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

more than a moment to assess the situation. "We need to get out of here. Now. It could be leaking radiation, and these suits won't protect us." She starts back toward the gap. "Now," she beckons. "We can come back with the right gear and check it out later. It's not going anywhere."

She's right about that. It's wedged in there pretty tight. We follow her back to the jeep with the threat of leaking radiation hard on our heels.

"So what is it?" Jamison is right where we left him, behind the wheel.

"Start her up." I climb into my seat as Perch and Margo quickly follow suit.

"I don't think we can fit through, Boss," he shakes his head as he restarts the engine.

"We're going back." I glance at the missile.

"To the bunker?"

I nod. "ASAP."

He doesn't ask any questions, not until he's managed to rock the jeep up and down the walls of the tunnel to turn us around. He takes us back faster than he would have dared on the way out. Now the path is familiar to him.

"So..." He glances at me.

"It's a nuke."

"Whoa."

If the warhead is still viable, would we be able to harness its power for, say, a nuclear reactor that could provide us with enough energy to rebuild? It's not my area of expertise, but I know someone who's qualified. She's sitting in the back seat. But if the warhead was damaged during its collision with the tunnel, it's now a radioactive hazard blocking our only exit route out of the bunker.

Radiation sickness is a horrible way to go out. Hair loss and nausea and such.

I can't let myself think that way. God's on our side. He works in mysterious ways, and we're blessed to be a part of that work. He'll use everything for good, even this unexpected nuclear missile. It'll be part of our salvation. It'll have to be.

We ride in silence. Only the noise of the jeep's engine echoes all around us. We'll have to do without our vehicle on the next trip out. It'll be kaput after this run. Our boots will carry us in hazard suits. Glowsticks will be our guides. Just like those educational films they made us watch before D-Day: Worst Case Scenario. We'll troop through the tunnel, past the nuke, and find the sublevels of that southwestern city. Then we'll start a new life there.

Within minutes, we reach the hole we smashed through our bunker wall, and Jamison eases us inside. Everything's quiet. Too quiet. Where the hell is everybody?

A gunshot explodes, fired over our heads. We duck, crying out in alarm and indignation.

They swarm the jeep then, all ninety-odd of them. They don't look happy to see us. They glare at me, most looking like confused sheep without a shepherd. Mathis and Catherine and a couple other women hold handguns trained on me. Where did they get those?

The fools. They must have repaired the elevator in our absence.

"You've got a lot to explain, Willard," Catherine grates out, both hands gripping the gun, trembling with rage.

She's probably right. I do have a few things to explain.

And I'll do fine. Like always.

Part V

Captives

10 DaiynaTen Months after All-Clear

My eyelids flutter open to faint moonlight and a black sky with scattered pinpoints of light.

I jerk upward and inhale with a loud gasp. My heart rushes, pumping wildly. Where am I? How long have I been here? The ground beneath me is cold and uneven, scattered with rock and debris.

I'm too exposed sitting here in the open. It isn't safe, I need to hide. The mangled ruins of the city, smothered in dust and ash, tower over me in every direction. How did I get out here, lying in the middle of the street? Wasn't I underground before?

The muscles in my back ache to the bone as I stagger to my feet. I was armed. I remember carrying a rifle we took off a dead daemon. Swaying unsteadily, I close my eyes for a moment. I've got to get a grip on things, sort everything out. But my foggy memories are no help at all.

Stiffly, I shuffle toward what looks like the remains of an EV station. The chargers, once a meter high, are now frozen puddles of steel half that height. They've probably looked like this for the past twenty years. The exchange office sits farther back, a twisted heap of steel supports, but it should provide sufficient cover while I get my head straight.

The others—where are they? Shechara, Luther, Samson? Milton... He was losing his mind. He thought I was someone else. I tried to help him, but I couldn't. He wouldn't let me. The spirit inside him was taking over.

I crouch behind a pile of rubble and touch my neck. I swallow painfully. Did he try to strangle me? Why can't I remember? We were below the surface, two or three levels down in a parking structure.

How the hell did I get out here?

My stomach growls, and I glance at the moon. It must be well after midnight. If the sun had come up, and I was still lying there in the street, unprotected...

I find my head covering, loose around my chest, and quickly wrap it back into place. My muscles tighten at the thought of what could have happened—my face, charred by the morning sun. My head doesn't need the protection right now, but it makes me feel better having it ready. It'll keep me warm, at any rate. It's freezing tonight.

My stomach churns again, and I reach for a protein pack, tucked beneath my outer garment. I rip it open with my teeth, and the noise is too loud. I pause before taking a bite.

It's so quiet here. Am I being watched? Maybe it's just the spirits. Do they know what happened to me?

A protein pack never tasted so good, despite the total lack of any flavor. I devour it in three bites. Eventually my stomach relaxes, and I take a deep breath.

I have to