The Last Survivors: A Dystopian Society in a Post Apocalyptic World

by Bobby Adair

  The knots on his skin would swell and spread.

  To be fair, Ella didn’t know much about the infection. The stories the townspeople told were often vague and conflicting. Most of the infected people she’d encountered had been on their way to the pyre, ready to burn for sins they hadn’t yet committed. She knew what the beginning stages of the infection looked like, and she knew the result, but much of what happened in between was a mystery.

  She remembered how Ethan had looked at her before he’d gone to the pyre. His eyes—normally deep and blue—had been shallow and unfocused. It wasn’t the look of a man infected, but the look of a man who knew what was coming.

  Most days, she did her best to forget her husband’s final day, choosing to remember her husband as he’d lived, rather than as he’d died.

  Ethan would’ve wanted it that way.

  ***

  She’d met Ethan when she was fifteen. He’d come to Davenport on a farming mission, intent on trading tips with the locals. Or so she’d been told.

  She’d been living with her aunt and uncle at the time. Several years earlier, Ella’s parents had died from Winter’s Death, a severe outbreak of the flu that had claimed fifty lives in Davenport. In addition to thinning the population, the illness had stripped the town of knowledge. Many of the deceased had been farmers or tradesman, and their absence left a gap in the economy, leading to a long season of famine.

  And so Ella struggled. In addition to mourning her parents, she had to move out of her childhood home. Aunt Jean and Uncle Frederick were kind enough, but it was an adjustment, and one that didn’t come easy.

  With the arrival of Ethan, everything changed once again.

  On that particular day, her aunt and uncle called her in early from the field. Ethan was waiting in the house. Ella immediately scanned the table, certain she’d find a display of crops, but there was nothing but the boy, smiling nervously. Ella looked at him, confused. It wasn’t until she saw the expression on her uncle’s face that she understood.

  “This is Ethan,” Uncle Frederick said.

  His eyes watered, and he cleared his throat. Although Uncle Frederick was normally stoic, he was unable to contain his emotion. When she finally digested what was happening, Ella darted out of the house without a word, running into the field as fast as her legs would carry her.

  Tears sprung to her eyes as she plowed through the grass. She kept her gaze on the harvest fields, intent on gaining as much distance from the scene as possible. Although she suspected this day would arrive, she hadn’t thought it would come so soon. There were things she had to take care of here—one obligation in particular that it broke her heart to leave with her aunt and uncle.

  After several minutes of running, she collapsed into a ball in the field, crying quietly into her hands next to a row of leafy squash plants.

  Several minutes later, she heard footsteps.

  Ella hugged her knees, praying she could make herself disappear. With the exception of one happy miracle, the past few years had been some of the worst of her life, and she was still getting adjusted. When she looked up, she expected to find the stern face of her uncle, but was surprised to find Ethan. He knelt down on the dirt.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  The boy kept his distance, watching her from several feet away. She noticed his eyes darting around the landscape rather than looking at her, and after a while, she relaxed.

  “I think so,” she answered.

  As she looked over at him, she realized she’d barely taken him in. Ethan’s hair was brown and shaggy, his eyes a penetrating blue. He was handsome. Although he looked several years older than her, he had the appearance of someone who was just as confused as she was.

  “My parents sent me here,” he confessed. “They’re waiting for me at the market.”

  Ella nodded, drying her eyes. “I guess I won’t be picking the rest of my crops.”

  Ethan went silent for a moment, the guilt apparent on his face.

  “You can, if you want to.”

  “But they’ll need me to—”

  “Never mind. I’ll help you finish.”

  With that, Ethan got to his feet and walked down the row, locating a half-filled basket of squash she’d left behind. He brought it back to her and helped her to her feet, then gave her a smile.

  “You’ll have to show me which ones are ready,” he said.

  “You don’t already know?” Ella wrinkled her brow in disbelief.

  “Sure, but you might do things differently in Davenport. I’m from Brighton.”

  With a coy smile, he bent over the nearest plant and made a show of tugging at the green leaves. Ella watched him for a minute, and then, unable to contain her amusement, walked over and showed him. Soon they were pulling squash together, filling the basket.

  “The soil in Davenport is difficult for planting,” Ella said.

  “How so?”

  “My aunt and uncle had to work around the rocks. It’s hard to find dirt that is deep enough.”

  “That makes sense. The villages built too close to the ruins are often that way,” Ethan said.

  “What’s it like in Brighton?” she asked.

  “Mostly the same. My parents have a farm, sort of like this one. The soil is rich for vegetables. I’m getting ready to purchase my own plot. I’ve been saving for it since I was a boy.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Almost sixteen. My birthday is just after the harvest.”

  They chatted more, speaking of the yearly festival and the annual Riverwash, as well as the merchants they knew in town. Before long, they were laughing and getting along, and Ella forgot that her aunt and uncle were waiting for her. When they finished filling up the basket, Ella stopped in the field, glancing back at the house she’d called home for the past few years.

  “I guess we’ll have to head back in.”

  Ethan’s smile faded, and she saw that he was just as nervous. “Yeah. I told your aunt and uncle I’d bring you back inside.”

