The Last Survivors Box Set

by Bobby Adair

His eyes flew back to the metal object with the small tube at the end, as if it might flash fire and send him tumbling to the ground. He clutched the rope connecting his horse’s bridles, trying to keep the beasts still, but they were stamping nervously.

  “Are those horses?” the woman asked, her tone changing to amazement as she walked closer.

  “Of course,” Bray answered.

  “Why are they stamping the ground like that?”

  “They’re nervous. All that damn noise you’re making has them thinking they’re going to battle.”

  “Are they going to attack me?” The woman raised the weapon higher.

  “No. They’re nervous about the demons,” Bray said, pointing to the dead ones across the field, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They smell them.”

  “I didn’t know that they could…” The woman reconsidered her response.

  “Could what?”

  “Fight demons.” The woman looked from Bray to the horses, trying to put something together in her head.

  Bray puffed up his chest as he made a realization. “You’ve never seen horses, I take it? My horses can stomp down as many demons as I come across. I’ve taught them well,” he lied.

  The woman remained tight-lipped, as if she’d already spoken too much. She waved the gun. “Walk away from the horses and let go of the rope,” she demanded.

  “If I don’t hold the rope, they’ll run,” Bray explained.

  “Hold it, then. But walk farther away from them. Are you alone?”

  “Yes.” Bray looked around, as if someone else might appear. “Where did you get that gun?” he asked.

  “I’ll ask the questions,” the woman said, waving the gun to demonstrate her intention. He didn’t need an interpretation to know what she might do to him. “Do the horses trust anybody to ride on them?”

  Bray nodded. “They’re good animals. They’ve done well for me.”

  The woman nodded as Bray reached the end of the rope and stopped.

  “I can’t go any further,” he said. “Unless you want them to run away.”

  The woman walked toward Bray until she was within reaching distance. “Hand me the rope,” she said.

  Bray looked at her with a suspicion that was slowly becoming a reality. “Are you robbing me?”

  A faint smile crossed Kirby’s face as she pointed the Ancient gun directly at his head, taking the rope and slowly stepping back toward the horses. She approached Bray’s horse, mounted it, and found her balance.

  “Give me your bag, too,” she said, holding out one of her hands, keeping the gun pointed at him with the other.

  “My bag?”

  “Don’t pretend you can’t hear. It’s too late for that.”

  Bray tossed her the bag and she caught it. She slung it over her shoulder.

  “Are you going to leave me with nothing?” Bray protested.

  “No,” the woman said. “I’m leaving you with your sword.” She motioned to the blade that he’d dropped farther back in the clearing. “You’re lucky I’m doing that.”

  The woman rode away.

  Chapter 45: Bray

  “Wait!” Bray cried as the strange woman rode off with his horses and his bag. He glanced back at his sword. He wanted to run after her, knock her from the horse, and take back his things, but fear of the Ancient gun kept him in place. And besides, he’d never catch her on foot.

  Instead, he watched her trying to keep her balance as she fought with the stirrups, which were adjusted for Bray’s legs and much too low for her feet to reach while sitting in the saddle. She swayed back and forth as she crossed half the clearing, looking over her shoulder every so often to ensure he wasn’t chasing after her. One of the horses snorted, making her inadvertently pull hard on the reins, causing the horses to stop.

  “Don’t do that!” she yelled, but her horse was clearly agitated, and it was riling up the others. “Keep going!” She swatted the horse’s side, but it didn’t move. “These things might as well be useless,” she muttered.

  “Wait!” Bray called, taking a step in her direction.

  “Stay back!” she warned.

  “I can teach you to ride!”

  The woman laughed as she tried to keep her balance. “You think I’m stupid enough to believe that?”

  “You’ll wish you did, when you fall and break your arm.”

  The woman tried to control the horse, but it was stomping its hooves and not listening. She watched Bray, suspicious, but slowly coming to the realization that he was right.

  “The horses can sense you’re nervous,” Bray called.

  “You said they were good horses. You said anyone could ride them.”

  “They are, if you know how to handle them.” Groping for a lie convincing enough to make her stop, Bray added, “They might attack you, like they do the demons, if you don’t use the right commands.”

  The woman clutched the horse’s reins. “Why should I believe you?”

  “You have a gun. You can easily kill me, if you want. But I can give you instructions on how to ride them before you go.”

  “Why would you help me, when I robbed you?”

  “If you’re going to take my horses, I want them to be taken care of. I’ve owned them since I was a boy. They’re like family to me.” Bray pointed at the horse she was riding. “That one’s name is…Jeremiah. And the ones behind it are…ah…Blackthorn and Fuller.”

  The woman leaned from side to side as she tried to catch herself from falling. “You’re saying this so you can attack me. You’re going to have them throw me off.”

  “Wouldn’t I have done that already, if that was what I intended?” Bray asked with a shrug, trying to hide the fact that he’d already considered that option. But he still didn’t trust that she wouldn’t harm him with the gun, even if she fell first.

