The Last Survivors (Book 6): The Last Conquest

by Bobby Adair

  Chapter 95: Bray

  After collecting the horses, Bray and Kirby rode them far enough into the forest that the sounds of battle had grown quiet. They dismounted so Kirby could take a look at Bray's wound, keeping an eye out for demons or escaping soldiers.

  "Sit against the tree," Kirby said, motioning toward a thick oak.

  Kirby pulled her pack from her shoulders and dug through it, removing a thin blanket and a flask of water. Then she instructed Bray to remove his shirt. He grimaced as the fabric of his shirt stuck to the blood on his shoulder, and then he was looking at his own bare skin, a wound the size of a small acorn in the middle of it, and another one on back. Kirby poured some water from the flask over the wound.

  "I can't tell for sure, but it looks like the bullet passed through," Kirby answered.

  "You were just trying to get my shirt off."

  Kirby couldn't help a thin smile.

  "So I'm going to live?" Bray asked, hoping to earn some sympathy. He winced from the pain in his shoulder.

  "It looks like it," Kirby said, adding, "But you should've expected something like this, going out there like that."

  "I wanted to help William," Bray explained. "But he was gone before I could get to him."

  Kirby watched him. For a second, he thought she was going to chastise him further, but she said, "You were brave. I'll give you that."

  "If I hadn't been shot, I would've rescued William." Bray smiled through his pain.

  Kirby smiled as she ripped off a piece of blanket, tying it around Bray's shoulder.

  Bray kept quiet as he figured out how much he wanted to say about Melora, Jingo, Ivory and whoever else they were with. Finally, he said, "The people who shot me had guns, like you have."

  "I saw them through the trees. You don't have to lie to me anymore," Kirby said. She pulled the blanket taut on his shoulder, a little too hard. "I know you know them. Or, at least, some of them."

  Bray watched her in confusion. "What do you mean?"

  "I know them, too. Those are the people I met in my people's settlement. I know you're a Warden. I was considering killing you as soon as you told me your name, shortly after we first met." Kirby scooted back and watched him. Her gun was in her holster, but Bray suddenly wondered if he should reach for his sword.

  "I'm not sure what you're talking about," he tried.

  "Melora and Jingo told me about you. They told me about William and how he was infected. At first, I wasn't sure it was the same boy. And then you said your name was Bray, and I knew who you were. Melora told me you killed her mother, Ella. I probably would've killed you then, except I believe that you were actually trying to save William."

  Bray frowned as he realized his lies hadn't been as convincing as he'd hoped. "Why did you agree to come with me?" He watched her. "Why save a boy you've never met? Or have you met him, too?"

  "No, I've never met William." Kirby got to her feet, looking around at the woods before pulling up the layers of clothing on her back, revealing a line of warts going up her spine. "I wanted to help, because I know what he's going through. I'm infected, too."

  Bray couldn't hide the shock on his face. As he stared at the warts on Kirby's back, he recalled a similar moment, when he'd met Jingo. But he'd made a mistake then, and looking at Kirby, he wasn't going to repeat it. "So you know I don't have a son," he said, adding, "or a daughter."

  "Yes," Kirby said with a half-smile. "Although I'll admit that was clever."

  Bray winced. "It was Melora who shot me. I saw her through the trees, right before I fell. She hates me for what happened to Ella. I don't blame her. But Ella's death was an accident. I wanted to tell Melora, if I ever saw her again."

  "I figured it was her," Kirby said, keeping her smile. "She reminds me of myself, in some ways. But explaining yourself to someone with a gun isn't smart."

  Bray tried to ignore the blazing pain in his shoulder. "You're probably right." He stared at Kirby as she lowered her shirt, figuring some things out. "Did you provide them with those guns?"

  "Yes," Kirby said. "I trusted they would use them to make Brighton better. But the way it looks, they might die before that happens." Her face turned sad. "That's what happens in war, oftentimes, I'm afraid. It happened to my people. But you know that."

