Spirits of the Earth: The Complete Series: (A Post-Apocalyptic Series Box Set: Books 1-3)

by Milo James Fowler

  Except for the sound of my slightly labored breathing, silence reigns supreme. I listen to it, remembering all too well what it's been like to live completely alone. Not a single living thing since All-Clear. No vehicles passing me by on the InterSector, no planes flying overhead, no animals, not even insects to prey upon me. One thought has kept me sane all along: the hope of finding life.

  So that's why I struggle to my feet and follow this stranger into the cave. I have no idea what awaits me, but I can honestly say I feel no fear, no dread. I may be walking to my death, but at least I won't die alone.

  I find my companion seated on a large rock inside the cave, her goggles already off as she works to remove the wrappings from her head. I disconnect my face shield and throw back my hood, letting it fall to my shoulders. I take a seat on a rock across from her.

  "You're one hell of a climber," I thoughtfully articulate.

  Her eyes dart to me briefly—long enough for me to see they're a pair of dark chocolates with matching eyelashes. They focus on the ground as she frees the rest of her head from the cloth strips binding it.

  I catch my breath and run a hand through my shaggy mop of hair, damp with perspiration. The jumpsuit absorbed most of my sweat—thanks to the ingenuity of those scientists who designed it—and used the moisture to cool off the rest of me. I turn my face shield over in my hands as I watch her.

  "Any reason why you don't wear a suit?"

  "They sicken me." Her lips and chin are free now—perfect, beautiful—as well as her cute little nose. The area above her eyes is still covered. I like her face. Her skin looks soft.

  "But you can't argue with the results. They were definitely looking ahead, you know. They knew what we'd need out here with no water and this savage sun. It's ingenious, really. The packs keep us hydrated, and the suits regulate our temperature." Am I rambling? Have I destroyed whatever potential existed for our first conversation?

  She's bald. There isn't a single hair on her head, not even the stubble from a day-old shave. She meets my gaze. "They're disgusting and unnecessary. A link to a world that no longer exists."

  She's really bald—not an ugly bald like an old man, but a smooth bald, like an olive-toned egg. I try not to stare. "Well...all I know is I would've died out here without mine a long time ago."

  "You would have adapted. Become nocturnal."

  Are we arguing? Barely a complete sentence out of her, and now this inane banter about my suit?

  "Maybe." Why don't I just let it go? "But I like to sleep at night when it's cool, you see. I've gotten to like it out under the stars. They remind me that…some things haven't changed. Y'know?"

  Trying to wax poetic?

  She appears unmoved. "Most things have." She stands and turns toward the dark interior of the cave. "This way."

  I rise to follow her but find myself suddenly hesitant. My eyes have adjusted enough to see that this cave extends deep into the mountain. The darkness where she's heading looks impenetrable. Maybe it should be left alone.

  "Are we safe now?" My voice echoes after her.

  She half-turns to look at me. "What?"

  "Before. You said it wasn't safe." I gesture toward the darkness ahead of her. "Is it safe in there?"

  "If I said no, would you turn back?"

  She has me there—and she knows it. I have nowhere else to go. "Lead on."

  I follow her into the darkness and stay close enough to keep her in sight (somewhat), my hand out to the side to brush the cave wall. For some reason, my thoughts drift back to Julia.

  She's never far from my mind.

  I was just a kid—fourteen or so—and it was right after the first missiles launched around the world. The sector governors had the bunkers ready to go as if they'd been expecting the global chaos to ensue. The Cold War was finally over, and they had to make up for lost time, I guess. The earth rumbled as we were escorted in a rickety elevator down toward its core—a hundred of us taken from our homes that night. Julia and I stood next to each other, pressed in tight like cattle as we made the long descent into the bunker below. We were strangers, but it didn't matter. Our eyes met in the amber light. Our hands clasped and squeezed. We were in this together.

  I miss her so much, I ache inside. I wish she'd made it.

  More than anything, I hope she can forgive me.

  "We go down from here," my companion says.

