The Last Survivors Box Set

by Bobby Adair

  Beck hadn’t troubled himself to think about how he’d find his way through the woods. Having lived his whole life with marked roads in a town he knew well, and being a man of high intellect, he assumed he’d figure it out by watching the direction the army traveled. Now he’d lost his sense of direction. The frenzy of the escape had confused him. As he stood in the shadows of the moonlight, wanting badly to go home to Brighton, he had no idea which way to travel. He only knew that the army had marched a half day prior to settling down to set up camp for the night. So Brighton was a half-day in some direction from where he stood in the woods.

  On the question of food and water, Beck hadn’t had time to grab provisions. The escape had been a spur of the moment decision, brought on by opportunity and fear. If he got lost in the forest and wandered for days, food and water would become an increasingly urgent need. If he came across a river or a stream, he could drink, but he had no clue how to catch a rabbit or a bird. He didn’t know what a berry bush looked like. He didn’t know which trees bore nuts.

  Beck spun in a slow circle, looking at what little he could make out in the dark: trees, shrubs, and shadows.

  Could he even find his way back to camp? Had he already lost that option?

  He wasn’t sure.

  Beck chastised himself. To go back was to admit cowardice. It was an admission of failure. It was likely to lead to his death. General Blackthorn might put him on a pyre as punishment.

  Beck stepped quietly in the direction he’d been moving.

  He decided he’d know where the demons were because they were noisy. Their problem. Beck knew he could be quiet. That was the advantage of intellect. He’d already figured something out that was important to staying alive. Maybe the most important thing. Silence saves lives.

  His confidence growing with each step, Beck realized that his worries were magnifying the problems he was facing. He started to keep count of all the noises he heard in the woods. He tried to guess how far they were from him, and in which directions they moved. Tracking all the noises that he assumed were demons, he kept busy until he came to a creek and stopped.

  He knelt by the water, feeling pretty good at already having found a solution to one of his problems. Impending thirst.

  A sound of splashing from down the creek didn’t sound like water running over rocks or cascading off of ledges. It sounded like feet. That got his attention.

  For a time much longer than he should have, he squatted on the bank of the creek, watching the water’s silvery surface disappear far downstream around a high bank. The sound came from down there, and it seemed to grow louder.

  He breathed deliberate breaths and told himself not to let his panic rise again. The sound could be the creek flowing over rocks, and his imagination was making it louder.

  Still, he couldn’t take his eyes away from where the creek disappeared around a bend.

  A howl echoed up the creek.

  Beck’s breath caught in his throat.

  Grunts and yelps mixed with the splashes. A handful of demons were coming up the creek.

  It was time to panic.

  Beck leaped across the water and slipped in the mud on the other side. He scrambled to hold onto roots and pull himself up the steep bank. Muddy stones rolled down and splashed into the water. A branch snapped in his hand. Dry leaves on a small bush rattled. Beck got a handful of a thorny plant, cursed under his breath as he let go, and rolled onto level ground at the top edge of the bank with his feet still hanging over the edge.

  The noise from up the bank stopped.

  Beck looked far downstream. Two demons stood in the water, their misshapen, wart-covered heads silhouetted by the moonlight. Beck froze and held his breath. Maybe they hadn’t seen him.

  One howled and sprinted.

  Beck didn’t need to know what that meant. Instinct took over, and he scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as he could.

  Chapter 17: Melora

  When Melora opened her eyes, her brother was slipping back under his blanket.

  “William?” she whispered.

  She sat upright, certain she was dreaming. But the guilty look on William’s face showed her she wasn’t. An early morning sun had replaced the moon through the cracks in the ceiling. William’s face was red from the cold. He looked around, meeting her eyes for a second before pulling the blanket over his head, lying perfectly still.

  “William?” she whispered again.

  Melora wiped the sleep from her eyes. She looked through the archway, wondering if Bray or Ella had seen what she had. Ella was facing the other direction under her blanket. Bray sat hunched against the wall, his sword in his lap, his eyes closed.

  What had William been doing?

  Melora sat upright, contemplating waking the others.

  “William?” she whispered again.

  No answer.

  Maybe he’d been going to the bathroom. That might explain the guilty look in his eyes. Perhaps he was embarrassed.

  Melora lay back down on the floor and closed her eyes. She listened until she heard the rhythmic sound of William breathing again. It seemed like he’d fallen back asleep. Whatever he’d been doing, he didn’t appear to be hurt.

  She’d talk to him about it in the morning.

  Chapter 18: Oliver

  Oliver sat on a log, watching. The sun wasn’t up yet, but its light had turned the cold sky from black to gray. The fire blazed tall with branches and logs added through the night. Winthrop, his voice hoarse from babbling, still murmured and laid his hands in the blood of the dead demons scattered around. Earlier, when the sky was still a blanket of black sparkled with stars and the demons still ran through the camp, Winthrop had drafted the women nearby. He declared them priestesses and laid his bloody hands on their cheeks. They followed Winthrop around the fire. They knelt when he knelt. They chanted when he chanted. They stood when he stood.

