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

"It's only been a day or two, you big baby!" Daiyna shouts back.

So, they're acquainted.

He releases a half-curse, half-shriek and resumes firing automatic bursts in her direction.

"They've led us into an ambush," one of the raiders complains.

The three Wastelanders keep low nearby, their grinning skull-masks looking pleased as ever by the proceedings. Cain is curled into a fetal position, grunting to himself.

"One guy? Hardly an ambush." I swing my right arm, smashing it like a wrecking crane into a sedan and sending it rolling laterally, straight toward the shooter's position. I follow the tumbling vehicle, using it as cover while I advance. Automatic fire blasts my way, and I duck, shielding myself mid-stride.

I have his attention now.

A swing of my left arm sends another car his way. This one hurtles through the air a meter above the ground, corkscrewing until it slams into the auto he's been using for cover, skidding it across the floor and pinning him against the far wall. He screams, agony and anger fueling the primal sound. He's got every right to be mad at me as I approach. His shooting arm, along with the rifle it holds, have been crushed.

"All her fault..." he whimpers, head lolling forward. "She should've killed me…"

"You from Eden?" I look him over. No camo, no black beret. He wears filthy thermal underwear instead. Haggard and gaunt, he obviously hasn't eaten lately.

"They won't let me back inside." He shakes his head with a manic rhythm. "Not now... She did this to me!"

When he looks up, I see that his eyes are wrong. They're yellow. Bulging outward unnaturally. The eyelids are little more than fleshy tatters, torn away from the sockets.

"What the hell is happening?" he wails.

I have no idea. Never seen anything like this before. If the spirits have gifted him with a new ability, I can't tell what it is. Looks more like he's turning into a daemon—but that can't be. Can it?

After all we went through to get rid of those creatures, are the evil spirits making new ones?

A single gunshot explodes next to me, and the mutant-in-the-making's head snaps back with a burst of blood. Then he slumps to the ground, his arm and rifle stuck above him at an awkward angle.

"Was that necessary?" I turn on the raider who fired the headshot.

"Didn't you see his eyes? We don't mess with the infected." He nods for me to return to the tunnel entrance. "Move out, cyborg."

He waits until I lead the way, metal feet clanking. "You've seen this before, then."

He grunts. "Three years ago, we received word the roaming hostiles had been neutralized. Flesh-eating freaks with the same yellow eyes. I'm sure you're familiar with them."

I nod.

"For a while, we didn't see them anywhere, which made our supply runs possible. But lately, with food and water running low—"

"Thanks to you," I mutter. These raiders keep taking what we need to survive.

"—we've noticed an uptick in small pockets of the infected. Nowhere near as dangerous as the well-armed variety that used to rove around in their jeeps. Now they just hole up and starve to death. But the eyes are always the same. The first thing to change, once the infection sets in. Those hideous yellow eyes."

Shechara leaps into my arms as we meet up with the others, and I pull her close. "You all right, Small Fry?"

She nods, gazing at me with a slight scowl. "That was some real Strongman action, throwing those cars around." She squeezes me tight. "You put yourself in danger like that again, I'll punch you right in the eye."

Love it when she gets feisty. "Roger that." I kiss her forehead and notice Daiyna staring at the dead shooter. "You knew him."

"We met." Daiyna turns away.

"He didn't like you very much."

"He should've left me alone."

I nod slowly. "Bounty hunter?"

"He thought he was."

I won't be getting his creepy eyes out of my head anytime soon. "Looked like he was turning into a daemon. Ever seen anybody change like that before?"

She shakes her head, unsettled by it. I don't blame her.

The raiders herd us together, and we head into the tunnel, lit only by the narrow beams of their flashlights. My first trip to Eden was bad enough. Never thought there would be a second, much less a third. This return trek takes the longest, since the raiders appear to be in no hurry, either due to overweening caution or a desire to keep their captives in line while en route. The monotony of boot soles meeting pavement is broken only by the sounds of my metal feet clunking along.

Nobody says anything. Even Cain is silent. The skull-faced Wastelanders with their feathers and studded leather seem right at home in a murky tunnel like this. They swagger along without a care in the world.

They've got to be getting awful hungry by now. Even my stomach is grumbling.

A while later—impossible to judge how much time has passed; maybe an hour—the raider in the lead holds up a clenched fist, and we stop.

"End of the line," Shechara whispers, but I hear her loud and clear.

"Quiet." The raider in front points at Daiyna. "You. Come with me. Everybody else, stay put."

Daiyna joins the raider, and they exit the tunnel. Their footsteps echo as they enter the dark, spacious area in front of the airlock. The raider clears his throat. His rifle-mounted flashlight sweeps across the massive blast door before them.

"Twenty hydropacks, dead or alive." His voice is loud and confident. "Who do I see about claiming my bounty?"

No response. The Wastelanders shuffle their feet, unable to stand still like the rest of us. We wait. After seeing that scrawny, half-daemon shooter back there, I can't help wondering if Perch and his men have all starved to death. Or are too weak to open the door.

But then the intercom switches on, and Perch growls low and conversational, "Knew I'd be seeing you again, Daiyna. What's it been? Something