  "What?"

  She stops me with a hand on my chest. "Can't you see?"

  Is that a rhetorical question? "It's pitch black in here." I frown. "Can you?"

  Instead of answering, she sighs. "I'm afraid this will be difficult for you."

  What about her? She doesn't sound condescending, more like she knows something I don't. And that's already starting to get old.

  "You'll need to feel your way." She takes my hand and pulls me down toward what feels like a plastic pipe. "Take this ladder."

  "Okay." Blind as a bat, I feel along the pipe until I find the top rung of the ladder she's talking about. "How far down?"

  "Twenty meters. I'll go first."

  Her garments shift as she begins her descent.

  "All right then." I take a deep breath and blow it out, contemplating my odds of surviving a twenty-meter fall to whatever lies below. My boot makes contact, and I rest my full weight on the plastic rung. "There you are." It gives under me, bowing slightly. I bring over my other leg and start down, one rung at a time. The way the ladder bends and creaks as I make each step—it's like I'm the only one on it.

  "You still there?"

  "Of course." Her voice echoes from far below. She's already at the bottom.

  "Didn't even use the ladder, did you?" I recall the way she launched herself down at me when we met.

  "No."

  Her matter-of-fact tone almost makes me smile. "There's something different about you. Can't quite put my finger on it." My boot slips off a rung, but I catch myself, clutching onto the sides of the ladder and knocking into the rock wall with my shoulder.

  "Focus," she says.

  "Right." Maybe I shouldn't try to multitask. But then again, I've never been good at following directions. "How close am I?"

  "Fifteen meters to go."

  "You can see me, huh? I mean—you can see in the dark?"

  "Yes."

  Maybe she's some kind of mutant. They warned us it could happen if we left the bunker too soon. Sector 43 was auto-locked, programmed to release the blast doors after twenty years passed. By then, supposedly, the nuclear winter would be over, and the atmosphere would have re-adjusted, naturally replenishing itself. But I'm sure there were some bunkers with manual locks, built in basements by folks who were pretty sure they wouldn't make the governors' lottery. The scientists and the soldiers did their best to root them out and eradicate them—for our welfare, of course—but some may have remained on D-Day. People left to their own devices could have come out five or ten years too soon, and the fallout in the atmosphere might have done something to them. Changed them somehow.

  "You have any other superpowers I should know about? X-ray vision, maybe?" Silence answers me, so I try again. "You can't see me naked, can you?"

  "No. Your urine-suit is in the way."

  Humor? Can it be? "You really don't like this thing, do you? Have you ever worn one?"

  "Five meters more."

  I'm almost there. But then what?

  Strange to think I'm actually inside my sleeping giants. Deep in these mountains, with no idea where I am exactly or where I'm headed, I'm blindly following a total stranger—just because she happens to be the only other representative of humankind in town. What would the giants have to say about that?

  Maybe I'm giving them indigestion.

  My boot scuffs across the cave floor as I drop from the ladder. I reach out my hand, and she takes it in her firm grasp. She turns me around, leading me quickly onward. Thoughts of the all-female enclave return, but now I wonder what kind of mutations they might exhibit, or if they'
re all gnarly and deformed. I guess it really wouldn't matter, since I can't see a thing down here—not even my own glove in front of my face.

  "Watch your step," she cautions as we come to a ledge and have to step up. She takes my arm.

  "Thanks. How close are we now?"

  "Almost there."

  "And there would be...?" I hope she fills in the blank, but my patience is wearing thin.

  "You'll see."

  "I hope so. Because right now: nothing."

  "Are you afraid of the dark?" She takes my arm again as we mount another earthen step.

  "No."

  It took a while to get used to the total dark after lights-out in the bunker. When those white, humming fluorescents were on, it was possible at times to forget how deep underground we were. Bright as day. But at night, things could get a little suffocating. My breath would quicken. Sweat would prickle down the back of my neck. Irrational fear would squeeze my insides. Sometimes Julia slept beside me, and with her body snug against mine, I could forget about the darkness. Hell, I could forget about anything but her warm curves.

