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

boot on her diaphragm and leans forward, resting an arm on his knee as he holds her down. He smiles at her and shakes his head with disappointment.

"Foolish woman. I hoped you would have more fight in you." He chuckles hoarsely. "Is there anything you would like me to tell Luther when I see him?"

She nods, struggling to take a breath under his weight. "Tell him…" Her voice is barely audible.

He moves his head closer to hers, crushing her beneath him. "What's that? Speak up now. Let everyone hear you."

"Tell him...I knocked you down."

He frowns as if he didn't quite hear her. But she's already brought up both legs, one boot plowing upward into his groin. His eyes widen, and he groans, frozen in agony. At the same time, she grabs hold of his boot planted on top of her and wrenches it viciously with both hands, sending him toppling sideways with a garbled cry. Dust plumes as his body hits the ground like dead weight.

The Wastelanders don't know where to look. Their skulls twitch from Cain to Daiyna to us in the jeep.

"That's our cue." I nudge Shechara.

She stands up with her arms extended, both guns cocked and ready to take as many headshots as she can before the return fire sends her ducking for cover. At the same time, I throw open my door and raise the Uzi in my left hand. My right gleams in the sunlight as it transforms into a broadsword.

"Let them finish this," I shout. "Nobody interferes."

"You heard the man." Daiyna stands just out of Cain's reach, hands on her knees as she catches her breath, watching him. "Had enough?"

Teeth clenched, he rises to a sitting position, glaring bloody murder at her. Then he somehow manages to get to his feet, favoring the ankle she twisted. He staggers backward a couple steps, never taking his eyes from her.

"Oh, we're just getting started," he rasps with a broad grin.

The Wastelanders cheer, fists in the air.

Daiyna nods once. Then she stands upright, her hands relaxed at her sides, her weight on the balls of her feet. Cain juts out his chin and rises to his full height, fists framing his gruesome face. His knuckles crack as he takes a step toward her.

Then he frowns, confused. He lurches forward with a grunt, staring at her. All is not well below his belt. "What did you…do to me?"

"It's a pain that will linger. I'm surprised you're back on your feet so soon." She tilts her head to one side. "Ready to call it quits?"

He shakes his head. "I haven't killed you yet."

The bikers hoot and holler at that. But then Daiyna rushes Cain and kicks his injured foot out from under him, ducking as he swings his fists at her but not moving fast enough to avoid a blow to the temple. She spins sideways from the aftershock as he crumples into the dust, howling in both rage and pain. Daiyna looks rattled, shaking her head sharply and struggling to keep her footing.

"Finish her! Finish her!" the Wastelanders chant, building momentum.

Cain scrambles forward on hands and knees, grimacing in the churning dust. Once he's within range, Daiyna drops back and twists her body, driving her boot heel into his oncoming nose. The burst of blood doesn't slow him down any. He roars as he lunges for her with both arms.

I've seen some ugly fights over the years, but this one might be the worst. No sense of decorum at all. Just two people grappling on the ground like animals: thrashing, kicking, head-butting, biting, and screaming. It's clear Cain thinks he'll be able to crush her just by wrapping his arms around her and squeezing. But it's a poor strategy. And Daiyna is making him pay dearly for it. The back of her head has already pounded his nose into mush. He's bleeding all over the place, and she's managed to land a couple more kicks to his nether region. A sane man would have let go of her by now. But he's not sane, and he's holding on with a death grip, his hands interlocked over her chest. Waiting her out.

It starts to work—once he focuses his grip on her wounded shoulder. She wilts in his grasp, crumpling inward.

"That's...better…" he gasps, teeth bared in victory as her head drops forward. "You had some fight...in you...after all."

"Daiyna!" Shechara screams, the guns trembling in her hands.

"This is a good death," Cain says in Daiyna's ear, blood drooling from his mouth. "You have nothing...to be ashamed of. You will feed us...for many nights." He smiles at me. "Thanks be to Gaia."

She whips her head back with such unexpected force—cracking his eye socket—that he pitches over and releases his grip on her. Daiyna scrambles away from him, heaving as she struggles to breathe. Cain lies flat on his back, cradling his face and moaning, cursing her again and again.

The bikers glance at each other, unsure of the situation. Their leader has actually been bested by this woman. As she gets to her feet and he doesn't, it's clear to anybody with a fully functioning brain who's won this fight.

Except it's supposed to be to the death.

"Finish him!" I shout. Not because I'm a fan of blood sports. Because these skull-faced idiots were shouting Finish her! moments ago, and turnabout is fair play. I glance at Shechara, and we shout it together: "Finish him!"

Daiyna shakes her head. "I don't want this guy haunting me."

Not sure what she means by that, but she sounds dead serious.

Cain screams unintelligibly as he tries to stand. The busted ankle won't support his weight, so he kneels instead, cupping one hand over his smashed eyeball.

"Is this who you want leading you?" Daiyna gestures at him as she turns to look at each of the Wastelanders. They stare back at her, their guns drooping toward the ground. "He's not even one of you! He killed your former leader and usurped his role. I say you deserve better."

No idea where