Spirits of the Earth: The Complete Series: (A Post-Apocalyptic Series Box Set: Books 1-3) by Milo Fowler (paper ebook reader .TXT) 📕

to stop making her so many promises. She slips her arm around mine and guides me toward the ladder at the other end of the main floor. Might look like I'm the one escorting her, but it's the other way around. She's in charge right now. Just like Perch said.

"They're really starting to make progress. I think you'll be impressed by what you see. It shouldn't be long until we're able to start acclimating them back to life as we know it—as they used to know it."

Not an option. Keeping them in the recovery rooms is one thing. Sedated. Away from us. Out of mind, out of sight. We never agreed on them joining the Eden Guard.

We walk a ways before she hugs my arm. "You're awful quiet."

"Sorry. Got a lot on my mind is all."

"Tell me about it."

Should I? Is it too soon to share the hope welling up inside me? "We found a shortwave radio on the surface. The dogs are bringing it down now."

"Does it work? Too early to tell?" She starts up the ladder as soon as we reach it.

I can't stop myself. I tell her about the transmission, what it could mean for us. For the all-natural children of God who survived the end of the world. I tell her everything, and it spills out of me like an oil gusher.

"Willard, that's incredible!" She stares at me as we stand on the catwalk beside the row of recovery rooms. "I never expected..." She shakes her head and smiles. "I've always thought we were on our own down here. All alone. I never considered that there could be survivors on other continents. It makes sense, though. If they just bombed our sectors, where the rebel uprising began, there would've been no need for the rest of the world to share our fate."

"From the sound of things, they're more than just survivors. Sounds like the UW is strong as ever out there, patrolling our shores to keep anybody from joining us."

"Do you think they'll allow us off the continent?"

"We're still the way God made us." Except for our missing gonads. "No genetic abnormalities rearing their ugly heads. I'll make 'em understand. Soon as we get the radio, we'll transmit our own message, tell 'em where we are. They'll figure out some way to rescue us, I guarantee it."

I look across Eden, taking in all the progress we've made in the past months. But this was never meant to be our home. There is a bigger world waiting for us.

"We'll figure it out. That's what we do." I wink at her, but she doesn't respond.

Instead, she slides open the first door she comes to—one I've already visited today. Inside, Mathis lies dead to the world. Good to see Perch got him back into his bed where he belongs. Otherwise, I would've had some explaining to do.

"Mathis, right?" She likes it when I use their names.

She glances at me and nods, concern arching her brow. She checks the monitors beside the bed, examines each of the hoses connecting him to the machines that feed him while they feed on our power supply. She stares at him like something's wrong.

"What is it?"

"He's been over-sedated." She turns her gaze to me. "He's in a coma."

"That can't be right. You're the only one authorized to be up here, and you'd never make a mistake like that."

"I know." Her dark eyes remain on me. "I wouldn't."

"Who then?"

"You tell me."

"How would I know?" Why are her eyes boring into me like this? Is she trying to read my mind?

A ridiculous thought.

"Have any of the men expressed an interest in pulling the plug on my patients?"

"No." I frown, shaking my head. "None of 'em. They know what you're doing here is important."

If it wasn't for her, I'd pull the plug myself.

"What about Perch?"

What about him? Yes, he hates your guts, thinks you're a muto-lover and probably one yourself. Yes, he over-sedated this patient because he didn't know what the hell he was doing. And yes, it's my fault for having him do it. So blame me, if you're looking to blame somebody.

"You think he did this?"

"He's never supported my efforts here."

"He just has a crush on you is all, and he doesn't know how to express himself." I squeeze her shoulders and whisper into her ear, "There's not enough of you to go around." I nibble on her ear lobe until the hint of a smile breaks across her lips. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

She pulls away from me, concentrating on her patient now.

"Anything you can do?" I lean on the railing at the foot of the bed and glance down. The muscle stimulator is where we left it...but it's not how we found it. The cartridge is almost empty. I turn, blocking her view of the device.

"Not much at this point." She touches Mathis's brow tenderly. Her gaze roves along the blinking lights on the machines beside her. "He's stable for now, but this could be a major setback in the progress we've made."

"He'll pull through. He's strong. Always has been." The platitudes just roll off my tongue. But she didn't see him earlier, flailing around like a fish with too much air in its gills.

She clenches her jaw, the muscle twitching as her eyes lose focus. Then she looks up at me with a forced smile. "On to the next?"

Of course. The rounds. We have eleven more recovering ash freaks to visit. With a slight bow, I slide open the door and hold it for her. "After you, Doc."

In the next room, we find Catherine looking more fragile than I remember, plugged into more of the same medical machines. But unlike Mathis, she's wide awake, paralyzed from the neck down. If only we could paralyze her mouth. Permanently.

"Hey Catherine." Margo comes around the side of her bed to kiss her forehead like she would an ailing sister. "How are you feeling today?"

"Brought Captain Prick, I see." The freak fixes me with a