  "Should I be afraid?" I ask. Her responses are so elusive, I have to do what I can to probe the matter. I'll break her down eventually. "Is there something lurking in here I should be aware of?" I keep my tone confident, but I can't help but wonder if I'm going to be fed to some hideous mutant beast. A sacrifice for the good of the many?

  "Not that I can see."

  "Well, that's a relief." I almost chuckle, but my heart isn't in it. "So I have nothing to fear."

  "I didn't say that."

  Is she toying with me? She's definitely warming up; that much is obvious. This interchange might even qualify as a borderline conversation.

  "You like keeping me in the dark." I hope my clever choice of words isn't lost on her.

  "Soon we'll be able to risk some light."

  "Is something following us?"

  "It was following you."

  The rocks and gravel? I was hoping to create a mental block against that. "So...what was it exactly? Mother Earth out for revenge? I'd say we deserve it, after what we did to her." I wait for a response. Anything.

  Silence.

  I'm done waiting. I want some answers. I need them.

  I feel her hand on my arm, guiding me forward, and I clamp down on her wrist, jerking her back as I plant my feet.

  "What are you doing?" she demands.

  Finally, some emotion out of her.

  "I'm not going another step without some answers." She tries to pull free, but I twist my hold on her and draw her close. She struggles. Nothing doing. I'm stronger than she is, after all. "Tell me where we're going—what we're running from. Tell me now!"

  "We're here."

  "What?"

  She tugs me forward and breaks free of my grasp, at the same time giving me a shove that sends me flailing blindly into the cave wall. The impact sends a sharp pain from my head down my right side, and I struggle to stay on my feet. But it's difficult to tell which end is up, and I land hard on all fours, cursing.

  "You'll be sorry!"

  Jackson spits out the blood and wipes his beard on the sleeve of his blue jumpsuit.

  "You knew it could be either one of us, Milton."

  My jaw works to speak, but the pain is too great—it might be broken.

  "Why her?" my slurred words finally come out.

  "It's random. Always is. You know that."

  "Why Julia?" I scream.

  I rise slowly, holding out my hands to show I'm not here to fight. I'm at an obvious disadvantage with her night-vision, anyway.

  "I'm sorry." My voice echoes, then fades into silence. I can't sense her anywhere nearby. I can't even hear her breathe. "I just wanted some answers, that's all. Please."

  My stomach tightens at the thought of being abandoned in here. My breath quickens. Needles prickle down the back of my neck.

  "Don't leave me..."

  2 Luther

  Seven Days after All-Clear

  We're not alone. We feel it in the wind. Even in this desolation, there is life. A Presence.

  The earth is wounded. One has only to look out across this barren land to see we have hurt her deeply. Her fields are deserts. Her waters are poison. Her children are missing. Does she weep for them?

  We're not her children—we never were. Hers were the innocents we destroyed, the lives we caged and sold and devoured and, in the end, neglected to defend. Now they're gone forever.

  Will we be judged? Will the Creator punish us for our great sin? Or have we already been punished enough?

  Our destruction is our own. We can't blame it on anyone else. There is no one left. We must shoulder our burden of guilt as we struggle to survive this world we've inherited. As we coexist with an invisible Life Form we cannot begin to comprehend.

  The sun disappears behind a range of mountains in the west. I can't help but marvel at the deep red and gold hues consuming the sky. Beauty remains in this world. Rare, but it can yet be found.

  "Now?" Plato calls up to me.

  I unfasten my face shield and pull off my jumpsuit. As the dusk light wanes, I turn and look down the hill behind me. Plato stands beside a steel doorway built into the hillside.

  "Let's get to work," I tell him.

  Plato shoves hard on the manual release, and the bunker door groans, then slides the rest of the way open, stopping with a steel clunk. He whistles, and the men behind him emerge like slow-moving inmates trudging out of the block into a prison yard. They take deep breaths of the outside air as they carry plastic pipes, fittings, canvas tarps, sheets of plexiglass, rope, and hand tools. They know their assigned tasks. I catch the hammer Plato tosses to me.

