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

breath. First the stone, appearing out of nowhere. Now this dust spiral, forming without any wind and disappearing just as quickly. The stone could have been a prank, but not this. There's no way to explain this.

Unless I'm losing my mind.

Lack of sleep in conjunction with the heat and a wild nightmare... Perhaps I simply need to rest. Shaking my head, I return to my shelter and toss Plato his suit, chiding him again for exposing his skin.

"Fine. Next time I hear you screaming bloody murder, I'll leave you to the bogeyman." He stands as he zips up.

I remove my face shield. "Thank you, my friend."

"I thought we swept this area clear." He gestures toward the stone beside my bed.

"We did." Part of me is glad that he can see it too. I exhale loudly as I fall back onto my mattress, arms out to the sides, eyes closed. I keep my suit on this time. "A memento."

"Get some rest, Luther. You'll need it tonight."

Tonight? Of course. Without the scorching rays of the sun, we'll make our first attempt at locating the women. "Be sure the men have enough to eat. They'll need their strength."

"Before or after we find Sector 50?" He grins.

It's good to see him smile. "Goodnight."

"Good day," he says quietly as he leaves.

The perspiration that covered me when I awoke has been absorbed by my suit, already recycled by the cooling system within its fibers. I don't mind the heat at all now, and I'm sure I'll sleep peacefully—and dreamlessly, I hope.

We kept these suits stored away in the bunker along with all the other supplies we would need after All-Clear: medkits, tools, construction frames, extra nutrition and hydropacks—all off-limits until the day the bunker door locks released us, and we stepped outside for the first time in decades. The scientists told us the suits would be our first line of defense against the harsh climate we'd find waiting outside, but they were not designed to be a permanent solution; after their shelf-life, they could be expected to function well enough for six to nine months. The more we used them, however, the sooner they would expire.

I close my eyes and count the number of days I've worn my suit. Three? Four? I should be able to spare a good day's sleep. We all should. We've earned it. And later—when our suits reach their expiration dates and can no longer protect us from the elements—

"Plato can worry about that," I sigh, half-mumbling as sleep overtakes me once again. My body sinks into the mattress as if I'm floating in a lake of cool, fresh water.

We had a small lake house before the end. When I was a boy, we'd go there every year. My parents accumulated their paid leave so they could take my brothers and me for a month in July. We always looked forward to it, so much so that by the middle of June, it was tortuous even to attempt to focus on our studies. Our minds were completely occupied with thoughts of diving, swimming, and kayak races. We'd spend hours hiking through the trees in the sector's only natural Preserve. The government had continually offered us a great sum for our cottage, but my father had always said there were some things in life money could not buy. The property had been passed down from father to eldest son for over a century, and someday it was going to be mine. I never would have sold it…

I float on my back, my arms drifting out to the sides, my legs gently kicking to maintain my position. Eyes closed, I smile under the sun's warmth. The cool, fresh water fills my ears, but—if I pay attention—I can hear the distant shouts of my two younger brothers as they wrestle on shore, no doubt fighting over who will get to use the telescope next to spy on our sunbathing neighbors. This is heaven, floating far away from my studies and all those tests. Here I'm free to live.

My brother Alex calls my name—my real name. At first I don't respond; I've been Luther for so long now. Then he calls again, and I realize it's me that he wants. I let my legs sink, and I pull myself forward, treading water.

"What? Is Dad back?"

He stands on the pebble-strewn shore in his swimming trunks, his bare skin rosy from too much sun. He shakes his head and points to the house.

"Somebody's here for you!"

I remember this moment. My stomach tightens.

They're here to take me away, back for more tests.

I didn't want to go, but my parents made me. They said it was for the good of us all that I comply. They said it was for our future, and they were proud of me.

I like it fine right here. I lie back and let my arms and legs go limp. Instantly, I'm floating again. Free again, calm, cool and relaxed. The water laps into my ears. I can barely make out Alex shouting anymore.

"They're coming!"

Let them come. I won't go back.

I didn't know then what all the tests were for, but they were sorting out the best and brightest from our sector, the ones there would be room for—made for—in the bunkers, while our loved ones died on the surface. Of course, they never let us or our families know about any of this, only that we'd been chosen by the UW to provide a better tomorrow.

When the bombs started falling on D-Day, then everyone knew.

The truth.

The lake turns to sand all of a sudden, and I gag on it. I jerk forward to find myself covered, buried from the chest down. I blink, my eyes stinging. My heart races as I look around me. Our house is gone, as are the trees and blue skies. In their place is an endless sea of ashen sand beneath a blazing sun.

"What have you done?" I rasp, spitting to clear my mouth.

Two scientists in baggy, reflective environmental suits