The Last Survivors Box Set

by Bobby Adair

  As Ivory looked into the building, he realized that he smelled the cloying, pungent odor of the twisted men. Surprisingly, Jingo didn’t possess the same odor. Ivory swallowed.

  “I smell demons,” Bray noted. “Are you leading us into a trap?”

  “Why would I do that?” Ivory asked. “I’d be at as much risk as you.”

  “Good point,” Bray grunted, but he drew his sword anyway. “We should be careful.”

  Ivory looked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of Ella, Melora, and William. They looked nervous.

  “Hang behind us,” Bray told them.

  Ivory stepped into the building, listening for sounds of his teacher as he clutched his bow. The only sound he heard was a distant rumble. Looking up and behind him, he saw storm clouds gathering in the distance.

  “Looks like rain is coming,” Bray said. “Hurry up, before we get soaked.”

  Ivory proceeded further into the building. Dusty, broken rubble littered their path. The air smelled of decayed metals. He stepped over several piles of ancient stone—stone that Jingo had left there intentionally to trip up unwanted visitors—and made his way to the stairs. Operating on muscle memory, Ivory climbed the steps, skirting holes and steep edges that dropped into the building’s dark middle. Bray and the others followed closely behind. Ivory’s bag shifted on his back as he made progress.

  “Be careful,” he warned Bray. “There are a lot of places to fall here.”

  “Watch your step,” Bray relayed to the others.

  They remained quiet and anxious.

  Ivory recalled his first meeting with Jingo. He’d been terrified. His uncle had introduced them after a long trek from Brighton. Jingo’s appearance had horrified him, at first. Between the warts and his oddly shaped head, Jingo had seemed more suited for nightmares than friendship. Young Ivory had hidden behind his uncle, certain the strange creature would screech and attack. Instead, Jingo had spoken, and it was through those gentle words that Ivory learned to look past Jingo’s frightening appearance and accept him as a teacher.

  He hoped the same thing would happen for the others.

  They’d traveled about halfway up the building when Bray halted, stopping Ivory. He gestured out of a hole in the side of the building that was the size of a man. Ivory tensed.

  “I hear something,” Bray grunted.

  “Thunder,” Ivory reiterated.

  “Not thunder. Something else.”

  Ivory stopped and listened. A low rumble was drawing closer. Were those demon cries? Bray was right—it didn’t sound like any thunder he had ever heard. Ivory stared down at the streets and around some of the lower buildings, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise.

  “Over there!” Bray hissed, pointing a finger.

  Far below them, about a dozen blocks up the street, an army of bodies spilled forward. Ivory stared incredulously, unable to believe he was seeing something real. As the mob approached, he realized that what he thought was thunder was actually shouting and shrieking.

  It was people, fighting demons.

  He wiped his eyes. The men were bare-chested, covered in blood. The women were bedraggled and screaming. As they got closer, he saw them striking at demons that were pouring out of adjacent buildings and chasing them. The men and women slashed at them with swords and spears.

  “By the gods,” Ivory whispered.

  “Who are those people?” Bray asked, his voice cracking with unease that Ivory had never heard.

  “I don’t know,” Ivory said. “I’ve seen a few people in the Ancient City—another scavenger, occasionally—but never as many as this.”

  “Me, neither. Whoever they are, we need to make sure they don’t see us,” Bray said.

  Ivory glanced over his shoulder. Ella, Melora, and William had stopped. Their stiff postures showed that they were equally afraid. Suddenly, the situation with Jingo seemed less urgent than getting to safety.

  “Let’s get upstairs. There are plenty of places to hide, if we need them,” Ivory said.

  All at once, Ivory was leading the way, running around holes and divots, pointing out obstacles. Bray followed him without another word. The others kept a steady pace as they forged up the stairs, their breath heaving.

  “Stay away from the walls,” Ivory instructed.

  The last thing he needed was for the people outside to spot them. Whether it was a lunatic gang of settlers or some army from Brighton, he wasn’t sure. What kind of people covered themselves in blood, screaming and drawing up demons? And there were so many. A thousand. Maybe more. Disbelief caused him to keep racing up the stairs, hoping Jingo was at the top and that he’d know what to do.

  Ivory tried convincing himself the people wouldn’t come into the tower, but he couldn’t be certain. He patted the quiver at his side, prepared to nock an arrow. Soon they were mounting the last few rows of stairs. The noise abated. Looking out of a glassless window, Ivory saw the mysterious army take a turn and momentarily disappear from sight.

  “Where’d they go?” Bray asked, stopping and scanning the streets.

  “I don’t know. Follow me.” Ivory stepped off the stairwell into a large, secluded room with intact walls—the highest floor, other than the roof. Unlike the damp floors beneath them, this one smelled faintly of the spices that Jingo used to prepare meals. Ivory looked around at several blocks of concrete on which Jingo usually perched, noting a few wrinkled blankets draped over one of them, but he didn’t see many of his teacher’s usual belongings. The reading books that Jingo normally kept out were hidden. Normally Jingo tucked away his belongings if he wasn’t going to be home.

  “Is this where your demon friend lives?” Bray asked, disbelief on his face.

