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

"Weird, right?"

More like impossible.

"It'll come back to you, eventually. All of your memories will." Another glance back. "As long as you don't get those augments fixed. The longer you go without them, the stronger your telepathic abilities will become, and the clearer your past will be. Trust me on that. I've been there." He curses quietly. "You would not believe our story."

He means our shared history. Where we came from.

The North American Sectors…

My boot soles squeak to a halt. That can't be right.

"Told you it was unbelievable," he says, continuing upward.

I must have collected that tidbit from his subconscious mind. The North American Sectors—that's where we're from? It makes no sense.

"Twenty years ago, when we were born—" I frown, picking up my pace to keep up with him. "That was shortly after All-Clear. The bunkers opened, and nobody came out. They all died underground."

"The official story." He smirks over his shoulder. "The truth? Hundreds survived."

Ridiculous. "Without a protective biodome? I'm sure they survived for years and years."

"People are still alive over there. Survivors from the bunkers. Somehow, they've managed to scratch out a living—like one of those post-apocalyptic VR games, but for real."

"How can you possibly know that?" Anything outside of Eurasia is a forbidden zone. No citizen is allowed out of the Domes except those few in the military. Brave men and women who raid ruins across the globe and send back usable goods and materials.

He stops. Stands still for a moment before pivoting halfway around to face me. He's not smirking or flirting. His expression is dead serious. "Would you believe I've met some of them?"

"Survivors." My tone is flat. Incredulous. As if I haven't heard enough insanity from him already. "Don't tell me you've been outside the Domes."

He shakes his head, almost smiling. "They're here. In Dome 1."

This is too much. Either he's full of it, or my entire world is based on lies. I have every reason to believe the former and no reason at all to ponder the latter.

My life is orderly. Predictable. Maybe a little too much, but that's debatable. Being a law enforcer is important, and I'm proud of what I do. Every night, I help to make Dome 1 a safer place. My corner of it, anyway. During the day, I enjoy the quiet time in my cube. Resting, listening to music, maybe delving into some VR every now and then—swimming through pristine oceans as a dolphin, or soaring through blue skies as an eagle. The most popular avatars are always extinct creatures that died out decades ago. There's no harm in it. I'm not a zombie, plugged in all day long. Balance is key to a healthy life, and I've always sought to keep mine in order: work, rest, and play.

But then Erik shows up and disrupts everything. Turns my world upside-down. The Hawthorne Tower gets hit with a massive EMP, and terrorists are running loose outside my cube complex. And to top it all off, without warning, I'm apparently a telepath.

But it gets worse. According to this guy, the world itself is nothing like what I've been told. There are survivors living outside Eurasia's walls, and some of them have managed to sneak inside.

I don't believe it. I can't.

"Why not?"

"Stay out of my head." I point a gloved index finger at him with one hand; with the other, I tap the assault rifle dangling from my left shoulder. "And keep moving."

No more talking.

He honors my request for the next few flights. When we reach the twentieth floor—my floor—he hesitates at the door to the hallway.

"In case the aerocar is keyed to their proximity…" He raises an eyebrow at me.

We're not even sure there is a vehicle on the roof. "You want to drag a clone along? You'll be outnumbered."

He's not concerned about himself. He wants me to be safe. After seeing the violence outside, he's having second thoughts about immobilizing those security clones.

I got all that from a cursory telepathic sweep. Damn. It is getting easier.

"We'll make sure it takes orders from only you," he says, stepping toward the door. It slides open, sensing his presence. The hallway beyond is dim in comparison to the glaring LEDs in the stairwell.

The two clones lie right where he left them, outside my door.

"Fine." I hold the rifles still against my thighs. "After you."

Reaching the first security clone, he drops to one knee and fishes into his jacket pocket. What else does he have in there? I should have frisked him as soon as I had the upper hand—both weapons. I should've had him empty his pockets, at least.

I must be slipping. Granted, there have been a few distractions, but I'm a trained professional. Better than this.

"What are you doing?" I demand, aiming a rifle at his back.

"Easy there." He raises his old phone. "Just running a diagnostic."

"Explain."

He nods toward the disc he planted on the clone's chest plate. "The shock I gave it should have canceled all incoming signals and prior directives. If so, I should be able to give it new marching orders: obey and protect Enforcer Sera Chen." He winks at me. "Best to keep it simple."

"You're not dealing with a robot."

"Believe me, I know. A robot would be so much easier." His thumbs swipe across the screen of his antiquated device, flicking through various images displaying graphical and numerical data. Then he starts typing. "This will work. Just promise me you won't tell it to crush my skull or anything."

I shake my head. He has a bizarre sense of humor. "I plan to bring you to HQ intact, Mr. Paine."

Saying his surname almost elicits a smirk. He really is a pain.

"That should do it." He stands up and backs away from the clone. "Give it an order."

"What about the other one?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to be that outnumbered."

"On your feet," I tell the clone, and it stands upright immediately, facing me with its black face shield. Not even a glance at its identical partner lying motionless