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

on us don't seem to mind, but then again, they've got their own oxygen supply. The three Wastelanders aren't bothered by it either. They've gotten used to Cain's stank by now, or they can't smell it over their own. The smell intensifies the longer we're kept locked in the dark.

Shechara and Daiyna still have their head coverings on. Wise choice. Shechara holds a hand over her mouth and nose, but Daiyna doesn't bother.

The three of us can see perfectly fine in the dark, thanks to the spirits. So can the raiders, due to the tech in their helmets. They sit on crates and we sit on the floor, but we all sway with the movement of the tractor-trailer.

They keep their Tavor assault rifles resting casually on their laps with the muzzles aimed at us. And they keep their face shields pointed in our direction. No conversation, of course. This isn't that kind of road trip.

Cain is the only one of us bound and gagged, just the way we like him. The raiders saw no reason to untie him, and that's all right by me. So far, they seem to believe he was responsible for the destruction of their rig, as well as Stack. Also okay by me. The problem is, they think we're his cohorts.

I figure they'll hold onto him but try to hand the rest of us over to Eden. Daiyna, in particular, with that bounty on her head. When the raiders move in to commandeer, pillage, and plunder, we'll take that as our cue to escape. Assuming all goes according to Daiyna's plan.

But I’m not sure she's in any shape to be making plans. The past few years have been rough on her. There are moments when we catch a glimmer of who she used to be. But for the most part, she comes across as a haunted drunk. I hope this trip to Eden isn't just a way for her to raid their liquor cabinets.

And kill Perch.

The last time she went after him, over three years ago, we ended up losing good people. I won't let that happen twice. Shechara and me, we're leaving at the first opportunity. Daiyna doesn't want to come along, that's on her. She can stay and lead her new Wastelander lackeys to their deaths if that's what she wants.

What do we want? To live life on our own terms. Not chasing Luther's lofty dreams of a future that may never come. Surviving here and now. More than surviving: enjoying every day we have together.

Will we get back there? I see the way Shechara dotes on Daiyna. The two of them aren't related biologically, but they've always been as close as sisters. Even if she hasn't mentioned it, I doubt a day went by that Shechara didn't worry about Daiyna. I could say the same about Luther, though he'd never admit it. They both love her in their own way.

I love Shechara more than anyone else on the planet. I can't let anybody put her in danger. Even if it is her beloved sister.

"Deep thoughts?" Daiyna's watching me, her goggles up on her forehead.

"Just planning our escape." My voice has a tendency to be louder than it should, even when I'm trying to keep it quiet.

The raiders chuckle and shake their heads. Because they don't think I can break out of here. The truth is I could, but I'd be risking lives in the process. I don't much care what happens to Cain or the Wastelanders; if we were positioned differently, with them in the line of fire, I might try something. But Shechara and Daiyna are seated on the floor close to one of the raiders. No way.

"Any ideas?" One of Daiyna's eyebrows lifts.

"I was liking the idea of Cain as a human shield. But then I realized he's not human anymore. He's hamburger."

Cain growls and thrashes at that, and the raiders laugh, a couple of them nudging him with their boots. Poking the bear.

"Hamburger…" Daiyna murmurs. "The first bite was always the best. You know? That explosion of flavor—" She cuts herself off at the sound of Shechara's stomach growling. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Shechara wraps an arm around her middle. "I'd even go for a protein pack right now."

I frown, unable to remember the last time we've eaten. Before we hijacked that big rig yesterday? Of course she'd be hungry now. I would be, too, if my arms and legs weren't made out of metal. Cyborg that I am, I only need to eat once a day. Although I can always eat more, if there's extra to be had on the rarest of occasions.

"Got any standard rations?" I nod to the raider who was calling the shots when we first entered our mobile prison cell. "We haven't eaten in a while."

"Not my problem," he says.

"You want our help invading Eden? We'll be more helpful if—"

"I want you to shut your mouth for the duration of this trip." He stares me down. Tries to, anyway, patting his Tavor. "Or do we have a problem?"

"No problem," Shechara says. "Except that he gets awful grumpy when he's hungry. I've seen him take on four or five guys without breaking a sweat. Just to get a protein pack."

"Is that so?" The raider stands, steady on his feet despite the rig's movement. "You some kind of tough guy, metal man?"

"Can't be helped." I shrug and cross my mechanical arms. "Those wackos in Eden thought I needed limb replacement surgery. Side effect: I'm usually a real force to be reckoned with."

"Yet you're sitting there on the floor." He aims his weapon at my head. "Completely at our mercy."

"Ironic, right?"

The raider tilts his head to one side. "How about we rip off your arms and legs and drop what's left of you in the middle of the Wastes? Sound fun?"

Sadistic, more like.

He's looking to start something, but he has me at a severe disadvantage. For one thing, he and his cronies are pointing automatic weapons at my people, so