  “Yes.” Ivory crept through the room, noticing a few cooking utensils, but he saw no sign of Jingo.

  “Maybe these are your things,” Bray muttered as he examined a spoon.

  What if something had happened to Jingo? Ivory hadn’t seen him in days. What if the vicious mob had made off with him? What if he’d been killed, or fled the Ancient City?

  “He might be on the roof,” Ivory said, his stomach dropping as he considered the very real possibility that he’d never see his teacher again.

  “The army’s coming this way,” Bray noticed, as he followed Ivory to the staircase, glancing out of a small window in the side of the stairwell.

  Mounting the last few steps, Ivory skirted the stones and fallen debris that preceded the roof. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm as he stepped out under a gray, cloudy sky.

  “Jingo?” Ivory called across the roof.

  No answer. He looked in all directions. The roof was vacant. Lifeless. Blocks of cracked, ancient stone were arranged in various places across the roof where Jingo had moved them to get better views of the city. Or had Ivory?

  For a moment, Ivory considered the possibility that Jingo had never existed. What if my lonely mind, desperate for company, constructed a pale, wart-covered companion? He’d read books about types of illnesses that could affect the brain, other than the accepted threat of the demon spore. Ivory shook off the ridiculous thought.

  He looked across the bulky stones where he or Jingo used to sit or rest. His teacher was nowhere in sight. Ella, Melora, and William lingered at the top of the stairs as the cries from the streets grew louder. Looking over at Bray, Ivory saw the look of mistrust solidify.

  “There’s no demon,” Bray said. “Is there?”

  “Yes. He lives—” Ivory started to speak, then went quiet. In the distance, a demon emitted a dying screech. The men and women whooped unintelligibly.

  Ivory took a few steps across the roof, peering out over the city, finding the mass of screaming lunatics a few blocks away. They had made it to the top of the street.

  Bray stared
at Ivory. It took a moment for Ivory to realize Bray wasn’t staring at him, but at something else. Ivory spun to find Jingo emerging from behind a piece of ancient stone. Jingo cocked his wart-covered head as he appraised his visitors.

  “You brought others,” Jingo said simply.

  Chapter 44: Franklin

  Franklin walked through the throngs of women, old men, and children in the marketplace as he approached the center of town.

  Some of the townsfolk were chatting; others were dealing or trading wares. Children weaved in and out of the crowds, laughing and swatting at each other. Merchants’ wives waved their hands as they tried to sell whatever products they were peddling. A few passersby recognized Franklin and fell into hushed whispers. Before his appointment as Bishop, he’d only received looks of disdain. Now he received plenty of notice.

  He looked around for Tenbrook’s soldiers, but didn’t see any. Franklin swallowed and looked at the sky. In the time he’d been walking, it had turned ominous with thick, gray clouds, threatening a storm. Hopefully he could beat the rain.

  Walking in the midst of the marketers, he stopped at a busy corner next to a stone building. He glanced at the nearest merchant, who was a half a building away. The woman paused in the middle of a deal and watched him. Heads turned as more people recognized Franklin; those people told others. A few people stopped in the middle of the road, realizing something was about to happen.

  Franklin looked around, feeling naked without his pulpit and his clergy. He swallowed.

  Forcing back the same nervousness that he felt at the Sanctuary, he cleared his throat and spoke.

  Projecting his voice above the crowds, he said, “The Word welcomes all who walk among the people of Brighton. Whether we are toiling in the fields, passing the ways of The Word to our children, or visiting from other towns and villages, we trust in our faith to lead us. We offer limitless praise to the gods.”

  More people stopped talking, their conversations trailing off.

  They watched Franklin in silence.

  “The Word says we should worship, no matter where we are, or what we are doing. It follows us from the pews of the Sanctuary to the streets of Brighton. It follows us through all the towns and villages, and through all the chores and tasks we must do.” He paused for breath. “It follows all our soldiers and militia in the wild, as they do battle with the demons.”

  Franklin paused, watching the curious but frightened faces of the crowd. No one responded. No one nodded. No one called out catechisms. The silence had become so deep that for a second, Franklin was convinced Tenbrook was standing behind him, waiting to strike him down.

  Out of nowhere, a woman shouted, “Praised be our brothers in battle!”

  Franklin’s heart leapt as he recognized the voice.

  Fitz.

  Emboldened, Franklin grew louder. “Our brothers, sisters, and relatives need our strength as they roam the wild while we remain in Brighton. We support them through our belief in The Word. It is up to us to keep our faith strong and our hearts hard. We all face hardships, but together we conquer them, using our spirit and our devotion to The Word.”

  “So sayeth The Word!” someone else yelled.

  Joseph.

  A few cheers erupted in the crowd from people Franklin didn’t recognize.

  The women in the front row nodded, swaying with building excitement. They clutched their children, slowly losing their fear. The old men grunted agreement. A few more people started yelling from the middle of the crowd, picking up on the energy of the others. The same power that Franklin had felt in the Sanctuary trickled back, filling him with a burst of righteousness. He continued talking with more fervor, as thunder rumbled in the clouds overhead and the first few patters of rain splashed into the street around him.