  "Tonight's the night," he says with an eager look in his eyes. "We finally leave the past behind."

  I pull down the upper portion of my jumpsuit and tie the dangling sleeves around my waist. A cool breeze whispers across my bare chest. "We should have the shelters finished by morning."

  "Some will want to go back. They don't look like it now, but they will. When it gets hard out here."

  The energy level of the men is high, as are their spirits, as they work together. A hundred meters beyond the bunker, our attempts at a makeshift village rise up from the dusty earth. The huts are composed of plastic and canvas and steel—anything we could strip from the underground warren where we spent the past decades. Not fancy, but these structures will do the job, serving as our base camp once we begin searching for other survivors.

  "I don't think they will." We descend the hill to join our brothers. "There's nothing for them to return to. The bunker is an empty tomb now. We have everything we need right here."

  "I'm just saying…" Plato shrugs. "The time will come when they'll crave the familiar." He looks back. "We should seal it shut."

  I follow his gaze. The bunker's dark entrance looks like the gaping maw of a half-interred beast. "Not tonight. We have other priorities, my friend. We must be certain our shelters are strong enough to withstand whatever elements come our way."

  He nods. "I'm sure it'll become a moot point eventually. Most of the life support systems have shut down. It's only a matter of time before the door mechanisms refuse to cooperate entirely." He casts me a sideways glance. "I'd hate to be the poor fool trapped inside when that happens."

  He makes a good point—in a roundabout way, as always. The bunker is a danger. But the men have been told it will be off-limits after tonight. For months now, Plato and I have stressed the importance of looking forward, not back. Our future depends on our ability to work together as one. At this point, after all we have accomplished—surviving below ground, maintaining our sanity, developing a brotherhood of unity, and achieving what will be, tonight, life outside the bunker for the first time in twenty years—only a fool would desire to go back to nothing.

  "Do you have anyone in mind?" I pick up one end of a steel support beam and wait for Plato to take the other.

  He shakes his head.
"It could be any one of us—or more, if they panic. We have no idea what life will entail out here. We could not have possibly prepared for every eventuality."

  He shoulders the beam, and we carry it down the middle of our street—a wide path through the center of the village—toward one of the last structures yet to be completed.

  "We're in this together, my friend," I remind him. "If we remain united, we have nothing to fear."

  "Of course," Plato replies. But he doesn't sound convinced.

  He's the youngest of us and, in many ways, also the wisest. The philosophical discussions he'd instigate following our evening meals earned him his name from the start. Over the years, I've learned the value of heeding his concerns; but I have to remember to balance them with a certain level of optimism. He tends to believe the proverbial glass is half-empty, and I always have to work diligently to convince him otherwise.

  "You're making more work for us, Samson," Plato grunts as we hand off the beam.

  Samson—so named for obvious reasons—takes our offering and shoulders it alone. "Standard-issue hut won't cut it. Man my size needs room to breathe." He devoted more time than any of us to building his physique in the bunker gym, at times spending more than three hours a day with the weights. His muscle mass is now double what it was on D-Day, and he was already a large young man back then. "Besides," he grins, baring white teeth. "When we find those women you promised us, I plan on taking two!"

  Everyone laughs as he punches me lightly in the shoulder. I plant my feet to keep from showing the force of the impact.

  "Yeah, Luther, when are our wives gonna show up?" one of the others calls out, struggling to tie down a roof tarp. He's the oldest of us by far, named Rip (Van Winkle never stuck). "I'm not gettin' any younger, y'know!"

  Amid the laughter, the men turn their eyes to me, tools held at their sides as they await my answer. For most of us, it's been the thought of repopulating the planet that has kept us looking forward to the future, whatever it holds. The government scientists selected us for this purpose. Samson, in particular, has mentioned his anticipation daily; it's become his mantra. Over the years, he's often told us how he envisions a future full of his children, filling the earth.