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

a low whistle. “Isn’t that something? I mean, the rest of the world is still out there, just living their lives day to day. No flesh-eating mutants to contend with, no superfreaks like you and me. No offense.”

Another grunt from the cyborg.

“How’s it strike you? The reason they’re here, I mean.” I sniff and run the back of my hand across my nose. My skin smells like the healing salve has seeped down deep into my pores. Only a good long shower would clean me up—something I sure as hell won’t find outside of Eden. “To claim your kids, right?”

Samson halts, half-turning with a serious look of menace on his broad, bearded face. “Remember that advice I gave you?”

“Mind my own business? Right. Got it.” I raise both hands in surrender and wait until Samson resumes walking. Then I continue, “Never was sure whose babies they were, those two I carried through the desert. Who belonged to which parents, I mean. Not that it really mattered. I just had to make sure they got to where they needed to go. That’s all Margo wanted. Guess I’m still curious, though.”

The cyborg’s shoulders of flesh, thick with knotted muscle, seem to sink, as if Samson has relinquished his hold on something. Without turning around to face me, he slows his pace. “We’re grateful for what you did, Tucker.”

“So yours is—”

“The boy.” Samson’s voice is grim. He picks up his pace. “And plenty more are still in Eden.”

I hurry to follow and am about to apologize for sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong when Daiyna appears, blocking Samson’s path. A younger woman of slighter stature stands beside her. The girl’s eyes don’t look exactly natural, more like something you’d find on a robot. So that would make her Shechara, and her artificial eyes Margo’s doing. Just like Samson’s limbs, they were an attempt to make up for Perch’s sadistic butchery.

“Where are you taking him?” Daiyna demands, glancing at me with a scowl.

I stare back at her.

“Luther wants him there when the team shows up.” Samson’s frame is nearly wide enough to impede my view of the two women.

“I don’t think so.” Daiyna crosses her well-toned arms. It’s a standoff, even though she’s obviously no match for the cyborg. “He has no business listening in on our decisions. Take him back to his bed and restrain him. Or I will.”

I don’t like the sound of that. But I know better than to say anything.

Samson grumbles deep in his chest. “Daiyna, if it wasn’t for him, those two babies we’ve got wouldn’t—”

“If it wasn’t for him…” She leaves it unsaid, clenching her fists down at her sides.

I know all too well what she was about to say. If I hadn’t betrayed her trust, she never would have been captured by Willard in Eden, never would’ve been forced to go under the knife. There’s plenty of blame to go around, but I know full well that I carry the lion’s share.

Shechara puts a hand gently on Daiyna’s arm. “I will keep an eye on him.” The mechatronic orbs in her eye sockets twitch as she speaks, focusing on me.

“It’s not like he’s invisible for the three of us.” Samson half-turns to allow her a full view. “Not with that salve making him look like a ghosty.”

Shechara nods. Daiyna curses under her breath. “If he tries to escape, I’ll put an arrow in him myself.”

They talk about me as if I’m not even here.

“He’d have to get past me.” Samson sends a look my way that says, Are we clear on that?

“Where the hell would I go?” I can’t help blurting out. “I’d rather not face those mutos out there again, thank you very much. Not in this condition.” I gesture at my tunic and the wounds underneath in various stages of the healing process.

“I don’t want to hear another word out of him.” Daiyna points in my direction but holds Samson’s gaze. There’s fire in her eyes. “And that goes double during the council meeting. He says anything in there, I’ll hold you personally responsible.” Her finger presses into Samson’s chest.

“You’ve got me quaking in my mechanical legs.” He grins amiably.

Shechara urges Daiyna away by the arm. “Let’s go find our seats.”

Daiyna allows herself to be escorted away, but she gives Samson a final withering look. He’s in no hurry as he resumes his trek up the passageway after them.

“I meant what I said.” I sniff, following. “There’s no place else I’d rather be. I’m grateful to you all for taking me in like this.”

Samson exhales loudly. “Yeah, well, she meant what she said, too. So if I was you, I’d zip the lip once the meeting starts. She might aim for you and shoot me by mistake.”

“Understood.” I’m guessing he plans to stick by my side. And I’m glad of it.

We turn and enter a wide cavern, more or less circular in shape, with plenty of glowsticks mounted along the perimeter. Large stones have been arranged as seats to make the place look like an indoor amphitheater, roomy enough to fit a hundred or more. Luther stands in the center of the space and confers with two armed sentries dressed like those fellows I encountered. They wear sand-colored cotton garb and carry automatic rifles slung back on their shoulders by thick straps. UW-issued weaponry, by all appearances. No doubt snatched off dead mutos.

Luther looks up as Samson approaches. Kind of difficult to miss him with all the clanking parts. Luther raises a hand in greeting, and I return the gesture, forgetting Luther can’t see me. I lower my hand at a low grunt from Samson. The cyborg gives a slight nod toward where Daiyna and Shechara sit in the front row. Daiyna stares unblinking in my direction, her eyes full of unguarded hate.

“I hear you’re healing well,” Luther welcomes me with an outstretched hand in my general direction, having dismissed the two sentries. They jog out of the cavern, keeping their eyes to themselves.