  Soon the crowd filtered from the surrounding streets, growing in number and surrounding Franklin. They shouted along with Franklin when they recognized familiar words. Even the merchants seemed to have stopped conducting business. Franklin’s confidence grew with each phrase, as if Tenbrook had never existed, as if he’d never killed those farmers or burned those men in the square. The crowd’s enthusiasm was a rising power that felt unstoppable.

  When the crowd cheered, Franklin spoke more loudly. When the crowd responded, he used their energy to guide him. Soon the rain was pelting them and Franklin was talking louder than before, throwing his words over the downpour with more force than he ever had in the Sanctuary. The women covered their heads with their shawls, listening instead of retreating. The children smiled and laughed in the rain. Franklin never wanted to let go of that moment.

  It wasn’t until Franklin’s words were masked with rain that he realized how wet he was. He looked at the sky, acknowledging the torrential downpour.

  “Go and get cover and finish your business in the market!” he shouted. “I’ll talk to you again soon! Together we’ll celebrate the joy of The Word! No one can tend fields in the foul weather! We won’t be breaking any guidelines!”

  Smiles lit the faces of the crowd as they dispersed, chatting excitedly. Franklin felt a burst of joy as he looked for Joseph and Fitz.

  **

  “You did it!” Fitz said, beaming as they made their way back to the Sanctuary.

  “I can’t believe it worked,” Franklin said, blinking the rain from his eyes as if he was breaking from a trance. He clutched his stack of books and notes under his robe, shaking from the cold. “I can’t believe they listened.”

  “That was one of the biggest crowds I’ve ever seen at a single sermon!” Joseph said with a wide smile.

  Fitz pulled Franklin’s arm protectively, leading him faster. “Come on, Franklin! Let’s get back to the Sanctuary, before your books get too wet!”

  Chapter 45: Ivory

  Jingo’s eyes passed over Bray, Ella, Melora, and William. He looked back at Ivory. Jingo’s coat was too big for his body. He held a knife in his hand.

  “Who are these people?” he asked Ivory.

  “People I met in the city,” Ivory said.

  “I was wondering where you went,” Jingo replied. “I was afraid something happened to you. Seeing all those people and demons made me worried. And it looks like it’s about to storm.” Jingo raised a bony arm and gestured off the rooftop.

  Behind Ivory, he heard a gasp. Ivory turned to find Ella, Melora, and William in a state of shock, their eyes wide as they surveyed Jingo’s bulbous head. They were standing at the top of the last staircase. Bray appeared as if he was frozen in place several steps in front of them. Ivory was so used to Jingo’s appearance that he’d forgotten how others might act in front of him.

  Ivory held up his hands. “It’s okay. No one will harm you here.”

  “Though I can’t say the same for the people in the streets,” Jingo added.

  Jingo might as well not have spoken. No one heard him. No one reacted. They stared as if he was a ghost come to life.

  Cries floated from somewhere below the building. “I was watching those people before I heard you coming up the stairs,” Jingo said. “They’re hunting demons. They think they can eradicate them. What they don’t realize is that they’re attracting all of them from the area with the noise. The city will be overrun soon. That is the way this has gone in the past.”

  Ella walked slowly from the stairs to stand on the other side of Bray, her mouth agape. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Jingo.

  “You can speak,” she whispered, as if she’d misheard Jingo.

  “Yes,” Jingo said, a half-smile on his face. He looked at Ella as if he was greeting an old friend. “I don’t get any visitors, other than Ivory. One would think I’d forget how.”

  “B-but you’re a demon.”

  “I suppose you could call me that, although I don’t associate with them. I prefer to remain in
my tower, passing my time alone. I was infected. But that doesn’t mean I’m not human.”

  “But I don’t—” Ella’s sentence cut off as she tried to formulate a question. There were too many. Ivory knew the feeling.

  “Stay back, Ella,” Bray warned, grabbing Ella’s arm. Tension spread over the roof as he glared at Jingo. “He’s got a knife.”

  “I only grabbed it because I heard voices,” Jingo explained. “I mean you no harm.”

  “It’s okay,” Ivory repeated. “No one’s here to fight.” Ivory watched Bray, hoping to get the conversation back on track. “He’s the one I told you about—the one who can help William.”

  “William,” Jingo mused, looking over at the top of the stairs. He pointed a finger at the boy. “Is that you?”

  William nodded and swallowed.

  “You don’t look infected. Although I suppose I didn’t, either, at first.”

  William opened and closed his mouth, still in shock as he remained by Melora’s side. Melora held onto William’s sleeve. Jingo took a step toward William, holding up his hands and the knife.

  “If you want, I can—”

  Bray charged. One minute he was standing next to Ella, the next he was hoisting his sword in the air and yelling.

  “No!” Ella screamed.

  Ella snagged Bray, catching hold of his sleeve and dragging behind him. She fell. Bray swung at Jingo, but Ella’s intervention caused him to miss. Jingo cried out and scooted backward, bumping up against the ancient stone he’d emerged from behind. And then Ella was on her feet in between Bray and Jingo, waving her hands, trying to stop Bray. Bray’s eyes stung with violence as he pushed Ella aside and swung again.