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

thoughts. But one question arcs through my mind: "They would have to know the eggs and sperm came from us. Wouldn't our...children be like us? Infected?"

Her frail shoulders lift and fall. "From what we can tell, our superhuman abilities are the result of contact with the surface. The dust enters our lungs, spreads through our system, and we're changed. Willard and his soldiers have never ventured out onto the surface, and they remain unaffected. So, we're almost certain these gametes and the fetuses they will become won't be at risk, as long as we keep them in Eden during their gestation, growth, and development."

All so very scientific. Nothing supernatural about it.

"You can't know for sure."

"Of course not." She pauses. "What matters is the UW thinks we do. And they'll have to wait nine months to see if we're wrong."

A sudden blast shatters the moment as Milton fires his weapon.

"Sneaky devils. There you are." He fires again. I let go of Shechara and join him at the doorway. "See?" He points across to the catwalk at the other side of the dome where the steel door of that strange apartment remains locked from the outside. Half a dozen soldiers ride up the conveyor, crouching with wide pallets held up as shields. "Probably planning to unlock the door and let their boss out. Where have they been hiding?"

He fires again, obviously a warning shot. But the soldiers dive off the conveyor in all directions and scramble for cover. Milton will make sure none of them get close to that door.

A loud horn honks below. Luther and Samson climb out of a black armored vehicle.

"All aboard!" Samson grins up at me.

Shechara takes my hand. "Time to go, Daiyna."

I turn and look back at Margo. Who is this woman? Ally? Enemy?

"God be with you," she says with that twitch of a smile. "Though I'm not sure whose side he's on anymore."

"You don't belong here. You're not one of them."

She nods slowly, eyes unblinking. "They need me."

I can soften his heart, she places the thought into my mind. Does she mean Willard? Right. Good luck with that.

She smiles.

"You two go ahead." Milton stands rooted, covering the main floor with his rifle. "I'll catch up."

"I'm sure you will." I pat his shoulder.

I look Shechara in the eye. It'll take a while to get used to the new additions. "Ready?"

She nods, squeezing my hand. "Yes, Daiyna."

We jump up onto the railing and leap down from it, plunging to the concrete floor below and landing on all-fours.

"Good to see you still have it in you," Samson rumbles, balancing awkwardly on his new legs. He winks at me.

"Good to see your spirits are still up."

"And that's not all." He thrusts his pelvis forward suggestively and nearly topples over.

Luther chuckles. "Let's get out of here, shall we?" He raises his hand in farewell, his fingers wounded, his eyes full of gratitude.

Margo stares down at him. Slowly she raises her hand in return.

We file into the large vehicle, Samson taking the seat next to the driver while Luther, Shechara and I slide into the seats behind. The doors close automatically, and the engine roars to life. But the driver's seat is absent, as is the steering wheel.

"Ready folks?" Tucker says.

He's not coming with us. He can't be.

"Take us out, Mr. Tucker," Luther tells him. "Thank you. We'd be lost without your help."

"I know these tunnels like the back of my invisible hand," he says with a sniff. We roll forward, then surge across the main floor with a sudden burst of speed, heading toward what looks like the open mouth of a cave. Shots echo outside, the rounds pinging across the vehicle's surface. "Damn fools," Tucker mutters, flooring the gas pedal.

I look out the window just as five of the armed soldiers rush our way, firing wildly. I cringe as the shots bounce off the pane of tinted glass. Bullet-proof, apparently.

A moment later, we're in the tunnel, and all I see is the glow of the headlights against the curved concrete ahead of us. I glance back as the half-circle of light behind us recedes in the distance along with the small silhouettes of soldiers halting their pursuit and shaking their weapons in frustration.

Eden. I hope I never see that place again.

My mind feels heavy, overloaded as I try to process everything that whirls through it like a tornado. An impossible task. Some things I'm able to catch and tie down: We have a vehicle. Our original task is finally complete. Now we can go back to the caves and see if anyone survived the daemons' attack.

Margo said Willard controlled the daemons. Did he send them after us? He's still alive back there with everything they took from us. Will he send the daemons after us again?

And what's all this about the United World still being alive and well, out there somewhere? How many continents survived D-Day? Why didn't the spirits tell me?

The spirits. I can't even tackle that one right now. Where have they been? Why haven't they spoken to me? Was I possessed like Milton all that time? Milton's spirit has left him. Has mine done the same?

Before I realize it, we're in the underground parking structure at the south end of the city ruins, back where this ordeal began. Our invisible chauffeur takes us up through the sublevels and eventually out into the light of the morning sun.

I have no idea what day it is.

Tucker doesn't stop once we're out on one of the rubble-strewn streets. He takes us through the city and into the desert beyond, across barren terrain that rocks the vehicle with every ditch we cross.

Is he actually coming with us? A sinking feeling hits the pit of my stomach. He can't be trusted. The others need to know.

He brakes once we're over a kilometer outside the ruins.

"This should do it. Give you a head start on the hungriest of the mutos." The steering wheel materializes and the driver's door swings open automatically.

"Thanks again." Luther