The Last Refuge: A Dystopian Society in a Post Apocalyptic World (The Last Survivors Book 5)

by Bobby Adair

  He smiled as he thought about Fitzgerald, waiting in one of the pews to support him.

  The doors opened.

  The music grew louder.

  Franklin walked across the threshold, leading his procession of clergymen. He was halfway to the pulpit when he realized something was different than his last sermon.

  The usual rows of filled pews were mostly empty. A few clusters of women sat spaced out from one another, looking at each other, strange expressions on their faces. Several old codgers were hunched over in the back. One of the clergymen coughed. Another cleared his throat.

  Franklin kept walking, having no choice but to keep going. He studied the mostly vacant church as he made his way to the pulpit. What was going on?

  Where was everyone?

  He'd spoken to twice this many people last time. And he was sure he'd won them over. He recalled the congratulations he'd received.

  Had those been lies? Maybe he wasn't as successful as he'd thought.

  Franklin caught a glimpse of Fitz's downcast face as she watched him from the back. The disappointment in her eyes was enough to make him want to retreat for the door. Forcing himself to speak, Franklin said, "Good morning, people of Brighton."

  A few half-hearted responses floated up to the pulpit.

  "We are gathered here because of our devotion to The Word, our devotion to each other, and our devotion to Brighton. The spirit of faith is strong in each of your hearts."

  "So sayeth The Word," a few women mumbled.

  Franklin's heart sank. One of the old codgers in the back row sneezed.

  Chapter 21: Melora

  When Melora awoke, William was standing over her. She instinctively reached for her sword. Her heart pounded as she tried to discern what was happening.

  "We're trying Ivory's bow!" he said, his face lit with a smile.

  Melora blinked herself awake and blew a calming breath. After what William had told her about Ella and Bray, she'd barely slept. She'd moved her blanket close to the archway to keep an eye on what was going on, though she hadn't heard anything. Ivory walked past, shouldering his bag and his weapon. William scurried away with a smile on his face.

  "How'd you sleep?" Ivory asked.

  "Okay," she lied, still feeling unsettled.

  She rubbed her eyes and watched the daylight through one of the cracks in the ceiling. To her right, she saw Ella and Bray waiting in the next room. Melora got to her feet, threw on her boots, and strapped her sword to her waist.

  "I'm ready."

  "Don't you want to eat first?" Ivory asked her.

  Melora shook her head insistently. "I'm fine. I'll have something later."

  She walked with Ivory into the other room, said good morning to her mother, and shot daggers with her eyes at Bray. Bray didn't seem to notice. His pants were stained with the remnants of the rabbits he'd skinned the night before. She couldn't help picturing him pawing at Ella, finding the best way into her dress. A filthy pig. That's what he was.

  Taking up next to her mother, Melora engaged her in conversation, keeping Ella and William close as Bray and Ivory led the way downstairs. Together they moved the stones and exited the building.

  Outside, the sun lanced over the early morning dew that had settled over the ruined buildings and the rubble in the street. The air was cold, but several degrees warmer than when Melora had pulled the blanket over her body the night before.

  "Where are we going?" she asked the group.

  Bray took the lead next to Ivory, admiring his bow. "What do you think, Ivory?" he asked, looking around for demons.

  Melora huffed in a breath. She half expected to smell the fetid odor of the twisted men, but the area was clear.

  Ivory bit his lip. "We could go to the place where Melora and I shot yesterday." He paused. "Or, I know of a place that might be better."

  "Where?" Bray asked.

  "A few streets east," Ivory said, pointing. "It's worth the trip. I'll take you."

  Bray watched Ivory curiously. "Lead the way."

  As they continued walking, William scooted up near Bray and Ivory. Melora hung back next to Ella. They skirted past brown, faltering weeds and crushed rubble, cutting through areas they hadn't traveled before. Many-windowed buildings sat on either side of the road, each the same height and shape.

  William and Bray chatted with Ivory in anticipation of using the bow. Melora slowed her pace, letting them get further ahead so she could speak with Ella.

