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

the broken concrete. "The air's stale in there, but it's just like you said, Boss." He reaches into the tunnel with a glowstick and takes a quick look around. "Wide enough for the jeep."

Excitement mounts among us. This is a big step in the right direction.

"Suit up. We're going for a little drive." I beckon to Jamison, and he nods, heading across the bunker to where the jeep's parked. The batteries better be fully charged, or this will be a short trip. I'm not up to scouting on foot. "Want to tag along?" I turn to Mathis.

He thinks for a moment, leaning on his sledgehammer. He'd be a fool to pass up this opportunity.

"Sure," he shrugs.

Margo approaches me. "Don't you think your doctor should join you?" She holds up a medkit.

Might be a good idea. I'm not at a hundred percent. "Suit up, Doc."

She smiles and takes off in a jog toward the locker room. My gaze lingers on her round backside.

The jeep revs, lurching forward. Jamison honks the horn to clear a path. "Juice is at eighty percent." He leans toward me over the driver's side door. "All reserve power."

"So, forty-kilometer range. Give or take." How far is the town she mentioned? I can't remember much of what she said before I ended her.

"Each way? Yeah, that would be the farthest. Might be able to stretch it a little."

"Then let's not waste what we've got." I slap the hood as I pass around the front. He ignites the headlamps. "Perfect timing." I grin at Margo who jogs back with an extra suit.

"For you." She hands it to me as she tugs on her O2 mask. "You need the sleeves."

I look down at my arms. Strange. With the salve on them, it feels like they're already covered. "Right."

Jamison rolls forward. Suit and mask on, Perch runs up and climbs into the back. Margo assists me in a quick suit change, then we climb in as well. I ride shotgun as she slides in next to Perch. Jamison shifts into gear, and we accelerate toward the gaping hole in our southwestern wall.

All ninety-odd of the others line up on either side to send us off. Their optimism, smiles, and cheers are contagious. Waving and grinning, I feel like a victorious UW general returning from a battle already won.

"Where's Mathis?" Margo leans forward, her voice muffled behind her mask.

I shrug. "You snooze, you lose." Someone slaps my shoulder as we pass, but it's not a friendly gesture. It's Catherine.

"What do you expect us to do while you're gone?" Sour as ever.

I wink at her. "Hold down the fort."

Jamison guns the engine, and we enter the tunnel as the cheers reach a crescendo behind us. The white light from the headlamps extends twenty meters ahead, illuminating space that hasn't been disturbed for decades.

"So what do you think? Some kind of groundwater channels?" Perch leans forward.

"That'd be my guess. I doubt they've seen a drop since D-Day."

"This is awesome." Jamison chuckles as he accelerates. "How the hell did you know this was down here, Boss?"

How did I? "Just a hunch. Thank God I was right!"

Our laughter rises above the engine noise echoing from the tunnel walls.

"Really? You had no idea?" Margo leans forward next to Perch. What is she implying? Her tone is hard to decipher with the mask's interference.

"Before they attacked me and Tucker, they told us they'd found the remains of a city to the southwest. I put two and two together, figured the government scientists were counting on us and wouldn't have left us with only one escape route. And voila!" I gesture toward the dark recesses beyond the headlamps.

"So that's where we're headed—the city?" Perch glances at Margo.

"The surface is no longer an option. But we'll see what kind of materials and supplies are available in the sublevels below the ruins. We've got to get everybody out of the bunker before the O2 runs out." I nod, half to myself. "I've got a feeling we'll find exactly what we need."

Jamison taps the steering wheel. A nervous gesture. "We'll have to juice up at some point."

True. Solar cells are difficult to charge without sunlight. And the sun prefers to shine on the surface. Can we do without the jeep? It could be a long distance to haul all our tools and supplies on foot.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For all we know, there'll be parking structures full of gas-powered vehicles where we're headed. Wouldn't that be something?"

Perch lets out a loud sigh and falls back into his seat, fingers interlaced behind his head. "A 2042 Mustang..."

Jamison joins in the reverie. "A turbo-charged Hummer..."

"I'd be happy with a clean water source, gentlemen." Margo shakes her head. "And some real food for a change."

I grin at her. "Dream big. Can't hurt any, right?"

"Since when have you been the optimist, Willard?" She gives my shoulder a playful slap.

She has a point there. Before All-Clear, I was more of a cup half-full kind of guy, but since the scouting teams started coming back covered in demon-dust, I became a prophet of doom and gloom. With good reason, it turned out. But that's all over. We're on a new path now. I'll be their prophet again, this time leading them to a new Promised Land.

"God's on our side. Why wouldn't I be optimistic?" I wink at her again. This time she dips her chin—the appropriate response for a lady. "He's with us, and he'll guide us along the way. I'm sure of it."

Perch and Jamison shout "Amen!" in unison.

"Are you sure God is gender-specific?" she asks quietly, so that only I can hear. "You're certain she isn't with us?"

What's this? Conversation to pass the time?

"I'm a traditionalist," I offer with a shrug. "I still have a hard copy of the scriptures in my bedroll. Right next to Mein Kampf."

She grins. "Weren't all those burned?"

"Which one?"

"Both." She shakes her head. "Only the government editions on the database were legal."

"I'll show you when we