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

scanner. But I don't have to. Once again, just by standing in front of a locked door, I get it to open for me. Customary in Dome 1 where proximity detectors open any door that's unlocked. But I'm getting the feeling somebody noticed me, or they were alerted when I passed through the holo-cloak.

"Enforcer Chen, welcome." The Terminal-Aged man has a deep, oily voice to match his slicked-back hair, and he twirls a chrome baton with one hand. Trezon, I assume. As with the waitress, he looks like someone I've seen in VR. The smooth operator. The gangster with a face covered in spiraling tattoos. They've clearly modeled themselves after characters from the Linkstream, not the other way around. "Erik has told me so much about you..."

I don't like the sound of that. And I don't like the looks of Erik at the moment. His face is a bloody mess as he lurches forward in the chair he's tied to. The pair of bouncers land meaty hands on his shoulders, shoving him back into place.

Get out, Sera! he screams into my mind.

But I can't. Because I've been hit in the middle of my back with a shocker that sends me to the floor in convulsions. Before I black out completely, a familiar face approaches from behind to loom over me.

"Told you to watch your six," Drasko says.

18 Daiyna5 Years After All-Clear

So we're truckers now. Driving a stolen big rig with a shipping container full of food, drink, supplies, and more than a few dirt bikes.

Shechara, Samson, and I take turns at the wheel, driving day and night. Always one of us driving, one riding shotgun, and one sleeping, stretched out in the back of the cab. We keep an eye out for any raiders looking for revenge—or hoping to take back what's theirs. But so far we've been all alone on this dusty stretch of hardpan. No daemons-in-the-making, no cannibals pretending to be post-apocalyptic desert warriors.

For the first time in a long time, I feel more like myself. Free to be the person I was, way back when. There's plenty of whiskey in my flask; it hasn't been empty for days. I haven't had a reason to refill it. The spirits still show up periodically, and sometimes it's Willard's ugly face that appears, but I don't have to hide from them.

I've been hiding for too damn long.

"Think it might be time?" Rehana said last week. I was returning to the tractor-trailer after relieving myself behind a boulder.

"For you to leave me alone? Definitely."

"She's a lost cause," Mother Lairen said in disgust. She'd been sulking ever since we left Eden. Guess things hadn't gone down the way she wanted. Knowing the evil spirits as well as I do, I bet she was hoping we'd all end up killing each other.

"Time to guide Shechara and Samson where they belong," Rehana said. "Where you belong, Daiyna. With Luther and Milton and the others."

I shook my head, goggles trained on my dust-smothered boots. "I'm not ready for that."

Seeing Luther again after so many years apart. Not knowing how he'd react. Or how I would.

"Three and a half years, and she's still not ready." Mother Lairen laughed bitterly.

"What about them?" Rehana nodded toward the truck with Shechara and Samson inside. "What if I told you they feel the same way? That no matter how much they might want to reunite with your friends, they fear they wouldn't be welcomed back."

That made me frown. "What do they have to be ashamed of?"

"Words were spoken." Rehana shrugs. "Sometimes things are said that you can't take back."

That's why I left without saying a word. I couldn't explain how sorry I was for allowing my thirst for revenge to get our people killed.

"Would you tell them to stay out here in the wastelands? That they should never seek to reunite with Luther?"

My footsteps slowed to a halt. I was a few meters away from the passenger door on the big rig. I faced Rehana. "Of course not."

"Why?"

"Because…" Tears burned hot in my eyes, and I had to clench my jaw to maintain my composure. "Because Luther would forgive just about anything. That's who he is." He's a good man.

"A man after God's own heart." Whenever Rehana didn't sound like herself, I was instantly reminded that this wasn't really her at all. Just a spirit-projection. "I think you have your answer, Daiyna." She smiled at me. "When you're ready, you'll need to travel to the east coast. That's where you'll find your friends."

With that, she and Mother Lairen faded away like a mirage on the sun-scorched horizon.

Shechara and Samson took some convincing. Like me, they'd settled comfortably into their desert nomad ways. The two of them against a post-apocalyptic world.

"We don't even know where they are," Shechara said.

Samson shook his head and shrugged his thick shoulders. "Milton told us he might touch base once they got there, but…"

"He never did," Shechara finished his sentence. "And that was three years ago."

"They might not even be on this continent anymore," Samson said.

He had some explaining to do at that point: Apparently, Luther wanted to invite the UW ashore to establish diplomatic relations. He mentioned contacting Captain Mutegi on the Argonaus, but then Milton heard from the spirits—

"By that point, after all we'd lost…" Samson shook his head. "I'd had just about enough of Milton's supernatural guidance."

"We've done alright on our own." Shechara reached out and squeezed Samson's metal forearm. Not sure whether he could feel it, but it was a sweet gesture of support all the same. "We found you." She smiled.

I smiled back. "So if I were to tell you the spirits let me know where we should go...to meet up with Luther and Milton…"

Something in their demeanor changed at that point, like they were surprised I would even suggest a reunion. Maybe they thought if I could go back to Luther after all I'd done, then they could, too. If I could let my reasons for staying away crumble