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

Home.

"That battle was some kind of welcome," the marine continues, still eager to strike up a conversation. "Looked like they were going at each other medieval-style, but with automatic weapons. Didn't get a good close-up view, but would I be right in guessing they weren't exactly human?"

I keep my eyes shut. "More or less."

"So the rumors are true? The toxins in the air turned the D-Day survivors into—"

"Corporal?"

"Yeah, Sarge?"

"Let me sleep."

Rank has its privileges on rare occasions. This is one of them. The last thing I want to do is talk about what happened on the ground, let alone think about it. My briefing with Captain Mutegi will be bad enough.

Thankfully, the next time I hear the corporal's voice isn't until the hoverplane touches down on the deck of the Argonaus. I unfasten my safety harness and struggle against my suit to stand, watching as the ramp lowers and the medical team files aboard, their intense focus riveted on the incubators. Everything seems to check out; it doesn't take them long to start wheeling the units out of here on hand trucks.

One of the medics glances back at me, her expression visible behind the clear face shield of her protective suit. She looks concerned. "Sergeant Bishop?"

I frown at her. Why is she talking to me? Then I look around. I'm the last one on board. The marines are gone, and so are the incubation units.

I must have lost track of time, not to mention my surroundings.

"Yeah." I take a step toward her, and she gestures for me to follow her out of the plane.

"This way. I assume you've been through decon procedures before?"

"I want to talk to my family."

"All in due time, Sergeant. Decon first. Then you'll meet with the Captain. He'll get you in touch with your family."

The UW is always a stickler when it comes to procedure. I should have expected as much. So I go through the motions on autopilot. Do what the medic tells me to do. Walk through here. Stand there. Don't touch anything. Don't move while the scanner is in operation. Don't take off my helmet.

"Stay here." She leaves quickly. Two armed marines pivot to block the exit.

I'm standing in a shower-sized cubicle partitioned off from the flight deck. No freight elevator ride down to the medical bay. Not until I check out. These guards have been tasked with making sure I don't leave. I give them a nod. They don't respond, their face shields automatically darkened by the sun.

Not sure what to think. Scratch that. Worst case scenario: my helmet was compromised when I crash-landed. I've been infected ever since.

I'll never see my family again. I'll never go home.

My gloved hands are tight fists when the medic returns with Captain Mutegi. The guards turn to allow them entry and then stand facing each other, rifles at rest.

"Bishop." Mutegi nods to me as he removes his cap. He always wears it, even if he has to set it on top of his environmental helmet. Behind the face shield, it's clear he hasn't slept for a couple days. The worry lines in his dark skin are more pronounced than ever.

"Captain." I glance at the medic. She keeps her eyes on the Slate in her hand, fingers swiping spastically across the glowing screen. "I'd like to call my family. Let them know I'm all right. That I'll be home soon."

Mutegi stares at me. "I'm sorry. That won't be possible, Sergeant."

I clench my jaw and wait for him to explain.

He turns to the medic, and she shows him her screen. He scowls at it. "You're sure."

"Yes, Captain." She's pensive. "I ran it three times."

That sounds unnecessary. These decon scanners are so fine-tuned, they'll detect a case of the flu three days before you start showing any symptoms.

Mutegi dismisses the medic, and she salutes crisply before leaving. She glances at me with an apologetic look. I focus on the captain.

"So now what, sir?"

He folds his arms—easier to accomplish in a hazard suit like his. No armor. "Bishop, I'll give it to you straight."

"Wouldn't expect anything else."

A hint of a smile glints in his eyes, then dims. "Your family was released from custody yesterday, as soon as my superiors decided you were killed in action along with your entire team." He pauses to let that sink in.

"They...think I'm dead?"

"Your family was told that you died a hero. And because of that, they have been welcomed back into Eurasian society. With honors. They will live a very comfortable life, James. I have it on good authority that Chancellor Hawthorne herself has taken an interest in your children."

Now I'm staring. "But this happened before…" I tap my fractured helmet. "Before I lost my team."

"Yes." He stands up straighter. "I assume you've already figured out—"

"I'm not an idiot." I catch myself. "Sir."

He takes no offense. I'm a dead man, after all.

"Have you noticed any changes in yourself? Anything out of the ordinary?"

Besides talking to a ghost that looks like my wife? Hearing the voice of my daughter? "No, nothing at all." I reach for my helmet clamps. "Okay if I take this thing off?"

"Of course." He takes a step back instinctively, as if what I've got might be catching.

I release each of the clamps and remove the helmet. Inhale the salty sea air. My gloved fingers trace the cracks in the polymer. I don't feel fury or overwhelming anguish now that my greatest fear has been realized. Instead I'm strangely numb all over, my insides hollow and cold.

James Bishop has left the building.

Mutegi clears his throat. No idea how long I've been standing here staring at my helmet.

"Orders, Captain?" I don't know what else to say.

He nods grimly. "You'll be transferred to the Integrity for observation. The medical team over there wants to...study you. For any signs of genetic abnormalities." It's clear he finds the subject distasteful.

As do I, being the subject.

"No one will ever forget what you did here." He clasps