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

air, and now he holds it as if his life depends on it—life as he knew it, anyway. Markus clocks the soldier across the jaw with a solid left hook, whipping the man’s head to the side with a gust of expelled air.

“May Gaia do with you as she will,” Vincent says.

“He’s out cold,” Victoria observes.

“Easier to carry.” I watch as the two tribesmen set about removing the hazard suit from the UW scout’s limp body. “But they must hurry.”

Victoria reminds Markus and Vincent, and they both nod as if she spoke into their ears simultaneously. “Do you think Gaia will bless this one?” She looks down at the soldier’s slack-jawed face with what could be mistaken for concern.

He won’t live long enough for it to be a possibility. Fortunately for me, this link I share with my fourth wife does not include the merging of our thoughts. Otherwise, Victoria would already know what I have planned for this man.

“More than likely, his true nature will be revealed.” I adhere to the catechism I teach the tribes, that which I have learned from Gaia herself.

“Then he is to become a goblyn.” She nods gravely. “It will be the first time.”

I frown. “How’s that?”

She faces me, her expression difficult to read. Does she challenge me yet again? Or is it the catechism itself that she disdains? “No one has seen a man turn into a goblyn before.”

True enough. After All-Clear when we emerged from the bunkers and began our journey to the coast, inhaling the air Gaia used both to bless and to curse in equal measure, there were goblyn packs already roving across the barren terrain in their solar jeeps, seeking victims to devour. When Gaia first appeared to me, visiting in the dead of night as I sat on a windswept dune facing the brackish sea, staring at the blockade of ships in the distance, I had just become aware of my far-sight ability. Blinking, staring, unable to believe I could focus on the lettering alongside the Argonaus without the aid of binoculars, I suddenly noticed her presence beside me.

“Hello, Cain.” In all her glory, Gaia stood on the dune and radiated an unearthly glow. “You have been blessed. Come, walk with me. I have much to tell you.”

As if in a dream, I followed after her, learning with every step the way of things—the catechism I have taught to my people ever since.

“They are on the move.” Victoria returns me to the present.

I peer eastward for the telltale signs of the UW scouts’ advance—glints of moonlight in their face shields, dust stirred in their wake. But there is neither. I see only Markus and Vincent with the wounded soldier tossed over one shoulder, the man’s knee bound with healing salve, the rest of him stripped to his underclothes. They head west.

“There,” she points, and I see them then, my far-sight zooming to focus in this shared vision. Four figures in environmental suits, each armed with either an assault rifle or a handgun, approach on foot. They left their jeep behind. It will be at least a kilometer before they reach the ground stained by their comrade’s blood.

“Tell them to hurry.” Once Markus and Vincent use their gift of speed, the UW scouts will be left in the dust. “I’ll meet them outside.”

I take hold of Victoria’s wrists and remove her hands from my face, breaking our link. I step out of the shared vision, returning to the here and now: sitting naked beside her in the massive king-sized bed. I watch her in the dark, my grasp on her arms lingering as my gaze drifts along her swollen abdomen. I almost stretch out a hand toward where my child ripens, waiting to be born.

Victoria’s eyes remain closed, her lips moving silently as she bids the tribesmen to return home as fast as possible. I briefly consider having another go between the sheets before taking my leave. But I think better of it, getting up from the bed to gather my clothes and pull them on.

Will she keep an eye on the young Lemuel, abandoned in the desert? Undoubtedly.

I savor the thought of her watching him die.

“No need to get dressed.” I half-turn as I reach for the wheel on the room’s door.

Victoria’s eyelids open reluctantly, her gaze rising to focus on me as if I am an intruder on her thoughts. But then a seductive smile spreads across her lips as her hand drifts down her thigh. “I will be here waiting, my husband.”

Lady Victoria’s appetites are as insatiable as my own. It will be a shame to end her, once my child greets the world.

I throw open the door and let it clang shut behind me.

The corridors of the ship are quiet, empty. Odd for this time of night. My people are usually wide awake, having taken their rest during the heat of the day. We are a nocturnal breed, and the lifestyle suits us well.

We didn’t carry any of the hydration suits out of the bunker, the ones with face shields tinted to protect us from the sun. Traveling to the coast, we hid ourselves during daylight and made our long treks by night. The habit afforded relief from the dangerous rays of the sun, and it also spared us from goblyn raids. By and large, the creatures are a diurnal lot. They often attack in the early evenings, but by dead of night, when only a sliver of moon lights their path, they are nowhere to be seen.

Some say that every night they crawl back into the hell-holes from which they sprung. I do not know what becomes of them under cloak of darkness.

Gaia has yet to tell me.

I find her waiting outside, forty meters beyond our compound with its fence of rusted sheet metal and barbed wire. She stands on the same dune where I found her earlier, when she summoned me from the gathering.

“It is quiet tonight.” She reaches out an alabaster hand,