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

“Have the spirits spoken to you?”

I curse under my breath. “Yeah.”

“But I thought they weren’t doing that anymore.”

“They changed their mind.” I squeeze Shechara’s arm. “You’ll need to lead me. I can’t see a thing.” Shechara draws me close. “Let’s find Samson.”

We forge through the blinding dust storm, backtracking until we reach the large cyborg standing at the rear of the pack.

“Daiyna—that you?” Samson booms, shielding his goggles with a metal hand.

“Where’s Bishop?”

He shakes his head. “You’re not going to believe this, but…he kind of flew off, Wizard of Oz style.”

The reference is lost on me.

“The spirits took him?” Shechara sounds awestruck.

“We need to get these people out of here,” I say. “They’re sitting ducks for any daemon that breaks through Cain’s line of warriors.”

“Where do you suggest we take ‘em?” Samson rumbles.

“North.” I nod quickly, strategizing. “As far north as we can go before the United World troops arrive. Otherwise, we’ll be sandwiched between Willard’s daemons and the UW.”

“Alright,” Samson says. “You leading the retreat, or shall I?”

“I’m going for Luther.” I turn to Shechara. “Point me in the right direction, then I want you to help Samson get everyone out of here. Take any weapons you find.”

“Daiyna—” she objects.

“Samson won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Damn straight,” he says.

“But what about you?” Shechara’s voice strains with concern.

“I have the spirits on my side, don’t I?” The sarcastic edge to my voice is sharp.

I squeeze Shechara once more, then take off running in the direction she pointed. Leaping over every obstacle in my way, thanks to my superhuman agility, I head straight for where the armored vehicle should be. As I cross paths with our disoriented people in the murk, I shout for them to regroup at the rear with Samson. He’ll lead them to safety. Nodding quickly, they move to obey.

Charging through the fray, I reach the Hummer, parked a few meters behind the front line where many of Cain’s warriors battle hand-to-hand against the daemons. Others kneel, rifles at the ready as they return fire. The daemons in their jeeps circle haphazardly, firing volley after volley. I can’t see them, but I hear the engines and the shots exploding at close range. Cain’s ranks have suffered only a handful of deaths so far. They lie strewn in the dust, bleeding out.

Stray rounds ping and thud against the armored vehicle. I crouch behind it, sliding up to the rear door where I saw Luther climb in earlier. I rap twice on the window.

“Luther!”

No response. I pound my fist against the glass.

The door drifts open only a meter and halts. Inside, Cain and Luther stare back at me—along with someone else I never thought I’d see again.

Mother Lairen.

“Daiyna.” Luther reaches for me, and I grip his forearm, launching myself inside. The door drops shut behind me. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” I frown at Mother Lairen—or the spirit manifesting itself as her. The malevolent variety that wants nothing more than to see the remnant of humankind destroy itself. “What’s she doing here?”

Garbed in a flowing white gown, Mother Lairen glares at me with a contempt somehow entangled with grace. “We meet again, my child.”

Cain looks thunderstruck. “You worship Gaia as well?”

Luther’s hand remains on my arm. “What do you see?”

I glance from Cain to Luther. “We have to get out of here.”

Cain laughs out loud. Then he grimaces, pressing a fist against his side. “We have the situation well in hand, woman. My warriors hunt the goblyns for sport. This is just a routine exercise for them. Soon we will be on our way.”

Mother Lairen smirks. Luther squeezes my arm gently, watching me stare at what is, to him, the empty seat across from me.

“Daiyna, what is it?”

I lower my voice. “The spirits are here.”

“I will not allow such blasphemy in Gaia’s presence!” Cain bellows, louder than the weapons fire outside. “There are no spirits, just as there is no creator! There is only Gaia, our mother.”

“Gaia—she’s here?” Luther looks around the vehicle’s interior.

“She appears to me as the leader from my bunker. If Milton were here, I’m sure he would see the man who forced him to kill everyone in his bunker. That’s what the evil spirits do: appear as people from our past that we’d rather never see again.”

Mother Lairen smiles coldly.

Why don’t the spirits appear to Cain as someone from his past? Is his mind so warped that they can take the form of anyone they choose? Maybe he has a history of worshipping goddesses, the psycho.

Cain scowls. “Get out.” His hand goes for the door release.

“Why aren’t you fighting alongside your warriors, Cain?” I lean toward him. Mother Lairen chuckles quietly, covering her mouth. “You’d rather they die for you?”

“Get the hell out!” he roars. The door swings open, and wind gusts in bearing dust and ash.

“He is my chosen one, child. I could not possibly allow him to suffer harm,” Mother Lairen says. Then she turns to Cain. “Shut the door, my son. I would hate for a goblyn’s stray bullet to find you.”

He obeys without a word.

“What is the spirit saying now?” Luther asks me.

Mother Lairen clucks her tongue. “Left out in the cold, is he? Poor little man.”

Cain grins at that, casting a sidelong look of disdain in Luther’s direction.

“She’s leading you to your deaths,” I tell him flatly. “Willard’s expecting us, and the UW troops are closing in behind. We’ll be caught in between and wiped out.”

Cain shakes his head, as if I don’t know what I’m talking about. “Gaia knows all things. She is leading us to certain victory!”

“My friend—” Luther turns to face the much larger man. “We have dealt with these spirits before. You must believe me when I say…there are certain forces at work in this world that do not want humankind to survive. They blame us for what we did to the planet, for destroying all they knew, all that they were.”

“What gibberish is this?” Cain scoffs. “I have no desire to