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

"Right." Willard nods and smoothes his thin mustache with one hand. Then he cocks his head to one side and points next to me. "You'll find one of 'em in there. The big one." He grins, and the others nod knowingly. "What's left of him, that is."

I turn toward the door beside me, next to the unit where I've spent the past two days. Laughter echoes from below as I lay my hand on the handle and push the door aside. My eyes slowly adjust to the dim light above the bed in the center of the room. The machines look familiar, as do the hoses attached to the torso and groin of my brother, Samson.

But there is nothing familiar about the sight of him.

He lies on his back, unconscious, his broad chest expanding and settling with every thunderous snore, his arms amputated and cauterized at the elbows, his legs at the knees.

I stagger forward.

My rage erupts in a hoarse scream.

12 MiltonTen Months after All-Clear

I have no idea what's going on.

First there was that voice in my head telling me to kill them all. Then it told me to take her, forced me to. I couldn't resist the power inside me; it was overwhelming. So I took her throat in my hand…but that's when everything gets real fuzzy.

I remember squealing tires and white-hot floodlights coming out of nowhere. I wasn't really paying attention. Something came over me as soon as I touched her. A sizzling burst of energy shot through my arm, straight to my head—a rush, that's for sure—and the next thing I knew, I was picking her up and carrying her out of there.

She wasn't conscious anymore. What did I do to her? She was limp, draped over my shoulder like a sack of nourishment packs, and I was running as fast as I could, the concrete walls and abandoned vehicles rushing past the periphery of my vision in a blur, illuminated only by my glowstick.

Then we were out in the middle of the city ruins, tearing through debris-strewn streets under the moon's frosty glow. And that's when things got weirder. I was maybe two or three kilometers into the heart of the city when I stopped and lowered her body to the ground. I watched her lying there on her back. Like she was asleep. But she could have been dead.

"Why?" Why was I doing this?

You do not need her now.

The voice came from inside me, but it wasn't the same one I'd heard before, the one that told me to kill everybody except her. Somehow, it had changed. More subdued, maybe. Not as fierce?

Go.

I broke into a run, leaving her behind, alone in the middle of that street. The city ruins vanished behind me as I tore across the cratered desolation. I glanced back at the giant plume of dust in my wake, remembering the first time I ran like this, when Mother Earth chased me in all her fury. I was in danger then. That's what she told me—Daiyna—and I believed it.

But now things are different. I'm faster than I was by a factor of two, maybe ten. And I'm not alone.

That's the really weird thing.

"I always like this part." Julia hugs my arm, pressing her warm curves against me. We sit on a large boulder overlooking the valley below. The moon has faded away with the approach of dawn, and in a moment the sun's golden orb will make its first appearance of the day, peeking over the horizon before us. "It never gets old."

"For you, maybe." Jackson stands with his boots planted shoulder-width apart, arms crossed over his chest. "I for one would've enjoyed sleeping in today."

"Face shields ready..." Julia holds hers up with a giggle, like it's a game. I get mine out of my jumpsuit pocket. Jackson fastens his on right away. "Party pooper," she chides him.

"I don't fancy scorching my retinas," he grumbles.

"You'll wait with me, won't you, Milton?" She hugs my arm tighter, smiling with full lips and sparkling green eyes, her long blonde hair caught by the morning breeze that wafts up from the valley floor below.

I nod. Of course I will. I'll wait until the last nanosecond with her, and we'll see the sun rise together. Just like we do every morning...that I can remember. It doesn't get old for me either. Weird, but not old. I would never get tired of doing anything with her.

Am I dead? I know they are. I killed them both.

"Three…two," she counts down. "One!"

The sun breaches the horizon in streams of molten bronze, a glorious sight to behold. And behold it we do—for a few seconds, anyway. Then we fasten our face shields into place before the harsh morning rays can do any permanent damage.

I wish we could hold off a little longer. Now with our features hidden, I can't see Julia's eyes behind that panel of reflective polymer. I see only an image of myself, my own cracked, gravel-pitted face shield and filthy jumpsuit. How have they managed to keep theirs so clean? Pristine, fresh from the bunker.

"Hungry?" she asks me.

"Too bad." Jackson curses, shuffling his boots. "We've got nothing."

"He does." She pats my leg, just above my knee. I stir at her touch. "Samson made sure you had a few packs when he brought your suit to you. Don't you remember? Before you were shot by those mutants."

"He doesn't remember any of that." Jackson faces us. "Doesn't matter anymore. We've got just one thing to agree on here, and we can't keep putting it off. You know as well as I do that he's—"

"You remember, don't you, Milton?" She squeezes my thigh as she leans into me. "Luther, Samson...Daiyna?"

The names are familiar, and I remember who they are. But they're from a long time ago. Before this—here, wherever we are.

"He doesn't know what you're talking about." Jackson scoffs.

"Stop trying to interfere," she warns him.

"I don't have to