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

We should fall back.

"I've got him." Samson squeezes the trigger, and this time he manages to hold the rifle steady despite the impact against his shoulder.

The bullet hits one of the daemons in the midsection, and he doubles over, screaming wildly as he's thrown backward to tumble down the hillside. Samson fires again and hits him in motion, taking off half his head with a burst of blood.

Samson holds up two fingers and grins.

The remaining daemon glances at his fallen comrade. Then he lunges straight for us, rifle held low as he drills us with a barrage of fire.

"Fall back!" I tug at my two brothers, and we slide down from the ridge.

"How is it firing so many rounds?" Plato shouts over the din as the raining bullets slam into the ground above us, sending up plumes of dust.

Samson turns his rifle over, studying it. "Must have an automatic mode."

We dive behind an outcropping of rock just as the daemon mounts the top of the ridge and stops, scanning the hillside below, undoubtedly spotting our scuffled tracks. He snorts and reloads his weapon as Samson takes aim.

"Wait." I start to my feet. "Cover me."

"What are you doing? Are you insane?" Plato hisses.

I raise a hand to him and rise above our shelter. The daemon locks his eyes on me, but his fingers don't move any faster as he reloads his weapon. I'm no threat to him. I'm his next meal.

He's the hunter. I am merely prey.

What am I doing?

"You there!" I call up to him, my voice echoing confidently even as I fight to keep my knees from trembling. "Can you understand me?"

He snorts, mucous drooling from where a nose should be. Instead there are only two holes, like the face of a skull. The rifle is loaded now, and he raises it, aiming at me. Any second, Samson will take him out with a head shot. But first I have to know.

"Why are you doing this?" Can he speak?

The daemon grunts, shaking his head oddly as if there's a fly buzzing in his ear.

"Get down, Luther!" Samson roars, jumping to his feet. "Go to hell, daemon!"

He squeezes the trigger. Nothing. He ducks down quickly, and I fall beside him as the daemon descends the ridge. With him comes another barrage of fire, blasting against the rock sheltering us.

"What happened?" Plato yells, covering his ears and cowering.

Samson curses and scowls at his rifle, pounding the weapon with his fist. "Jammed!"

The daemon's automatic fire rains down, growing in intensity as the creature fast approaches.

Then it stops. Our ears ring in the sudden silence.

We glance at each other. Samson hesitates before attempting to return fire. He points away from us and pulls the trigger. A round explodes from the muzzle and burrows into the earth. Satisfied, he peers over the outcropping of rock.

"Hold!" Daiyna's voice calls out. "It's down."

"Hello, Ladies," Samson says, cocking an eyebrow as he rises to his fullest height. "Decided to join the fight?"

A daemon lies at Daiyna's feet with two arrows through his neck. The bloated chest heaves with gasps rasping through jagged teeth. His rifle has been kicked aside.

"We've been here all along," she retorts, gesturing for the woman behind her to finish off the daemon with a spear.

"Really? I could've sworn you just arrived." Samson winks at her.

"Through the heart, Shechara. If a daemon has one." Daiyna points, turning her back on Samson.

"Wait." I step forward. She frowns at me. "Please."

Daiyna halts her sister, but the frown doesn't leave her brow. She watches me, they all do, as I kneel beside the fallen daemon and look at him closely.

"Careful, Luther," Plato warns. "It still looks hungry."

The oozing yellow eyes twitch as they focus on me. The stench of rotten meat is almost unbearable, but I don't draw back. Is that human hide he wears as a second skin?

"Who are you?" I whisper.

He stares back at me, but it's impossible to tell if there is any conscious thought behind his eyes. They have the look of a wild animal's, fueled by instinct, driven by hunger. Thick saliva drips out of his gaping mouth, and his stomach churns at my proximity.

"Where do you come from?" When we were first attacked, the daemons came from the east, and it was there they fled when we drove them out of our village. "Was your bunker compromised?" Did biotoxins somehow manage to get inside? "Did you leave your bunker before All-Clear?"

Nothing registers in his gaze.

"Can you understand me?"

A gurgle erupts from his throat where the arrows pierce him. His gnarled hand jerks up and clamps my jaw, sharp fingernails digging into the sides of my face as he pulls me toward his mouth with unyielding brute strength.

"Luther!" Daiyna cries.

"I've got him!" Samson bellows, firing three rounds into the daemon's legs.

The grip on my face tightens. The gurgling grows louder, strained, as if he's trying to speak. The fangs reek of carrion.

"Shoot him again!" Plato yells.

"No," I manage. "He's—saying—"

"He's trying to eat your face!"

Samson may be right. But if this creature is attempting to communicate, we might not be afforded another opportunity to learn about their kind. We have to know our enemy so we'll know better how to fight them. What are their strengths? Their weaknesses? Motivation?

The daemon's teeth clamp down on my ear, piercing through the flesh.

Ignoring the cries of alarm around me, the hands that fight to free me, the additional rounds Samson fires into the creature's legs, I flex my talons and plunge them into the daemon's chest, tearing into his ribs. A guttural scream erupts from the deformed mouth, and the fangs lose their grip on my ear lobe. I fall back, refusing the aid offered to me.

"Satisfied?" Daiyna takes the spear from Shechara and drives it through the daemon into the ground. The creature exhales a long, wheezing gasp and lies still, bulbous eyes staring vacantly.

"What were you thinking?" Plato frowns at my ear.

I feel for missing flesh and find only a set of fresh