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

Some kind of ghost—is that what's talking in my head? I sure hope not.

Luther pauses as he wraps the strip of fabric around me. He looks me in the eye, and even in the shadows his uncertainty is clear to see. "Are you...aware of it, Milton?"

"I don't know what she's talking about." Partially true.

He resumes his work on my new and improved bandage.

"So-uh...who shot me?" I ask.

Luther pauses again as Samson scoffs.

"Don't you remember?" the big man growls incredulously.

"One of the daemons, Milton," Luther says. "They had you in their sights. But fortunately, Samson was there, and he brought you back to us."

I don't remember any of that. "I was following Plato out through the caves. But then things get kind of fuzzy." They go black, actually, like I've got amnesia or something. Why can't I remember?

So the cannibals shot me. Bastards. I should've killed them all when I had the chance. Maybe there's still time. I can go back to the mountain and wipe them all out, the gun-toting freaks!

Kill him now.

My breath catches as Luther ties off the bandage under my armpit. His eyes remain focused on his work. I'll strangle him before he can lift a finger to resist me.

No. I can't. Why would I?

"Luther." Daiyna wants to talk to him again in private.

He glances up and meets her gaze. "Take it easy, Milton." He squeezes my shoulder and leaves my side with, "I'll be just a minute."

Samson remains crouched behind me, muttering something to himself about wasting time. The smaller one, her head covering and goggles no longer in place, steps toward me. Her bright eyes stand out in contrast to her smooth, dark skin.

"Did you see Ali?" she asks quietly, kneeling at my feet. "Do you know him?"

"Don't get too close, Small Fry," Samson warns her. "This one's not altogether... together."

I smile and give him the finger.

"Did you see Ali fall?" By the way she clenches her jaw, I can tell she's fighting back tears. She's doing a good job of it, though her eyes are glassy.

You can kill her easily.

"No!"

She jumps to her feet at my sudden outburst and steps back, eyes wide. Samson adjusts his hold on the rifle. Luther and Daiyna watch me from across the room.

"No, I'm sorry. It's just the pain, that's all." I gesture lamely at my chest. I close my eyes for a moment, let my nerves settle. "I don't remember anyone named Ali. I wasn't there long. I mean I was, but I wasn't conscious, I don't think."

I look up at her and hope she can tell how sorry I am.

Weapon at the ready, Samson steps between the girl and me. "So why aren't you covered in their blood?" he demands, glowering.

"What?"

"The daemons. Didn't you fight them?"

"I did what I could." I grimace as I try to sit up. "There were too many."

"For you?" He laughs. "I don't think so. I've seen how fast you can move." He glances over his shoulder at Luther and Daiyna, deep in conversation, and drops to one knee, keeping the muzzle of his rifle aimed in my general direction. "You know what I think?"

"Nope. I really don't."

"I think you ran away." He nods. "Yeah, I think you got scared, and you figured you'd just look out for number one. You could've killed every one of those freaks, but instead you ran off. Because deep down, you're nothing but a coward."

I could kill him right now. Before he even knows what hit him, I could be on my feet and take his rifle, jam the muzzle up under his chin and blow off his big fat head. His strength would be no match for my speed.

But I'm not a killer.

So says the Sector 43 hangman.

I shut my eyes and grit my teeth. A low moan escapes me. Samson's boots scuffle as he backs away, muttering something about an exorcism.

Their faces return to haunt my mind's eye, each with a noose around the neck. They stare at me, condemning me for what I did in the bunker. What I was made to do.

I am a killer. I know it as well as they do.

"Milton."

A strong hand squeezes my shoulder again, and I open my eyes to find Luther crouched beside me. Behind him, out of earshot, Daiyna speaks with the other two in low tones.

"Are you in pain?"

Does mental anguish count? But no, he's referring to my chest wound. I try to take a deep breath. It catches, and I wince a little.

"I'll live. Thanks."

"We need to find a vehicle. Can you walk?"

I ran all the way here. I could come up with something witty to say, but instead I just nod. I don't want to be left behind.

"Where are we going?" Bracing myself against the wall, I struggle to my feet.

Luther helps me up. "Through the city. We'll see what can be salvaged."

Samson sounds like he's refusing to go along with Daiyna's plan, whatever it is. She stands her ground, apparently calling the shots. Maybe he doesn't like that. He looks like a chauvinist.

Luther catches me watching them.

"Difference of opinion?" I offer.

I wonder if it has something to do with me. Maybe Luther convinced her that I should come along, and now she has to convince the Neanderthal of the same thing. The other girl stands by, attentive but silent.

"They're both very strong-willed individuals, and my brother is accustomed to winning arguments. He finds it difficult when things don't go his way." The beginnings of a grin tug at the corners of Luther's mouth. "How about you, Milton? Do you fight to win?"

I'm not sure what he means. "Uh..."

"There's a battle raging inside you."

My muscles tense up.

He squeezes my shoulder again. "The only way you're going to make it is by fighting as hard as you can—for your life." He pauses, glancing at my chest. "There's little more that I can do."

He's talking about my wound—not the voice in my head. That's a relief. "Right. Fight to win."