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

Luther pats me on the back, and I start up the jeep, following the tracks left by Margo. Her vehicle is visible in the distance, a couple hundred meters away. It's only ten klicks to the hilltop where we'll regroup and decide our next move.

"We'll find out who did it." I nod, glancing up into the rearview at Luther and Samson in the backseat. "Then we'll give them a taste of their own medicine."

"Vengeance is the Creator's," Luther murmurs, yet I hear him clearly. "Our priority is finding a safe place to live, stockpiling enough water, provisions, and ammunition. The hilltop is only a temporary campsite. We need to find permanent lodging."

"What about the daemons?" Samson crosses his mechanical arms. "Safe places are few and far between with them roaming about."

Luther nods. "We can't hunt them down until we have a base of operations. We can't put those two babies in danger. They are the next generation, the future."

"Cain's spawn," Samson mutters in disgust.

"No, brother." Luther reprimands the cyborg. "It doesn't matter who their father was. Blood and DNA are merely biological fuel. The soul decides the person, and the soul is a gift from the Creator alone. Cain had nothing to do with it. They will grow up among us and be their own people."

Samson nods once. "I stand corrected." Then he clears his throat. "Speaking of offspring and whatnot, there's something I've been meaning to ask you about."

I glance at Justus, wondering if he's eavesdropping on the conversation behind us like I am. The old-timer's chin is on his chest, his head jostling with the jeep's movement across the uneven terrain. Sound asleep.

"Shechara and me…" the cyborg continues in a low tone. "We've talked about it, and we'd...like to get married."

I stop myself from laughing out loud. After what's just happened—the loss of life as well as our defendable Homeplace—this is on Samson's mind? What's the point of a wedding in the Wastes?

"Sooner rather than later," Samson says, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "And we'd like you to officiate. You're the closest thing we've got to a priest, after all."

"It would be an honor." Luther nods. "Are you sure you're ready to be a husband?"

"Our lives could be snuffed out without warning. Like that." He snaps his metal fingers with a clink. "The way I see it, I'd rather spend whatever time I have left with someone I care about, and who cares about me. I don't want to die alone."

"So you've asked her?" There's an edge of humor in Luther's tone.

"Of course!"

"And...she capitulated?"

"Not sure what you mean by that, but she said yes."

"I am so happy for you, brother." Luther claps him on the back. "When were you thinking?"

"After we set up camp."

There's a pause before both men chuckle quietly. Followed by a rueful silence. Survivor's guilt rearing its ugly head.

But we have to move on. We have to survive. And if that means Samson and Shechara marrying each other, I guess I'm all for it.

"Congratulations," I offer. "You two work well together, from what I've seen. Marriage is a partnership…" I trail off, thinking about my Emma. About the lie my superiors told her, that her life partner was killed in action, that he died a hero.

"You will see your wife again, Sergeant."

Luther's able to read minds now?

"You complement each other, is what I meant." I focus on driving.

"Opposites attract, they say." Samson grunts. "We do have a lot in common: Prosthetics. Survival instinct. Ten kids."

"Do you talk about the children much?" Luther sounds wistful.

"We'd like to meet them someday. Introduce ourselves." Samson pauses. "You think they've got 'em living with adoptive families over in Eurasia? Or locked in a government lab, under observation?"

"I've wondered about that myself. I pray for them every night. Your children as well as mine. Daiyna's and mine…" Luther's turn to trail off now.

"After we get rid of the daemons, what do you say we go look for her?" Samson suggests. "She shouldn't be out there by herself. Nobody should."

Luther exhales. "I pray for her as well. That the Creator will soften her heart. That she will return to us. But the truth is, if she wanted to see us, she's had months to come back." He pauses. "If she's still alive."

"Maybe Margo or Victoria could reach out with their brains or whatever. See if they can locate her?"

"Perhaps." Luther grips the roll bar and stands up as we reach the base of the hill that provided our vantage point last night. The mutants' remains lie right where we left them, rotting in the sun.

Margo and her passengers are already carrying their weapons up toward the boulders above. Her jeep is parked facing out. I line up mine next to it and nudge Justus with my elbow.

"Rise and shine."

He snorts and jerks his head upward. "Alright. Here we go."

My passengers climb out, but I pause before joining them. Strangely enough, I can hear every conversation going on around me. And it doesn't matter how far away they happen to be. To my ears, they sound like they're right next to me: Shechara and Margo as they reach the summit and start to set up camp, Victoria and Burke, each carrying a baby. Samson and Luther, discussing the upcoming nuptials. Justus and the others—Ethan, Connor, Taylor, and Deven in a slow-moving group. No matter how far away from me they are, no matter how loud or how quiet they are, I can hear them all.

"What do you hear?" Spirit-Emma appears beside me.

"They're worried," I murmur, sorting through the voices as they take turns expressing concerns, hopes, suggestions, opinions. Somehow, I'm not overwhelmed; I can focus on each conversation simultaneously. "Did you do this to me?"

Six months I've been breathing this air. Finally I've got my own bizarre ability to show for it.

The spirit smiles through the face of my wife. "We had to decide on the best gift to give you.