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

by Milo James Fowler

  The others that Tucker has encountered could be agitated because he caught them unaware. Likely, due to his special mutation and penchant for appearing without warning. Or are they trigger-happy UW troops, uncertain of their orders? I doubt they were prepped to meet an invisible man.

  What else do you see? I ask the little ones, my heart surging now as heavy boots tread along the steel catwalk outside my room.

  Confusion. They do not know who we are.

  I frown at that. Luther would remember Tucker—

  The bolt on the door slides back. It is not Jamison or Willard who enters, but Perch with his bolt cutters in hand and a hungry look on his face.

  “Wakey wakey.” He chuckles.

  I shut my eyes, struggling to keep the link open with the little ones for as long as possible before the torture begins anew. I have to know they are safe.

  Through the metaphysical conduit, I hear a sudden noise, one that brings the rumbles of conversation to a halt.

  A gunshot.

  My eyes widen.

  Perch grins down at me, liking the reaction. He licks his teeth.

  7 Bishop

  18 months after All-Clear

  Wedged between Sinclair and Harris in the backseat of the solar jeep, I bounce along with the rest of the team as Morley takes us across the rough terrain, tearing through the barren Wastes as fast as the vehicle can manage. No doubt sending up a plume of dust in our wake visible to any of the hostiles we hope to outrun on our course due east.

  Destination: Eden. Some kind of subterranean city, by the sound of it. Tough to imagine.

  Visually, I remain closed off from my surroundings, thanks to the malfunctioning HUD in my helmet. But I can hear well enough, and Granger was able to make contact with Captain Mutegi aboard the Argonaus. The entire team was given access to further instructions originally intended for my eyes only.

  “I don’t like the idea of you going in blind,” Mutegi said, the irony of his words lost on no one. “The more you all know, the better.”

  We’re not here just to make contact with the last bastion of survivors from D-Day. We’ve also been tasked with convincing these survivors—led by an engineer by the name of Arthur Willard—to give up their newborn children for testing. If Harris and Sinclair find them to be healthy, contaminant-free specimens of humankind, Mutegi will send in a second chopper from the fleet. Not a moment beforehand.

  I don’t blame him, considering what happened to the first one.

  “Still no sign of ’em,” Granger’s voice comes through on comms, and the others in the jeep murmur affirmatively, accustomed to his periodic updates even as they each keep their own watch. But I appreciate it, as Granger has to see for the both of us now.

  We managed to scavenge an impressive arsenal from the dead hostiles: two high-powered rifles with long-range infrared scopes in addition to three military-issued daggers. All with the same UW insignia, plain to see.

  We agreed they probably weren’t from Eden.

  “That’s what we’d look like without our suits,” Morley said as we piled into the solar-powered jeep. He hadn’t been able to shift his gaze from the mutilated corpses we were leaving behind.

  “So it would appear,” Harris said, deep in thought.

  “They were ours,” Morley persisted. “UW troops.”

  “Not for a long while, by the looks of ’em.” Granger cursed. “The bastards.”

  “We can’t just leave them here like this.” Morley stood beside the jeep, reluctant to take his place behind the wheel.

  There is no spite in my tone, only a grim acceptance of the bizarre new reality we face, when I say, “What do you suggest we do? Bury them? Say a few words?”

  “It’s the least we could do,” Morley said. “After all they’ve suffered.”

  “Do not allow your emotions to interfere with what must be done,” Sinclair said, but even she seemed to have softened a few of her sharp edges. “We must leave this place before other hostiles return. By all appearances, these men have not been men for some time. The others like them may be out of their minds, for all we know. Lunatic cannibals who will not think twice about gunning us down and feeding on us—despite whatever soldier’s brotherhood you think you share with them.”

  Morley cursed. “Leaving them to rot in the sun? It isn’t right.”

  “Not much about this mission is,” I said. “But we’ll see it through. And then we’ll go home to our loved ones.” I paused. “So get your ass behind the wheel, soldier, and drive us the hell out of here.”

