. “The girls almost never stay the night. Wait until you hear him snore, and then let yourself out. Your clothes will be here, just as they are now. Come and find me here in the temple. I’ll walk you back to The House. Do you understand?”

  The girl nodded.

  Franklin opened the door.

  Winthrop bellowed.

  The naked girl walked in, and Franklin closed the door behind her. He looked up and down the gloomy hall, wondering what he was going to do next.

  Where was Fitz?

  Chapter 54: Fitzgerald

  Sobbing, Fitz sat on the floor beside the fireplace, leaning against the warm stones. Her dress lay on the floor beneath the table. She wanted to pull it over her head, bind all those buttons to cover her shame, and run from Blackthorn’s dining room. She wanted to feel the cold stones of the town square under her bare feet, and she wanted the cold wind to sting her skin. She felt shame for what she’d done, though she couldn’t explain to herself why her heart hurt so much over it.

  Tenbrook’s fists had bruised her, and his teeth had bitten her through the most brutal sexual encounter of her life. None of the rumors she’d heard about Tenbrook were exaggerated. Once his pants fell to the floor, he behaved as if he’d transformed into one of the demons, intent on satisfying his need, hurting her as a means to do so.

  Now, it seemed as though everything hurt. She bled where she shouldn’t be bleeding, where Tenbrook’s animal bites had broken the skin and made her scream. Each scream had only seemed to give him more pleasure.

  Fitz told herself that the pain she was enduring was no worse than what Winthrop had forced Franklin to do to Oliver, not just once, but a hundred times.

  What she’d done was the right thing.

  Crawling across the floor to retrieve her dress, the pain made her wonder if she might die, right there in General Blackthorn’s dining hall.

  Chapter 55: Ivory

  The thought that Jingo might be in danger hit Ivory a few miles from the Ancient City. He hadn’t spotted the bear-man since he’d led him to the animal’s lair, but he had a sudden, irrational concern that something had happened to his teacher during his absence.

  Because of his fear for Jingo’s safety, he barely noticed his surroundings as he exited the forest and entered the city outskirts. He climbed among cracked, uprooted Ancient stones and patches of ice where the snow had melted and refrozen, traveling on muscle memory, hardly looking up at the massive, looming buildings above him. In several areas, the street had caved into dangerous pits, and he traveled the outskirts, slowing his steps just enough to avoid falling into one of them. Demon cries pierced the air in the distance, reminding him of the renewed dangers that accompanied his arrival.

  Even without the threat of the bear-man, he worried about his teacher, sitting alone in the Ancient City. Although the demons didn’t pay much attention to Jingo, he seemed frail, and he often complained about the pain in his joints. What if Jingo fell off of one of the collapsed buildings?

  Who would check on Jingo besides Ivory?

  In spite of Ivory’s worry, the old teacher had never given him cause for concern. Jingo rarely seemed afraid for his safety. In fact, Jingo was more worried about the people of Brighton than himself. Ivory didn’t understand why the man wasn’t bitter about his condition. As jaded as Ivory was with Brighton, at least he could walk the streets free from swinging swords and women’s terrified screams.

  Soon Ivory was scrambling up the cracked, broken steps of Jingo’s tower, sucking winded breaths as he ascended the floors. He navigated the damaged staircases until he reached the top layer, searching for his teacher.

  Ivory was relieved to find Jingo perched on a flat piece of Ancient stone. He looked contemplative, rather than surprised, at Ivory’s quick return. Sometimes Ivory thought his teacher could sense him coming miles away. Perhaps his teacher had been tracking his progress through the city, preparing for his arrival.

  “Hello, Ivory,” Jingo said. “You seem nervous. And you’re all scraped up. What happened?”

  Ivory bent over, fighting for breath. “I—I…”

  “You lost your bow…” Jingo noticed, concerned.

  Ivory stood up straight. He looked at the knife in his hand, then glanced over his shoulder at his backpack, which was missing the weapon he normally had strapped to it.

  “I took a fall, and it shattered,” Ivory said. “I couldn’t save it.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay. Just some scrapes and bruises.” Ivory lowered his eyes.

  “What happened? How did you fall? You are normally very careful.”

  “A man was after me. He picked up my trail after I left Brighton. I’m not sure who he is, but I set a trap for him in the woods. I don’t think he followed me here.”

  Jingo furrowed his brow. He peered across the horizon and into the Ancient City. Aside from a few circling birds, nothing moved, but Ivory heard the distant wail of what could only be a demon.

  “You’re sure you lost him?”

  “I think so. I heard him fall into my trap.”

  “A trap?” Jingo asked.

  “I saw tracks in the woods. There was some kind of animal out there, waiting in a cave, and I led the man to it.”

  “What kind of animal?”

  Ivory paused, afraid his tea
cher might not believe him. “A woodland cat, I think. The ones I’ve heard about, but have never seen.”

  “Ahhh.” Jingo stroked his beardless chin. He tilted his wart-covered head. “A puma.”

  “A puma? I’ve never heard that word before.”

  “That’s because the people of today don’t know it.” Jingo took a deep breath before speaking. Ivory took a seat, knowing he was about to receive a lesson. “A few hundred years ago, the wild was much different. Many of the animals you rarely see today were plentiful back then.”

  “The puma was one of them?”

  “Sort of. A few hundred years ago, the puma was rarely seen in these parts. But over time, some of them migrated from other areas and came here.”

  “I see,” Ivory said.

  “That’s not how all of them got here. Some of them escaped.”

  “Escaped from what?”

  Jingo lowered his head. “The Ancients.”

  “You mean the Ancients kept them captive?”

  Jingo nodded slowly. “Yes, the way we might keep a chicken or goat before the slaughter. Back then, the Ancients kept animals in metal boxes with holes in the side so that they could admire them. Some of these animals came from across the sea. Some were from parts of the Earth that we no longer travel to.”

  “I can’t believe that. How did they get loose?”

  “When the spores spread, some of the Ancients took pity on the creatures and set them free. Others escaped through means of their own. It was a trying time for both beast and man. Some of the creatures survived in the wild. Others didn’t.”

  “I wish I could see some of these creatures.”

  “I can show you a book, if I can find it.” Jingo frowned as if he was trying to determine its location. “The truth is, I’m not sure which creatures exist out in the wild anymore. Some you might never see. Others, like the puma you came across, might still be out there. And still others have bred together, making some new hybrid species of animal.”