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

“So many...” Harris says in a hushed voice. “How is it even possible—moving so fast? Could it be…that we are witnessing a new stage in human evolution?”

“Back to back. Get into position.” I can’t help recalling the bloodstained earth Morley left behind. “Don’t fire until I say so.”

“It has been an honor, Sergeant.” Surprisingly, there is no reproach in Sinclair’s voice as she and Granger take their positions behind me.

“Right back at you.” I stare as the blurs of speed solidify into human forms all around us. Tall, muscular figures in hooded cloaks with an array of assault rifles, handguns, and blades.

“Ain’t over till it’s over,” Granger mutters.

“Stay in the middle, Doc.” I nudge the unarmed doctor behind my back toward Granger and Sinclair. “If one of us has to survive this, it’s you.”

“Thank you,” Harris says absently.

The hostiles surrounding us are entirely unlike the creatures we saw before. These are fellow humans, not sun-charred monsters—but these people have the ability to run faster than humanly possible. So they’re more than human.

The silence runs on as I glance from one superhuman to the next, noting their lack of breathing apparatuses or face shields. They stare back at us with unguarded fascination. Yet no one speaks.

I clear my throat, lowering the muzzle of my handgun slightly. It points toward the kneecap of a superhuman who doesn’t seem to mind. Can the guy move fast enough to dodge a bullet? That would explain his total lack of concern—seemingly shared by all of them.

“Who’s your leader?” I demand, my voice emanating loud and clear inside my helmet, my breath fogging the cold face shield.

The superhumans don’t respond.

“They can’t hear you, Captain,” Granger says on internal comms.

Right. My fractured helmet strikes again. For some reason, I continue to hear ambient noises fine, but I have no way to activate the external speaker.

“Want me to interpret?” Granger offers.

“Go ahead.” I nudge him, and he repeats my question.

Silence. The superhumans’ breath comes out in short bursts that float like mist before dispersing.

“I am Markus.” One of them steps forward and bows slightly, his gaze never leaving me. He holds no weapon in sight, but Granger’s HUD has already lit up, identifying small explosives in his pockets.

“I am Vincent,” says another one, striding forward to stand beside the man named Markus. Vincent sweeps aside his cloak as he bows, revealing blades of various sizes sheathed across his leather-clad abdomen. “We have been sent to find you. We hope you will come with us without any…ugliness.” He extends open hands.

Can these be the same men who took Morley? Hard to believe, considering their curious, almost childlike interest in my team.

“We’re on a peaceful mission.” I push Granger’s rifle muzzle down a few degrees. No need to shoulder the weapon. Not yet. “But we’ll defend ourselves if necessary.”

“Got that right,” Granger mutters, aiming at Vincent’s boots. Then he remembers to repeat what I just said.

“An understandable reaction,” Markus says. “Your comrade felt the same way.”

“Is that why you killed him?” My grip tightens on the handgun as Granger relays my question.

The hooded faces around us look surprised, then seem to take offense.

“We did no such thing.” Markus’s gaze narrows haughtily. “We captured him. Pacified him—”

“We saw the blood.”

“He resisted,” Vincent says. “We defended ourselves. Your man was alive when we delivered him to Lord Cain. He may have expired due to complications afterward, but we did not kill him.”

“Complications.” My jaw clenches. “The air would be bad enough. Did you think of that before you pried him out of his suit?” I nudge Granger, and he repeats what I said, word for word.

“There is nothing wrong with our air.” Vincent inhales deeply, nostrils flared, and exhales a loud, contented sigh. “You see?”

Harris pushes his way out of the huddle protecting him, breaking free of Granger and Sinclair, neither of whom offer much resistance.

“You must realize how different you are from us. Your ability to travel at such great speeds, to breathe this air that is toxic to our kind…” Harris’s voice falls near a whisper. The superhumans incline their heads and focus their dark eyes on him. “You have evolved far beyond the capabilities of homo sapiens as a species. I have to wonder, are there other...abilities you possess besides this amazing speed?”

Markus holds up a hand to halt any further questions. “Lord Cain will explain these things to you. He has asked that we bring you to meet him, without delay.” He reaches for my handgun. “So, if you would kindly hand over your weapons, we’ll be on our way.”

I raise the muzzle, aiming between the tall superhuman’s eyes. “We’re headed the other direction. Place called Eden. Ever hear of it?”

Just as Granger finishes relaying the message, Harris cuts in, “Sergeant Bishop, put down your weapon. Can’t you see they mean us no harm?”

I don’t lower my gun.

“I would listen to your man there, Sergeant.” Markus holds his ground despite the gun barrel level with his forehead.

“You might be fast enough to take my gun, but I doubt you’re fast enough to dodge a bullet. Otherwise you would’ve tried already.” I keep my aim steady and wait for Granger to finish echoing me. The ring of superhumans tenses, ready to spring into action. “You can tell this Lord Cain of yours that we decline his invitation and must be on our way. We have a date with Eden, and we’re already late.”

Vincent smiles—a strange reaction in the moment. Hands on his hips, blades plain to see across his broad chest, he says, “Wouldn’t you like to taste our air, Sergeant?”

“You’re making them agitated,” Harris grumbles at me before stepping closer to the superhumans, seeming to dare them to lay hold of him. “We mean you no harm. We come in peace. I for one would very much like to meet your Lord Cain. Please, take me to him.”

“Well, that’s more like it,” Vincent announces, half-turning to his men. They chuckle and nod.

“Get your ass