  Morley obeyed orders without grumbling, but his reckless driving ever since has made it clear that he’s pissed off. I don’t mind the excessive speeds. As long as the hot-headed weapons officer keeps both hands on the wheel, he can’t threaten to shoot anybody again. But as Morley takes us sailing through the air over a dusty rise only to crash onto all four tires, testing the limits of the suspension, I realize the man could easily kill us all if he isn’t careful.

  I can understand Morley’s sentiments. Those UW troops were sent to a diseased continent. Nuclear waste, a land ravaged by warfare—that’s what they were told to expect. They would have been prepared for pockets of radiation and bioweapon residue; they would have avoided confined spaces, stayed out in the open—even as their genetic makeup was altered by whatever mutagens remained trapped in the dust at their feet.

  Somehow, the soldiers had been transformed into those fanged, oozing creatures that Harris inspected firsthand. No way they could have known what they were in for.

  Just like us. I crack open one eye to see the flashing OFFLINE message stating the obvious inside my helmet. No change.

  “To think...Children,” Harris breaks from his reverie as Morley takes us over a low outcropping of rock that sends the right side of the jeep lurching upward. “I had nearly given up hope!”

  “Yeah. Kind of resigned myself to us humans dying out as a species, y’know?” Granger chuckles drily. “Hey, it happened to the dinosaurs. They had their time, and you don’t see many of them running around loose anymore.”

  “Or any member of the animal kingdom, for that matter,” Sinclair offers. Then she pauses. “But we don’t know if this Arthur Willard fellow can be trusted.”

  “Don’t get our hopes up, right?” Granger says. “That should be your motto. But c’mon, why would this guy lie to the UW?”

  “Would you choose to live on this continent—or under it, as the case appears to be—if you knew Eurasia was waiting across the Pacific?” she counters.

  “What are you saying? You think he just wants out? There aren’t really any kids? There’s no way the UW would fall for something like that.”

  “We’re here, aren’t we?” Morley speaks up for the first time since he started driving.

  “There must be some credence to his claims, some proof of life. Otherwise, our government would not take him seriously,” Sinclair allows. “But to have dozens of incubation chambers operational and just as many fetuses viable in a twenty-year-old fallout bunker? Highly unlikely.”

  “So what, then? He’s stacking the deck in his favor?” Granger sniffs. “He’s got maybe a couple babies, if that?”

  “Even two would be more than we’d ever thought possible,” Harris murmurs. “One male, one female—”

  “Adam and Eve all over again,” Morley interrupts.

  “The UW would be willing to send us through anything, hell or high water, in order to retrieve them. Our exalted government officials have grown desperate as of late.”

  “What do you mean, Doc?” Granger says. “You know something we don’t?”

  I’m sure he does. In recent years, the politicians and medical community have been working hand in glove, and lately it seems the genetic engineering firms are getting in on the same action—whatever it is—in a big way.

  “I am not at liberty to say. But I can tell you this much: the United World government has not resigned itself to dying out as a species. Not by a long s
hot.”

  Now it’s clear why the good doctor was assigned to this mission. More than a standard-issue medic, Harris is someone the UW governors can trust to see their interests carried through, fully to term.

  “So you could say we’re their last hope. They’ve got a whole lot riding on what we’re doing here.”

  “Don’t let it go to your head, Granger,” I warn. “We’re expendable. Easily replaceable. Don’t forget that.”

  Harris grunts uncomfortably in response. “Not the best way to keep up morale, Sergeant.”

  “He’s right,” Morley says. I can imagine him tightening his grip on the wheel. Wringing it. “If they cared about us at all, they’d send in air support. Not cut us loose. But it’s what they do. Same as they did to those poor souls we found. Left them here to rot.”

