The Last Survivors (Book 5): The Last Refuge

by Bobby Adair

  Something was wrong.

  Bray halted. His mouth hung open in horror. William was in the middle of them. A group of twenty demons charged down the road, mouths agape, their bulbous heads tilted as they listened to William's barked commands.

  What was going on?

  Bray's pulse climbed as he ducked behind the nearest wall, assessing the situation. He blinked hard, ensuring that he wasn't dreaming. The demons were still there, and so was William.

  Bray clenched his sword, his instincts to get William out of danger overridden by the number of demons. The mob was growing. Bray watched as handfuls of demons ran from the adjacent building and joined William, charging toward the shore. There were enough that Bray wasn't confident he could battle them off by himself.

  Movement on the distant water called his attention. Something was floating out there. Bray squinted as he noticed three shapes that he thought were Melora, Ivory, and Jingo.

  More of Ivory's Tech Magic.

  Before Bray could decipher any more, hisses filled the air. He looked back at William's mob, noticing a few creatures breaking off from the group, surveying the streets.

  They'd find him soon, if he didn't leave.

  I'll come back, William, he thought. I promise.

  Chapter 55: Melora

  Heavy gusts of wind dried Melora's tears as the boat floated further down the coastline. Cracks of thunder and lightning split the air. She watched Ivory and Jingo operating the fabric and the ropes of the strange device while the first pelts of rain splashed into the water around them.

  She searched the coastline for William, but he had already vanished. The Ancient City had swallowed him up, intent on twisting his brain while his body lived on. The worst part was that he wasn't dead. He'd wander among the demons, scavenging and killing, doing awful things. She wouldn't wish that fate on anyone.

  Except Bray, she thought angrily.

  Over the course of a day, she'd lost relatives that she never thought she'd find. She'd lost Ella, and Ella's death had snapped William's fragile mind. And now she'd lost him, too.

  Melora clung to the side of the boat, thinking thoughts of revenge as she looked over the water. The ocean was as beautiful as Ivory had said, but she could already see its danger. The heavy piece of fabric above her rippled with the wind as Ivory and Jingo fought to keep them on course. A wrong turn could send them spiraling out into the ocean, or barreling into rocks that lined the shore.

  "What if the fabric rips?" she heard Ivory yell to Jingo.

  "Don't pull the ropes too taut!" Jingo answered. "Work with the wind! If it gets worse, we'll lower the sail!"

  "Where are we heading?" Ivory asked.

  "Far enough away from the Ancient City!" Jingo yelled. "The battle is going to get worse. More demons will come from farther away as they hear the screams and the shrieks."

  As if to prove his point, several shapes ran along the distant beach. Their harried strides gave them away as demons. They stopped every so often to watch the boat.

  The raindrops grew fatter as they bounced off the boat's hull. Several glanced off the side of Melora's face. She tucked her sword in her scabbard and held her hands over her forehead, blocking the rain so she could see.

  "Is there anything I can do to help?" she yelled, needing to take her mind off the awful events that had happened.

  "Make sure our belongings don't fall over the side!" Jingo shouted back, pointing at their bags and weapons.

  Melora looped the bags around her feet. The wind screamed past her as she grabbed Ivory's bow. She clung to the handle as the sky broke open and the fat raindrops turned to a downpour. The boat churned through the water. The piece of fabric flapped and groaned against the metal pole. Rain battered the craft, plastering her clothes to her skin.

  "Steer that way!" she heard Jingo yell to Ivory as he pointed toward the coastline. "We don't want to lose sight of shore!"

  Despite Jingo's instruction, Melora felt the boat taking a direction of its own. Ivory pulled on a handle attached to something in the water, straining to hold onto it. Waves crashed over the edge of the boat. The ancient device rose and fell with the swells of a sea over which Melora still couldn't believe she was floating. Melora clung to the edge of the boat. Pitching off and falling into the ocean was a very real fear. She'd drown before anyone could rescue her.

  "Be careful!" she heard Ivory shout.