  All through the night, men kept coming in for his blessing. Oliver had no guess as to how many of the militiamen wore Winthrop’s bloody handprints on their chests, but it was more than the few hundred that had started gathering around the fire at the beginning of the night.

  Curious about the camp now that the morning light was coming, Oliver stood on his log and looked around. The rushing and running had come to an end. No more demons afoot. No more came out of the woods. Men walked aimlessly, some proud and tired, others dragging their weapons on the ground, exhausted by their first night outside the circle wall.

  The familiar smell of burned wood and burned flesh floated with the smoke. Demon carcasses were being burned elsewhere in the camp. Nobody was cooking breakfast.

  Oliver realized how tired he was after having gone the night without a wink of sleep. He remembered stories he’d heard when he was small about heroes in the cavalry who’d gone days and days without sleep during their demon wars. Oliver didn’t see how that was possible at the time.

  Now he did.

  He looked around for the cavalrymen and saw some on horses patrolling the perimeter. He looked toward General Blackthorn’s great tent, standing out near the edge of the camp. Men and horses were there, but they were all too far away for Oliver to identify individuals. Blackthorn might be sitting on his horse there by his tent, or he might be inside, sleeping. Or he might be dead.

  Not likely. Half the people in Brighton believed he couldn’t be killed.

  Oliver hopped off the log and sat back down. He didn’t know what was going to come of the day, whether Blackthorn was going to march the army or rest it. Either way, nothing was going to happen soon. None of the tents were taken down. Nobody had eaten yet. If the army was going to march, it would take hours to get it organized and get moving.

  Oliver took one more look around to make sure no demons were still around. Satisfied that they weren’t, he unrolle
d his blanket, laid it on the ground beside the log, curled up on top of it, and pulled it over his body.

  Chapter 19: Ivory

  Ivory gripped the edge of the strange metal contraption, listening to the keen of the wind and praying he wouldn’t pitch into the water. The night before had been terrifying, floating in the bay, watching the bear-man circle the beach until darkness blended him into the shadows. The thin blanket in Ivory’s bag had hardly kept him warm. Between the waning daylight and the lack of decent wind, Jingo hadn’t wanted to sail until morning.

  Now that the sun was up, they were moving.

  The towering, flapping piece of fabric above Ivory felt like some ancient monster, ready to come loose and enfold him in a deathly embrace. His face paled as the Ancient City receded to the north.

  “With the wind gusting, we should be able to get some momentum and escape the man on shore,” Jingo said. “But we’ll keep to the coastline. We’ll travel south for a while.”

  “Okay,” Ivory said, his hands shaking.

  “There’s no need to be scared,” Jingo said, seeing his nervousness. He pulled at the ropes and cords of the ancient device in some pattern Ivory didn’t understand.

  “What if we tip over and fall into the water?” Ivory asked nervously.

  “We won’t. This thing was made to stay afloat as long as you operate it correctly. See this?” Jingo pointed to the piece of fabric, which he’d pulled taut using the ropes. “The sail was meant to run on the wind. I made it myself.”

  Ivory watched the bear-man on the distant banks, skulking back and forth. After a while, he faded into a distant dot and disappeared as they sailed further out. The danger of being caught had been superseded by the hazard of falling into the ocean and drowning in the bottomless water.

  A gust of wind carried them even farther.

  “What if an animal reaches out from the ocean to grab us?” Ivory asked, peering cautiously over the edge of the floating object, watching it churn through the water, thinking he’d see a pair of eyes staring back at him. All he could think about were the species Jingo had told him about.

  “Don’t worry. The creatures that live in the water don’t have hands. You don’t have to worry about them, as long as we stay on the boat.”

  “I’ve never been this far from the shore.” Ivory chewed his lip. Although he’d swum in the River of Brighton, as some of the more rebellious youth did, he’d never strayed far enough to put his trust in the current.

  “At one time, millions of ships sailed on the ocean. Remember I told you about them?” Jingo asked.

  “Tech Magic,” Ivory whispered.

  “I know you think they’re Tech Magic, but they were pretty common.”

  “I thought all the Ancients’ contraptions decayed over time. How does this one still function?” Ivory asked with a frown.

  Jingo pointed at the compound bow, which Ivory was still clutching in his lap. “The hull is made of aluminum, like your bow. That’s why it didn’t rust. Of course, I had to do some work on it.”

  “The hull…?”

  “The bottom of the ship. I haven’t sailed this ship before now. I was waiting to take our first trip together.”

  Ivory felt a swell of gratitude. “I appreciate your waiting for me. Is this what you do all day in the Ancient City? Work on ancient boats and other devices?”

  “Among other things,” Jingo said. The look of pride in his eyes showed that he hadn’t taken offense to Ivory’s remark.

  “If I knew such wondrous things were possible, I’d never leave the Ancient City. I’d never go back to Brighton.”