  "I talked with William last night," she said, watching her mother.

  Ella bit her lip. "About Bray?"

  "Yes," Melora said, surprised.

  "I knew he'd speak to you about it."

  "I heard what Bray was trying to do. I heard you pushed him off."

  Ella sighed and lowered her head. "You don't have to worry about him."

  "Why not? We're in danger, Mom. We should threaten him to leave. We shouldn't be traveling with him anymore."

  Ella watched Bray, William, and Ivory in the distance. She sighed again as she thought through an answer. "He's a Warden, Melora. They operate under different rules than the men in Brighton." She looked at the ground.

  "Really? Because I don't think he acted differently at all," Melora countered, getting frustrated. "The women in Brighton and Davenport might be stuck with the men they marry. They might not have a choice about the company they keep, but we do. Out here, we can make him go."

  "There's more to it than that, Melora."

  "Like what?"

  Ella watched Melora in silence for a minute before answering. "He's been good to William."

  "I know he helped you get to Davenport, and here to the Ancient City, but we can take care of ourselves," Melora said. "We don't owe him anything."

  Ella sighed. "What I'm trying to say is, you don't need to worry about me." She reached over, putting a hand on Melora's shoulder. "I was a little harsh on you and William yesterday. I know you can take care of yourselves. I need you to believe that I can, too." Ella smiled and met Melora's eyes. "I already had words with Bray. He won't try anything again."

  "I still don't trust him."

  "If I thought we were in danger, I'd tell you," Ella said. "I promise."

  Chapter 22: Oliver

  After staying another night in the cylinders and traveling most of the day, Oliver and Beck finally got close to the ocean. Once they got through the dunes, the beach was wide and flat, stretching for a hundred yards down to the water. The mist turned everything gray, making the beach and the ocean disappear in the distance.

  Oliver said, "It feels like I'm living in a cloud."

  "Except cloud people wouldn't have sand in their shoes," said Beck with a chuckle.

  "I'm going to the ocean," Oliver announced, running across the sand toward the water. A flock of white birds with black-tipped wings—a hundred or more—took flight in front of him, squawking loudly and floating on the wind that carried them down the beach.

  The rolling water fascinated Oliver. He'd never seen or suspected anything like it. The intermittent, crashing water rumbled like thunder as it rolled on and off the beach, washing over all the land on the great flat earth, pulling back into itself before the ocean ate it with another crash.

  Once on the edge of the dry sand, Oliver watched the water come and go a few times before he sprinted forward to kneel down, cup his hand, and scoop a palm full of water into his mouth. He immediately spit it out as he ran away from the rolling water.

  Beck looked up and down the beach as he laughed and proceeded toward Oliver. "Salty?"

  Drinking from his canteen to rinse out his mouth, happy that he'd filled it earlier from a stream they'd crossed, Oliver said, "Terrible. Saltier than you'd think."

  "I don't think I'll try it," said Beck. "I don't mind learning from the experiences of others."

  "You should taste it, just the same," said Oliver. "Hearing about something can never be as powerful as experiencing it." Oliver gazed up and down the beach again. "H
ow will either of us ever describe this place in words? How will anyone understand what it's like to be here?"

  "I don't have an answer for that," said Beck, "but you have a good point."

  "I wonder how many beautiful places are in the world that we'll never know about," mused Oliver. "I wonder if all those magical places and things they tell us in the legends are true." Oliver looked Beck in the eye. "I always took them to be fantasies, made up by parents to entertain gullible children."

  "As did I," said Beck. "But there are grains of truth in all of them, I suspect."

  "Now I believe that," said Oliver. He looked back at the ocean. "How far do you think it goes?"

  Beck followed his gaze to the water. "People in Brighton believe the earth is flat."

  "Yes," said Oliver, "but how far does it go? Where is the edge? Wait. You said people in Brighton believe the earth is flat. Do you believe it?"

  Beck was uncharacteristically quiet.

  "Everybody says it." Oliver waved a hand at the flat ocean spreading out in front of him. "I've heard you say it, too."