  “We’re on our own,” I reiterate. “Period. We shouldn’t expect any help from Mutegi and the fleet. But if we do our job right—make it to Eden and bring back what they want us to—then we’ll be welcomed as heroes. More importantly, we’ll be allowed to go home. I don’t know about the rest of you, but that’s all I want.”

  Granger chuckles. “You heard the man, Doc. Let’s git ‘er done. Hoo-rah!”

  No one echoes his spirited cry. Sinclair releases a petulant sigh, of course.

  Quiet for a few moments, Harris gathers his thoughts. “What we’re doing here is of the utmost importance. The future of our species may very well depend on it. You do realize the weight of the matter, Sergeant.”

  “The sergeant sees himself as our escort, not as the savior of humankind,” Sinclair interjects.

  “You’re inside my head now?” Sitting between the two of them is getting to be a bit much. “We’ve got a job to do—”

  “But that’s all it is to you: a mission,” Harris says. “I don’t get the feeling you are fully invested in it, now that we know more of the details. Speaking for myself, I am completely awestruck by this turn of events. Meeting the remaining survivors on this continent would have been momentous enough, but to learn that these people actually have...children. It’s far beyond anything I could have imagined.”

  I nod, but the gesture goes unnoticed behind the black tinted polymer of my helmet. Rivulets of perspiration stream down my face.

  “Perhaps it is different for you,” Harris says. “Having children of your own. Being one of the last couples to conceive. How old are they now?”

  “Young.” Was the doctor given access to my personal file?

  “Of course. You are very fortunate.”

  I am. I’m out here in the fresh air. Meanwhile my wife, daughter, and son are distinguished guests of the Eurasian prison system.

  “We count our blessings,” I return with a helping of irony in my tone.

  Harris chuckles, trying unnecessarily to smooth things over between us. “As should we all, Sergeant. I know that more than anything, you wish to return safe and sound to your family when this mission is over. But I want to invite you to look at the bigger picture here—”

  “I get it, Doc.” I have to cut short the incessant patronizing. I’m still the team leader, despite my visual setback. “Our mission is important. What we’re doing here—meeting an enclave of survivors who are still able to reproduce. It’s going to change the world as we know it. None of that is lost on me.”

  “By no means did I intend any—” Harris sounds taken aback. A nice act.

  “But the tactics have changed,” I continue. “We’re up against armed hostiles, and we’re out in the middle of a foreign land, completely on our own. So forgive me if saving the world is no longer my top priority. I’m too busy planning how the hell we’re going to make it out of here alive.”

  Neither Harris nor Sinclair has a cute comeback to that. Only Granger chuckles in the silence.

  “Still no sign of ’em,” he announces, surveying our surroundings.

  “They’re out there,” Morley says under his breath. “I can feel it.”

  “Yeah?” Granger says. “More voodoo mumbo-jumbo?”

  “If they were anywhere in range, their life signs would be registering on our heads-up displays,” Sinclair says irritably.

  “Well, look who’s read the owner’s manual cover to cover,” Granger quips.

  “There was no cover. It was digital.”

  I smirk at that. The woman’s sense of humor is about as robust as a chemistry book. I have a hard time imagining what kind of family is waiting for her back home, if any. Are they also being held by the government to ensure her wholehearted commitment to orders? Somehow I doubt it. The UW must have found some other incentive to keep her on board for this suicide mission.

  During the remaining hours of daylight, Morley takes us as far as the solar-powered jeep will carry us, running well after sundown on reserve power. According to Granger, the headlights cut a wide swath of white out of the pitch black up to a hundred meters ahead of us. Plenty to see by. But eventually Morley starts to slow down. The power drain on the solar cells has reached substantial levels, and as the hours creep toward midnight, the jeep decelerates to a crawl, the headlights dimming, flickering, then going out completely.

  “Describe the terrain,” I order as Morley squeezes every drop of juice out of the batteries.

  “A whole lot of black,” Granger says.

  “There is a large outcropping of rock forty-five degrees to the southwest,” Sinclair says. “I suggest we find cover there for the night.”

