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

by Milo James Fowler

  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 that be one?"

  The blind leading the blind. But I'm no help, either. We all rode public transports back in Sector 43. Nobody had their own auto in a labor sector, except for the governor and his cronies.

  "I'll go get Samson," I offer. "Be back in no time."

  Luther looks up at me. He almost says something but stops himself, nodding instead. "Very well. Tell him we've found two gas-powered vehicles, but we're...currently at a loss."

  I grin. "Will do."

  "Milton." In his eyes, the uncertainty has been replaced with concern. "Be careful."

  He shouldn't worry about me. That's ridiculous. I have enough light to keep me from slamming into a support pillar or anything, and I'm too fast for any zombie. I'm too fast for Samson.

  Julia... I can't wait to be alone with her again.

  I take off, the green glow lighting my path between parked vehicles that rush past on both sides. It feels so good to be moving like this again. The freedom is intoxicating.

  But all too soon, it's over.

  "What are you doing here?" Samson glares at me in the sudden light. It makes him look like some kind of hulking monster. "Why aren't you—?"

  "We found a couple gas-powered autos. Over there." I point, but I watch Julia—Daiyna. She winces with a hand to her stomach, backing away. It's like she's allergic to me, or the sight of me makes her sick. "They need your help. Something about hoses." I hand him the glowstick. "You'll probably need this."

  He eyes me warily. "Okay." He glances back at Daiyna and frowns. She looks like she's in pain. "You all right?"

  She nods curtly, biting her lip. Avoiding eye contact. "Go on. I'll be fine."

  Of course she'll be. We'll be together again. After so long... I hope she can find it in her heart to forgive me for what I did. What Jackson made me do.

  The big man stares at her stupidly. "Keep looking. We'll need all the fuel we can get." Glowstick in hand, he heads across the sublevel in a primitive trot.

  Gradually, the light recedes with him until Julia and I are in shadow, then total darkness. I can't see her at all now, but I know she can see me. It's her gift.

  "What do you see?" I break the silence.

  "Do you really want to know?" Her breath catches slightly.

  "Tell me. Why have you been avoiding me?"

  "I see the spirit inside you. It wants to destroy us."

  "Not us." I shake my head. "Only them."

  "It will destroy you, Milton. It's already begun," she gasps. "Can't you tell? What it's doing to your mind?"

  "You can't see inside my head."

  "I don't have to. I know you want to kill Samson."

  Jackson, she means. That's no secret.

  "He deserves to die!" Tears sting my eyes. "It's all his fault!"

  Silence.

  "Milton..." Her voice is quiet and gentle, just like Julia's in the middle of the night. "Milton, you can fight this. You're strong. But you have to let go of the past."

  What is she talking about?

  "Spirit of the earth—"

  Something stirs within me. My heart pounds double-time, every nerve in my body instantly set ablaze. I gasp for air and pitch forward blindly.

  "Spirit of the earth—"

  Take her!

  The voice rushes through my mind, and with it comes a flood of memories: Julia's bare skin against my own as we kissed, tumbling over each other in the heat of passion, moaning with pleasure, hot sweat dribbling down our backs, her eyes, her smile, her gasps of delight—

  "Spirit of the earth, leave him now!"

  "NO!" I lunge forward with both hands and close my fingers around her throat.

  "I saved you once," she struggles for her voice, fighting against my grip. "Let me save you again."

  I shake my head. Tears streak my cheeks. I squeeze with all my strength.

  "You can't."

  8 Luther

  Ten Months after All-Clear

  The spirit inside him is taking root. Daiyna believes she may be able to rid him of it with the help of the spirits who speak to her, but she's told me he must be willing. He must want her to help him. Samson believes Milton is nothing more than a coward, that he saw the daemons attack and ran for his life. He blames Milton for their deaths.

  Do I? How will I react to seeing the remains of my brothers scattered across the caves? With his superhuman speed, Milton could have saved them all. He could have put an end to the daemons.

  It was our hope that he would. But when given the chance, he didn't. What does that mean? Is he a threat to us?

  When I look into his eyes, I see the same high-spirited, strong-willed young man I met when Daiyna first led him into the caves. He carried a secret that haunted him, but there was also an unaffected innocence about him. He had yet to witness the unspeakable horrors of this new earth, and he seemed able to function completely without fear. He was confident, perhaps arrogant—that hasn't changed since his coma. But there's something else now when I meet his gaze.