  The rain thickened, doing its best to throw them off course, obscuring their vision. Melora blinked away running water that felt like the saliva of a monster trying to swallow her whole. She caught a glimpse of Jingo in time to see him lose hold of a rope.

  "Dammit!" he yelled.

  All of a sudden, the sail was billowing madly and Jingo was scrabbling in her direction. The fierce wind flung the rope into the air. Jingo leapt for it, but missed. Melora reached out to help, but the wet rope slid through her hands and flapped further away. Letting go of the boat's edge, she crawled across the boat, reaching out for it as she tried to keep hold of the bow and their bags and help Jingo. A gust of wind blasted her with rainwater.

  Jingo screamed something indecipherable.

  Melora blinked. When she could see again, she noticed that he'd recovered the rope and was fighting with the sail. She was crawling back for her seat when the boat tipped. Melora screamed and slid across the interior, grasping for something to hold her in place.

  Frantically, she caught hold of an edge of the boat and clung to it. She pressed her body to the floor as a gigantic wave burst over the edge, pummeling her face. When she opened her eyes, one of the bags slid past her. She made a grab for it, but missed. Another wave ripped more of their belongings into the ocean.

  Dammit! No!

  The boat tipped and righted, tipped and righted. She heard Ivory's and Jingo's voices, but couldn't decipher words. Melora could only hold on and pray she wasn't knocked over the edge and into the ocean.

  She pictured her body washing up on the shore of the Ancient City, food for William and the demons.

  She gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and clung tighter. She remained in the same position for what seemed like days, even though it was probably much shorter than that.

  Shouts from Ivory made her open her eyes. The rumble of the sky had been replaced by a grinding noise. What was happening? The fabric flapped and flapped around the metal pole. The bottom of the boat creaked and complained. All at once, the boat jolted violently and stopped.

  "We've hit land!" Ivory screamed.

  Melora let go of the boat's edge and felt Ivory tugging her. When she got to her feet, she searched for the bags, but only one of them remained. She grabbed it and followed Ivory, jumping off the edge of the boat and splashing into ankle-deep water.

  They'd landed. Somehow, they'd landed.

  She followed Ivory around several jutting rocks as rain soaked through their clothes and into their skin. Jingo was waiting on the beach, calling out to them. Melora took several steps and collapsed. She looked at the boat, trying to determine how she was still alive. It rocked back and forth between two boulders where it had gotten stuck.

  They were on shore. They were alive.

  But where were they?

  Chapter 56: Franklin

  Franklin lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of rain pelting the roof. Fitz rested on top of him. For the first time in several nights, she'd fallen asleep before him. His heart hammered against his ribcage even as he tried not to wake her.

  His success at the marketplace had been diminished by the appearance of Captain Sinko.

  A few hours after his sermon, Captain Sinko had surprised Franklin in the Sanctuary. The man's wicked grin had told him all the news he needed to know. Tenbrook had heard about the sermon. He'd requested Franklin's presence.

  Franklin was to meet him in the morning.

  Franklin hadn't told Fitz. He closed his eyes and reopened them, wishing he could take back what he'd done. He needed to harden his hear
t. He needed to act the way Lady and Bruce did, just like Fitz had said.

  He couldn't let Fitz be punished for what he'd done.

  He wouldn't tell her a thing about the meeting.

  He looked down at her outline in the candlelight—sweet, beautiful Fitz. This might be the last time he'd see her. He swallowed and closed his eyes, taking comfort in her presence.

  Watching the window in the top of his room, Franklin waited for the sky to signal morning before sucking in a breath and wriggling sideways, slipping out from underneath her. He waited a moment, verifying that he hadn't woken her, then headed for the door.

  Chapter 57: Oliver

  The rain had been coming down all through the night and on and off through the morning. Now, it was pouring steadily and with no respite in sight. Oliver looked into the gray distance. "I don't think the rain will stop today. There's an ancient building up there. Maybe we can shelter there to get dry tonight."

