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

lifeless as a brick. "Transmitted the first few jumps to HQ, so Bishop will have a record of that. Got a feeling the memory storage on these guys is fried."

One of Drasko's shoulders hitches up noncommittally. "I'll see what I can do about that."

"Fried is fried. Can't undo what's been done."

"Sometimes," he admits. "So the EMP blast wiped out any potential footage of his final freefall."

"Right." As if the guy didn't want anybody knowing the extent of his abilities. Anybody besides the low-level enforcer doing her overzealous due diligence.

"Why'd he wait so long? Could've knocked your eyes out long before he started leaping tall buildings and whatnot."

"Ask him."

"So he survived."

"Pretty sure."

"Just your run-of-the-mill patriot/dust addict/curfew violator on the loose. Another night in the life of Sera Chen." He shakes his head as he angles the aerocar toward the roof of HQ, lit up for his eyes only in IR grids and outlines across the full width of his windscreen. "Bishop's gonna eat you for dinner."

"Early breakfast." I note the time on his display: 0300.

She's there to meet us as Drasko touches down. The wind stirred up by the aerocar flaps her coattails, and she squints against the flailing gusts. She stands just outside the elevator doors with her coat clasped at her throat.

"Ma'am." I nod to her as I step out under the rising side door.

"Commander," Drasko salutes, already out of his seat and retrieving my exo-suit.

"Walk with me," Bishop says, turning on her heel. The elevator doors open automatically, sensing her change of direction—or activated by her sheer force of will. After tonight's weirdness, not much would surprise me.

I glance back at Drasko. He gives me a look that says he's got my equipment covered. He'll get my drones, shocker, and exo all up and running again in no time. My augments, on the other hand, will have to be reactivated by a trained professional of the MedTech variety. Or a robodoc. I'll have to wait and see who's on duty.

"Thanks." I nod to Drasko. Then I jog into the dimly lit elevator right before the doors close.

Immediately, I feel underdressed. Commander Bishop's black coat, high-collared uniform, and shiny boots look immaculate. I've never seen her wear anything else, and she always looks so well put together. Maybe a little severe with the shaved head and steely demeanor, but I've always admired her commitment to law enforcement and the hours she puts in. Not sure whether the woman ever sleeps.

I don't know where to look. I glance at her for a clue as to the direction my early morning is headed—how severely I'll be reprimanded, what I should brace myself for. But she's tough to read, standing with her spine ramrod straight and her arms behind her back, her face set like stone. Her eyes are fixed on the digital display over the polished plasteel doors as the floors count backward from thirty.

My gaze shifts to my dusty stocking feet and the skin-tight bodysuit I'm wearing. Also black, so we have that in common. But so unprofessional. Perfectly acceptable in the locker room; not so much in an elevator with your superior officer.

"Ma'am…" I'm not off to a great start. Because I'm not sure where I should.

"Tell me about your recent promotion, Chen."

"Uh…" I'm about to dig myself further into a grave of stupid comebacks when a lone neuron fires in my brain, alerting me to the fact that she's being ironic. Or maybe sarcastic. Either way, she's not happy, and I know why. "No promotion, ma'am."

"So you're still an enforcer."

"That's right."

"Not an investigator. Not a tracker."

"No, ma'am."

"Your job is to do what, exactly?"

I exhale as quietly as I can without it sounding like an exasperated sigh. "I enforce the curfew."

"Explain."

I join her in watching the digits scroll by. We've already passed the 15th floor, and we continue downward.

"No citizen shall be permitted to walk, ride, or drive about the city between the hours of 2400 and 0500, any day of the week. Lights in all residences, businesses, and government buildings must be off for the duration, along with any other electrical device or machine, unless directly related to life support. The only exceptions are aerial patrol vehicles whose sole purpose is the enforcement of the curfew and assistance in the enforcement of said curfew by officers on the ground," I recite my duty word-for-word from the academy rulebook.

"And why is this curfew in place, Enforcer Chen?"

"To conserve the energy required to keep the Ten Domes fully functional, and to ensure a prosperous lifestyle for all Eurasian citizens." To maintain that precarious equilibrium between the consumers and everything we consume.

Commander Bishop raises an eyebrow as she pivots her head to look at me. Simultaneously, the elevator reaches the 10th floor and eases to a halt. The mirror-like doors slide open automatically, revealing the HQ command center. The big screen mounted front and center displays an aerial shot in IR from one of the aerocars, but not much is going on out there tonight—or in here.

A couple analysts are seated at their posts, brainjacked into their terminals, eyes staring blankly at the screens of code populating and repopulating line by line in front of them as they monitor surveillance data from across the Domes. Otherwise, the place is silent and empty.

"So I don't need to tell Chancellor Hawthorne about your little rooftop pursuit?"

"No, ma'am."

Bishop nods to herself, pensively. "Remind me, Enforcer Chen. Why is it that you were assigned a position with minimal risk?"

Now this is getting awkward. I don't like talking about it. I don't even like thinking about it. If I had my way, I'd go about my life completely forgetting it.

Like I try to do, every freaking day.

"Chen?"

I duck my chin and mutter something I hope she'll assume is the right answer.

"Try again," she says.

"Because I'm one of the Twenty."

She nods once, crisply. Then she sets her eyes straight ahead. "My office. Now."

She disembarks from the elevator, and I follow behind, unable to quell the feeling that