  "Habit," Beck sighed. "When people cling too strongly to their beliefs, it's better to pretend you share those beliefs than it is to try to convince them otherwise."

  "Are you saying the great flat earth is not flat?" asked Oliver.

  "I don't know," said Beck. "You've not seen our library in the Academy. Nor have you seen our archives."

  "What's the difference?" asked Oliver.

  "In our library, we keep a meager collection of books and partial books. In our archive, we have countless items. Anything with a word on it, we collect and store."

  "Why?" asked Oliver.

  "To learn. All words are clues to the Ancient world. Because we have so little, we often make guesses, but we're ignorant about most things. The shape of the earth is one such area."

  "So, it's not flat," Oliver persisted.

  "Some ancient texts make allusions to a round earth, shaped like a ball."

  Oliver laughed. "I'm not stupid."

  "I'm serious." Beck pointed across the water. "If you go far enough in that direction," he turned and pointed over the dunes, "one day, you'll come back from that way. I don't understand why that's true. I have no idea how it could be, but then, there is so much about the Ancients that I don't understand. I simply present the idea. You don't have to accept it. You may continue to believe the earth is flat."

  "What do you believe?" asked Oliver.

  "Whenever the concept comes up in the ancient texts, it is consistent. So despite what my intuition tells me, I believe it."

  Oliver took a long look at the water before saying, "I will, too."

  "You'd make a good Scholar, Oliver. Perhaps when we get back to Brighton, you'll consider joining the Academy."

  Chapter 23: Tenbrook

  "Did you see Franklin's sermon?" Tenbrook asked Captain Sinko, unable to conceal his smile.

  "The turnout was…sparse," Sinko confirmed.

  Tenbrook recalled his most recent orders. Before the sermon was to start, he'd had soldiers guard the road leading to the Sanctuary. The townsfolk had been interrupted on their way to the building and instructed of a new guideline. Due to the early freezes, they were strongly encouraged to return home and continue harvesting.

  "How many parishioners were in attendance?" Tenbrook asked, feeling a spark of joy that rivaled the burnings.

  "Thirty, at most. The pews were empty except for a handful of women and old men. I glanced inside halfway through the ceremony and the echo of the door gave me away," Sinko said. "Most of the townsfolk returned home as the soldiers suggested. Those who attended seemed nervous and confused."

  "Good," Tenbrook said. "The fewer people in that building, the better. How did Father Franklin do?"

  "He was rattled, but he performed his duties."

  "As he should." Tenbrook was unable to suppress his elation. "Tell your men to keep guard of the road before and after every sermon."

  "Will do, sir."

  Chapter 24: Fitzgerald

  Fitz watched Franklin pace the room.

  "It wasn't a failure," she said, trying to cheer him up. "The people who were there were eager to hear what you were saying."

  "A handful of women and old men won't change anything," Franklin said, clenching and unclenching his fists.

  "They'll bring The Word home with them," Fitz said. "They'll tell others."

  Even Fitz didn't believe what she was saying. There weren't enough people. She recalled the nervous expressions of the parishioners in the room. Even the woman with the kerchief hadn't shown up. The soldiers outside the Sanctuary had rattled the townsfolk so much they were hardly listening to the sermon.

  "I knew things were too quiet with Tenbrook," Franklin said, pounding his fist in his hand. "I knew he was up to something. This new guideline ruins any chance we had at building something."

  Fitz sighed and sat. She watched Franklin shake his head as he weaved back and forth. "I don't know what to do, Fitz."

  "Sit," Fitz said, patting the bed. "Think."

  "I'm tired of sitting. I'm tired of thinking." Franklin's face suddenly grew angry. "Do you know how embarrassing it is speaking to an empty room, Fitz? It's like standing in the middle of the wild and screaming when no one is listening."

  "Franklin—"

  Franklin's face reddened with shame and anger. "I knew being the Bishop was going to be difficult. But what can I do with an empty Sanctuary?"

