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

I squeeze the handgun’s grip. Tears sting my eyes. “Sorry, Margo,” I whisper. “I’ve failed you in a big way.”

I sniff, blink until my vision clears. Then I roll onto my side, nearly crying out as I force myself to sit up. My right arm, right shoulder and corresponding chest muscles are absolutely useless. And they hurt like hell. But the pain keeps me conscious, in the moment. No telling how long that will last. Soon I’ll go numb and lose consciousness. Not yet.

I’ve got something else to do first.

I cock the gun and stare at the dust cloud as it approaches, looming larger and more malevolent with every meter it gains. The closer it comes, the clearer I hear the hum of those solar-powered jeeps the cannibal freaks are so fond of. Already I can make out three vehicles, distinct black blurs heading toward me at top speed, following the tracks left by an unlucky invisible man.

I curse again and spit into the dust. I rest the gun on my lap and retrieve the spare clips, keeping them close by. I won’t be going down without a fight. I’ll take as many of their sorry carcasses with me as I can. Hell, maybe every last one of them. Now wouldn’t that be something?

“Come and get it, you rotten bastards.”

9 Cain18 months after All-Clear

When I dream of Gaia, I see her in white sheer fabric that billows in the sea breeze. She strides barefoot across the ashen sand under a full moon’s light, her long hair tossed playfully by the wind as she casts an inviting glance over her shoulder. She beckons me to follow with eyes that burn into my very soul. I would go wherever she leads me, even to the end of the world.

She glides inland across kilometers of barren earth, into the lowlands and through the valleys, climbing scorched hillsides strewn with rock, covered in shale. She never tires, and neither do I, miraculously, following close and rarely missing a step. Together, mother and son, we climb toward the yawning mouth of a cave where men and women garbed in loose fabric, with black goggles dangling around their necks, have gathered to hear the words of a man I recognize with loathing.

“This is their Homeplace,” Gaia whispers into my ear, drawing me beside her and pointing toward the cave. “Now you will know it when you see it.”

I nod, refusing to voice the reservations I feel. But she already knows my thoughts. My fears.

“There is something else you must do first.” She takes my face in her cold hands and stares into my eyes, her look so direct, so full of incredible power, that I cannot bear to meet her gaze for longer than a moment. Yet in this dream, I am unable to look away, and her eyes ignite a fire that burns me from the inside—

I awake with a start, sitting upright and wide-eyed, naked in the dark.

“Ready now?” Lady Victoria eyes me from the opposite side of the bed. “I thought you would never wake up.”

“You have that effect on me.” Our recent lovemaking is impossible to forget—the first time a weapon of any kind has been involved. She had to make sure I wouldn’t send my guards after the exiled Lemuel, and holding her knife to her own throat did the trick.

It did not get in the way at all as I reclaimed her loins.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She winks at me as she fingers the blade of her dagger. “You certainly enjoyed yourself.”

“Always.” I regard her figure with an appreciative eye.

She reaches out a hand, beckoning me to her bosom. I come close, caressing her protruding abdomen as I do so, fingering the minor incision she made earlier with the tip of her blade. The blood has already dried.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” she says.

“Hardly.” In a single movement, I have the dagger out of her hand and my elbow jammed against her throat, pinning her down on the pillow. I have to chuckle at the surprised look on her face. “Did you honestly think I couldn’t take this from you whenever I chose?” I toss the weapon across the room where it clatters against the wall.

“Why not sooner?” she chokes out.

I grin down at her. “I was enjoying the show.”

“You didn’t think I would do it.”

“End your life? Or the child’s?” I shake my head, the coarse braid sweeping across my broad shoulders. “Not while you still have me to ravish you.”

She almost smiles.

Whatever feelings I once had for her are no more. They evaporated the moment I saw her with the runt Lemuel. She is a tool in my hand now, nothing more. Should she continue to prove useful, then perhaps I will allow her to be the mother of my child. If not, then I will cut the infant out of her and give it to one of my other wives to raise. They have proven themselves faithful and above reproach.

I remove my forearm but keep a hand on her neck, my thumb on the quick pulse of her jugular.

“I am ready,” I tell her.

She blinks up at me. Then she reaches with both hands and cups them over my ears, pressing her fingertips against my temples. In turn, I cover her eyes with my hand. So joined, we share the same vision and hearing even as these senses are projected kilometers away. It is a melding of gifts we first discovered while making love months ago.

It has served my purposes very well since then.

“Where are they?” I murmur, staring vacantly across the room as our shared sense of sight travels across boundless stretches of unknown, untraveled desert.

“They have kept their distance,” she answers.

For a moment, our vision rests on two men clad in hooded cloaks, camped a kilometer beyond a group of five figures in heavy protective suits waiting for their solar jeep to recharge. Then our shared vision veers off-course