  "Why didn't you take all your guns?"

  "I only have two hands. What am I going to do with a mountain of guns?"

  "Does that mean there are more at your settlement?"

  Kirby didn't answer.

  Returning to the subject at hand, Bray said, "We should still try to find William. We might have a chance if you think you know which way he went. Where did you see him run off to?"

  Kirby pointed east through the trees. "I think he ran in that direction."

  Bray looked around the forest, as if he might encounter William wandering through the trees, but all he saw were tree trunks and brush. "I don't know how much luck we'll have, but I want to try to find him. I owe him that much."

  Chapter 96: Fitz

  Instead of galloping toward the interior of the east wall, where demons were spilling over and fighting the courageous women still standing there, Fitz took a wide berth and rode around the retreating fighters, making sure they saw her charging in the opposite direction from which they were running, heading toward the demons. While she was riding, she cast one last glance back toward the center of Brighton. Still no Ginger, and no squadrons of mounted warriors.

  The hopelessness was overwhelming.

  The top edge of the circle wall was solid with beasts crawling over and dropping to the ground. The fraying end of her line was turning into a rout as the screams of a thousand fleeing women was loud enough to catch the ears of those farther down the line.

  Her inexperienced army of housewives and old men was shattering, and Brighton's future was crumbling with every panicked step they took away from the battle.

  None of the fleeing women saw that. None had room for bigger thoughts other than those of their friends running and the sharp teeth coming to shred their flesh. They only wanted to live through the next few seconds and minutes.

  That was panic.

  Fitz raised her sword as she thought this might be the end.

  And then something happened.

  The horses of her guard formed up on her flanks, galloping in the chevron formation she'd heard tell of so often in the tales. It wasn't something Fitz had ordered her riders to do, not something they'd trained for. The horses had done it on their own, carrying their novice riders the way they'd been trained since they first carried a rider.

  The chevron!

  Just like the stories of that great battle.

  Women, the fastest of them, those farthest ahead of the others flew past, heading for the false security of Brighton's houses and buildings.

  "Stand, and fight!" Fitz yelled. "Turn! Don't run!"

  No one listened. All they did was swerve to avoid getting trampled by the oncoming wall of horses.

  Fitz yelled again into the thick of the retreating women. Some women slowed, but none stopped; they were too easily carried by the fearful tide around them.

  "Run and die!" Fitz shouted. "Stand and live!"

  Ahead of her she spotted Adam-John, bloodied but able, running with a spear in hand, eyes wild with terror and seeing nothing but the trampled grass in front of him, the next place to drop his fleeing feet to get one more step from the monsters coming to steal his life.

  Fitz yanked hard on her reins, stopping her horse, and it reared its front legs at the sky right in front of Adam-John.

  Fitz's guard came to a stop.

  Adam-John halted, looking up at Fitz and her horse.

  The front hooves of Fitz's horse slammed hard on the earth in front of Adam-John.

  Fitz pointed the sharp tip of her sword at Adam-John's face, drawing his attention up the length of the glimmering steel and into her fiery eyes. "Look at me!"

  Adam-John's eyes were glassy. His mouth opened, bu
t no words spilled out.

  "Find your courage!" Fitz told him. "Die here, as a man, or die in the streets of the city as a coward!"

  Adam-John looked over his shoulder at the women running past, at the demons coming behind.

  "If you don't stand," Fitz told him. "All of us will die!"

  One woman, and then another, came to a stop by Adam-John, looking at Fitz, hearing her words.

  Fitz raised the tip of her blade and pointed it at the demon multitude. "I choose to fight until I have no more breath." She caught Adam-John with a piercing gaze. "Make your choice."

  With Adam-John and the two women beside him still standing, Fitz spurred her horse and trotted around them. "Ride with me!" she shouted to her guard. "No demon will reach the city!"

  As the horses reached a full gallop, Fitz passed the last of the retreating women.

  She tore into the chasing demons, swinging her sword and letting her horse do what it had been trained to do, charge and trample, using its momentum to knock the demons down before killing them under its hooves.