  “How long will you be in town?” Ella swallowed.

  “Just long enough to plan the ceremony.” Ethan paused, his eyes darting back to the field. “That is, if you agree.”

  Ella’s heart swelled with emotion, and she nodded, forcing back the tears. Although she didn’t have a choice, she was grateful he’d asked. Unlike the older men in town—the ones who whistled and catcalled while she delivered vegetables, she sensed that Ethan was different. And even though they’d just met, she was able to envision a life with him.

  The illusion of choice was better than having no choice at all.

  Chapter 34: Ella

  As promised, Ethan secured his own plot in Brighton, and a year later, William was conceived.

  Although she was homesick at first, Ella thrust herself into her new routine, tending to the newborn baby and assisting with the crops. Ethan’s parents helped in raising William, filling in the gaps left by Ella’s aunt and uncle. Soon the memories of her past life in Davenport faded—except for one that haunted her and another she treasured—and her life transitioned into something she could describe as happiness.

  Ethan proved himself a hard worker, producing more food than was necessary to survive. Although a surplus of silver in Brighton was a rare thing, especially among The People, it was a goal Ella and Ethan both shared. As they tended the fields and delivered crops to the merchants, they dreamt of a day when they could lighten their workload.

  Because travel was dangerous and expensive, Ella lost touch with her aunt and uncle, seeing them only a handful of times over the years. She did her best to fill William’s head with tales of her uncle’s firm but pleasant face, her aunt’s talent for cooking and sewing.

  Despite the threat of demons and the periodic anxiety of The Cleansing, much of the last decade had been a pleasant one. Up until Ethan’s parents got sick.

  The plague was vicious, and by the time it ended, it claimed the lives of her in-laws. Although Ella,
Ethan, and William managed to escape the illness themselves, they spent the majority of their earnings on roots and medicines, hoping to assist Ethan’s parents.

  And the worst was yet to come.

  Right before the harvest, Ethan was called into battle. The soldiers had detected a horde of demons close to the border, and they enlisted the help of the townsfolk. Many of the farmers protested, citing concerns about lost crops and unprotected families, but General Blackthorn ignored them. The General had only one priority—eradicating the demons.

  Ethan left for almost a week. During his absence, Ella and William did their best to tend to the crops, confident they could get through it.

  Ella could still remember the joy she’d felt when her husband had returned from battle. But instead of returning her affection, Ethan kept them at a distance, sharing little about what he’d been through. It wasn’t until a day later that she found out the reason.

  Ethan was infected.

  Were it not for Ethan’s confession, she wouldn’t have known. Although it was rumored that many of the unclean were overtaken by delusion, Ethan was coherent, and she begged and pleaded with him not to turn himself in. But Ethan was resolved. He’d sworn to abide by the town’s rules; he wouldn’t see his wife and son killed for his mistakes. Before she could stop him, Ethan departed to see the town officials.

  A day later, he burned.

  Even now, Ella still bore guilt from his decision. Every time she looked at her son, she saw a fatherless boy, a boy as lost and alone as she’d felt in Davenport when her own parents had died. If she could’ve done things differently, she would’ve fought harder for Ethan to stay. She should’ve broken the town’s rules; she would’ve found refuge from the unyielding brutality.

  If she had, Ethan might’ve still been alive.

  But even that wouldn’t have protected her son.

  Chapter 35: Ella

  William was still scratching his neck when they reached the base of the mountain. A few seconds later, he turned his attention to the forest. Bray was slinking along, keeping cover between the trees, and he motioned for Ella and William to do the same. They followed his instructions.

  Ella eyed the sheathed sword at her waist. She was still petrified to use it. What if she swung and missed? What if she lost her balance? She found herself wishing she’d paid more attention to the swordfights at the harvest festivals. If she had, she might’ve gained some insight on how to maneuver. For now, she was more comfortable with her knife.

  She maintained a close eye on the forest around them.

  Although they’d escaped the soldiers, there were bound to be others. Especially when the first batch didn’t return to Brighton. She could only hope that the guards would relax their search. How long would they look for a lowly woman and child? Hopefully Ella and William would be able to hide until they were forgotten. It wasn’t the greatest plan, but at the moment, she didn’t have any others.

  Although it’d been years since Ella had seen her relatives, she could still picture her aunt’s and uncle’s faces. The last time she’d seen Aunt Jean and Uncle Frederick had been when William was six years old. They’d come to visit Brighton. At the time, she and Ethan had been going through a difficult harvest, and her aunt and uncle had helped them. Uncle Frederick had lent her a hundred silver. Ella envisioned the coins in her bag and felt a twinge of guilt. She didn’t have much, but when she got to Davenport, she’d find a way to pay him back.

  Ella was hit with nostalgia, and she dabbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Her sleeve was covered in blood. She looked down at her dress. The entire garment was ripped, bloodied, and dirt-stained. Ever since leaving Brighton, it’d only gotten worse. Each encounter had left a mark on her, battle scars made of filth and fluid. She needed to clean herself off before reaching Davenport. She needed to clean William. Bloodstains would lead to questions, and questions would lead to capture.