  “Start talking,” the woman said.

  Bray walked until he was fifteen feet from her and stopped.

  “Tell me what I need to know,” the woman said.

  “To begin with, you’re going to have to let go of the pommel. That’s the curved part you’re hanging on to. You’re going to need to grab the reins.”

  “The reins?”

  “The smaller ropes attached to the horse you’re on.”

  The woman cursed as she let go of the pommel, trying to maintain her balance.

  “To start the horses moving, give a little kick with your heels and make this noise with your mouth a few times.” Bray demonstrated two clicks. “If you pull gently on the reins, the horses will stop.”

  The woman followed his instruction. She commanded the horse to trot, then pulled gently on the reins, prompting it to halt. The others followed, and then paused behind it.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Bray said with a nod.

  “What else do I need to know?” she asked.

  “When you want to go one way or the other, pull either side of the horse’s reins.” The woman watched him as if he might be lying. “Go ahead, try it, if you want.”

  The woman tested his instructions, riding a few paces and then turning, keeping Bray in her sights. She seemed surprised that the horse obeyed. “Why are you really showing me this?” she asked, furrowing her brow. “You don’t really care about the horses that much, do you?”

  Bray held up his hands. “I was hoping you might give me one of them back,” he admitted.

  The woman laughed as if it was the funniest thing she’d heard all day. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because I need to find my son.”

  “Your son?” The laughter on the woman’s face disappeared and she looked around the clearing, as if she might be ambushed. “You lied. You’re not alone.”

  “I’m by mysel
f,” Bray assured her.

  “Where is he?”

  “I wish I knew. William was kidnapped this morning.”

  “By whom?” the woman asked.

  “A group of men snuck up on him. I went out to get kindling for our fire, and when I came back, they were riding off with him,” Bray said, looking down at the ground. “I should’ve watched more carefully. It’s my fault. I tried chasing them down, but they had a head start, and I lost them.”

  The woman watched him with an expression that showed she didn’t believe him. “Where did they go?”

  “They were heading toward the canyon.” Bray pointed off to the west. “If I followed them directly into it, they’d see me. I know a shortcut, and I was hoping to cut around and head them off.”

  Hoping to solidify his story, Bray continued, “William and I were on a hunting trip from Brighton. I was teaching him how to catch rabbits. He was too young, I think. And now I’ve lost him.”

  “You said you were from Brighton?” the woman asked.

  “Yes,” Bray answered.

  A flicker of recognition went through her eyes as he confirmed the town’s name. “I’m somewhat familiar with Brighton. I’ve met some people from there. What do the people who took your son look like?”

  “You won’t believe me when I tell you.”

  “Tell me.”

  “A few of them were shirtless, despite the cold. They wore demon’s blood on their clothing. I’ve seen these people before. They’re savages. They eat demons. And I’m worried about what they might do to my son. Have you seen them or my son?”

  “I haven’t, but the people I met from Brighton told me about others like that.” The woman’s eyes passed over Bray as she recalled something. “I’m not sure it’s the same group. How many did you say there were?”

  “Only a handful,” Bray lied. “And they can’t be far from here. I’m afraid of what they might do to William. I can only imagine why they took him. I need to get him back as soon as I can. If I had a horse, I might have a chance at saving him. And if I had an Ancient device like yours…”

  The woman looked down at the weapon in her hand.

  “I understand if you have to be on your way,” Bray said quietly, averting his eyes.

  The woman made a face. “You’re not getting my gun,” she said matter-of-factly. Looking at the bag on her back, she added, “Any of them.”

  “I didn’t ask for them. But if you’d be willing to help me get my son back, I’d have no problem giving you two of my horses when we’re done.”

  The woman looked down at the horse, which was still agitated and stamping the ground. “You’ll show me how to ride?”

  “I’ll tell you everything I know on the way.”

  “If you try anything, I’ll put a bullet in you.”

  “I’m not sure what that word means, but I believe you,” Bray said.

  Chapter 46: Fitz

  It was late afternoon, and Fitz and her women were still walking through town, overseeing the collection of weapons, when Fitz’s attention was ripped away by the sight of two horses coming down the center of the street.

  Tara and Loren.

  Fitz walked in the direction of the riders, steeling for some news. The horses breathed heavily as they galloped the final steps to Fitz’s group. Tara dismounted, her face ashen. Noticing that people were watching, Fitz called them to a quiet corner, where they could talk without being so closely observed.

  “Did you find the rest of the army?” Fitz asked.

  Tara took a moment to form the words. “Only Winthrop’s. But there’s something else coming.”

  “What?”

  “Demons. Lots of them. It looks like they’re headed in this direction. They’re following Winthrop and his men.”

  “Oh, no,” said Fitz.

  Chapter 47: Fitz

  “Demons?” Ginger shook her head, unable to stop fright from seeping into her voice.