  Looking out over the water, Ivory couldn’t focus on any one thing. The dark blue water was as awe-inspiring as the boat they were riding on. The massive, plant-fused buildings were smaller—but no less impressive—than when Ivory had looked at them from the shore. Massive towers dotted the land in various sizes, losing their imperfections, such that Ivory could imagine the Ancient City as it must’ve looked all those years ago to the people who had inhabited it.

  “The boat is the surprise you wanted to show me,” Ivory reiterated.

  “Yes.” Jingo let loose one of the ropes as a gust of wind ripped through the sail. “We were lucky that we reached it before the bear-man got to us yesterday.”

  “How does it work? Can I learn?”

  “I’ll show you once we clear the Ancient City.”

  “Okay.”

  The boat rocked and swayed as they navigated the water, cutting through the ocean as neatly as someone might walk over land. Ivory had never traveled so fast. If someone had told him he’d glide over the ocean one day, he’d never have believed it.

  And now look at me…

  Finding a burst of courage—and relaxing now that they were rid of the bear-man—Ivory let go of the edge and dangled his arm off the side of the ship, letting the cold wind ripple through the fabric of his shirt. A tingle of exhilaration drifted through his body. The Cleansings of Brighton and the teeth of the demons had never felt so far away.

  “How long have you been working on this?” Ivory asked.

  Jingo let out a laugh. “Quite some time,” he said. “I haven’t sailed in many years.”

  “You haven’t?” Ivory asked with shock.

  “Not since I was very young. But I’ve been reading books.”

  A heavy gust of wind took the sail, drowning out the end of Jingo’s sentence. Ivory waited until it subsided before speaking again.

  “We could live out here,” Ivory marveled. “No demons or soldiers or bear-men to contend with ever again!”

  “The ocean is a very dangerous place,” Jingo warned. “Without navigation systems to tell us where we’re going, and with no access to weather forecasts, we’d be risking our lives with each trip. That’s why we have to stick to the coastline.”

  “I don’t understand half of what you just said.”

  Jingo smiled patiently. “The Ancients used to have ways to predict the weather, and to tell them where they were headed. They had devices to tell them where to go.”

  “I can’t imagine that.” Ivory waved to the vast ocean. He thought for a moment. “There must be other people out here, perhaps doing the same thing we are, right? What if we run into them? There could be other people we’ve never met out here.”

  “Without those systems, it’d be very risky for anyone to travel.” Jingo pointed to the distant shore, where waves crashed against the banks. “The power of the ocean is beautiful, but also deadly. If you get caught in a storm, you might never make it back.”

  Ivory stared at the blue ocean, feeling the urge to reach out and dip his fingers in the swells. “We could make it work. Why not try? We could be free of the townships. Free of everything!”

  “The idea is tempting,” Jingo admitted.

  “I don’t see ever returning to Brighton, or to Beck. We can find a place where there are no demons. Maybe we’ll even find more people. Imagine what they could teach us!”

  “I suspect most of the world is the same as here,” Jingo said cryptically.

  “You mean most people are demons?”

  “Yes. Most. And besides, there is still more to be done in Brighton and the other townships.”

  “I don’t understand,” Ivory said, his hope deflating. He’d always felt that Jingo expected something from him, but he still wasn’t sure what. “We already know what’s back there. We have no idea what’s out here.”

  Ivory waved a hand at the endless swath of ocean, hoping to convince his teacher. Jingo peered out over the water, letting the sail go and reducing speed. The wind died, leaving them to float gracefully. They remained in silence for a few moments, taking in the tranquil landscape and the distant land. Ivory already knew the argument was over.

  “My fa
ther and my uncle are dead,” Ivory tried, tears stinging his eyes. “Brighton seems to be getting worse and worse. And the man chasing us is a threat to both of us. We might have lost him now, but he’ll find us again. He’ll discover our books. He’ll bring others.”

  “That may be true, but there’s a chance what you’ll find out there is worse.” Jingo waved his hand at the ocean and distant land, a solemn expression on his face.

  Chapter 20: Beck

  Exhausted and panting, Beck leaned against a tree. His face dripped with sweat despite the cold. His knees were ready to buckle. He looked up the game trail he’d been running on. The demons were out of sight, but they were still back there, following.

  Damn beasts. Can they run forever?

  Beck knew he couldn’t.

  Much earlier, Beck had tried hiding among some rocks at the base of a cliff. He’d gotten a chance to rest, but the respite had nearly cost him his life when the demons realized they’d lost their quarry and retraced their path. Beck had been so exhausted by then that he convinced himself that he’d succeeded in evading the demons and wasn’t paying attention to the sounds around him.

  By the time he realized the demons had come back, his only path of escape was to scale the sheer wall of rock. The damn demons came right up after him, forcing him to climb faster than was safe. By some miracle, he made it to the top just ahead of snapping teeth. He ran into the trees.

  Beck eventually found another stream and he’d run down that for a good part of the night, but didn’t lose the demons on his trail.

  He thought about climbing a tree and gave up on that idea almost immediately. A tree was a dead end.