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

Samson steps forward, the joviality absent from his eyes. Is he trying to intimidate me?

"You know I'm too fast for you," I caution him.

"Yeah." He nods. "That's why we need you."

"Milton, please hear us out. If you still want to leave, we won't try to stop you. Right, Luther?" Plato faces him.

"Of course," Luther says quietly.

So they need me. Well, I need them too, because there's no chance I'll find my way out of here in the dark. And I'll need my suit, once I'm outside.

"How about this. You tell me whatever you want while you lead me out of here. You'll have until we get outside to convince me to join your crew." I smirk at their hesitation. "Hey, if you really don't plan on keeping me here against my will, then you shouldn't have a problem with this."

Plato takes the glowstick from Samson. "I'll lead you out."

"I want my suit."

He nods. "Samson will bring it. He'll meet us at the mouth of the cave."

Smart move. Probably thinks I'll take his light and run, otherwise.

He'd be right about that.

"All right. Let's go." I keep an eye on him. He better not try spitting at me again.

"This way."

I follow as he steps past me and to the left. I don't know why, but I glance back at Luther and Samson. They don't say anything or make any gesture of farewell, not that I expected them to. They just watch me go. I can't help but feel a little sorry for them. But I can't help them. I'd only disappoint everybody if I stuck around.

Strangely enough, I wish I could see her one more time. Daiyna. Even though she gave me this bloody nose.

I follow Plato's dark silhouette as we make our way through the silent cavern, the green light bobbing in front of him. For a good ten minutes or so, he doesn't say anything, and I wonder if he's given up trying to convince me to stay. Fine by me. As soon as I've got my suit, my nourishment packs, and my bedroll, I'll be back on my way to see what's on the other side of these mountains. I'll put all this craziness behind me and continue my climb. It'll take some work, but maybe I can put my new superspeed to good use.

"Luther is a spiritual man," Plato breaks the silence. "I don't fault him for it."

"Some people are, I guess." Small talk? Give me a break.

"His faith kept us unified for years. Many of the men have adopted his belief in the Creator. They found peace in his religion. It helped them survive."

"But not you?" Why am I encouraging this?

"Careful here," he warns. "The drop is twelve meters, straight down."

I do my best to follow in his footsteps.

"You're right, Milton. It wasn't for me. There may be a spiritual world that coexists alongside our own, a world of ideal forms and such, but I tend to find more comfort in reason than the supernatural. And when survival is on the line, I lean toward a more pragmatic line of thought."

"So you don't agree with Luther about the ghosts?"

"He believes the spirits are those of all the animals wiped out on D-Day."

I can't help but laugh. My voice echoes like a madman's.

Plato's silhouette shrugs in front of me as we duck under a low outcropping of rock. "As I said, Luther is a spiritual man. He believes every form of life has a God-given essence, and that the animal spirits were left behind, since there was no afterlife for their kind. Unable to reincarnate as was their way, they remain as some kind of metaphysical residue that over the years, in our absence, coalesced into a dichotomized—"

"He mentioned that." I don't want to hear any more about this. It's insane.

"Right. Well, Daiyna's experiences helped confirm his beliefs, and he's managed to convince most of the others. I agree with him in theory, that it's a possibility, and that it explains some things." He makes a spitting noise, followed by a self-deriding chuckle. "But I think we have more pressing matters."

I smirk. "The mutant problem?"

"You already know about that?"

"He mentioned it. But he was more into talking about spirits than anything else."

"Well, that's Luther. I, on the other hand, would have told you about the hostiles. It's where you and your gift would come in—how you'd be an invaluable help to us all." He turns, and his light shines on the base of a ladder made of plastic pipes. "Straight up from here."

A wave of relief pours over me. Looks like I'll be getting out of here after all. I couldn't be sure that he was leading me in the right direction, but now I know my doubts were unfounded. He starts up the ladder, and I'm right behind him.

"So how's that, exactly? You need my speed?"

"We need you to disarm the daemons the next time they attack."

"Uh—demons?" Are they bad ghosts?

Plato chuckles without humor. "That's what Daiyna and the women called them when we met. The name suited these monsters, so it stuck. We don't know who they are or where they came from, but they have weapons and vehicles, oddly enough. And they're savage flesh-eaters. They devour both the living and the dead."

Cannibals. I knew it.

Plato falls quiet. The only sounds are our hands and feet making contact with each rung of the ladder as it creaks beneath our weight.

"They attacked us twice before we reached these caves," he says at length. "We lost half our men to them. The women suffered losses as well. For now we hide in relative safety, but we can't live this way forever. In fear." He clears his throat. "If you were to help us, we could disarm them and start fighting back. We could protect ourselves—our future. Don't you see how important you are to us, Milton? How much good you could do?"

He reaches the top of the ladder and pulls himself onto the ledge above, moving to the