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

“They’ve fought these creatures before.” I shake my head. “The daemons won’t be much of a deterrent.”

“Ah, but that was before our recent modifications,” Willard says with a knowing wink. “These dogs are a new breed—faster, stronger, injected with metabolic steroids and muscle-enhancing growth hormones. Your friends won’t stand a chance this time, I’m afraid.” He grins, quick to add, “But the babies will be quite safe, don’t you fret. We’ve all got to have our priorities straight.”

Ignoring the anxiety squeezing my abdomen, I step out of the control room. “I should check on them, make sure everything’s all right down there.”

Sergeant Bishop nods, folding his arms as he surveys the bank of monitors on the wall.

I break into a jog. More than anything right now, I want to run as fast as I can, to fly out of Eden and warn Luther that they’re heading straight into a trap. With the genetically modified daemons on one side and the advancing UW troops on the other, it would take a miracle for my friends to survive.

A miracle—or supernatural intervention.

I curse myself for telling Julia I didn’t need her. And I curse myself for Tucker’s death, for Jamison’s. Death follows me wherever I go.

I’m already cursed.

As I reach the nursery in the sublevel below Eden’s main floor, I slow to a halt. I didn’t know what to expect, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. There are so many of them—incubation pods with blinking lights showing healthy vitals, lined up row upon row, sitting in an almost-holy quiet.

Overwhelmed by what’s at stake here, with only the hum of the equipment around me, I close my eyes and pray. For the first time in my life.

Maybe it’s to the Julia-spirit. Maybe to the Creator of the universe.

All I say is, “Please. Help us.”

25 Daiyna18 Months After All-Clear

The daemons appeared without warning, riding in solar-powered vehicles and stirring up the dust in great plumes behind them. They fired their rifles at Cain’s warriors in the front of the pack, and we ducked, defenseless. I’ve never felt more vulnerable, crowded alongside Shechara and the others, herded out from the Homeplace without a single weapon. My adrenaline surges as instinctively I feel the need to fight back.

But with empty hands, I would be running to my own death.

“How many?” I shout at Shechara.

We’re side by side, but amid the weapons fire and screams of agony, it’s difficult to hear anything else.

Shechara’s mechatronic eyes rotate, the split orbs overlapping as they zoom to focus on the battle before us.

“Three jeeps.” That seems to be standard procedure; the daemon hunting parties always ride in groups of three vehicles, each carrying four well-armed creatures. “And three more.”

Over twenty daemons? And all of my people unarmed? How can we trust our lives to the fighting skills of Cain’s warriors who don’t care whether we live or die?

“Where’s Luther?”

“He hasn’t left that Hummer.”

At least he’ll be safe inside. From what I’ve seen, those vehicles from Eden are bulletproof. Will Cain remain with him? Or will he venture out into the fray?

The daemon jeeps rip side to side in a frenzy, engines roaring as their guns pump endless rounds into Cain’s frontline. But the dust they kick up is thickening, and I have to wonder how accurate their shots are in this murk. No one else has Shechara’s eyes that can see through the most blinding of sandstorms.

I glance back over my shoulder and curse, tightening the head covering around my nose and mouth. I can’t see more than a few meters back. Both Samson and the UW sergeant are out of sight. The dust whirls about us with a life all its own.

“Daiyna.” Shechara puts a hand on my arm. She senses something.

“I know.” I feel it too.

And then I see the figure of my old friend Rehana, dead and gone for over a year now, stepping out of the wall of swirling dust before me.

“Good to see you, sister,” Rehana says with a broad smile on her dark face. She wears no head covering, no protection.

I know it isn’t really her, that it’s just a manifestation generated by the spirits of the earth. But even so, it warms my heart to see Rehana like this again.

“You picked an odd time to visit.”

When did I see her last? Months ago—after Milton helped us escape from Eden. The spirits appeared, telling us to travel west and find other survivors. The results spoke for themselves: instead of five, there are now over fifty of us marching to Eden.

Surrounded by Cain’s fighters, led like sheep to the slaughter. Once the daemons break through the frontlines, they will fall upon us. Easy prey.

“You must not march on Eden.” Rehana’s smile has faded. Her eyes shine in earnest. “You will meet only death there.”

I motion toward the perimeter. “We don’t have much choice. Cain’s people are the ones in charge right now.”

“They are otherwise occupied,” Rehana replies with a flicker of a smile. “And they have left you a rear exit as they’ve rushed to meet their adversaries. Your friend Samson is realizing this as we speak. You both must lead your people away from here.”

I shake my head. “We need our weapons. We’re not leaving without them.” I pause. “And some of us want to go to Eden.”

Rehana flickers before me like a holo-image losing cohesion.

“What’s wrong?” I reach for her.

“It’s been a while. You’ve changed,” Rehana replies. “Hatred burns in your heart. The darkness there has grown—”

“If we retreat, will you cover us?”

Rehana nods. “Cain will not follow. He will have enough to keep him busy once he reaches Eden. Willard’s broken souls are waiting, hundreds of them.”

Broken souls—the collared daemons? I clench my fists. “What about Luther?”

“You will need to free him from that vehicle.” Rehana fades from my sight, but her voice lingers for a moment. “Do not be devoured by your thirst for vengeance, Daiyna.”

I grab Shechara’s arm. “We have to