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

Samson tosses the glowstick back at me with a glowering look and I catch it against my chest with both hands. I could run behind him and cram it up his ass before he has a clue what's going on. Now that would be funny.

Daiyna meets Luther's gaze, and he nods. How cute. They're telepathically linked.

She checks her rifle and leads the way, the other girl close behind. Samson follows, then Luther. I stand there holding the glowstick, not knowing what to do with myself. There's no way to turn off the light, and I don't know if they want me to bring it along. I have a fresh one in my pocket, so I could leave this one by the truck to burn itself out.

But they're already across the sublevel, approaching the door to the stairwell. So I stuff the glowing stick into my pocket and hurry to catch up. I come alongside Luther with a bright green bulge in my pants.

"So much for a miracle, huh?" I say.

"How's that?" he asks, his face in shadow.

"The truck. Samson couldn't work his magic."

"Don't count him out yet. He'll come through for us. We need fuel, that's all."

"Gasoline. Right. I'm sure there are barrels and barrels of the stuff hidden somewhere below, just waiting for us."

My sarcasm isn't lost on him. "What would you suggest we do instead, Milton?" He sounds genuinely interested.

It's a good question, but unfortunately I don't have much of an answer. "I guess I don't see the point in going back. To the caves, I mean. We've managed to escape from those cannibal freaks, and going back seems like suicide."

He's quiet for a moment. "We left our friends, Milton. If there's even a chance one of them is still living, it's worth the risk. You haven't had the opportunity to get to know us very well, much less our other brothers and sisters, but surely you can understand." He pauses. "You had friends in your bunker before things went badly, yes?"

How does he know about that? I must have told him. How much did I tell him? I can't remember. Does he know about Julia?

I nod mutely. Of course I understand. I'd go back for her. But not for the rest of them. They don't matter to me. She's the only one who matters.

I look down at the bobbing shapes in the dim glow cast through my pocket. I can vaguely make out Daiyna's form, farthest from me. What would she look like with long, flowing hair instead of stubble? Would she look like Julia? Would her bare skin be just as soft?

I need to be alone with her. And I would be, if I killed the others.

Are these my own thoughts? I can't tell anymore. They sound like the same ideas that came from that voice in my head. But the voice has been silent ever since that last killer headache.

Below, the others leave the stairwell and enter the next sublevel. The stench in here is stronger, the air thicker, more stagnant. I cough involuntarily as I follow Luther out into Level Four. There's only one more level beneath this one, so if we don't find what we're looking for here—

"Light." Samson holds out his hand expectantly.

This time, I don't toss it to him. I retrieve it from my pocket and hold it shoulder-high as I move to his side and stand there. He looks irritated. Satisfied, I wink at him.

"All right, what we're looking for will be located toward the rear of the vehicles, above one of the tire wells," he says. "A small hatch. We'll disconnect hoses from under the hoods to siphon out the gas, and we'll need containers to carry it in. If we all split up, it'll go faster."

"Out of the question." Daiyna's stance is resolute. "We stay together."

Again, Samson looks irritated. I can't hide my grin.

"In case you haven't noticed, the air isn't great. We split up, we cover more ground in less time." He gestures around us to where more than thirty vehicles are parked. Many of them have been surgically stripped, but others don't fit that category. They look like small city commuters. "Let's get this done and get the hell out of here."

Daiyna looks at Luther to make the call.

"We'll break into two groups," Luther says. "Samson, go with Daiyna. Shechara, we'll need you to come with us in case the light goes out."

So that's the smaller one's name—Shechara. Besides seeing in the dark, what else can she do? Samson and Daiyna set out across the sublevel without a word spoken between them.

"Meet back at the stairs," Daiyna casts over her shoulder.

Luther nods, turning to Shechara as she joins us. "Do you see what Samson spoke of?"

Her large, dark eyes scan the vehicles around us, seeming to penetrate them with X-ray vision. "There." She points to the far wall, maybe fifty meters away. She sets off in that direction, and we follow.

"You can see really well," I thoughtfully articulate. She doesn't respond. "With your night-vision, I mean. That must come in handy." No response. Is she scared of me?

"Shechara is quite the chatterbox, once she gets to know you. Just wait and see," Luther says. "There will be no stopping her." The girl's lips turn upward slightly as she glances back at Luther, but that's all. More than I got.

We reach two parking spaces where a pair of small vehicles sit side by side. In the green light of the glowstick, I see the hatches over their rear tire wells.

"So these run on gasoline." I look at Luther. "How do we tell if there's any left in the tank?"

He stares at the vehicle in front of him. "I have no idea."

Shechara tries the driver's door and, finding it unlocked, ducks inside like Samson did with the truck. The hood pops, and she comes around to lift it.

"He said there would be hoses," she says, frowning at the engine.

"Right." Luther joins her and points. "Could