  "Things will get better," Fitz tried. "More people will come."

  "No, they won't." Franklin's face fought between anger and defeat. "Not with Tenbrook's guideline in place." Finally, he seemed to settle on something.

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I'm talking to Tenbrook. I'm repealing his guideline and telling him to keep his soldiers away."

  Franklin made for the door.

  "Franklin, wait!" Fitz leapt from the bed and grabbed his arm. "You can't go to his house! You can't tell him that! He might have you killed!"

  "What else am I supposed to do?" Franklin asked desperately, shaking free of her grasp. "Wait until he makes me irrelevant, and then kills me? Those sermons are the only small power I have. That's what you told me, Fitz, what you convinced me of. Once I'm out of people's sight, they'll forget I'm the Bishop. They'll forget about The Word. They'll barely bat an eye when Tenbrook brings me to the pyre and burns me."

  "You're still an Elder, even if no one is attending the sermons."

  Franklin shook his head. "Am I? I've ceased to matter, Fitz. You were right about what you said before. Lady and Bruce would have faced this with courage. I'm not going to hide in a room, waiting for the soldiers to pull me away. I'm going to go see Tenbrook, and I'm going to force him to repeal his stupid guideline."

  Before Fitz could stop him, Franklin stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him.

  Chapter 25: Ella

  Ivory brought them to a massive structure that stood out from the other buildings on the street, as if the other, smaller buildings had been built to stand guard around it. Ella's eyes widened as she looked up at the enormous, rectangular building. The smooth cement walls rose up forty feet high. In front was a gaping entrance. Had it contained glass? Ella couldn't imagine anyone, especially the Ancients, leaving such a large area exposed.

  Past the massive opening and inside the structure was a huge, expansive floor, now covered mostly with dirt, but speckled with glass that must have been buried for hundreds of years by the passage of critters' and demons' feet. The sun reflected off the glass shards, creating a magnificent glare. Support beams were spaced out evenly throughout the building. Most were tattered with age, but all of them led to an enormous, domed ceiling with square panels that had probably once contained brightly colored glass. All around the perimeter of the main room were smaller rooms.

  "What is this place?" she asked Ivory.

  Ivory smiled. "Rumors say it is an Ancient marketplace."


  Ella's mouth hung open as they inspected the inside of the building from the road. "There are probably a hundred rooms inside," she marveled.

  "Probably a hundred demons, too," Bray muttered. "It's not exactly a safe place to shoot."

  "There are plenty of ways out," Ivory said. "I've been here before. I know the exits."

  "Are you sure?" Bray frowned, still cautious.

  "You could get lost exploring it," Ivory admitted. "But if we stick close to the front of the building, we won't lose our way."

  "It's impressive to look at," Bray admitted with a shrug.

  "Come inside and I'll show you around," Ivory suggested.

  Ella's gaze wandered from the building to another attached to it. The neighboring building had a floor that sloped up several levels, with wide openings in between. It reminded Ella of the first building she and William had seen in the wild.

  "That other building looks familiar. Right, William?" she asked.

  William's mouth hung open as he appraised the structure. "Yes. We've seen a building like that one before."

  "That's where the Ancients kept the devices that carried them from one place to another," Ivory said with certainty.

  "Like the object we saw in the woods," Ella said, looking at Bray and William. "The one we hid behind when the soldiers were after us."

  William's excitement grew as the recognition hit. "Yes—the piece of metal with the windows on all sides. I remember."

  Ivory beamed. He gestured to the building. "The Ancients came from all over to shop for goods. They left the devices that carried them from one place to another in the building next door. Then they walked around and purchased things."

  "How could you know all this?" Bray asked, unable to contain his suspicion.

  "My uncle took me here several times, before he passed away," Ivory said. "We figured it out by exploring it. There are a few ancient contraptions in the building next door. That's how we figured that part out."

  Before they could question him further, Ivory headed for the entrance. Ella and the others watched, enthralled. They stared as Ivory crunched over the dirt floor. He walked through the opening, waving them in.