  I nod, my face now visible—as are the faces of my team. My helmet tinting decided all of a sudden to clear automatically like everybody else’s. And the flashing OFFLINE message is gone, along with the blinding static. So finally, I can see again. Night means a welcome twenty-degree drop in my suit’s internal temperature. As far as my O2 is concerned, I can’t detect any change in the quality of my air; but rationing it remains a priority, right behind Don’t lose it in front of your team.

  “We’ll stop here.” I reach forward to tap Morley on the shoulder, but it’s more of a heavy slap in this unwieldy suit.

  “How’re you doing in there, Captain?” A frown of what appears to be genuine concern creases Granger’s brow. “Still got enough air?”

  I nod, pointing toward the rocks. “Everybody out. We’ll make camp there. Granger, you’ve got first watch.”

  “Thanks, Captain.” That look of concern is quickly replaced by one of sullen exhaustion.

  I clap him on the back as I stand, fighting the hazard suit for every centimeter of movement. “Better than a court-martial, you’ve got to agree.”

  Granger glances up with sudden recollection. He did disobey a direct order after our chopper crashed. “Yes, sir.”

  I half-smile. “Don’t plan on it being a solo mission. I’m staying up with you.” Can’t imagine sleeping here, anyway. “Four eyes are better than two.”

  Sinclair places a hand on my arm. “Do you think that’s wise, Sergeant?” she says. “Your life support system could fail at any moment. If you were asleep, immobile, you would consume far less oxygen than—”

  “I’m fine. My HUD is offline, that’s all. Everything else appears to be functioning normally. I’ll run out of O2 the same time as the rest of you.” I give her a wink. “Get some sleep. That’s an order. We’ve got another long stretch ahead of us tomorrow.”

  She turns away without another word, climbing out of the jeep to join Harris and Granger as they shuffle stiffly toward our campsite. Only Morley remains with the vehicle, popping the hood to take a good, long look at the solar batteries underneath.

  “How are they?” I drop down from the jeep’s rear, my boots landing with puffs of dust that rise like white mist in the moonlight. I can’t help but think back to the film I saw in school as a kid, that scene from the first lunar landing. One small step for man...

  “Should be good to go once they’re all charged up.”

  “How long should that take?” I approach his side.

  “As soon as the sun ris
es, they’ll start charging. And they’ll continue to do so while we’re en route.” He glances up at the moon. “A pity they’re outdated.”

  I frown. “When’s their expiration date?”

  “Not an issue. They’ll run fine unless they’re damaged. But if the jeep was this year’s model, we would be able to continue our journey under moonlight. The newer power cells are hypersensitive, able to capture all the energy they need to run a vehicle this size.”

  “Any way we could overhaul these batteries to do the same?” I gesture vaguely at the complicated apparatus under the hood.

  “I’m not your engineer.” Morley shrugs. “We would probably need to replace the solar panels as well. But if Granger had the right tools, perhaps.” He bares his teeth in a tight grin, but his features fall suddenly as a frame pops up on his HUD, flaring red. “Movement, Sergeant.”

  I don’t have to ask. The weapons officer is pointing the direction we came from. It can mean only one thing: we were followed.

  “How many?” I peer into the moonlit dark but can’t see a thing beyond the range of my unaugmented vision.

  “Two figures, four and a half kilometers away.”

  “They must’ve doubled back and gotten behind us somehow.” There would be others moving into position to surround us. “Granger, do you copy?”

  “Hear you loud and clear, Captain.” At the campsite, Granger, Harris, and Sinclair have formed a circle, facing outward with rifles at the ready, scanning the landscape on all sides. “Only the two of them so far, that I can see. On foot.”

  “Moving at a steady clip,” Harris says. “Straight for us.”

  I grip the handgun I took from Morley. “Find cover. No shooting until you hear otherwise from me.”

  “All due respect, Sergeant,” Morley says, “but with your HUD offline, I don’t think you—”