  Beck looked.

  "Way up past those trees." Oliver pointed.

  "It's as good as any, I suppose."

  Oliver laughed. "Most have crumbled roofs with a few standing walls. That place looks like its made of solid ancient stone. I'll bet its roof doesn't leak."

  "You're an optimist," said Beck. "After the rain clears, we should leave the coast and head for the mountains to look for a way through and back to Brighton."

  Oliver shrugged and walked on. "Do you think your revolt succeeded?"

  "How long have you been wanting to ask that question?"

  "I just thought of it," said Oliver. "I guess it's not as important to me as to you."

  "And now it is?" asked Beck. "Is that because you're thinking of coming back to Brighton?"

  "Yes," answered Oliver. "I guess that's it. I miss my friend, Franklin, and I miss Fitz. But I don't want to go back to Brighton the way it was. If your revolt succeeded, then I think I'd like to live in a city ruled by you."

  "So you've finally decided that you like me?" Beck laughed.

  "I hadn't thought of it exactly like that, but I guess so."

  "Well, I don't know if the revolution happened, or if they're awaiting my return. Either way, I have to go back and do my part. I hope my part will be to make Brighton a better place than it is."

  "What would you change?" Oliver asked. "It seems like a complicated problem. I mean, getting rid of Blackthorn and the blue shirts will be something significant. I always thought they were bullies. Everybody believes that. But if you take away the bullies, don't more bullies take their place?"

  "I'm afraid taking away the bullies isn't the whole answer," said Beck.

  "What is?" asked Oliver.

  "I think the simple answer is better decisions," said Beck. "On the council, we make all manner of choices about how to run Brighton, everything from how many pyres to construct prior to a Cleansing, to deciding when to call up the militia and send them to war. At least in theory."

  "In theory?" asked Oliver.

  "In practice, General Blackthorn dominated the council. He bullied Father Winthrop to agree with him on everything, and when he didn't feel like going through the formality of the council, he simply did what he wanted."

  "Why didn't you stop him?" asked Oliver.

  "Because everybody in Brighton knows the real power always rested with General Blackthorn. He controlled the cavalry and the blue shirts."

  "I can see that this gets complicated."

  "It does," agreed Beck. He pointed at the ancient building. "Perhaps we'll talk more about it later, when we get to shelter."

  Chapter 58: Ivory

  Ivory, Melora, and Jingo stood on the shore, watching the waves roll the sailboat up on its side, over and over, grinding the hull against the rocks. The mainsail flapped in the wind, only partially attached to the mast. The morning sun was hidden behind dark clouds. The rain still pelted them. They'd spent the previous night catching shelter under some thick trees, hiding from the storm. Thankfully, no demons had crossed paths with them.

  "Where are we?" Ivory asked.

  Jingo looked from the boat to the ocean. He furrowed his deep, wart-covered brow. "I'm not sure, exactly, but I think the storm carried us up north. We'll have to figure that out."

  "At least we're away from the Ancient City," remarked Ivory. "I'm sorry about the boat."

  "Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have taken it out with the storm coming," said Jingo. "As it was, it saved us. Our lives are worth more than a boat." He looked at Melora. "You've not said a word since we came ashore."

  Melora said, "I'm overwhelmed."

  Ivory put an arm around Melora and pulled her to him. "She lost her mother and her brother. And now she's been shipwrecked."

  Melora peeled Ivory's arm off her shoulder and took a safe step away. "I don't need your sympathy."

  Ivory was put off. He'd thought they were getting along well. He'd thought something romantic might be developing, even though it was the worst possible time. "I'm just saying that the—"

  "Don't," Melora told him. "I appreciate what you did for me when you saved me from those monsters, but don't pretend that you're my hero. I was taking care of myself long before you came along and before Ella found me. Don't pretend I'm fragile."

  Ivory didn't know what to say. He felt hurt.

