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

Dust addicts in the past have been known for certain...parlor tricks, for lack of a better term. Entertaining, but not altogether dangerous." Her gaze turns inward, as if she's thinking out loud: "It could be that more potent strains are now being produced, with longer-term physical abilities." She frowns pensively. "Or it could all be a lie…everything we've been told…"

"Ma'am?"

Abruptly, she deactivates the disruptor and pockets it. Turning her attention to her desk, she swipes the obsidian surface, and it glows to life, populating with multiple frames of data, images, and muted videos. Without looking up, she orders, "Report to MedTech, Enforcer Chen. Then clock out for the day. Dismissed."

I leave her office, unsure whether I got off easy this time.

2 Daiyna5 Years After All-Clear

They're gaining on me.

I grip the steering wheel with both hands and floor the accelerator, squeezing out whatever juice is left in my jeep's solar batteries. A shot rings out, blowing the mirror off the driver's side. That's alright. I didn't need it anyway.

I don't have to look to know how close they are.

Sweat trickles down the inside of my goggles. The heat is oppressive this time of day, the sun a merciless tyrant hovering above. I bounce and swerve in my seat as I maneuver the jeep across a rough patch of lifeless terrain. Then I send up a fresh cloud of dust in my wake as I veer around a boulder and drift the jeep sideways, skidding twenty meters before I even things out and continue westward.

Another shot from one of their rifles, and I duck instinctively. But the round was wide, completely missing my vehicle. And me inside, thankfully.

I should have known better than to try anything in Sector 31. But I couldn't help myself. They've always had the best stuff.

Used to, anyway.

Keeping the jeep steady with my left hand on the wheel, I reach for the 9mm tucked into my belt and pivot to glance over my shoulder. There's nothing but billowing dust back there now hiding my pursuers. Aiming the handgun toward my completely shattered rear window, I squeeze off a couple shots. Not expecting to hit anything behind me, just letting the Edenites know I'm still in the race. And I don't plan on making this easy for them.

Twenty hydropacks. That's the current bounty on my head. Insulting, really—as if I'm only worth that measly amount. But maybe it's more of a reflection on their dwindling resources, how much they're able to pay.

Wanted on a silver platter: the head of the woman who killed their dear Captain Willard.

I can't tell whether they backed off after those shots I sent their way. If they plan on returning to Eden without any punctures in their tires or their special suits, they'd better be more careful. There's an unpredictable female driving this jeep. Not only is she armed, but she's got nothing to lose.

That mirage on the horizon is mesmerizing. If it wasn't for all the jostling around at high speeds and the nerve-wracking gunfire, I might find it relaxing. Stake my hammock in a patch of shade and watch the optical illusion ripple. Let it hypnotize me into a false sense of security.

I smirk at the thought. There's no security on this continent. Anybody who thinks they can make a life for themselves here is delusional. The Edenites are the worst, hiding in their underground paradise and hoarding everything worth having. I wouldn't shed a single tear if they all ended up like Willard, with seven rounds to the head and chest.

But not courtesy of the gun I tuck back into my belt. Ending Willard was one thing. I felt cleansed afterward, relieved, like a boulder I'd been carrying had fallen off my back. And I haven't felt the need to kill anyone else since.

It's probably helped being alone. Less opportunity for someone to rub me the wrong way.

But I'm not alone. Not really. I have my spirit-pal Rehana riding shotgun. She's the best companion anybody could ask for. Always there during the tough times with an encouraging word.

"Not sure you've thought this through, sister," she says, arms folded as she lurches in the seat beside me. "What happens when you run out of power?"

"Hasn't happened yet." I keep my eyes on the terrain ahead, looking for an abrupt precipice to launch us off and lead the fools behind me sailing through the air—into a horrendous crash landing only I would survive, thanks to my gift.

"You think you can live moment-to-moment forever, Daiyna?"

"It's worked fine so far." My voice sounds raw, my mouth and throat dry. I need to remember to hydrate, but taking care of myself hasn't been my strong suit lately.

"What do you hope to accomplish here?"

Leave it to spirit-Rehana to start up a heavy conversation right in the middle of a challenging situation. It's not like her life's at stake. She's been dead longer than I care to remember.

"Well, for one thing, I don't want those idiots to catch me. In the process, if their vehicle goes kaput and they find themselves stranded out here, that would be a bonus."

"What if your vehicle goes kaput first?"

"Not gonna happen." I slap the dashboard confidently. I've kept this machine running for years. No chance it's gonna crap out when I need it most.

A warning light flashes on the console as the jeep decelerates without warning. It keeps slowing down, no matter how hard I jam the accelerator into the floorboard. I curse, pounding my gloved fists against the steering wheel.

"You were saying?" Rehana chuckles.

"Grab the Colt and extra clip—" I catch myself. "Never mind. You're useless."

Not real good with corporeal things, these spirit-types.

I lean over and pop open the dash compartment in front of Rehana's knees. Fishing around the few hydro and nourishment packs stacked inside, I find what I'm looking for. No, not the flask. That's for later.

"You plan to kill them?"

I've got the 9mm in one hand and the Colt .44 in the other. I must look like