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

"Willard, what's happened?"

"What's going on, Willard?"

"Quiet down!" I clench my fists in the air. "Listen to me. We have to disable the elevator so what's up there—" I point. "Doesn't come down here."

"What do you mean?"

"What's up there?"

"Listen!" I keep one foot in the elevator to hold the doors open. "Somebody get me a toolkit—on the double."

Perch and one of the women scurry away to retrieve what I'll need to open the control panel and cut the hard lines. Then let that she-devil just try to come down here.

It would be nice to have those guns and knives. But no, not an option. Can't risk going topside ever again. This is the only way.

Perch is back. "Here you go, Willard." He holds up the toolkit, then tosses it to me over the heads of the throng.

I catch it with both hands. "Keep these doors open."

"Sure thing." Jamison shoves his full weight against the open door.

"What are you doing?" someone cries.

"That's the only way out! You can't!"

They press against Jamison, but he does his best to hold them back.

"Take your time, Boss," he grunts with a grimace.

I turn to the control panel and activate the toolkit. "Just a temporary solution, folks," I explain over my shoulder. "You don't want to go up against what I've seen." The cover plate is off. I drop it to the floor. "It's like nothing you could imagine."

"Some kind of animal up there?" Perch calls out from the back of the mob. They quiet down to hear my answer.

"Not exactly." The rhythmic vibration of the toolkit in my hand is familiar, soothing. I feel my pulse slow down as I activate the cutter and aim for the wiring behind the panel. "She used to be one of us. Before the ash got to her."

"There he goes again," one of the women mutters. Others scoff, mocking me. Some of the men join in, too.

"There were four of them." One of the lines snaps and hangs limp. Two more to go. "They attacked me as soon as they got back from scouting."

The scoffing dies out. Now it's only whispers and low tones.

"Sharon and the girls?" Jamison manages hoarsely. "They did that to you?"

The next line snaps. On to the third. "Don't say that name." I shake my head. "She hasn't been herself since the first time she stepped outside. None of 'em have."

"Where's Tucker?" Someone finally notices his absence.

"He didn't make it." The last line is cut. I shut off the toolkit and pocket it. I turn to face Jamison. "You can let go."

He lifts his hand and backs away a step. The doors don't move. In this case, that's a good thing. The elevator is no longer an issue.

"So now what?" snaps one of the women. "We all die down here?"

Of course not, idiot. I choose to ignore her. She might have gone out on one of the scouting trips, now that I think of it. There could be demon-dust festering in her lungs. I'll need to keep a close eye on her.

"Let me through." Another woman pushes her way toward the elevator. She left the group earlier when Perch went for the toolkit. Her name's Margo. As far as I know, she hasn't been on the surface yet. But I could be wrong.

"Clear a path, folks." She's carrying a medkit.

She'll want to tend to my arms. Should I let her? Or should I shove my toolkit into her stomach and turn it on high? I've never thought of using it for that sort of thing before. I wonder what would happen. Probably make a nasty mess.

"Show's over, everybody." Perch attempts to disband the masses as he follows Margo. "Nothing here to see."

They don't seem to agree. And they don't seem very happy.

"So what do you expect us to do now, Willard? Go back to our chores?"

"I'm not leaving until Willard explains himself!"

"How long does he think we can survive down here?"

I hold up my arms again, and the uproar dies faster than it began. Unblinking eyes focus on the jagged claw marks and trails of blood.

"Listen up!" I shout so all ninety-odd of them can hear me. Margo waits nearby with the medkit, her dark eyes attentive. They're all watching me, expecting something. I can't say too much here. Some of them might be dormant ash freaks waiting to come into their own. "Folks, we can't go out on the surface."

"Tooting the same old horn, Willard!" shrills a woman's voice in back. Low murmurs of dissension follow.

"I'd say it's a little different now." Perch gestures at my arms. "So shut up and listen, Catherine. All of you. Let's hear what he's got to say." He stares some of them down, his block jaw set. Then he turns to me. "Go on, Boss."

Has Catherine been outside? I should've taken those guns. Things got out of hand up there too fast. I was outnumbered, and they attacked me. The way it happened was the only way it could have. But what about Tucker?

I take note of the disdain here and there amongst the faces staring back at me. My mustache itches all of a sudden.

"I know we can't make it down here much longer. We've managed the impossible already. The fact that we're still breathing O2 is a miracle, and each one of you is to thank for that. We all play our parts for the greater good." I let those words sink in.

I'm not the bad guy here. I'm their savior—they just don't realize it yet. They're not enlightened, but I'll show them the way. They need to be calmed down, reassured first. Then they'll fall in line.

"Like I said before, things aren't right on the surface. There's no life out there, nothing. It's not the way they told us it would be. Those government scientists had no clue what would be waiting for us after All-Clear. They couldn't have known what would be in the air."

Hushed whispers travel from mouth