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

Sweating through every pore now, I struggle to keep up with Luther’s people, herded eastward on foot by well-armed warriors while Cain and Luther ride in an armored Hummer at the front of the pack. Beside me, Samson the cyborg clanks along as fast as he can, prodded forward by impatient warriors bringing up the rear.

Technically speaking, I’m still on mission, heading straight to Eden. I alone will have to see this through without a fully functional suit, breathing through a supplemental apparatus that could give out any minute, and with no way to contact the Argonaus.

After the beach-shelling concludes, amphibious assault teams will roll out. They’ll take control of the shore while choppers provide cover for advancing ground squads. But it will be a while before my backup arrives. And when it does, I’ll have to explain the situation as best I can: The factions—Luther’s group, Cain’s people, and Willard’s engineers. How the current march on Eden may hinder the UW’s plans to obtain the fetuses Willard promised us. Whether or not the unborn children are in fact contaminated. Only Harris would have been able to tell for sure.

Looking at the people around me, I have to wonder how things will play out. No one here besides me wants the UW to get those children. Genetically, they belong to Luther and his group; what they want is obvious. But it’s unclear what Cain has in mind.

Having studied tribal warlords of ages past, I know a power struggle for land dominance when I see one. If Cain ever considered Luther’s enclave to be a threat, he doesn’t seem to anymore. They’re unarmed, shepherded along like domesticated animals. Or slaves. All that remains to be conquered is Arthur Willard’s underground refuge. Did Cain forsake his own settlement on the coast in hopes of turning Willard’s group out of Eden? Does Cain plan for his people and Luther’s to live there together? Unlikely, since Luther’s tribe was forced to lay down arms.

They’ll be fodder once any shooting starts.

Cries of alarm erupt from up ahead, at the front of the pack. Shouts include the word goblyn—something from those bedtime stories I’ve read countless times to Mara and Emmanuel. Cain’s warriors surge forward, leaving Luther’s people unguarded in their wake.

I nudge the cyborg. “Let’s make a run for it.”

Thanks to him, my external audio is working again. A little glitchy, but better than nothing. Samson was able to connect one of the tools on his robo-hand with a port on my collar, run a diagnostic on that small screen along the inside of his mechatronic forearm, and then monitor the repairs to my helmet as they were happening. Couldn’t fix the HUD, but I’ll take what I can get.

Samson grunts, heaving himself forward with no alteration in his momentum. “Be my guest, Sarge.” He whips his steel right hand upward, and a long blade flips into position where two fingers were a moment ago. “I like having Cain’s bunch act as a buffer between us and the daemons.”

He watches the warriors with their weapons at the ready, peering into the rising dust ahead. They don’t slow their advance. The goblyns or daemons will be met head-on.

“You don’t think they’ll make it past those warriors?”

Samson doesn’t bother to face me mid-stride. “I think Cain’s about to lose more than a few of his people. Bon appétit, mutant freaks.”

A cacophony of weapons fire explodes, directed into the dense cloud of billowing sand and ash engulfing us all. I’ve yet to see a single mutant, but there is something familiar about the dust that swirls around me—a presence I’ve felt before in this strange land.

Voices shout in fear and battle-hardened rage. Soon I can barely see my own gloved hand in front of my face shield. Blindly, I halt and turn around, reaching for anyone nearby. My fingers clasp onto nothing but air.

Rifle shots report from a distance, followed by screams of agony twenty paces ahead. Cain’s warriors raise a war cry, and their return fire roars in a mighty barrage. I drop awkwardly to one knee and cover my cracked helmet with both arms.

Maybe it’s the heat from the sun or the heat of the moment, but I’m overwhelmed with anger, a fury that burns deep in my gut and radiates outward. I’ve never felt so powerless, at the mercy of forces beyond my control—unarmed, alone, handicapped by a suit designed to keep me alive on this godforsaken continent. I have a mission to complete, but that’s not going to happen if these freakish creatures have their way.

I want to destroy them all, turn a heat ray on them and watch them melt into the sand.

A heat ray? Right. I’m seriously losing it.

Then I blink at the figure approaching from out of the billowing dust. She seems to float toward me, garbed in a sheer white gown that trails behind her—like a Greek goddess from millennia ago.

My wife.

“You again,” I mutter.

“You are not safe here.”

“None of us are. Take a look around.”

“You are needed in Eden, Sergeant.”

“Damned straight. But it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting there anytime soon.”

The vision of my wife smiles as only she can. My abdomen tightens at the familiar sight, knowing it’s not her but illogically yearning for it to be. My eyes sting all of a sudden.

“We will take you.”

“We?”

Spirits of the earth, Luther calls them. As if that makes any kind of sense. This continent is one tripped-out freak show. Maybe I’ve been infected, after all. That would explain these weird visions.

“It is you that Arthur Willard expects to meet. Not Milton and Tucker, who are—”

“Wait a minute. Milton’s headed there now? To Eden?”

“He believes he is acting in the best interest of his people, but he may instead jeopardize the lives he is trying to protect. Willard will not listen to them. But he will listen to you.”

I wince at another burst of weapons fire. Another volley