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

most are worried. If Hawthorne Tower—the most secure government structure ever built in the heart of Eurasia—is vulnerable to terrorist attack, then how can anyone be safe anywhere? Even at home in their cubes?

There's a knock on my door as I finish getting dressed. My holster is empty, and I don't have a spare shocker. I'll have to requisition a replacement at HQ.

Another knock. Probably Drasko or one of the other retrievers sent to pick me up. No way Bishop would allow me to walk to work on a morning like this. Gotta keep Sera Chen safe, after all.

"Open," I give the voice command for the door, and it slides aside, revealing a stranger standing in the dim interior hallway.

Strange, but familiar. The last time I saw him, he jumped off a very tall building.

"Hold it!" My hand drops instinctively to my holster. Then it freezes there.

"Enforcer Chen." He smiles, hands raised shoulder-high in mock surrender. "Thought you might be home."

"How'd you know I live here?" He's obviously stalking me.

"Everything's on the Link—if you know where to look." He wiggles his right hand. Clasped against his palm is an old phone, another antiquated device favored by the senior citizen demographic. But this guy is close to my age. "You really should do a better job of covering your digital tracks. I'd expect more from an enforcer." He chuckles all of a sudden. "But then again, you're just the curfew variety. Low on the totem pole, I assume?"

I keep one hand on my holster, that hip pivoted away from him. If I'm lucky, he hasn't noticed that it's empty. I point the index finger of my other hand at his face. "Turn around, put your hands behind your head, and interlock your fingers. Right now."

His smile fades. Confusion clouds his eyes. He thought he was having fun. Sorry to disappoint.

"You ran the search." Another wiggle from his phone hand. Then something worse: They don't share your DNA.

I stumble back a step at the intrusion—his voice in my mind. Not like when I overheard my neighbors' random thoughts. Instead of a bizarre fluke, this is intentional, like last night. He projected the words into my head in lieu of speaking them out loud.

"I'm sorry." He holds a hand toward me, his brow knitted with concern. Not a bad act. "But you heard me just now, right?" He taps his temple. "In here?"

"You a dust freak?" That would explain it. He's high on the stuff, and in addition to jumping skills, the dust has given him the ability to speak telepathically. And I get to be on the receiving end of his parlor trick, as Commander Bishop called it.

Lucky me.

"I've never inhaled the stuff." He's rocking the sincere look now. Guy must have taken some acting lessons. "Never needed to. Once I had my augments removed, my abilities manifested themselves all on their own."

"Why are you telling me this? What are you doing here?"

He takes a step through the doorway into my cube. Bad move.

"Stop right there. Turn around and—"

Instead, he slides the door shut behind him and gives me an apologetic look. "Don't want your neighbors getting curious."

So now I'm trapped in here with him. He's taller than me by half a meter, stronger by a few kilos of muscle. No idea whether he's had any combat training. But if he's been snorting dust, there's no telling what else he might be able to do.

I take my chances and drop to the floor, sweeping out both my legs in a scissor-kick that sends him toppling forward. Like an idiot, he tries to catch himself with his hands, exposing his ribs—which I plow an elbow into as I roll over, dropping him onto his chest with an agonized exhalation of air. He doesn't resist as I straddle his back and snake my arms around his throat in an unforgiving headlock.

"Answer me," I grate out, my lips close to his ear. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Like old times, eh Sera?" he manages hoarsely. "At Camp Hope—remember those days?"

"You don't know me. You don't know anything about me. You're a dust freak and a terrorist." I cut off his air supply. "Now tell me about the Hawthorne Tower incident."

He slaps the floor like a wrestler tapping out. I let him breathe. Just a little.

"I didn't have anything to do with that," he manages.

I curse. "So you just happened to have an EMP grenade last night, and now, less than twelve hours later, patriots hit the Tower with a massive EMP burst. You're saying there's no connection?"

"I have a feeling you'd like there to be one." He clears his throat. "I assume your augments are still out? If so, we're in close enough proximity for you to notice I'm unarmed."

"What does that matter?"

"Maybe you could let me sit up and breathe for a bit?"

"You stalked an enforcer to her home and entered her cube without permission. That's more than enough to keep you pinned to the floor."

"As long as you're enjoying yourself. I just have to wonder how long you intend to hold me like this. Without functioning augments, it's not like you can call for backup."

He has a point there. I glance at the console on my dinner table.

"Want to borrow my phone?" He gives it yet another wiggle.

"I wouldn't know how to use that old thing."

"Let me call for you—"

I squeeze his throat, turning his voice into a pathetic wheeze. "Tell me what you're doing here."

"Investigating," he rasps.

"What?"

"Who." His chuckle sounds like it belongs to an old man. "You, Enforcer Chen. I take it you don't remember. My face has changed a little, but I was still hoping you'd know me." We took a long trip together before we were born...

I pull away from him at the unwelcome telepathic projection, inadvertently loosening my hold on his neck. He twists with the speed and agility of a trained athlete, gripping both my wrists and rolling me onto my back. The antique phone clatters