  Bray, on the other hand, could get away with his appearance. He was a Warden, after all, and they were expected to be road-weary. She’d have to make sure he knew to stop. Ella drew up alongside him.

  “Will we be traveling near the river?”

  “Not really,” he said. “Unless you want to get caught.”

  “I don’t think we should go into town looking like this.”

  He looked her up and down, as if assessing her condition for the first time. “I’ll get you new clothes when we get there. But you’ll need to pay me for them.”

  “Won’t they have already seen us by then?”

  “You can wait by the outskirts, and I’ll bring them to you.”

  Ella pursed her lips, not quite satisfied with the answer. In her flurry to leave Brighton, she realized she hardly given enough thought to what they’d do when they got there. What if the soldiers arrived first? Surely the guard knew of her relatives in Davenport. Her hope had been to get a head start, seek out her relatives, and beg them to keep her hidden.

  What other choice did she have?

  Her mind strayed to worst-case scenarios. Davenport had the same rules about the unclean. What if her aunt and uncle turned her in?

  She pictured the way her aunt and uncle had looked at William when they’d first seen him. He’d only been a few years old, then—barely old enough to toddle, and not yet old enough to talk, but they’d had taken an immediate liking to him. They’d even mentioned how nice it would be to live closer together. Ella had entertained the possibility for some time, thinking up plans to move to Davenport. But that had been before Ethan had gone to battle, and before he’d been burned.

  Neither had come to bid Ethan farewell. It wouldn’t have been proper.

  It’d been five years since they’d visited Brighton. She swallowed her misgivings. Her first priority was getting to Davenport. She fell back from Bray and rejoined William. The boy was walking a few steps behind, and his eyes roamed from one side of the forest to the next.

  “Are you all right, William?” she whispered.

  He nodded, but she could see fear in his stare. She stopped walking and grabbed hold of him, suddenly fearful that he was losing his coherence. He stopped to look at her.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked again, more insistently.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You look pale.”

  “I’m fine. Nothing’s the matter.”

  She noticed he was avoiding her gaze. She gave him a motherly stare. A few seconds later, he let her in on his thoughts.

  “Am I going to eat people, Mom?”

  Ella bit back tears. She pulled him close and held him against her, listening to the steady throb of his heartbeat. How long would she be able to get this close to him? Would it be a day, a week, or a year? She opened her mouth to comfort him, but found herself choking back a sob instead.

  Chapter 36: Ivory

  After spending most of the morning on top of the mountain, Ivory backtracked for half a mile to a broad prairie. He spent the first part of the morning hunting for rabbits. Jingo would appreciate the gift. There’d be no rabbits in the ruined city. Ivory bagged several before he headed back for the cliff and found the trail that led down the mountain.

  He zigged and zagged his way along the narrow path, careful to tread lightly and stay alert. At the slightest misplaced noise, he’d hide under a bush or behind a thick tree, far from the trail. The realm of the twisted men was not safe for anyone uninfected by the spore.

  To be discovered was to risk death.

  The trip down the mountainside was slow. But it always was. When in the demon’s realm, one often had to choose between speed and caution. Ivory’s uncle had taught him caution was always best. Keeping a cool head, thinking, and hiding were so much easier than running, and those skills had saved him countless times when he’d been unfortunate enough to come to the attention of a demon.

  Working his way through the ruins was slow. Slow time passed while he hid, watching his surroundings, listening, and dashing to the next hiding spot�
�always in the shadows, always in underbrush. To walk the trails worn clear by demon feet invited disaster.

  The fallen megalith was his goal. When his uncle was still alive, they worked together scavenging the enormous pile of rubble on every trip. As his uncle had explained, the most recently fallen towers had an abundance of accessible metals. The other crumbled structures had either been picked clean by past generations of scavengers, or the exposed metals were more rust than usable steel.

  It was almost midday when Ivory made his way up on the northern side of the giant mound. In the years since the building fell, he’d never scavenged this side. For whatever reason, he and his uncle had started scavenging on the southern side, and had eventually worked their way West. With all of the easily accessible metals gone from those two sides, Ivory decided to continue the pattern on the northern side.

  Up on the rubble pile, he didn’t worry too much about being spotted by demons. There were plenty of places to hide. He kept the same rules he held when working through the city—while scanning the area, he stayed out of view, and when he was sure that no eyes were on him, he stepped out and gathered the metals he’d spotted.

  He was following that procedure when he stepped quickly across a long flat piece of old wood, assuming—badly—that the wood was simply lying across other rubble. Halfway across, he realized the wood felt soft underfoot. His first thought was that it might give way. He pulled his arms close to him in preparation for a fall. Better to land on a shoulder and get a bruise rather than stick out a hand to brace himself and snap a wrist.

  Ivory’s foot continued to sink. His leg was through a hole and up to his knee. He stomped his other foot down on the wood to catch his balance, hit rot, and the whole slab fell away beneath him. He reached out to grab something… Anything. But everything in his reach was falling too.

  Ivory’s feet hit something solid and uneven. He was off balance and not coming to a stop. Wood, rocks, and other bits of debris fell with him. He tumbled over big chunks of stone and down a slope, rolling and bouncing.