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

right. I follow, hand over hand, and he takes hold of my forearm as I come within reach, helping me up. He looks me in the eye as if he's waiting for my answer.

"That way?" I gesture to the left.

He drops his gaze and releases his grip on me. "No. Follow me." His shadow leads off to the right along the cave wall. "Careful. A deep crevice runs beside this path for the next hundred meters." He falls silent again.

Is he finished trying to convince me to join them in their mighty battle against the demon hordes of hell? So a bunch of his bunker buddies were killed—sorry to hear it, but that doesn't mean I should go toe to toe against the degenerates who did it. I know what it's like to have death take your friends, but this isn't my fight. I don't have to get involved.

Who am I kidding? I'm already involved. I have a gift like the rest of them. I can't doubt that. And there's something to be said for us humans sticking together. Hell, I might not even be alive if it wasn't for that bald woman.

"Wait a minute." I stop in my tracks, and he turns to face me. "Before, when Luther said she saved my life. How exactly did she do that?"

"Do you really want to know? It involves the spirits."

"Just tell me."

"She saw you in a dream, months ago. Saw the spirits of the earth attacking you. She told them she could see them, and they vanished. The rocks and dust stopped chasing you. Just like that."

"And then...she did it for real?"

"You tell me." He shrugs. "You were there."

She saved my life, and I threatened to take hers. What kind of gratitude is that? I have to make it right. For all their sakes, for all the lives that have been lost.

For Julia.

I have to help. I'll do whatever I can, and then I'll be on my way. I owe them that much.

No. I owe her.

"Her name's Daiyna, right?"

He smiles and frowns slightly. "What is it, Milton? Having a change of heart?"

Maybe.

"So...she told the bad spirits she could see them." I ponder that for a moment. "Doesn't that seem kind of dangerous? For her, I mean." I don't know what I'm talking about. Just a few seconds ago, I was looking forward to being on my own again, leaving all this freakishness behind. But now I'm actually leaning toward helping these people.

"She did it for you, Milton. I think she knew the risks involved."

"What'll happen to her?" I don't want to ask any more. It'll mean I've taken a turn in a direction I can't come back from. But I have to know. "What will they...do to her?"

He raises an eyebrow in the green light. "Honestly, Milton? She thinks you're in greater danger than she is. That's why she led you inside these caves. She's never seen anyone pursued as you were. That must mean something." He points at me. "You've been given a very special gift that can be used for good. But there are forces at work on this planet that don't want you to succeed." He lets that sink in. "It's your choice, Milton. We won't force you to join us, not that we even could. But know this: if you leave on your own, you'll be completely alone. Daiyna won't be there to see what only she can, and if you're attacked again, you won't be able to outrun their fury."

He turns away, and we resume our careful navigation through the darkness.

I'm having trouble thinking straight. Maybe I should stop trying. The faces from Sector 43... Will they haunt me forever? I was doing a good job keeping my head clear for a while there. As I wandered through all that desolation, my one desire besides finding other survivors was to leave these memories behind. And I did, sort of.

But now they're back. Why?

Alone for so long, it seemed at first like I was in some kind of purgatory. I deserved it. But I hoped there would be others like me. In the deafening silence, I clung to the hope that I would hear another voice at some point.

And I was right. There are other survivors, just like me—only different. They've been changed. But so have I. Doesn't that make us all the same?

Why would I want to be alone again? The loneliness was bad enough, but now I have to factor in mutant cannibals and evil spirits. What a nightmare. But then again, wasn't I out there for nine months without any supernatural attacks?

I have to switch over to autopilot until we reach the cave entrance. Clear my head, focus on the bobbing green light and Plato's silhouette in front of me. I won't allow any of these thoughts to resurface. When we get there, if Plato takes me all the way to the end, and if Samson catches up with us and has my suit, then I'll know I can trust them. They won't be liars like Jackson.

No more thinking.

Minutes pass, maybe an hour. Seems longer than last time, with her. Maybe I appreciated the company more then, and the time flew by. Our footfalls, slapping against the bare rock, echo around us. Plato's glowstick shines as bright as ever, lighting our path. We seem to have started up a gradual incline, and the air tastes different. Drier. The darkness fades by a shade or two. I see movement now when I pass my hand in front of my face. It shouldn't be much longer until we reach the mouth of the cave.

Light up ahead—faint, not green. It comes from the sun. Seems like forever since I've seen sunlight. Funny how relative time can be. The same amount will disappear when you're enjoying yourself but drag on for an eternity when you're lost in a dark network of caves. Or when you're blindly following someone who's supposedly leading you out.

"Here we are." Plato pockets the