  The other women looked grave as Fitz stared absently around the courtyard, her gaze roaming from the monument to the buildings. After quietly dismissing Tara and Loren, Fitz, Ginger, and the other women who had been walking with her in the marketplace made their way back to the New House. They hadn’t said anything to the townsfolk, but surely the rumors would spread. They always did.

  “The meeting at the square went better than I expected, but this news will surely shake even the strongest woman’s resolve,” Fitz said.

  “Maybe the demons will kill Winthrop and his army,” Ginger suggested.

  “I don’t think we can count on that. We need to keep doing what we’re doing. If demons are coming, we’ll need our weapons, Winthrop or not,” Fitz said.

  “Maybe we can use the news to our advantage,” Ginger said. “We all know the fear demons inspire in people. That might spur people to work harder.”

  “You’re probably right,” Fitz said. “I can extend the working hours. But all the weapons and people we have aren’t likely to ward off an army of demons.”

  “What else can we do?” Ashley asked, holding up her hands in desperation. “We’re already gathering and preparing whatever we can. Without more resources, or the knowledge of the tradesmen, we won’t be able to do much more.”

  “If we have to fight both the demons and Winthrop’s men, we’ll need to figure something out,” Ginger said, trying to think of a solution.

  Edith, one of the Strong Women who had been listening quietly, or maybe seething, turned an angry eye on Ginger. “It’s easy for you to talk about fighting Winthrop’s men, Ginger. You don’t have a husband that might be out there. Your days have been spent at The House of Barren Women, on your back.”

  Ginger turned toward Edith, surprised. Her eyes blazed with anger as she processed the insult. “And you think that was a choice I made?”

  Edith shot back, “You won’t have to face your husband with a sword in your hand, if you ever see him again.”

  “At least you had a husband!” Ginger shook her head. “I never had one! You think lying on my back was better than having a family, like you got to do?”

  “I’ve watched too many people die in Brighton. And now I might have to add my husband to that list, if he died in the wild.” Angry tears spilled from Edith’s eyes. “You’ll never know what that feels like.”

  “You think I don’t know grief? I watched my sister trampled by one of Tenbrook’s horses, you salty bitch!” Ginger took a step toward Edith, her hand flying to the hilt of her sword.

  “Ladies!” Fitz shouted in a commanding voice, stepping between them and putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “That’s enough!”

  Ginger and Edith stepped away from each other, maintaining angry stares. Fitz drilled them each with a look that said she wouldn’t accept any more trouble. Grudgingly, Edith and Ginger looked at the ground.

  “No one is saying this has been easy on any of us, or that we haven’t suffered enough. But if we don’t find a way to protect ourselves, we’ll lose even more people. And we’re certainly not going to fight each other!”

  Ginger and Edith remained silent, still exchanging the occasional angry glare.

  “Does anyone else have any ideas?” Ashley asked.

  “There has to be something else we can do,” Fitz said. She looked around the courtyard, as if she might find some answers. “In the years I’ve lived, I’ve never seen an attack on Brighton. If demons are coming, we’ll need to know the wall is strong. We’re told that the wall has stood strong for hundreds of years. We’re told it has never been breached. Can that be true? Or is that another lie told to us by the Elders?”

  The women looked at each other, but no one had an answer.

  “Surely someone has lived through an attack on Brighton. Surely someone must have seen something that woul
d be helpful.”

  “How about Hilda?” Ashley suggested. “She’s probably lived through enough battles to last a few of our lifetimes. In fact, she was probably here when the wall was built.”

  A few women chuckled through the fear and nervousness on their faces. The comment even seemed to break some of the tension between Ginger and Edith.

  “Hilda,” Fitz repeated as she recalled the weathered, old woman who was the object of young children’s stories, including a few of Fitz’s own. “You know, that might not be a bad idea. She’s lived longer than most in the town. If anyone knows about demon attacks, it’d be her. Maybe I’ll speak with her and see what she knows.”

  “What about the Academy?” Ashley asked, offering another suggestion. “Are they still cowering in their building?”

  “I haven’t had time to visit them in a while. I was hoping they’d come out of hiding and speak with me after the meeting at the square,” Fitz admitted. “But no one has seen them. It’s like they don’t want any part of what we’re doing.”

  “I’m not sure how they can deny what’s happening,” Ginger said. “Once Winthrop comes back, they’ll have to pay attention.”

  “With the demons coming, the threat is much larger than a burning from Winthrop,” Ashley suggested. “Maybe that news will change things.”

  “We’re going to need whatever help we can get,” Ginger said.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Fitz agreed. “I’ll go speak with Hilda. Then I’ll try to get the Academy to open their doors one more time.”

  Chapter 48: Bray

  Bray turned and looked over his shoulder, giving the strange woman a glance. She’d insisted on riding on the last of the three horses, putting a horse between them and ensuring his back was turned to her.

  “What’s your name?” he asked her.

  “Kirby.”

  “I’m Bray. I was convinced you were one of the Ancients,” Bray called over his shoulder. “I’ve never seen clothing like yours. Or heard your accent.” Pausing, Bray asked, “Are you one of the Ancients?”