Spirits of the Earth: The Complete Series: (A Post-Apocalyptic Series Box Set: Books 1-3) Milo Fowler (different e readers TXT) 📖

"Figured that out all by himself." Jackson snickers.

"You're not like him. You're different somehow. You want us to survive on what's left of this messed-up planet."

She nods. "Yes, Milton. Of course I do."

"That's why you gave us these abilities, right?" She nods again, so I plunge onward, "So tell me who you are. What do you want with me? Why me? What do you want me to do? Why am I seeing and hearing you like this?"

The warmth from her hand is unmistakable—through the glove, through my jumpsuit, straight to my chest. It slows my racing heart. She comforts me like she did in the bunker when I was afraid of the dark. I would hold her close, and we'd lie together that way for hours. But this isn't Julia.

I don't care. I still love her.

"You're approaching a very important choice, Milton. One that only you can make. It will affect many lives and will change the course of the earth's future." She takes my hand and squeezes it. "But you don't have to be afraid. I sense the fear in you, and I know where it comes from. It comes from a lie. You don't have to believe it."

I'm a killer.

"It's the truth." Jackson pats me on the back. "The past speaks for itself. Survival of the fittest, as nature intended. Survivor's guilt is a natural part of it. But you can make amends."

How can I? I let them all die.

She squeezes my hand, brings my attention back to her. "Stay with me, Milton. Live now, not in the past. This is who you are, and you want to live. You want to survive."

"You want to pay for what you've done." He pats my shoulder with his heavy paw. "It's only right. Why should you live free and easy on this rock after you killed so many people? You'd hate yourself every day—more than you do already. You'd be miserable."

What's the alternative? I'm miserable enough as it is. Except when I'm with her. With Julia here, I could be happy. But this isn't real. She isn't Julia.

What's she saying now?

"—need your help, Milton. Bad things are happening. Evil men are hurting your friends. Luther and Daiyna—"

"They're not your friends. They never trusted you. You were an outsider."

"She saved you, Milton. From him." She faces Jackson.

"What?" He snorts. "I wasn't going to kill him!"

"You tell so many lies, you start believing them yourself." She turns back to me. "Daiyna rescued you, don't you remember? And when the mutants shot you, it was Samson and Plato who carried you deep into the cavern to tend to your wound. Rip watched over you. Luther prayed for you." She takes me by the shoulders now. "They are your friends, Milton. And they need you now more than ever before."

They needed me. I remember that clearly. They tried to convince me to join them, to help them fight the cannibals, to disarm the freaks with my superspeed and hand over all the weapons. To even the odds. But I refused.

My eyes drift to the sand formations around us. What would I find if I brushed away the layers of sand and ash? More mutants frozen in death? Jeeps without hope of ever running again?

"Why didn't you take them out before?" I face Jackson. "Why did you let those people die?"

"Who said I had anything to do with it?" he retorts.

"You did." Didn't he? Or was it Julia who said he did? Everything was becoming clearer for a moment there.

"Have you ever happened to look over your shoulder when you've taken off, Mr. Speedy?" He chuckles. "You kick up quite a wake."

Does he mean I smothered all the freaks when I passed through?

"He doesn't want you to survive—any of you, human or daemon." She shakes her head at him. "He would be just as content if you all killed each other."

"Not true," Jackson counters. "It doesn't make me happy at all. But that doesn't change the way things are. It's human nature. They can't be changed, no matter how many special abilities you give them. They're still cursed, doomed to repeat the past."

She squeezes my shoulders with surprising strength. "You can save them, Milton. Only you. There's no one else."

"Or you can put them out of their misery," Jackson says. "You'd be doing them a favor. Believe me, when you see what's going down in Eden, you'll want to put an end to it once and for all."

"I know you want to live, Milton," she implores me.

"But you can't live with guilt. Better to go out in a blaze of glory, save the world from itself." He squeezes my shoulder and steps away.

She presses herself against me, and I hold her feebly. "Regain what you've lost," she whispers. "Be the man I know you are!"

She breaks away. My arms are empty without her. I don't know what they're talking about; most of it makes no sense at all. But I get the idea she wants me to rescue the others while he wants me to blow them up. Something like that.

"So…" I shrug. "Where are they?"

They look at each other. Then in unison they say, "We'll lead the way."

Weird.

But it gets worse. At the same moment that he dives out of sight into the ground and races away to the northeast, she shoots up into the sky, flying as fast as a rocket, almost out of sight before I know what they're doing.

They're giving me a choice to follow one or the other.

It's a no-brainer. I keep my eyes on Julia and take off running after the crack that splits the earth in Jackson's wake. I put out my arms and will myself upward, and for a moment or two my trajectory changes. My boots leave the ground mid-stride and drift through the air.

But then I land—very hard. I flip forward and tumble five or six times, cursing with every somersault across the unforgiving ground until my momentum finally