  With the wall coming up in front of her, Fitz veered in the direction of the main gate, to run along the face of the wall, stomping and hacking, her guard following. She already felt the weight of the sword in her untrained arm, already doubted she could haul it back for another kill, but she had no choice. She had to fight on until there was nothing more to give. All of humanity's future depended on it.

  Demons were all around them, with more coming over the wall.

  Fighters retreated all along the flank.

  The whole western half of Fitz's defense was collapsing.

  She rode through demons until a solid line of women was standing firm to her left, nearly two hundred yards from the wall, killing demons as they'd been trained, protecting one another with their formation. She'd come to the part army that hadn't retreated.

  As she passed, a contagious cheer rose on voices that spread down the line.

  Buoyed by the ovation, Fitz understood immediately that her value to the army was not in killing demons with her sword, but in bolstering the fragile spirit of her people, giving them a reason, helping them find the and strength to fight on.

  She wanted to ride past the main gate and beyond, but she had to turn. She had to go back to where the lines had broken.

  Leading the horses in a wide U-turn, Fitz saw the swath of broken demons marking the trail her small formation had taken through the throng, and that boosted her confidence more.

  She kicked her horse and yelled, swinging her heavy sword.

  Demons fell.

  Blood splattered.

  Her arm burned, and her hand felt numb wrapped around the hilt of the blade.

  Where the line had disintegrated, far out in the field, a new line was forming, jagged, gapped, and messy, but taking shape.

  There was hope.

  Fitz led her horses along a path in front of where the clumps of women were gathering their courage and turning. "Fight!" she yelled. "Fight!"

  Ahead, she saw a row of women, a hundred strong, straight, formed up as they'd been trained, shoulder-to-shoulder, strength coalesced from fear, spears pointing forward, efficiently killing the demons coming at them. And in the center of the line, taller than most of the women around him, Fitz saw Adam-John, spear raised, yelling orders and encouragement to the women and boys around him.

  In the distance, galloping like a savior from out of the city streets, Fitz saw Ginger's flaming red hair flowing in the wind, with two hundred riders behind, swords raised, coming to kill.

  They're here!

  In front of the coming horses, Fitz saw her disintegrating army come to a stop, learning bravery from the coming riders. No, they're not just riders, Fitz thought.

  They're a cavalry.

  Tears of joy flowed down Fitz's face as she led her small formation in another turn, riding along the wall and back toward the main gate, to the center of the battle.

  Chapter 97: Oliver

  "Did we win?" asked Oliver, giddy for having lived when he thought for certain he was going to die.

  Jingo put a foot on the log and looked across the field. Countless demons lay in the grass, most dead, many dying. A smattering of twisted men walked among them, wounded and dazed, or just confused. Jingo pointed in the direction of the main gate. "The battle is inside the wall now. We've done our part out here."

  "What do we do now?" asked Beck.

  "We go in," said Ivory, jumping to his feet and tucking magazines into his belt.

  Nodding, Jingo said, "He's right."

  Oliver stood up, stiff from tension, sore in his shoulder from where the rifle had pounded him with every shot. "I'm ready."

  Jingo gave everyone a quick look. "Make sure all of your magazines are full. Check your hand grenades. Make sure you have enough."

  Oliver already knew his magazines were full, but he checked anyway. As the battle had wound down and there were fewer and fewer targets coming, Jingo and Beck caught up on keeping the magazines topped off. Still, Oliver checked the one in his gun and each of the six Kirby had given him.

  "Tuck them into your belt, like I did," Ivory told him, walking over. "They won't do you any good in your backpack. You won't be able to get them out fast enough."

  "What about the wagon?" Beck asked, pointing at the last few cases of bullets and hand grenades still on the aluminum cart.

  "We'll come back for it," Jingo told him. "It'll do us no good to bring it along."

  "It'll slow us down," Ivory added.

