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

Samson lingers at the earthen doorway to the passage beyond, the alcove's glow barely revealing his features. "It's a good plan," he offers.

I nod. It's the best we have. "I can't lose anyone else…" I trail off.

He takes a step toward the large rock I use as a desk and rumbles quietly, "You didn't lose her. She left us."

"I should have been there for her—or stopped her." I can't bring myself to say her name. I'm afraid the sound of it will bring tears to my eyes.

"She's got some stuff to work out. Needs space. She'll come back when she's ready, I'm sure of it."

I shake my head, not sure at all. "She's given herself over to vengeance. She's lost herself in it."

"That guy had it coming."

Willard deserved to die. No question. "But she didn't have to be his executioner. She could have left him in the hands of the Creator, who rewards both the just and the unjust, according to their works."

Samson gives me a sympathetic smile. "If only the whole world shared your beliefs. Maybe D-Day never would've happened."

"We can't change the past. What's done is done. But we can avoid making the same mistakes going forward." My gaze returns to the map. "I hope this is the right move."

"Exterminating the daemons? Yeah, I'd say so. One step closer to a livable future, at any rate." He pauses, trying to remember something. "We've gotta clear the Promised Land of those Canaanites before we can live in it. Something like that, right?"

Back in the bunker, I would read aloud from the Holy Scriptures every night. I was never sure whether Samson paid any attention, swinging in his hammock with his eyes closed.

"Except our Canaanites are cannibal freaks," he mutters.

I join him at the doorway and clap a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get to work, brother."

In the great cavern, Milton and Sergeant Bishop have everyone assembled, seated and attentive. There are thirty of us left. We lost people when Cain's warriors attacked, and when we marched on Eden. We lost more when Perch led the Edenites against us, after the UW flew off with our unborn children in the bellies of their planes. But our numbers increased when Cain's wives, children, and the elderly members of the Shipyard joined our ranks. United now, we gather to prepare for our ground assault against the daemons.

Milton will fly ahead, conducting an aerial search to locate daemon positions while trying not to get himself shot down in the process. Margo will remain in contact with him telepathically and relay his recon back to us as we move out. Victoria will stay here in the Homeplace, but she will use her gift to scan the terrain on all sides of us for daemons, notifying Margo of any movement. Shechara will join Samson and myself as we take point. Bishop, Margo, and Justus will flank right while another team of three—Ethan, Connor, and Deven—flank left. We'll be in constant radio contact every step of the way as we press westward and set up camp at the first lookout, ten kilometers out.

Bishop explains the tactics and strategy, fielding questions, answering people by name. He was born for this.

Samson nudges me with his mechatronic elbow. "Glad he's on our side."

As am I.

Taylor, one of the sentries, slips inside to notify me that dusk has fallen. I gesture to Bishop, and he wraps up the meeting. The nine of us heading out collect our weapons and make the slow descent from the cave entrance to the foothills below. We don't speak to one another, using hand gestures and nods instead.

Except for Margo. Once Milton launches into the darkening skies, she faces me.

I will keep Sergeant Bishop informed of any sightings made by Milton or Victoria. He will radio you should the need arise, she projects her thoughts into my mind.

Nodding to her, I beckon to Samson and Shechara, and the three of us take the lead, leaving the foothills and striking out across the desert. If all goes according to plan, we won't be walking on the way home. The daemons' solar jeeps will be ours.

We maintain a brisk pace for ten klicks. Then after trudging uphill for half an hour, we reach the first vantage point marked on the map. All nine of us meet at the hilltop and set up camp for the night behind the boulders: four on watch, one at each compass point. We'll rotate in two-hour shifts. Margo, Justus, Samson, and I take first watch. The others lay out their bedrolls and try to get comfortable.

I raise an eyebrow at Margo as I rest my rifle on a level sheet of rock. She shakes her head. Not daemon sightings yet.

They tend to be less mobile at the end of the day, although they have been known to attack after dark. It's fine by me if we don't engage them until first light. Milton will lure them our way, and we will neutralize them. Once the next team from the Homeplace arrives to take our place here, we'll split up, advance, and take the next three positions. Milton will again lure them into the kill zone, and we'll keep forging westward, repeating the strategy until we've cleared a path to the coast. By then, we should have enough of their jeeps and weapons to split our forces and sweep both north and south as well. Should the Creator bless our efforts, we will then move inland, past the Homeplace toward Eden, scouring the wastelands for any lingering daemons.

This is an enormous continent, but thankfully the only Sectors with bunkers prepared for D-Day were located here in the southwest. So it was only here that the UW sent their search and rescue teams. We don't need to worry about daemons roaming across all of North America.

Why the southwest? Why not build bunkers from coast to coast? Originally, that had been the plan, but by the time the patriots