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

if that is the case. The children have not been exposed to the dust in the air. That is how the spirits bestow their gifts—” Luther stops himself, his eyes earnest. “But I suppose you must first be told about the spirits. Then everything else will become clear.”

“If that’s possible. I’ve seen some things that…defy all manner of reason.”

I try not to interfere with their discussion, to be merely a conduit for Sergeant Bishop’s side of the conversation. But I know his mind, and I want to tell Luther, He has seen the spirits. They have come to him in the guise of his wife.

“Milton should really be the one to tell you about them. He is the only one among us that they communicate with anymore. They spoke to Daiyna for a time, but…” Luther trails off.

I know what he was about to say: that Daiyna has surrendered to hate while planning revenge upon Eden. Darkness consumes her heart now.

“Where is Milton?” Luther asks. “Didn’t he return with you?”

Bishop shakes his head and glances at me.

“He said he would join us.” I can’t sense Milton’s thoughts anywhere nearby. “I don’t know where he is.”

Luther nods pensively. “He goes where the spirits lead him. We must assume they had need of him elsewhere.”

He stares into empty space, and I cannot discern any thoughts; it’s as if his mind has been put on pause. He is under so much pressure, and the majority of it is self-induced. More than anything, he wants to keep his people unified, even as divisions threaten to rip them apart. Is he beginning to crack beneath the strain of his burden?

Bishop clears his throat. “Seeing him fly—even now, saying that out loud. I guess I don’t know what to think, how any kind of genetic mutation could cause something like that. I have no frame of reference.”

Luther locks eyes with him, listening to my translation, his mind flaring to life as neurons fire and thoughts spring forth in words, “There is much more than natural law at work here, my friend. Supernatural—that’s as good a way to describe it as any. The spirits of the earth have blessed us with amazing gifts. Some of us can run faster than any normal human could ever dream of. Others can leap from great heights or see through the dark as if it were bright as day—or see great distances, far beyond the boundaries of natural human sight.”

“How about you?” Bishop watches as Luther absently strokes the fingers of one hand with the other. “What can you do?” There’s no sarcasm in the sergeant’s voice, only a guarded curiosity, which I relay.

“Before Willard’s henchman mutilated my hands?” There is nothing wrong with the hands Luther holds out before him—not at first glance. But each finger is terribly scarred. “When we first came up from the ground and breathed the dust of this earth, I was blessed with a gift I couldn’t understand.” He turns his hands over. “I was a man of peace, yet I was given claws as long and sharp as an eagle’s talons. When I’d flex my fingers, like this, they would spring outward as strong as steel, as sharp as blades. I took down many daemons...” His eyes lose focus.

Bishop frowns at the scars. “Why haven’t they grown back?”

I sense that he immediately regrets asking the question. But Luther does not take offense once I share it.

“When Willard captured us in Eden, he took more from us than our sex cells. He took our gifts, as well. He wielded the power of science against the supernatural, all in the name of restoring us to our all-natural selves, created in the image of God.” He pauses. “You have met Samson.”

Bishop nods.

“The spirits gifted him with incredible strength. But Willard’s man, Perch, amputated Samson’s arms and legs to take his power from him. Shechara had her eyes taken from her. She had been the most gifted among us with far-sight. As for me, Perch tore out each of my claws by the root, one by one, with a pair of pliers. Simple but effective, as you can imagine.” Luther crosses his arms, hiding both his hands for now. “But as to why they have not grown back, I honestly can’t say. I wish I knew. It could be that my claws are no longer needed, and the Creator in His infinite wisdom decided to return me to the man of peace I was before. Or perhaps the spirits’ gifts are given only once, and it is up to us to keep them and use them well.”

“How many of you live in these caves?”

Luther smiles for the first time since he welcomed us. “We are more than fifty strong now. Every few days, another survivor or two stumbles across the Homeplace, and we welcome them into the fold.”

“And everyone else here…has these abilities?”

“The spirits have been kind to us.”

“And Cain’s people—the ones who attacked my team. They’ve been changed as well, after leaving their bunker at All-Clear? They have the same variety of abilities?”

“As far as we know, yes. But they worship that being called Gaia, which we have reason to believe is one of the evil spirits, masquerading as a god.”

He’s losing Bishop with all his talk of the supernatural. I have to direct the conversation where it needs to be: back to the children.

“The fetuses Tucker smuggled out of Eden—where are they now?” But I already know the answer, plucked from Luther’s mind as he turns to face me. They are nearby, under guard.

“Would you like to see them?” His eyes are bright and eager, like a child’s.

Bishop nods.

“Your doctor—he did not make the climb with you?” Luther asks.

“Internal comms are still functioning.” Bishop taps his helmet. “I’ll note the vitals and relay whatever details Doc Harris needs to know.” He pauses as Luther positions himself to usher us out into the passageway beyond. “I meant what I said before, Luther. If the readings indicate the