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

“You’re no better off yourself.” The older man reaches for the short fellow’s bleeding arm. “Dr. Jefferson Harris, ma’am.” He extends his gloved hand.

I grasp it briefly and return to the woman’s stubborn suit before realizing: “Dr. Harris…I read your work. All of it—in the bunker.” I blink up at him.

Harris is obviously pleased with his living-legend status. “Glad they gave you kids some adequate reading material while you were down there. Although, of course, most of it was outdated halfway through your internment.” He chuckles dryly. “Couldn’t be helped, I suppose. All that concrete made it impossible for wireless transfer.”

“Your work on genetics and artificial insemination—your case studies—” I could go on.

“Fascinating, I’m sure,” the injured woman interjects with a pained gasp. “But if you’re going to expose me to the elements, then hadn’t we better get on with it?” She sounds resigned to her fate.

“Isn’t there some way we could portion off the suit at the site of the injury?” Harris suggests. “There’s really no need to remove the entire thing, is there?”

“I’m sorry, Doctor. Her air supply was compromised as soon as the puncture was made.”

“Damned design flaw,” Harris mutters.

“After I treat the wound, we need to get her into the vehicle where it’s warm, let her rest. She could go into shock at any moment.”

“They will be back...” The injured woman glances westward into the night.

“Captain’s working on that with the superhero.” Granger lets out a low whistle. “Did you see that, Doc? The way he came out of the air? Holy crap!”

“Your suit should come off as well,” Harris tells him, surveying his injury. “There’s no way to get at it with this armor in the way.”

“What the hell, go ahead and pry me out. Guess we’ll be your guinea pigs. You can monitor what happens to us and publish your findings.” Granger gives me a sidelong glance. “Say, what’s your superpower, ma’am?”

I ignore him as I strain against the woman’s suit with very little help from her; she is too weak to lend much of a hand. The upper portion comes off like pieces of shell from a beetle’s back, revealing a white, skin-tight bodysuit the woman wears underneath.

“Come now, as one doctor to another.” Harris begins to remove Granger’s suit in like manner. “Why were you the only member of Eden sent out to meet us? And how did this flying superhuman know exactly where to find you?” He pauses. “Could it be that you share some sort of advanced telepathic ability?”

Instead of answering, I project an intense burst of fear into his mind that the hostiles are returning at this very moment—skimming across the sand in blurs of speed.

“We must hurry.” The good doctor doubles his efforts.

Granger winces and groans at the lack of any bedside manner whatsoever, but he does what he can to help the process with his functional arm.

I glance at Milton and Bishop. They have located the repair kit and are jacking up one of the front wheel wells to remove the deflated tire. With Milton’s speed, they are sure to be done in a matter of minutes.

But how much time do we have before the hostiles return?

I project my mind westward, searching for any signs of life, expecting to find hundreds of them surging this way. But instead I find only one. That’s strange enough, but what makes it even more perplexing: the lone figure is being watched by someone with telepathic abilities equal to or greater than my own.

I draw back into myself, hopefully before I’m detected, as I work the suit free of the injured woman’s legs. Who is that solitary figure stumbling through the night, filled with fear and despair? Who watches over him?

Harris has removed the upper torso of Granger’s suit, freeing both arms. He applies the healing salve from my medkit. “I’d like to say we’ve come up with something better in the past twenty years, but honestly, nothing beats this gel in a pinch. It guards against infection while regenerating cellular activity, providing a secondary layer of skin and stimulating renewed tissue growth. Rather a genius creation, I must say.”

“Doctor, in case I’m mistaken, weren’t you the one who invented it?”

Harris grins broadly at me. “Why yes, of course. Just testing your memory, that’s all. Had to make sure your bunker database was up to snuff.”

“Damn, it burns!” Granger complains. Already his bleeding has stopped due to the biogel, which seems to glow faintly—an amber luminescence on his arm, surrounding his elbow like a cast.

“That means it’s doing its job.” Harris glances at me. “Could you use a hand?”

I nod. “Please take all of the weapons to the Hummer. Once the tires are back in working order, we’ll need to leave quickly.”

The doctor appears flustered for a moment. I declined the assistance of an exalted man of medicine?

“Very well.” He stalks away in his clumsy suit with Granger at his heels.

“He doesn’t think much of himself,” the injured woman says with a raised eyebrow. Then she winces as I apply gobs of the healing salve to her leg. She’s lucky, despite her wound. A little higher and the blade would have severed her hamstring.

“So I’ve noticed.” I ease off before applying more of the gel. “But it’s not every day you meet a living legend in your field.”

“You are a doctor, then.”

“Nuclear engineer.” I shrug. “But I’m the only one in Eden who took any medical courses while we were in the bunker.” The only one still alive, anyway. “So I’m the only doctor they’ve got.”

“You’re doing a fine job.” She pauses. “What is your name?”

“Margo.” I keep my eyes on my work.

“Sinclair,” the woman replies. “Elaine.”

“Let’s get you on your feet, Elaine. You must be freezing.”

We approach the Hummer. I have both arms around the woman, helping her make every step. Milton and the sergeant have already succeeded in reinflating the two front tires. The air pressure appears