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

here and do your thing. I just hope you get Willard’s permission before you start taking her apart. For your sake.”

Cursing under his breath, Perch stalks out of the room. Jamison shuts the door behind him and lingers there a moment before turning to face me.

“I understand why you did it,” he says.

I keep my gaze on the floor, on the pattern made by my own blood spattered across the concrete.

“You know I was never a fan of Willard’s plans. They’re human lives, after all. Not bargaining chips.” He presses his fingertips together, brings them to his chin. “But to put them in even greater danger, that’s beyond negligent, Margo. It’s insane. The mutos out there won’t think twice about gobbling them up as an afternoon snack!”

I shake my head, just enough for him to notice, careful not to add to the excruciating pain slicing through my skull. “They’re fine.”

“And you know this how, exactly? Are you...in some kind of communication with Tucker? Are you people able to do that—speak telepathically?”

I cough, spitting out more blood. “I never said he had anything to do with it.”

“He goes missing the same day we find two of the incubation chambers empty. It’s easy to put two and two together here.”

“I don’t know where he is. He is not my concern. As far as Willard knows, two of the neonates unfortunately did not develop to term. I found them expired that morning, and I disposed of the remains in one of the trash incinerators. I was about to inform Willard, but then Tucker didn’t return from scavenging. I assumed Willard wouldn’t want all that bad news on the same day, so I waited to tell him about it.”

Jamison approaches me. “You may be the only mind-reader in this room, Margo. But I recognize a load of crap when I hear it. And so does Willard. He knows you removed Tucker’s collar. Again.”

I glare up at him through the sweat-drenched clumps of my bedraggled hair. “Send Perch back in here and let him have at it. Because that’s all you’re getting from me.”

“You don’t seem to realize that I’m on your side. Go ahead, read my thoughts and see if I’m wrong. I’m not lying to you.” He pauses. “We want the same thing, you and me: to see these babies grow and develop into fully functioning adults. The first generation of humankind to be born in captivity.”

He is speaking the truth, as he sees it. But he and I do not want the same thing. I want the young ones to live out in the open with their own people, their parents. Not here in Eden’s sterile subterranean depths.

Jamison sighs and squeezes the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes briefly. “Listen, we don’t have to play games. You know where Tucker took them. It’s obvious.” He watches me. “To Luther and the others. You know where they are.”

I almost smirk. “I don’t.”

But someone else does—a spirit of the earth.

“The dogs followed Tucker’s tracks as far as they could, south out of the city ruins. But they veered west before that sandstorm kicked in. We had to call the dogs back.”

“I’m sure it had nothing to do with them almost being out of range by that point.”

“That too. The collars aren’t a perfect solution. Not yet, anyway.”

I shake my head slowly. “Even if I knew where Tucker was, you wouldn’t be able to bring him back. You can’t go after him on the surface. Willard has you all so paranoid about the demon dust that—”

“The main thing on Willard’s mind right now is whether he’ll need to reinforce our defenses. He’s got a feeling that if Luther and company decide to come back for their children, they won’t be alone.” He watches me. “Is there some enclave of sand freaks out there we should know about? Is that where Tucker’s going?”

I look him in the eye. “Bring Perch back.” I won’t tell him anything.

“You’re making this more difficult than it has to be. There was a time when I would have said you were more valuable to Willard in one piece, that you were necessary for the wellbeing of those little ones below. But that’s not the case now.”

“Do you plan to replace me?” Unlikely.

“You misunderstand, Margo. Willard isn’t concerned about them anymore. They could all shrivel up and die in their incubation chambers for all he cares. All he wants is to get off this continent. When the UW arrives, he plans to barter the lives of those fetuses for his safe passage. And if that doesn’t work, he’ll strip the soldiers of their hazard suits at gunpoint and take their chopper. He won’t think twice about abandoning those infants.”

Willard is insane. I’ve known this for some time. “The warships patrolling the coast would shoot him down.”

“Don’t underestimate him. I’m sure he has some kind of contingency plan.” He nods, gesturing lamely toward the door. “When Perch returns, he will hurt you. At that point, there will be nothing I can do for you. While he’s cutting off your fingers one knuckle at a time, I want you to think back to this moment. When you shut down the only man in Eden willing to help you.”

I close my eyes, imagining myself under Perch’s knife. But I can also imagine the chambers in the nursery neglected, the neonates abandoned when they need me most.

Jamison spoke the truth regarding Willard. All that matters to him now is self-preservation. Escape. And which is more dangerous: a man fighting for a cause, or one fighting for his own survival?

Jamison turns away and approaches the door.

“Wait,” I stop him. He half-turns toward me. “I need to bring them into this world—such that it is. I cannot allow them to be forgotten.”

“Then give me something. I guarantee you’ll be back in the nursery within the hour.” He winces a little at the condition of my face, no doubt swollen and multi-colored. “After we get you cleaned up.