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

"What happened to the mutants out there, at the bottom of the grade?"

A grin spreads across his bearded face. "You like it?"

She said he didn't need them anymore. "How'd you pull that off?"

"It's amazing what a freak sandstorm can do."

That's when it hits me, a sudden realization that would have come sooner if I was thinking clearly. "You're not Jackson." He's not a figment of my imagination, either. He chuckles and then stares as if he's waiting for me to think things through—or as far as I can take them. "You're something else."

"Thank you." He nods graciously. "And you are very astute, albeit excruciatingly slow."

"You covered those mutants out there in the sand, after they had their fill of these people." How did she say it? "You drowned them in it."

"Guilty as charged." He folds his arms and keeps grinning, patiently watching me. "Go on. You're doing great."

"You—" Was it possible? "You made it chase after me, the rocks and sand—when I ran toward these mountains."

"You're finally catching on."

"You wanted to kill me."

"Not exactly. We wanted to see how fast you were. Think of it as your first test—one you passed with flying colors. We had to know the ability she gave you was just what we needed in order to deal with Eden."

I don't know what he's talking about. "So what are you?"

"We are many things, Milton. And we were once much more than we are now. We were the voice that was in your head for a while, if that's any help." He leans in, his tone dropping near a whisper. "We're still in your head, by the way. If anybody came in on us right now, they'd see you talking to yourself in here."

So I really am crazy. I'm not just hearing things, but I'm seeing them as well. And who knows where I am, really? I'm probably not even in this alcove of rock and earth, not standing here holding this glowstick. I could be lying somewhere, out cold for all I know, dreaming all this.

"Do you control me?" Am I possessed?

"I wish," he mutters. "It would've made things a whole lot easier. We got close, but then they—she—had to go and muck things up. We thought we could take over the one she was working with too, use you to get to her." He shakes his head. "No dice. You've got that vestigial reminder of the creator's adoration: free will. It's a curse on your kind, really. You all used it to the fullest degree, destroying everything he made. Nearly annihilating yourselves in the process."

"Creator? You mean...God?"

He shrugs. "At one time, your kind thought of him that way. Before you killed him."

How is that possible?

"We've done our best to try to persuade you, Milton. We came close to dominating your mind, but you're stronger than we expected. We didn't foresee that, not after all you've been through. You've led a real messed-up life. And her influence hasn't helped matters any."

Julia? But no, she's not Julia, not really, just like he's not Jackson.

"What is she?"

"She's like me in many ways—a more domesticated version, if you will. We're polar opposites when it comes to our views on humankind. What's left of it, anyway. She thinks you have a chance at survival on this rock, that somehow, maybe with her help, you'll be able to make it. She's an optimist." He sighs, sounding like he pities her. "I'm a realist, Milton. I've seen your future. Yes, you'll survive—for a time. But you'll suffer incredibly in the end, and you'll die. All of you. Your species will be wiped out completely. In time, there won't be a trace left on the earth. You'll destroy yourselves all over again. It's what you do best."

I don't believe it. They had it all planned out for us, those government geniuses. They kept us alive, and we made it. There are enough of us now to start over. I just have to find them, the other survivors like Daiyna and Luther and Samson. They can reproduce, and there must be others like them somewhere. None of them seemed like the type to give up on the future.

The Preserve may be gone, but there have to be other areas that weren't affected on D-Day. Maybe on other continents—Eurasia, or Africa. What about the seas? We could live on boats and fish with nets and poles. Seafood used to be illegal, but those laws don't apply to us anymore. We're in charge now. We can fish—unless the nuclear winters killed all the fish.

"You're having a tough time accepting it," he breaks the silence. "Understandable."

I glare at him. "You don't know the future. You're not God. I don't know what you are exactly, but you don't know what we're capable of."

"Unfortunately, I do," he says, his features sagging. "All too well." He stares at me until I drop my gaze. "While the worst of it came twenty of your years ago, by no means is it over. There will be more death and bloodshed. It's the way of your accursed kind. As long as you roam this earth, you'll wreak havoc on it and on each other."

I don't have to listen to this. He's not real. I should just ignore him, pretend he's not there. Because he's not, not really.

I turn away and climb back into the crevice, then race through it and out of the cave, passing swiftly over the bodies without even touching down. I half-run, half-fly over them, the green glowstick guiding me until I'm outside in the blinding sunlight. I snap on my face shield quickly and pocket the glowstick. A moment later, I'm back with Julia—or whatever she is—right where I left her.

"No one?" She rests her hand on my chest.

"Who are you? What are you?"

"I think he's waking up." Jackson suddenly appears beside me, sprouting up out of the ground again. That trick is already old.

I focus only on Julia, taking her by the