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

the distant past. Now the asphalt lies rippled as if a giant chef was mixing in some ingredients and gave up on the recipe halfway through. We have to climb over large chunks of the street in order to cross. Easy for me with my gift of agility, and I don't hear any labored breathing from him. Staying one step ahead of the daemons has kept him in shape.

"They're around," he says. "You know what I think? It's all a big government experiment. We're not the last survivors on earth, nothing like that. This is a controlled environment, and they're watching us. I'm telling you, if we took a vehicle far enough east, we'd find everything just the way it used to be, the way it's been all those years we were underground." His feet shuffle, and he starts muttering to himself again.

His conspiracy theory is a bit extreme, but I wonder if there's a grain of truth to it. Why haven't I questioned the way things are? Why have I so blindly believed everything we were told on the bunker database?

"The mutos, and this weird invisibility thing I've got, and whatever night-vision thing you've got... Don't deny it. I was watching you back there, and you move around through the dark like it's daylight. All part of their experiment. They've done stuff to us, unnatural stuff, and now they're monitoring how we react. We're just glorified lab rats, that's what we are."

We reach the other side of the mangled intersection, and his footprints through the dust take us along a broken side street between what may have been two tenement buildings. I keep an eye out for any early-rising daemons and wish I still had my rifle.

I can't help mulling over what Tucker's said. For the first time, I find myself wondering if the voice in my head never came from supernatural entities. Instead, could it be from the same government scientists who sent us below long ago? They could be watching us through cameras hidden throughout the rubble, studying our every move.

My cheek rubs against the inside of my head covering as I smile. If I'm not careful, Tucker might draw me headfirst into his delusions. From what I can tell, he lost his grip on reality a while back and instead chose to create one he could understand. I don't blame him. It probably makes things easier to believe we're test subjects and at any moment, the ones running the show will appear and give us our results.

"I mean, think about it. They took us below after the first nukes were launched, right? But we never saw them fall. Did you?" He doesn't wait for me to answer. He plows through his theories while his tracks forge through the rubble. "Just video on the web, right? Fake, all of it. I'm telling you, there were no bombs, no insurgents with toxic bioweapons. It was all made up!"

"Why?" He sounds like he's trying to convince himself of the truth, like he's gone through this monologue many times before.

"Haven't you ever wondered why they had all those bunkers ready to go, waiting for us at the drop of a hat? A quick elevator ride underground, and we're safe from harm."

"They'd been preparing for years." I shrug. "That's how things were done during the cold wars."

"Nope. No cold war. That was all made up too." His tracks stop. "UW—United World, yeah? The nations of the earth were at peace, for crying out loud! There wasn't any war."

It's not easy to remember the way things were. Everything I know about the Old Earth comes from the bunker database. Most of us were sent below at a young age, during our second stage of education. We learned some things about current events at the time: the rebels and their frequent attempts to make their voice heard. They wanted to unite the sectors, drive out the UW. I remember talking to Luther about it... Only yesterday? Seems like a lifetime ago.

"The whole world is still at peace, and they're watching us," Tucker continues. "We're on a post-apocalyptic reality show! I'm sure the ratings are great. And now a word from our sponsors…"

Boots crunch across the ground behind me, and I turn in time to see a daemon stagger out of a sublevel's open doorframe a few meters away. I freeze. We're in the shadows, hidden from the moonlight by a structure on our left. Tucker's footprints haven't moved. He must see it, too.

The vile creature snorts, grunting to itself. Then a stream of urine issues forth from its crotch, splashing aimlessly across the broken pavement. The daemon stretches, arms over its head. Half asleep? Unarmed. Would I stand a chance against it hand to hand? I glance around at the rubble I could jump onto and climb out of reach, if need be. My muscles are tense, ready to spring into action. I watch, I wait. Maybe it will go back inside when it's done relieving itself.

"Die, you freak!" Tucker shouts.

The daemon turns on us with a snarl, just as an invisible gun fires beside me. The shot explodes through the creature's bulging, lidless eye and out the back of its head with a burst of blood. It grunts, staring at us stupidly, head wobbling like it's on loose. Then the legs give out, and the daemon drops to the ground.

A strong hand grabs hold of my arm, and instantly my invisible companion materializes into flesh and blood before my eyes. Startled, I draw back from him, but he holds me tight, raising the handgun in front of his lips. "Shh," he whispers. "They don't like it when I wake 'em up early."

As if on cue, snorting and grunting sounds come from both sides of the street, and footsteps scurry toward us through the dark. My stomach drops. It's just as I feared. These ruins are like an ant hill. And we've disturbed them.

"What were you thinking?" I hiss, turning my fear into