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

“Step back,” says Hillside, watching my shadow. “Don’t you try anything.”

They’re so sure it’s a bomb. What will they think when they see this tiny angel?

I do as I’m told. I withdraw my hands from the canister and step back, waiting for the inevitable confusion to ensue, the questions. Namely, why is Eden sending babies out into the barren wasteland?

What happens next isn’t even on my radar.

“What the hell?” says Hillside.

“You said we’d be able to see—” says Eight O’Clock.

“Why can’t we?” says the third sentry.

“What have you done?” Hillside demands.

Their voices merge as one, and they advance on me with weapons at the ready. I stare at the pod and frown. It’s no longer in contact with any portion of my body. It should be completely visible to them now. That’s how this works!

“Wait. You’re telling me you can’t see it?” I say.

“Quit playing games. Turn it off—whatever invisible shield you’ve got protecting that thing.”

I shake my head, extending open hands. “I have no idea why you can’t see it.” Are they trying to pull one over on me? Why? “I touch something, it disappears as long as I’m in contact with it. I let go, and it’s visible again. This has never happened before...”

“You saying there’s something wrong with our eyesight?” Eight O’Clock says.

Hillside scowls at the pod’s shadow. Then he draws back his boot and gives it a solid kick. The metallic thud rings loud enough to cover my horrified gasp.

“Don’t do that again.” My voice is low and steady. The status lights on the pod continue to blink at regular intervals. The little one’s vital signs remain normal. Sure, the canister was designed to withstand getting jostled around a bit, but I don’t want to see its limits tested.

Hillside aims his rifle at the pod’s shadow. The muzzle stares through the transparent chamber door, right into the face of the little female. “Turn off the shield.”

“You don’t understand—!” I plead with them.

The female’s eyes open. Instantly, the incubation pod becomes visible to the three sentries. Dumbstruck, they freeze in place, goggles transfixed on the chamber door. One by one, they shoulder their weapons in slow motion, as if they’re mesmerized, in some sort of trance. Boots shuffling through the dust, they gather around the canister like it’s a holy shrine, and they’re pilgrims. But they haven’t known until this moment what it was they’ve been seeking.

“It’s a—” Hillside says, his tense frame relaxing.

“Yeah. It sure is,” says Eight O’Clock.

“I’ll be damned,” the third sentry says, shaking his head. “There’s a baby in there.”

“You don’t say.” Hillside chuckles and gives his buddy a shove. His goggles glance at me. “So, you’re carrying a couple of newborns?”

“Unborns,” I correct. I remain kneeling in the dust. “They’ve yet to breathe anything but that oxygenated fluid in there.”

“Eden’s sending us babies now.” Eight O’Clock curses in disbelief. “Can’t say I ever saw that coming.”

“It’s precious cargo I’ve got here, no doubt about it. Both pods, they’re meant to be taken straight to Luther.” I gesture with my shadow hand. “Mind if I get up now?”

“Go ahead.” Hillside points in my general direction. “Take off the other one. We’ll make sure Luther gets them both, safe and sound.”

I hesitate, fingering the strap buckled across my chest. After carrying these little ones for the past few weeks, it’s safe to say I’ve grown attached to them—both physically and emotionally. In my mind, this isn’t how I envisioned the end of my journey. Handing them over to complete strangers?

I imagined walking right up to Luther and Daiyna and the others and saying something like, “Hey, remember me?” Then I’d hand over the little ones in their canisters. And maybe I’d say, “I guess this is what you get when you go mixing gametes around in test tubes.” Something like that, a bit of humor to go with what was sure to be a whole lot of surprise.

I never planned to stick around for their artificial births. But I wanted to be there for the introductions.

“C’mon, take it off.” Hillside motions with his hand for me to speed things up. The rifle remains slung back on his shoulder—for now. “We can’t be out in the open here much longer. Daemons might catch a whiff of us.”

He means the mutos. Reaching over my shoulder to steady the incubation pod, I unfasten the strap and carefully remove the canister. “I can carry this one,” I offer, reluctant to let it go. “Wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“Set it down beside the first one.” Hillside’s goggles stare at me without expression.

Biting my lip, I nod and obey the sentry’s command, cursing myself inwardly as I do so. This isn’t right. It’s not what Margo would’ve wanted.

“That’s it? Just the two?” Eight O’Clock says.

I nod, placing the male’s pod on the ground next to the female’s. For a moment, it seems like she’s looking up at me with some kind of warning in her eyes. But that can’t be possible. A newborn isn’t able to focus on much, so how could an unborn register anything visually through all that fluid?

The canister materializes as I withdraw my hands. I stand over the two little ones, my shadow falling across them both.

“Better check him.” Eight O’Clock nods at the third sentry. “Pat him down.”

“I’m not going anywhere near him. You check.”

“Coward.”

“Hey, there’s more than enough weird abilities going around lately. The last thing I need is to pick up another one. Invisibility? No thanks!”

“So you do think it’s catching.” Eight O’Clock laughs.

With an impatient curse, Hillside levels his rifle with my midsection. “Move away from the pods. Keep your hands up.”

I frown as I take a tentative step back. My heart thuds hard at the sight of the weapon and the two incubation canisters lying exposed, out in the open. I’m still close enough to throw myself on top of them if shots start flying. I’d do anything to keep them safe, even if it means sacrificing myself.

I didn’t