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

Granger hits the ground first, screaming and lashing out with his borrowed weapon. But his retaliation doesn’t last long. First a blade punctures the joint at his elbow, and the weapon in his hand drops to the ground with a puff of dust. Then he lies still, groaning.

I’m next. But I drop the blade and don’t fight back. I need to conserve my strength for when they decide to remove my suit. I’ll have to deal with whatever violent changes overcome me at that point. I trust—without knowing why—that these superhumans will be true to their word. That if I don’t retaliate, they won’t harm me.

Ironic, considering they’re prepared to remove my only protection from this toxic environment.

“Finally, you see reason.” Harris nods.

A pair of superhumans take hold of my helmet. They start unlatching it.

“My O2’s almost out anyway.”

“You are a brave man, Sergeant,” Markus observes. “Your comrade was squealing like an infant by this point.”

“We’re not scared.” Granger favors his injured arm as another pair of superhumans work on removing his helmet, struggling with the remaining clamps. “But you should be. Who knows what kind of mutant freaks you’ll have on your hands once we catch a whiff of your air.”

Markus chuckles. “We’ll put you down, if need be.”

“Dead or alive,” I remind the engineer. “We’re wanted men, ol’ buddy.”

Granger curses.

I take a quick breath and hold it as the final clamps release. My helmet lifts free, exposing my face to the chill of the night.

Will I ever see my family again?

“Breathe it in, Sergeant,” Markus says. “Our air flows from Gaia herself, permeating all that it touches. There is no way for you to—”

He’s interrupted by a new player on the scene: an engine roaring through the dark with headlights on full blast, as blinding as the sun in all its glory. I shield my eyes with one hand and recognize the vehicle—a black, armored Hummer. It must have been running on silent mode until now, revving as it skids to a halt a few meters away.

Who sits behind the wheel? Impossible to tell behind those tinted windows. A fanged mutant? Someone from Eden? Or a survivor from some other enclave the UW knows nothing about?

“Looks like our ride’s here.” Granger smacks the superhuman’s hands away from his helmet and slaps the clamps shut. “Sorry fellas, but we’ve gotta go.”

Markus and Vincent have our assault rifles at the ready. They order their men to do the same, taking aim at the intruder. Ignoring me and my crew for the moment, they fire volley after volley into the vehicle’s exterior, the shots deflecting with sparks of light.

I grunt as I latch my helmet back into place and release the air I’ve been holding. A little light-headed, I gulp down whatever O2 my suit still has to offer and roll onto all fours. Then I heave myself upright. “Can you move?”

“Go, Sergeant.” Sinclair sits in a pool of her own blood. “I would only slow you down, I’m afraid.”

“You kidding? Why do you think we brought this guy along?” Granger holds his bloody arm out to Harris. “Work your magic, Doc!”

A stunned look is plastered across the good doctor’s face. His eyes dart from the vehicle to the superhumans, and he squints at the bursts of weapons fire illuminating them in the night.

“How about it?” Granger urges.

Harris nods, blinking, unable to ignore the cacophony around us. “Of course—but my medkit, it’s back at the jeep.”

I glance at the Hummer taking fire from all sides. The resilient vehicle continues to withstand the abuse without a single window broken. How many are inside? Are they armed? What are they waiting for?

“Can you stand?” I step beside Sinclair.

“With help.” She nods.

“We won’t get far,” Harris says. “Do you have a plan, Sergeant?”

“Their ammo will run out before long, and when it does—”

As if on cue, the superhumans pause to reload with mags fished from deep pockets in their cloaks. The vehicle lurches forward suddenly, driving a few of the shooters back.

“The tires!” Markus shouts. “Go for the tires!”

A fresh barrage erupts. I curse as the vehicle’s tires blow out beneath it, sinking into the sand. The superhumans cheer like cavemen subduing a mighty dinosaur—

Until a sudden sandstorm descends on them from above without warning, whirling violently and whipping the rifles out of their hands, dispersing the superhumans, driving them into the night screaming something about demons as they disappear in blurs of speed.

I blink, unable to believe my eyes as the form of a man materializes out of the whirlwind. The storm dissipates as abruptly as it arrived, leaving everything eerily still.

“We don’t have much time.” The man approaches us at an easy stride, caked in dust and wiping the stuff from his black goggles. “They’ll be back.”

12 Tucker17 months after All-Clear

Thinking back on it now, the particulars are a little fuzzy. Maybe it had something to do with the pain of being shot or the fear of getting eaten alive. Either way, I’m grateful for it. Kind of dulled the sharp edges around what was sure to be the stuff of nightmares—for the final few minutes of my life, anyway.

I’d dealt with the mutos plenty before, so I knew what to expect from their kind. I knew where I stood with them. They were hunters; I was prey. But up to now, I was able to stick to the shadows and the cover of nightfall as I went about doing Willard’s bidding. More often than not, that involved fastening fancy shock collars onto every muto I could find. They never saw me coming, and by the time they realized what I’d done, I was already well out of range. If I was real quiet, I could slip off into the dark without being noticed.

Not the case when you’ve been shot and left for dead in the middle of sun-scorched earth. Invisible man or not, you bleed. You leave a trail of crimson across the hard-baked ground when you crawl