The Last Humanity (The Last Survivors Book 3) by T.W. Piperbrook & Bobby Adair

Author:T.W. Piperbrook & Bobby Adair
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi

Chapter 35: Bray

Bray whipped around as the meaty man advanced. Before Bray could stand, the man hoisted him by the shirt and flung him backward. Bray's insides shook as his tailbone cracked the ground. Several spectators scurried back, far enough away to be out of danger, but close enough to leer.

They screamed curses.

"Back to the wild, Skin-Seller!"

"You filthy boozehound!"

Fighting the alcohol-induced buzz, Bray reached for the knife he had tucked in his boot, but the two other men were already grabbing his arms. Encouraged by the shouting, they pinned Bray against the wall of a building.

The meaty man stood in front of Bray.

"What did you say to me before? You called me a name." The meaty man smiled, revealing blackened, chipped teeth. His open mouth unleashed the foul odor of an unsavory meal. The crowd's roars settled to a murmur as they awaited Bray's response.

"Well?" the man insisted again. "Speak up so I can hear you!"

"You're a goddamn…pig chaser…" Bray spat.

The meaty man leaned closer, folding his ear toward Bray as if he couldn't hear. "What was that?" He laughed and punched Bray in the stomach. "I couldn't hear you. Speak up!"

Sucking in a winded breath, Bray yelled, "Fucking pig chaser!"

The audience hooted and hollered. Bray heard the cackle of a woman mixed in with the hearty jeers of men. For a split second, he pictured Samantha rooting against him, excitedly waiting for his blood to spill.

"So you think we chase pigs in town all day, huh?" the meaty man asked.

"That's exactly what I think." Bray exaggerated his nod.

"Better to chase pigs than demons. At least you can eat pigs. What do you do with the demons? Huh? Fuck 'em?"

The audience erupted in laughter. Before Bray could retort, the man socked him in the stomach again, blowing the rest of his wind from his lungs. Bray choked and gagged. The remains of the rabbits he'd eaten crept up his throat. He struggled against the men who had him pinned. The meaty man turned to face the crowd as if he were an orator at some hosted event, a preacher at a sermon.

"What are we going to do with this one, huh?"

"You should skin him!"

"Yeah! Skin the Skin-Seller!" someone screamed. "Maybe you'll get five coin for it!"

"Four, now!"

The audience laughed again. A few more suggestions flew from the crowd, but Bray wasn't listening. He let his head sag to his chest and closed his eyes. The men on either side of him leaned in to check on him, concerned their fun might be over. He felt their hot, stale breath in his face. He opened his eyes to slits, watching them.

Without warning, he rammed his head sideways into the closer of the two. The shaggy-haired man cried out in pain, his nose split open and spilling blood. Bray pulled his right arm free and socked the scarred man in the face, feeling the slice of teeth as he sent several of them into the man's mouth. He ignored the burning pain in his knuckles.

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