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

Eventually, we reach the massive steel hatch into Eden.

An intercom speaker switches on above us. I hope we don’t hear Willard’s nasal voice.

“Glad you guys could make it,” Milton says. “Want in?”

“Yeah, and be quick about it!” Samson bellows, catching his breath.

The hatch swings open with a long, slow creak. We enter Eden’s subterranean dome, lit up inside as bright as day. Milton shakes hands with Luther and hugs Shechara as the others filter inside. Once Samson is through, Willard’s soldiers swing the hatch shut and lock it into place.

“You all look like you’ve been through the wringer.” Milton’s gaze lingers on Samson’s arms, dripping daemon blood onto the pristine concrete floor.

“You look like you’re playing for the wrong team.” Samson scowls at Milton’s choice of attire—an Eden Guardsman’s uniform.

“Couldn’t be helped.” Milton shrugs.

“Are the children safe?” Luther grips Milton’s arm and glances at Willard’s soldiers nearby, who stare mutely.

Milton nods. “Checked them out myself. Bishop’s with them now. Figured one of us should always be there, you know—Willard being an untrustworthy bastard and all.”

“Where is he?” Fury reignites inside me at the sound of his name. The fetuses may be safe for now, but I know how to keep them that way. “And Perch. I want to see both of them.”

“Daiyna—” Luther gives me a concerned look.

I point at him. “Don’t.” Tears burn my eyes, and I struggle to restrain them. “They took something from me—from us—” I glance at Shechara, who directs her expressionless gaze at the floor. “You can’t understand, Luther. We’ll never be the same.” Because of what they did to us, Shechara and I will never be able to have children of our own.

Luther holds out his scarred hands. “Our children are here, Daiyna…”

“I have to end this.” I pound a fist against my chest where hatred has raged like an inferno for so many months.

Willard’s men murmur among themselves, watching me. They’re armed, but they won’t try to stop me. I won’t let them.

“Where’s Willard?” I demand. One of the Eden Guardsmen hesitantly points up toward Willard’s quarters. Of course. Things have come full circle. The last time I saw him up there, he was wedged between the unconscious bodies of his men.

I start for the ladder and its adjoining catwalk.

“I’ll go with you,” Shechara says quietly.

I don’t turn her away. Milton and Luther approach.

“We need him, Daiyna,” Milton says. “He’s in communication with the leader of the United World, somebody named Hawthorne. They’ve got a rapport going, if you can believe.”

I ignore him, reaching for the rungs and pulling myself upward hand over hand.

“Daiyna, think about what you’re doing,” Luther admonishes from the floor below. He doesn’t move to follow.

“I have. Believe me.” I haven’t thought about much else lately.

“Stay right where you are,” Samson advises Willard’s men as they shift their weapons.

“What’s she doing?” one of them demands.

“Payback’s a real bitch,” Samson rumbles.

I’m halfway up the ladder when I notice Milton has beaten me to the catwalk. He cheated, flying.

“You’re not going to stop me,” I tell him. A stupid thing to say. He moves so fast, he can stop me before I even know I’ve started.

“You’re right. I’m not.”

“Then get the hell out of my way.”

He takes a step back. As I reach the catwalk, he unlocks Willard’s door and slides it aside. “Figured you’d need to get in.” He holds up the key. But he’s not smiling.

I reach for the semiautomatic tucked into my belt.

“Daiyna—” Shechara climbs up behind me.

“He’s not getting off this continent.” I clench my jaw.

Milton nods. I’ve never seen him look so grim. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything,” he says.

I glance down below. Everyone but Samson is following one of Willard’s guardsmen, probably going to check on the incubation pods and meet with Sergeant Bishop. Samson remains behind to keep any of Willard’s more foolhardy men from climbing the ladder after me. They maintain their distance, eyeing his biomechatronic arms.

I meet Milton’s gaze. “Thank you.”

“I once killed a man who embodied evil for me, and now I see him whenever the evil spirits manifest themselves. Jackson—I might’ve mentioned him to you.” Milton shrugs. “Willard deserves to die. Don’t get me wrong. I’m just saying, if you want him showing up all the time from here on out, go ahead and end him. If you’re lucky, maybe that’s the last you’ll ever see of him.” He pauses. “But honestly, I would let the UW have the guy. They deserve each other, don’t you think?”

No. Arthur Willard deserves only one thing.

I look away. I don’t give myself a chance to change my mind. With my gun at the ready, I enter the apartment and pull the trigger as soon as I see the man sitting on the sofa. He doesn’t get to say a word.

I keep firing until the gun clicks empty.

Epilogue: Hawthorne18 Months After All-Clear

I stand before the full-length mirror in my office and smooth back the lines around my eyes and mouth. I wear my years well, but there are always improvements to be made. Thankfully, Dr. Wong will be available tomorrow to make them.

Garbed in a tailored black dress with a fetching little vest and a tasteful string of pearls around my neck, I murmur quietly to myself as I go over my speech from memory.

A new day is dawning on Eurasia, one of great hope...

On a widescreen next to the mirror, a live vidfeed from the Argonaus air assault on Eden comes through on my private channel. The hoverplanes' incinerators have neutralized resistance on the ground. Apparently, there was some sort of altercation between hordes of hideous mutants and clans of survivalists. Charred bodies and scorched earth are all that lie outside the city ruins now.

Ash in the wind.

Captain Mutegi mentioned something about a bullet-scarred Hummer approaching what's left of the capsized shipyard on the coast, but that doesn't concern us. If anyone survived Mutegi's shelling along the shore, I am certain they will pose little