  Jingo laughed. "You've got a strong-willed girl, Ivory." He started to smile again, but caught himself and looked at Melora with a guilty expression. "I apologize. I didn't mean to imply that you were his property, or anyone else's."

  "That's okay," said Melora, staring at Jingo.

  He stared back for a second before reaching up and touching the warts on his skull, realizing his hood had blown off in the wind. He reached to pull it back up.

  "Don't," Melora said, much more gently than she'd spoken to Ivory. "You're one of the overwhelming surprises that has kept me quiet and thinking. All my life, you… demons…"

  "We're monsters," Jingo finished for her. "I know that's what you think of us."

  Melora looked away, guilty. "Yes."

  "That's okay," said Jingo. "Most people believe we're monsters, because most of us are." He straightened up and dropped his hands to his side. "Look as much as you like."

  Melora stared, stepped closer, and raised a hand to touch the bulbous warts. "May I?"

  "Yes," said Jingo.

  "Do they hurt?" she asked.

  "No," said Jingo, "not the ones on my head." He rubbed a hand across his elbow. "When they get into the joints, they're painful."

  "He's three hundred years old," said Ivory, trying to get himself back into the conversation.

  "No," said Melora. "That can't be true."

  Jingo's face turned sad. "I'm afraid it is."

  "He was an Ancient," said Ivory. "He lived when the Ancient City was alive, when all the buildings were full of people and they were covered with glass and they glimmered in the sun. He knows everything about Tech Magic."

  Melora scrutinized Ivory, looking for evidence of the lie in his features. "That can't be true."

  "I don't know everything," said Jingo, "but I know a lot." He turned and looked up and down the beach. "We should talk about these things after we find some shelter, though. If we stay out in this cold rain too long, we'll all freeze to death. We certainly shouldn't stay out here another night."

  Ivory looked up the beach. "I saw a building up the beach that way, when we were on the boat. At least I think I did. We may be able to find a dry place to sleep there."

  Jingo and Melora both looked.

  "You can't see it now," Ivory told them. "The rain is coming down too hard."

  "Lead the way, then," said Jingo.

  Melora remained in place.

  Ivory turned back to her. "What?"

  Melora pointed at the boat. "If we leave it, the waves will destroy it."

  "There's nothing we can do for it," said Jingo, "not anymore."

  Chapter 59: Franklin

  Franklin crossed the square throu
gh the morning drizzle. On the edges of the plaza, women walked timidly near the walls of the surrounding buildings, as though the doorways and side streets might provide a place to hide, should the evil of the plaza awaken to reach out and snatch them.

  And the square was evil.

  What else could it be?

  Did anything happen in the square that didn't cause harm, even if it was wrapped in the guise of the greater good?

  No.

  Sure, the spring festival and the fall harvest feast always took place in the square. Men and women danced. Kids competed in games. The old people told stories around a bonfire big enough to light the whole square. But even in those good times, the fire always glimmered with the memories of the wretched faces of the unclean.

  Too many Cleansings had passed. Too many innocent people—people with a few smudges, warts, or no warts at all—were frightened out of their minds over the painful fire that was going to sear away their flesh. They always seemed normal. Not twisted and maniacal like one might expect from the demons, but normal.

  Franklin shivered at the thought.

  All those screams told a story of the unbearable pain the unclean felt when bound to a pyre pole.

  Did so many have to die? Was that truly the greater good?

  Franklin's feet grew heavier as he trudged up to the front doors of Blackthorn's house, now Tenbrook's residence. He was wet from the lingering rain.

  "You're here to see the General?" a guard asked.

  Franklin looked up from his feet, disappointed but not surprised that the guard didn't address him as his position required. The other guard looked on without protest.

  Resisting the temptation to admonish the guard, as Father Winthrop would have done without a second thought, Franklin simply nodded. A rebuke would be a waste of effort. The guard likely knew why Franklin was at Tenbrook's door. Both guards knew how Franklin's morning was going to end, just as Franklin did.

  "Not much to say today, eh?" the guard asked. "You forget The Word when you left the Temple?"