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

not have left Daiyna with Milton. We already discussed the fact that it would be unwise, considering the effect of the evil spirit's proximity on her.

Unless it was her idea. She may have convinced Samson to return alone. But when had she and Samson ever agreed on anything?

I break into a run as Samson draws near, his grim features illuminated by the glowstick in his hand. "We agreed they wouldn't be left alone together." I reach for the light and move to pass him.

He grips the stick tightly and grabs me by the shoulder, halting me. "Luther, she knows what she's doing."

"How do you know? Do you have any idea what's happening?"

"I don't claim to." He swallows, his broad face a mask of bewilderment. "But she said it had to be this way. Even before Milton came over to us. She said the spirits told her so."

My stomach drops as Daiyna's bold voice echoes across the sublevel: "Spirit of the earth..."

I try to pull free of his grasp. "Let me go, brother."

"She said we can't interfere."

"We don't know what he's capable of!" I struggle against his hold on me and contemplate using my claws on him.

He tosses the glowstick to Shechara and grips both my shoulders, immobilizing me. "I want to tear that little coward a new one, but this is how it's got to be." His eyes implore me. "It's like that faith you always talk about. We have to trust her on this."

Daiyna's voice echoes again, the same words.

"We've got to have faith Daiyna knows what she's doing."

My shoulders sink into his grasp. "We have nothing to fear." The words hold no special meaning for me now. I know she's in danger, but I'm powerless to do anything about it.

"Spirit of the earth—leave him!" she cries.

"NO!" Milton's hoarse scream rips through the darkness.

Adrenaline blasts through my system. Samson releases me, his hands clenched into fists. We glance at each other—long enough to confirm our course of action. We turn to run just as Shechara sprints past us. If Milton dares harm Daiyna in any way—

The sudden roar of an engine fills the garage as a large vehicle revs up the ramp from the level below. Headlights chase away the darkness with a deluge of blinding white. Our boots skid to a halt.

"Quick—find cover!" Samson hits the ground beside an abandoned vehicle and rolls underneath, rifle in hand, dropping the rocket launcher to the concrete next to him.

Shechara quickly follows his example. I crouch behind another vehicle and hold my rifle at the ready. Even with this unexpected intrusion, Daiyna remains my priority. I must get to her.

Another vehicle follows the first, as large and as loud, headlights overwhelming in their intensity. The second vehicle stops with squealing tires at the top of the ramp, engine idling, while the first one rolls forward, veering around a support column and heading in our direction. It looks like an armored assault vehicle, black and gleaming. Well maintained, without a speck of dust on it.

Daemons? No. Survivors? There's no way to tell. The windows are tinted black, and as it rumbles our way, we're washed in the floodlights mounted on its roof.

"Luther—get down!" Samson growls.

"Daiyna..." I stare across the sublevel.

"You can't help her if you're dead!"

Gritting my teeth, I drop to the cold concrete and roll under the nearest automobile, just as the armored vehicle squeals to a halt. For a few moments it sits there, engine thrumming, massive tires filling my view. Was I spotted?

A passenger door swings open, and a pair of military-issue boots drop to the ground. The bolt of an automatic weapon clinks, echoing with menace. Instinctively, I grip my rifle, training the muzzle on the boots with blue camouflage pants tucked into them.

A man clears his throat confidently. "Well, I'd say we have a couple options here. We can either do this the easy way...or the hard way." He waits for the echo of his authoritative voice to fade. "We know you're not mutos. You understand human speech." A pause. "We've been watching you. The security cameras in here are rigged with night vision and infrared thermoptic. We know right where you're hiding." His boots remain rooted. "So I'd like you to come on out and lay down your weapons for the time being, just until we get to know each other. We don't want any trouble. But if it's trouble you're after...rest assured that we've got you outnumbered, and we will not hesitate to put you down." His tone does not change. "The choice is yours, of course."

I look across at Samson. He'd sooner fight than hand over his weapons. He glares back at me, knowing this is my call. I look for Shechara but can't see her anywhere nearby.

Daiyna? Milton? Where are they? Is she all right?

We must have faith in our gifts, that even without the weapons we've obtained, we're still able to defend ourselves. I pray for strength. Then I slide—carefully, with my rifle held up in one hand—out from under the automobile.

"Well, hello there." I'm greeted with a broad smile by a slight man in full camouflage and a black beret. He wears a transparent oxygen mask and holds a pistol at rest, aimed at the ceiling. "That didn't take long at all. I was thinking there'd be more of a standoff." He chuckles, his noticeable Adam's apple jerking spastically.

"My weapon." Slowly, I set it down at my feet, my eyes fixed on him as I rise. The large assault vehicle beside him—twice the size of the mutants' jeeps—doesn't appear to be solar-powered, and it could easily carry ten men. Are they inside? Or is there only a driver?

"Great, thanks. Just a precaution, you understand. Until we all get ourselves acquainted properly." He frowns then, scratching the back of his ear with the pistol. "How about your friends?"

I hope Samson is of a mind to cooperate. We have no idea what sort of situation we're in here. "Yes, they—"

Samson rolls out and