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

"Let me stop you right there." Daiyna keeps her gun and goggles on Cain but points with her other hand at the loudmouthed Wastelander. "My first act as your leader will be to institute new dietary restrictions."

Shechara rests her hand on mine. "Samson, you can't let her do this," she whispers.

I'd offer to fight Cain instead, but I doubt he would have it. Human versus cyborg isn't what anybody would call a fair fight.

"C'mon Cain, what are you afraid of?" Daiyna laughs.

There's no turning back now. Cain has to save face in front of his clan. He'll kill Daiyna before our eyes, and then he'll expect me to lead him to Luther.

It didn't have to go down this way.

"It's what she wants," I tell Shechara.

"What is?"

"Death."

She freezes.

"You challenge me for leadership!" Cain bellows as if he's issuing an official decree. "Very well. This should not take long at all. Then we will be on our way."

He hands his missile-launcher to the biker beside him and steps in front of our jeep. As he beckons for Daiyna to join him, the Wastelanders rev their motors and raise their fists into the air with a chorus of tribal screams.

Daiyna hands Shechara her gun. Followed by her flask. "I'll be wanting these back."

"Why are you doing this?" Shechara's voice is choked with emotion.

"Buying us some time." Daiyna launches herself out of the jeep, leaping five meters up into the air and landing with a puff of dust as her boots hit the ground. The Wastelanders lose most of their fervor at the sight of her superhuman agility. "Is this it?" She gestures at the ring of bikers as she faces Cain, keeping at least three meters between them. "The whole tribe?"

He tilts his head to one side. "You wish there were more to watch you die?"

"A step down for you, isn't it? There were close to a hundred living in your rusty old boats, from what I recall."

He clenches his jaw. She's struck a nerve. "That was another life. I have been reborn—"

"In fire. Yeah, you look like a new man." She laughs. "Only the best for Gaia's servant, right?"

"I am her son," he growls. "And you will soon learn your place, woman!"

He advances on her with his fists raised to eyebrow level—if they hadn't been burned off. Daiyna keeps her hands hovering at her sides, sidestepping to avoid being backed into the jeep. Beside me, Shechara grips a gun in each hand and watches, motionless.

"It should be you," she says.

"If only," I mutter. Cain wouldn't stand a chance against my blade-arms. "Keep an eye on his crew. Anybody interferes, we shoot 'em."

She nods. "I like the way you think."

Cain swings out one fist, telegraphing the punch from a kilometer away. Daiyna jerks back, allowing his momentum to carry him forward. Then she leaps into the air, vaulting over him and pushing off his shoulders, back-flipping prior to landing solid on her feet. Shechara looks like she wants to cheer, but she holds herself in check. Maybe Daiyna doesn't want to die, after all. Not right now, anyway.

Impossible to see her expression behind the head covering and goggles, but there's a smile in her tone as she goads him. "Your reborn body is too slow, Cain. I'd ask Gaia for another one, if I were you."

He reels to face her. "I just need to land a single blow, and you will not get up again. I will crush your skull while you lie on the ground. Then my friends will cut you up and roast you over an open fire tonight."

"Disgusting." She shakes her head. "But you'll need to hit me first. And I don't see that happening."

He shuffles forward like he's going to attempt another swing, but then he charges headfirst like a bull. She hits the ground and leans to the side with one leg extended. Anybody light on their feet would be able to avoid tripping, and maybe Cain used to be that agile. Not anymore.

He stumbles into one of the Wastelanders' bikes, and both somehow manage to remain upright. The biker reaches out to help him, but Cain smacks the guy's hands away.

"The former leader you defeated..." Daiyna springs to her feet and backs away. "Did he happen to be eighty years old?"

Hard to tell if Cain's face is crimson with rage. That's his natural flesh tone now. "Enjoy this moment, woman. For it will be your last." He steps toward her but doesn't swing, doesn't charge. He keeps his fists clenched and one foot in front of the other, like a kickboxer.

"Maybe he died of old age, waiting for you to hit him," Daiyna offers. "Is that how it happened?" She glances at the ring of bikers.

Their skull-masks stare back at her. They're not revving or screaming anymore. Uncanny how quiet and still they are.

Cain advances step by step, and Daiyna maintains the distance between them by alternating a step backward with a step sideways. But she can't keep this up indefinitely. Cain's stride is longer; he's twice her size. In the next few seconds, she'll need to leap over him to keep from being pinned against a pair of dirt bikes.

He knows this. And he's ready for it when she does.

As she vaults over him, he reaches up over his head nonchalantly like he's taking something down from a top shelf. He grabs hold of her leg with one hand and twists on his heel, hurling his arm downward as he throws her to the ground. She lands flat on her back with a groan and a loud exhalation of air, her limbs and head flipping upward on impact.

"Daiyna!" Shechara cries.

The Wastelanders turn their assault rifles on her. All thirteen of them. The two holding rocket-launchers aim them at me.

So this is it.

Cain stands over Daiyna, watching her. Then, as she struggles to rise and catch her breath, he plants his