  "Between us, with our magazines full, we've got over a thousand rounds of ammunition, plus what we carry for the pistols," said Jingo. "And we've got the hand grenades. I don't know how many demons await us inside, but we'll be able to kill a lot before we need to come back here to reload."

  "Let's go, then," said Beck, "While there's still a Brighton left to fight for."

  Rifle in hand, Jingo stepped over the downed tree, the rampart that they'd defended all through the battle. "Spread out," he told the others. "Walk in line, side by side, but about ten paces apart. Shoot anything that can still walk. Ivory, you take one end, Melora you take the other. You two are the best shots. Oliver, you're in the middle."

  Oliver had killed his share of demons. He didn't need to be protected. "Why do—"

  "As a favor to me," said Jingo. "Let's not take an unnecessary risk."

  The group lined up and spread out, Oliver in the middle, Jingo to his left and Beck to his right, Melora on one end, and Ivory on the other. They walked at a brisk pace across the field in the direction of the main gate, shooting any demons still on their feet as they went.

  Chapter 98: Fitz

  Panting, after what seemed like hours atop the horse, slaughtering demons with the aid of her cavalry, Fitz and her beast stood still behind the battle line where the people of Brighton, still fought side by side.

  They weren't really fighting anymore.

  Her fighters were advancing toward the wall, walking over the bodies of thousands and thousands of dead demons, exterminating those who were trapped between them and the wall who they now outnumbered.

  Some demons were climbing the wall, trying to get back outside. More were running through the narrow gap in the open gate.

  "We did it," said Ginger, from her horse beside Fitz's. "We won."

  Fitz felt the battle in every joint and every muscle of her body. Her horse stomped and snorted. It was ready for more. "It's not over yet."

  Ginger pointed at the line of women, advancing on the remnants of the horde. "They'll finish the brutes."

  Fitz nodded at the gates, "We need to take the cavalry through the gate and kill all that we can outside the wall before they escape into the forest."

  "But we've won," Ginger told her. "We don't need to risk ourselves."

  "We do," Fitz insisted. "There may still be men out there, fighting for their lives."

  "Winthrop's army?" Ginger spat. "They were coming here to tear down our walls
and kill us all."

  "Husbands, brothers, and sons," Fitz told her, not rising to the argument. "We need to save as many as we can."

  Ginger nodded, respect written on her face. "Yes, General."

  Fitz laughed. "I'm no general."

  "Yes, my Queen?" Ginger smiled widely to let Fitz know the title was a bit of a joke.

  "I don't know if I need a title." Fitz raised her sword. "You are the general of our cavalry, Ginger. Why don't you lead us out?"

  "No," Ginger answered. "Lady Fitz, you saved us today. You lead us out."

  Fitz stood in her stirrups and waved her blade in the air. "Don't clean your swords yet, ladies. We have more killing to do." Fitz pointed toward the gates. "Follow me."

  She trotted her horse with Ginger behind and the cavalry lining up single-file to go back out through the gate for the second time that day.

  Chapter 99: Fitz

  Fitz spurred her horse to a full gallop as she rode through the partially open gates.

  Behind her, nearly two hundred women on horseback followed. A dozen demons loitered in the funnel created by the partially open doors, and Fitz killed one of them as she pushed through into the open. The cavalry behind her would take care of the rest.

  Knowing she couldn't slow, Fitz galloped into the corpse-strewn pasture in front of the gates, looking quickly from right to left to gauge the situation. She needed to turn in the correct direction so she could lead her cavalry at what she expected would be hundreds—and hoped wouldn't be thousands—of demons.

  What she saw surprised her.

  Halfway to the forest, several hundred soldiers stood in no kind of order, with sagging shoulders and weapons hanging from their hands. Hours of face-to-face fighting had splattered them with so much gore that they looked human only in silhouette.

  No live demon was close to them.

  None of the army was fighting anymore.

  They were the paltry remains of a military force nineteen thousand strong, the proudest ever assembled in the three hundred year history of Brighton.