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

"The bounty's dead or alive, isn't it?"

I face her as the jeep rolls to an eventual stop. "Can I assume you won't be lending a hand?"

She's been decidedly hands-off as of late, leaving me to fend for myself—particularly when I go looking for trouble. Not a single dust devil or whirlwind to help a girl out.

Rehana shrugs, kicking back in her seat. "Wake me up when it's over." She closes her eyes.

The Edenites' jeep slams into our rear bumper, throwing me forward. I curl into a fetal position and stay down as a hail of bullets tears inside through that open window frame in back. The windshield cracks under the impact and fractures, but it doesn't shatter. I swing the Colt forward and break it free, sending the wide piece of plastiglass sliding down the jeep's hood. When there's a brief lull in the gunfire, I lunge out after it, sliding down across the hood as well.

I hit the ground on top of the windshield and roll over, tucking the 9mm into my belt. Then, gripping the windshield with one hand, I hold it up for a modicum of protection and advance on the Edenites.

For future reference, a windshield covered in spider-web fractures is nearly impossible to see through, and this one isn't bulletproof. There are more than a few holes in it already. But it might slow down any additional gunfire that comes my way.

I can hope.

One of them is out of their jeep, standing there in a makeshift suit of armor decorated with old tires. That's the best these people could come up with as far as protection against the elements. After all this time, they're still dead-set against contamination, and without their collared daemons to do their grunt work for them, they've had to venture out of Eden's sealed-off environment themselves for food and supplies.

Score one for the good guys—that would be Luther & Friends. They managed to wipe out every daemon in a thousand-kilometer radius, both the collared variety and the wild. I don't miss those ugly freaks one bit.

But Luther? I miss him. And Shechara, Samson, even Milton. I ache inside when I think about them.

I've got to focus here.

"Drop it!" I shout at the dumbest of the Edenites. He should have stayed inside his vehicle with his buddies and shot me from there, or used a door as cover. Instead, he's out in the open with his assault rifle wavering, not sure whether to pull the trigger. "Right now!" I fire a round into the dust at his feet, and he jerks back a step. "One hole in that pretty suit is all it'll take, and you'll be stuck out here in the real world with the likes of me!"

Our silent face-off drags on for seconds that feel like awkwardly long minutes. I don't know how many rounds it will take to pierce his suit. Neither does he, more than likely.

"Shoot her!" shouts the suited figure behind the wheel. He revs the engine like he's trying to intimidate me. Only it's not working.

I send a couple rounds into his side mirror, blasting it to pieces. Fair's fair.

"Are you going to kill them?" Mother Lairen suddenly appears between me and the bounty hunters, her scarlet hair and pale face a sharp contrast to the dusty monochrome around us. She stares at me unblinking, not even squinting under the harsh sun.

"Get out of my way!"

She's blocking my view, even though she isn't really there. Just another spirit-manifestation, supernaturally pulling memories from my brain. Our bunker commander/den mother who turned into some kind of weird religious nut after All-Clear. I thought I'd seen the last of her a while back—but then again, I thought the same about Rehana.

There's no reason for either one of them to be here. I'm beyond their influence at this point. I gave up on the spirits of the earth a long time ago.

"I thought you got it all out of your system," Mother Lairen says with her customary sneer. "After you murdered Arthur Willard."

I fire another round, this time straight through Mother Lairen and into the jeep, shattering one of the headlights. "Your tires are next. Drop that rifle!"

It takes only a split-second for the idiot to do something stupid. He blasts me with a volley that bowls me over, rounds piercing the windshield and thumping into the cracked hardpan all around me. One rips across my shoulder, and I flinch with a groan at the burning sensation.

That does it.

I roll sideways and leap to my feet, kicking the windshield aside. In a single movement, I draw the 9mm from my belt and empty it at the idiot, also squeezing the trigger on the Colt with a steady rhythm, sending .44 caliber round after round into the windshield, the other headlight, the front tire, the driver's side where that Edenite is stupid enough to lean out with his rifle. My last .44 round smacks it out of his hands.

Both of my guns click empty. I stand there in a cloud of dust with the armored idiot lying on the ground in front of me, groaning and cursing. His ride is gone, the driver figuring he can still manage with three functional tires. He's taken off in the opposite direction as fast as he can go, back to Eden.

"Morons," I mutter, shaking my head. If they'd only waited until I needed to reload, they could have killed me easily.

"Is that what you want?" Mother Lairen stands too close to me with that blank face and those eyes as dark as charcoal. "Do you want to die, Daiyna?"

"Shut it." I tuck the empty handguns into my belt and scoop up the idiot's rifle. Releasing the magazine, I take a moment to survey the rounds. Half-full. Or half-empty. Depends on the day. I slap it back into place and aim the muzzle at his head. "What are you whining about?"

He looks even more ridiculous