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

"Didn't even cross my mind." I fold my arms.

"I'll be the judge of that." She closes her eyes, squeezing them tight and scowling. The muscles in her neck tighten. Her face flushes like she's constipated. Then she relaxes all of a sudden, sighing with a curse. "Can't...not anymore. Thanks to you." She glares at me. "The new world gives us these special abilities, and you can't stand to see us with 'em. The good Lord gives, and Willard takes away. God damn you!"

"Your telepathy didn't come from God. It was an abomination."

"You're the abomination!" she screams, eyes wild with rage.

Margo tries to calm her down.

"Go to hell, Willard!" Catherine shrieks. "You bastard!"

I glance at Margo as I turn away. "I'll wait outside."

The door slides shut behind me—but not before I hear Catherine whisper hoarsely to Margo between coughs, "He doesn't know about you, does he? He has no idea!"

Only a steel door separates us now, yet I suddenly feel a thousand kilometers away. I could go back inside, demand to know what she meant by that. But I don't. I don't need to.

A part of me always knew, I suppose.

I watch the men hauling pallets of supplies to and fro on the main floor. I listen to the steady hum of the air purifiers, feel the constant vibration in the catwalk from the nuclear reactor far below us. Across the floor, I notice Perch. He's carrying the shortwave radio into the monitoring station.

Things around here are about to change in a big way.

14 DaiynaTen Months after All-Clear

I can't feel anything. My body is numb, curled inward on itself like a fetus, twitching involuntarily. What did they hit me with? All of them, all at once. Some kind of electric shock rounds. Enough to drop me convulsing to the floor.

I'm going to be sick.

"Fall back." A voice of authority from far away. Boots shuffle back from me, all but one pair. "You'll have to forgive my men." The same voice. A face with a thin mustache and a tight-lipped grin makes eye contact. "We don't get many visitors down here."

Someone sniffs. "So what do you say, Captain?"

Tucker. He betrayed me. I never should have trusted him.

"We'll have to see about that. From what I recall, you've still got plenty left on your to-do list." A pause. "So quit standing around and get back at it!"

Someone starts up the ladder. I hear the contact against each rung as it's made to disappear by invisible hands and feet.

"All of you—back at it!" Boots scurry away. In their absence, I hear the machines humming nearby, a throbbing between my ears. A chill spreads down my side. The slick concrete floor is cold beneath me. "Can you stand?" A hand touches my shoulder tentatively.

"Who—?" My lungs shudder.

"Plenty of time to get ourselves acquainted. You just try and relax now. I'm real sorry about my men—they can get a little trigger-happy from time to time, and that's a fact. But the effects will pass. No permanent damage done." Something clicks, hisses static. "Jamison. Meet me in the east tunnel, out by the air processors." Another click. "Deep breaths, if you can," he tells me. "Try and steady your nerves. I'm sure they're going haywire right now." His fingers gently tug at my head covering. "Let's get this out of the way a bit so you can breathe easier."

I let him uncover my face.

"Well now." He sits back on his haunches. "Ain't you a sight for sore eyes." He grins again, but his eyes stare at me hard.

I try to move, to uncurl myself as my muscles tremble.

"Captain?" Boots approach, striking the pavement in an easy jog.

"Help me get her to her feet."

"Who's—?"

"Guest quarters. We'll give her some time to get over the shock."

They haul me up off the floor and carry me between them like so much dead weight. My head swims crazily at the sudden altitude, and I fight to stay conscious. But it's futile. My head drops forward, and darkness swallows my senses.

The night doesn't last long. My eyes open wide, and my head jerks upward.

I'm sitting in a large bed, enveloped by a mound of plush blankets. A small bedroom with painted walls—mustard-colored. Artwork mounted in rustic frames. Soft ambient light.

Is this a dream?

Milton sits at my bedside.

I nearly jump out of my skin at the sight of him.

"Hello Daiyna." He smiles sheepishly. The layer of grime on his face cracks at the corners of his mouth.

"What are you doing here?" I gasp, clutching at my covers. Underneath, I'm naked.

He still wears his filthy urine suit, and it reeks. The scarred face shield dangles idly from his fingers, swaying to and fro, as he reclines in an overstuffed armchair. He parts his lips, takes a breath to answer me, but shrugs instead.

"I'm going to rescue you," he says.

What's that mean? The last time I saw him... My hand drifts to my throat.

"Yeah. About that." He leans forward, biting his lip with a sudden frown. "I'm sorry." He meets my gaze, his eyes clear and earnest. "I think I might've been possessed or something."

I nod slowly. "Right..." I remember seeing the evil spirit inside him, fighting against his will. "Not anymore?"

"I don't think so. Some weird stuff's been going on, but I feel like myself again—more or less." Another shrug.

I don't sense the spirit of the earth in him, but I don't sense anything in myself, either. The voice of the spirits remains silent.

I glance quickly around the room. "How did you—?" I was going to ask how he found me, how he got in here, but I'm not even sure where here is.

"I found a way in." He watches me. "They don't know I'm here yet. So far, I've managed to stay under their radar. I think."

"How long?" My head swims again. I hold it with one hand, keeping the covers in place with the other. Where are my clothes?

"An