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

is the only way you would be able to enter while wearing that suit of yours.” She glances at it with disdain.

I’m sure you’d like me to take it off, just so you can watch me turn into a freak.

I’m already halfway there, hallucinating like this. Thinking I’m talking to a physical manifestation of some kind of spirit. Enough to warrant a psych-eval at the soonest opportunity.

“Good luck, James,” she says.

I turn my back on her and prepare to enter the parking garage. Keep calm, stay in the moment. Focus on the mission. Sure, there’s plenty going on at the coast and out in the Wastes, but more than enough is going on right here, right now.

I’m finishing this. Then I’m going to see my family again. I know it, I can feel it, it’s going to happen. I’m more than ready to see this through.

But I’m not ready for the emaciated mutant that stumbles out of the dark and heads straight for me, staring vacantly and gnashing its teeth. I stumble backward a step, acutely aware of how unarmed I am.

The creature halts a couple meters away as a voice barks from the blinking steel collar on its neck: “Who goes there?”

I clear my throat, forcing myself to sound in charge of the situation. Because I am. “Sergeant James Bishop. Sorry I’m late.”

“Figured you were dead...” The voice sounds both amazed and annoyed. “You’re the only one left, huh?”

“There were a few unexpected setbacks along the way. But I’m here now, ready to discuss terms.”

“Captain Willard’s already discussed the terms. He’s waiting to hear back on the Chancellor’s decision.”

“That may very well be,” I reply, as patiently as possible, “but you’re not aware of the present danger those fetuses are in. I’ve come to warn you—”

“Danger? What the hell are you talking about?”

I don’t have time for this. “To whom am I speaking?”

“The name’s Perch. And you’d best watch your tone with me, soldier.”

“Mr. Perch, the parents of those babies are on their way here to take them away from you.”

Perch chuckles on the line. “I think we can handle a few sand freaks.”

I pause. “They’re bringing some friends. A lot of them, well-armed. I’m sure Arthur Willard would be interested in hearing what I have to say.”

“The UW hasn’t told us anything about—”

“Mutegi is sending in support, but it won’t arrive before your enemies do. You won’t be able to hold them off.”

“And you think you can help us? One man?” He scoffs.

“I’m not here to help you. I’m here for those incubation chambers. If protecting them means aiding you in the process, then so be it.”

Silence holds the line, dragging on. The gruesome mutant’s fangs glisten as its oozing yellow eyes stare at me hungrily. Eventually Perch grunts something unintelligible followed by, “Head down into the parking structure, five sublevels, and wait there. We’ll send a vehicle to pick you up.”

“Very well.”

“One more thing. You’d better be wearing a ventilator under that suit.”

“Check.” The breather is still working—for the moment.

The mutant jerks as if shocked by an electrical pulse. Then it shambles off aimlessly, away from me and the parking garage, out into the street. Cursing under my breath, I press forward, fighting the suit’s stiffness and my own sore muscles for every step. I shake my head. All of this is too much—the mutants, the spirits, the underground bastion for uninfected humanity. Yet again, I feel like I’m losing my grip on reality.

When reality itself is unraveling, it’s the sane man who fails to unravel along with it.

One foot in front of the other as I delve into the desolate parking structure, I try to convince myself I’m that much closer to the mission’s end. Even so, I can’t help but feel that matters are more insecure now than ever before. With Luther and Cain on the way and Mutegi’s assault teams fast behind them, it’s unlikely the situation will end peacefully. Add to that Willard and Chancellor Hawthorne’s last-minute talks. What’s that all about? Has she promised the man something I’m not aware of? Since they can’t reach me on comms, my superiors are acting without my input. Because my entire team has perished. Because they’ve lost confidence in my ability to see this through.

Paranoid much?

For now, I have to assume nothing’s changed. I will represent the UW’s interests and discuss the terms necessary to transport the fetuses out of Eden and onto the Argonaus as quickly and safely as possible—assuming this Willard character and Perch his guard dog cooperate. These are the men in charge of the United World’s future. The hopes of the civilized world have been set squarely on their shoulders.

I wish Margo was here. Not sure exactly why I trust her, but I do, and I could really use her expertise when the time arrives to transport those incubation pods. Mutegi better be sending in another medical and science officer with the ground teams.

The dull clunking of my boots echoes throughout these lifeless sublevels as I trudge downward. The farther I descend, the more vehicles I find. I glance at the elevator shaft as I pass by, wishing the power was still on. Obviously, it hasn’t been in use for over twenty years.

As I round a concrete support pillar on the fifth sublevel, the sound of tires squealing against pavement echoes from the level below. I halt and face the headlights as they approach.

The vehicle is the same make and model as Margo’s, but this one is in mint condition. No dust, no bullet scars, no fractured windows. How many of these Hummers does Willard have at his disposal?

Another short squeal from the tires as the large vehicle pulls to a stop, engine idling. My face shield darkens in the headlights’ glare. They flicker twice as the driver taps the high beams. I raise one hand in greeting.

The passenger side door drifts open automatically, and a stocky figure steps out: a man in blue fatigues and a black beret. He wears