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

superhuman speed? From what I recalled of my training in Sector 30, once a thing starts moving at the speed of light, Einstein’s relativity principles come into play. Maybe even time travel’s possible. That sure as hell would be something. To be able to change the past? To keep the world from destroying itself in the first place? It boggles the mind. But then again, could one man really make much of a difference?

Milton’s outstretched hand meets my chest dead-center.

Focus, Tucker. Crazy thoughts, anyway. Like when I used to think this planet wasn’t even Earth anymore. Or that our struggle for survival was part of some sadistic government experiment.

“Looks like we’ve found that drop-off you mentioned,” Milton says. “Any suggestions?”

“Remember those water slides they had when we were kids?”

Milton shakes his head. “We didn’t get much rec time in the trade sectors.”

“Right.” One of the advantages of growing up with engineers: they were always more than happy to supply imaginative diversions for the kiddies in the neighborhood. Roller coasters, water slides, you name it. “What I’m saying is, we’ll need to take a leap of faith here.”

Milton peers over the edge. “Or I could float us down to the bottom.”

“Yeah. Or that.”

Milton steps out into open space, hovering over a drop that could be anywhere between thirty to fifty meters. He beckons. “All right. Hang on.”

Here we go again. Gritting my teeth, I lunge into Milton’s arms. We do indeed float, just as Milton said we would, and seconds later, we land in cold, knee-deep water smelling like it hasn’t moved anywhere in decades.

“Where’s the source?”

“Groundwater reservoirs.” I let go of him and regain my balance. “Eden used to be a big fat one, back before Willard pumped out all the water into channels like this. Nobody on the surface has known about it since before D-Day.”

“Straight ahead?”

“Onward and downward. We’ve got a few more drops ahead of us.”

Each time we reach one, Milton floats us down into ever-deepening waters until we come to an airlock built of solid steel and plasticon. No access point for a key or scanner, and no viewport to see what lies on the other side.

“Dead end.” Milton curses, the murky water up to his chest.

I put a hand on his shoulder. “This’ll be a hoot. Trust me.” I place my other hand on the round airlock door, and immediately it vanishes, giving us a clear view of the dry interior on the other side. There’s a well-lit corridor where a single soldier stands dozing in blue fatigues, arms crossed over his automatic rifle. He stirs, then jolts to attention at the dull clang of my fist against the hatch. “Hey in there!”

“What the hell are you doing?” Milton whispers.

I just wink. “Hey, is that you, Ayers? Open up, for crying out loud!”

With every contact between my fist and the hatch, the components of the door dematerialize, and the sentry’s eyes grow wider. He clutches his rifle at the ready.

“Who goes there?” His voice trembles. Then he scowls. “Is that you, Tucker?”

“Guilty as charged.” I chuckle.

“Quit fooling around!”

“How ‘bout you open up? I’m soaked out here.”

Ayers steps forward cautiously as I hold the palm of my hand against the airlock, giving the sentry a clear view of the chest-high water lapping against its seemingly nonexistent surface.

“What the hell are you doing, Tucker? Captain Willard sent the dogs out looking for you.” Ayers lowers his voice. “He says you’re a traitor, man. You and that woman, Margo.”

“I’ve got information for him. Would a traitor return with news that’ll benefit the Eden Guard?”

Ayers steps back, reaching for the radio clipped to his shoulder.

“Don’t do that,” I warn. “You call it in, and I’m out of here. You’ll be sitting ducks when the UW arrives.”

Milton gives me an incredulous look. What about the element of surprise?

“Captain Willard is working with the UW—”

“Not anymore,” I counter. “Things have gone sideways. They’re on the warpath now. But I’d better give him the particulars. Take me to the captain, and I’ll make sure we all get out of this alive.”

Ayers’ hand hasn’t left the radio. “You’ve got a lotta nerve, thinkin’ you can give me orders, Tucker. The hell with you.” He switches on the radio. “Base command, come in.”

“What is it, Ayers?” The voice on the other end is Jamison’s, and he sounds beat.

“That bastard Tucker’s decided to show his face—so to speak.”

“Tucker?” Now Jamison’s wide awake.

Milton pulls away, shaking his head fiercely, but I hold onto him. “Trust me,” I whisper.

“Stay right where you are,” Jamison orders. “I’m on my way.”

Ayers frowns. “Shouldn’t Captain Willard know about this?”

“The captain’s in the middle of a serious talk with the Chancellor. Not to be disturbed. Hang tight, I’ll be right down.”

Frown intact, Ayers releases his radio. I let go of the hatch, allowing it to re-materialize.

I hope we’ve made the right choice by coming here. I knew better than to think an entry point into Eden wouldn’t be guarded—even though I didn’t tell Milton about it. But this is the access hatch closest to Jamison’s station, and if there’s anybody in Eden worthy of an iota of trust, it’s him.

Even so, a sliver of doubt digs itself into my mind. This is our only shot, and it all depends on Willard’s left-hand man.

23 Bishop18 Months After All-Clear

I wanted to radio Mutegi on the Argonaus as soon as I heard the low concussions in the west, but with the arrival of Cain and his warriors and the subsequent round-up, followed by this forced march into the Wastes, there wasn’t time to reach Margo’s vehicle—to see if Doc’s helmet was salvageable. Functional would’ve been good enough.

Granger. Sinclair. Harris. My blood boils at the memory of them shot through the head and left to rot in the sun. At the first opportunity, I plan to repay Cain with three shots of my own. Two in the chest, one in the head.

My fists clench automatically.

Focus. I can’t allow myself to do anything that will