  It's like looking into the
eyes of a wild animal.

  "Do you think there will be any left?" Shechara asks.

  I turn back to her and our project: a small commuter vehicle with a gas tank. I can't see a thing in the darkness that has descended upon us in Milton's absence, but I face her voice.

  "Gasoline?"

  "When we go back, I mean," she murmurs. "Any survivors."

  "I hope so." I pray so. I take a deep breath, recalling how she and Ali were enjoying the early stages of a mutual affection. He's obviously on her mind, and I wish there was more I could say to keep her from losing heart. "We must have faith."

  Even as I say these words, I feel hollow inside. Despair lurks close by.

  "Here he comes."

  I turn around to see the bobbing green light. That didn't take long. Samson will know how to remove the gasoline from the tanks of these two vehicles, and soon we'll be on our way.

  "He's alone," Shechara says.

  "What?"

  She can't be right. Samson would 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 gets to his feet, rifle in one hand and Stinger in the other. Brow furrowed, he steps to my side. He doesn't relinquish either weapon.

  "You mind?" The man in the beret gestures mildly toward the rifle at my feet. He doesn't appear to notice my brother's formidable nature. "Set them down, please." He sounds like he's speaking to a child. "Right there."

  "I don't think so." Samson shakes his head. "Not until I see some proof that we're outnumbered, like you say."

  Another broad smile stretches the man's thin lips along with his narrow mustache. "Seeing is believing, eh?" He chuckles. "That can be arranged. But I must say, I'm a little disappointed. Could it be that you'd prefer things...the hard way?" He raises his voice with a sudden edge to it, and the vehicle's other doors fly open. Seven armed men in camouflage and O2 masks land on the concrete with a cacophony of hard-soled boots. Across the garage at the top of the ramp, the same scene unfolds at the other armored vehicle, perfectly synchronized.

  Samson stands rigidly, eyeing the short-barreled automatic rifles trained on him. I know he must be weighing his chances. That's the kind of man he is. I can only pray that he gives in to reason.

  "Take 'em." He drops his gaze, defeated, as two soldiers relieve him of his
weapons. One stoops to retrieve mine.

  I relax, realizing only then that I've been holding my breath. I must stay calm. Already, I can feel my claws begin to flex outward.

  "That wasn't so bad, now was it?" The leader chuckles again. "So that leaves three more of you, right? One male, two females. Should I send my men after them, or do you think they'll follow your fine example?" He eyes me squarely.

  I look across the garage. Already, the seven men from the other vehicle have spread out with weapons at the ready. Where's Daiyna? Milton could disarm these men before they even catch sight of him. But what is his state of mind right now?

  Shechara rises to her full height half-way across the garage, between two abandoned automobiles. An audible murmur sweeps through the soldiers. She raises her rifle in one hand and keeps her other hand where they can see it. Their murmurs become louder, more suggestive, as she moves to join us.

  "You'll have to pardon my men," says the leader. "We've been without the...benefits of female companionship for some time now. They're just doing what comes naturally, I'm afraid." His beady eyes rove up and down her body as she approaches. "Why thank you, darling," he says with a wink as she hands over her weapon.

  She keeps her gaze set straight ahead, her face an expressionless mask as she steps between Samson and me. From the corner of my eye, I see her tremble briefly before regaining her composure. A shiver of fear? Disgust, more likely.

  "So, two more then. A man and woman. Didn't seem like things were going too well for them. He might've had her by the throat when we pulled up." He chuckles at my expression. "Like I said, we've been watching you ever since you arrived. Cameras all over the place. But here's the weird thing: soon as we pull up, those two disappeared. Just like that, they're off the grid. Vanished. Poof!" He takes a step forward, his eyes fixed on me, his pistol cradled against the side of his O2 mask. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, now would you?"

  Milton could have carried her away, using his speed to avoid detection. But why would he have had her by the throat?

  "I don't know about you, but that sure seems like something that should be shared amongst God's children." He tilts his head, squinting an eye up at me. "Some kind of invisibility cloak or some such? Yeah? Wouldn't that be the ticket? Sneak up on those mutos out there and wipe 'em out, once and for all!" He laughs. Then his features abruptly go slack. "But you don't know what the hell I'm talking about."