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

Almighty God, I pray I'm right.

"Tell me, Mathis. Would you take the emergency exit if the front door was wide open?" I grin at his confused look. "Until now, we haven't needed another way out. But now we do. That's why I've decided to mention it. You don't want to stay down here forever, do you?"

My response seems to satisfy everyone else, and they drift away, chuckling among themselves. Perch leads a handful to the storeroom with, "Sledgehammers this way!"

Jamison moves to join them. I grab his arm. "The southwest wall. Start there." Makes sense, that being the direction of the town she found. But I feel dizzy all of a sudden... My knees give out.

"Steady there," Jamison grunts under my weight. He helps me to the concrete floor, wet with my own blood. He glares at Margo.

"Don't give me that look. I didn't want to interrupt him." Margo douses my arms with fluid from a hydropack. "He was on a roll."

"You could've tended to him while he was giving his speech," Jamison mutters. "Just look at him."

"He's lost some blood, but he'll be all right. Help me cut away his sleeves—what's left of them." Her hands are soft and gentle on me.

Jamison stands. "Southwest wall!" he directs the others. "Get started!"

So it begins.

Ding. The elevator again. Guess she's still interested in me.

I have to smirk at that.

"Looks like a tiger came after you, Boss. What the hell?" Jamison curses.

Tucker's reaction was the same: What the hell? Maybe the demon-dust is from hell. That would explain a lot. The nukes from D-Day opened a portal into the dark side, and now... I'm not thinking clearly.

"It was like nothing I've ever seen." My tongue is sticky. I try to swallow.

"Drink." Margo holds the remainder of the hydropack to my mouth, but I hesitate. "Drink," she insists, and I obey.

Much better. I swallow easily. "They morphed somehow, teeth elongating into fangs, fingernails and toenails into claws. It was...surreal." I shake my head. "Can't explain it."

Jamison bites his lip. "And Tucker? Did they... I mean, how did they—?"

"Morbid," Margo interjects. She's cut away the shreds of my jumpsuit sleeves, and now she applies the healing salve, glistening in the spare light.

"I just want to know what we're up against." He faces me. "You don't have to answer, if it's too hard on you. He was a good friend to us all."

He was that. For the good of the many, Tucker ol' boy. For the good of the many. He would have done the same in my place. He never was the selfish type.

"They converged on him. I managed to crush one with the bunker door." I can't mention the guns. That wouldn't make any sense. Why would the women give me weapons to use against them? "He killed one, broke her neck. I took out the other one, but I paid for it." I glance down at my arms as explanation. "He was a bloody mess when I saw him last. What was left of him, that is. They clawed the life out of him."

My fiction inspires another curse from Jamison. "And there's still one of them left up there?"

I nod.

"Maybe Catherine's right. About their names." Margo's dark eyes implore me. "Who is it, Willard? Sharon or Anna, or—?"

"I told you. It wasn't them. Not anymore."

"Right. Abominations, I get it. Claws and fangs. I can't argue with what I'm seeing here." She takes a breath, weighing her words. "But if we know who it is, couldn't we help her? Bring her back to reality?"

I shake my head. "It's better you don't know. As far as we're concerned, we've got a wild animal up there, and it's hungry. No matter what, we can't let it get down here."

"We should kill it," Jamison growls.

"There's been enough killing for one day," Margo says.

I don't know that I agree, but I pretend to look like I do. Muttering something, Jamison rises and heads toward the far wall where Mathis and Catherine have attracted a small group to sow discontent. He claps his hands as he approaches them, gesturing for them to join the demolition crew. Heavy metallic thuds echo from the southwest corner.

"They could be trouble." Margo watches Catherine and Mathis lag behind the others that Jamison has herded in the right direction.

I face her. Ever since the first scouts came back, I've withdrawn from the women. I knew something wasn't right about them. Margo could be infected too, for all I know. Yet I find that I trust her. Can't really explain it.

"Those two?" I grin. They're no trouble. "Constructive criticism never hurt anybody."

I'll put them down the moment they become a real threat. For now, I'll just watch them. And at the first sign of any sort of change, I'll know what to do. I did it once, and I'll do it again.

But I need those guns.

"I'm just saying, if we're going to make this work—meet up with survivors from the other sectors, head up to the Preserve—we'll need to stay strong. United."

When have we ever been united? She never listened to me. Not Margo—the other one outside with the bullet in her brain. When she was Sharon, she always cut me down. The sex was good, but she never really respected me. She always belittled me in front of the others.

"They have their doubts, I'm sure. Bet you do, too." I wink at Margo. She doesn't respond with a smile. Not even a hint of one. "But you'll see. When we break through that wall and find the tunnels, Mathis will change his tune. Believe me. Everything is going to change."

Hours later, maybe twelve, maybe twenty-four, after some mis-attempts, grumbling and complaining—even the makings of a half-hearted mutiny—the hammers eventually break through as I said they would.

I have to hide my surprise. Of course I was right. Who am I to doubt myself?

Perch coughs, covering his face. The others do the same, waving away the dust from