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

by Milo James Fowler

  “Hello, Cain.” In all her glory, Gaia stood on the dune and radiated an unearthly glow. “You have been blessed. Come, walk with me. I have much to tell you.”

  As if in a dream, I followed after her, learning with every step the way of things—the catechism I have taught to my people ever since.

  “They are on the move.” Victoria returns me to the present.

  I peer eastward for the telltale signs of the UW scouts’ advance—glints of moonlight in their face shields, dust stirred in their wake. But there is neither. I see only Markus and Vincent with the wounded soldier tossed over one shoulder, the man’s knee bound with healing salve, the rest of him stripped to his underclothes. They head west.

  “There,” she points, and I see them then, my far-sight zooming to focus in this shared vision. Four figures in environmental suits, each armed with either an assault rifle or a handgun, approach on foot. They left their jeep behind. It will be at least a kilometer before they reach the ground stained by their comrade’s blood.

  “Tell them to hurry.” Once Markus and Vincent use their gift of speed, the UW scouts will be left in the dust. “I’ll meet them outside.”

  I take hold of Victoria’s wrists and remove her hands from my face, breaking our link. I step out of the shared vision, returning to the here and now: sitting naked beside her in the massive king-sized bed. I watch her in the dark, my grasp on her arms lingering as my gaze drifts along her swollen abdomen. I almost stretch out a hand toward where my child ripens, waiting to be born.

  Victoria’s eyes remain closed, her lips moving silently as she bids the tribesmen to return home as fast as possible. I briefly consider having another go between the sheets before taking my leave. But I think better of it, getting up from the bed to gather my clothes and pull them on.

  Will she keep an eye on the young Lemuel, abandoned in the desert? Undoubtedly.

  I savor the thought of her watching him die.

  “No need to get dressed.” I half-turn as I reach for the wheel on the room’s door.

  Victoria’s eyelids open reluctantly, her gaze rising to focus on me as if I am an intruder on her thoughts. But then a seductive smile spreads across her lips as her hand drifts down her thigh. “I will be here waiting, my husband.”

  Lady Victoria’s appetites are as insatiable as my own. It will be a shame to end her, once my child greets the world.

  I throw open the door and let it clang shut behind me.

  The corridors of the ship are quiet, empty. Odd for this time of night. My people are usually wide awake, having taken their rest during the heat of the day. We are a nocturnal breed, and the lifestyle suits us well.

  We didn’t carry any of the hydration suits out of the bunker, the ones with face shields tinted to protect us from the sun. Traveling to the coast, we hid ourselves during daylight and made our long treks by night. The habit afforded relief from the dangerous rays of the sun, and it also spared us from goblyn raids. By and large, the creatures are a diurnal lot. They often attack in the early evenings, but by dead of night, when only a sliver of moon lights their path, they are nowhere to be seen.

  Some say that every night they crawl back into the hell-holes from which they sprung. I do not know what becomes of them under cloak of darkness.

  Gaia has yet to tell me.

  I find her waiting outside, forty meters beyond our compound with its fence of rusted sheet metal and barbed wire. She stands on the same dune where I found her earlier, when she summoned me from the gathering.

  “It is quiet tonight.” She reaches out an alabaster hand, long-fingered and slender. “Where are your people, my son?”

  I kneel in the shifting sand and take her hand, pressing its cool flesh to my brow. “They are otherwise occupied, Mother.”

  “Are they not your concern?”

  I have greater concerns now. I know she will be pleased. “We have one of the United World scouts. Two of my strongest warriors are bringing him here as we speak.”

  “Is that so?”

  I cannot read her expression. Does she already know what happens before it occurs? Of course she does. Gaia knows all things.

  “You will need every one of your warriors when the United World accepts your invitation to battle. You do not intend to fight their armies alone, I trust.” She withdraws her hand from my grasp and places it on the back of my head.

  “Once there is war, my people will rally to my side, as they have in many a battle against the goblyns.” For a moment, I recall Lemuel and the thirty-odd heads he has added to the compound wall, staked in plain sight to rot under the sun. Only his fighting skills will be missed.

  “You do not wish them to see the war instigated. You wish to spare them from this.” She speaks as if I am a misled child in need of correction. “Your concern is a noble one.”

  Is it? I do not know; I cannot figure out my motives right now. But as I take a moment, it becomes clear that I am acting out of self-interest. When war comes to our continent, I do not want the tribes and their battle-weary chieftains to know it was my doing. In case things go horribly awry—

  But that is fear rearing its ugly head. Not faith.

  “I trust you with all that I am. When the UW soldier arrives, I will do as you ask. When the sun rises, his body will be the first thing the crew of the Argonaus sees in the light of day.”

  She nods, caressing the back of my head with the tenderness of a doting mother. “You must draw them ashore. For it is only here, on your home soil, that you will be able to defeat them. They will never leave you alone, otherwise.” She inhales a deep breath of the cool sea breeze. “Imagine, my son: the coast cleared entirely of their ships.”

  I can imagine it. I want it more than anything.

  “Yes, Mother.” My voice is hoarse with emotion.

  Men approach, climbing the dune’s leeward side from the east, heading straight for the compound. I recognize them instantly and rise to stand as they approach, passing through the space where Gaia stood only a moment before.

  “Lord Cain!” Markus attempts to salute, nearly dropping the unconscious body of the UW scout in the process.

  “You made good time.” I narrow my gaze.

  “Gaia be praised,” Vincent says, saluting as well.

  “Drop him,” I order. They do so without question. “Round up a dozen more of our best warriors and go back for the other UW scouts. Leave now.”

  They nod and follow my orders without question, sprinting toward the compound with their Gaia-given speed, vanishing from my sight in an instant. I make sure they are gone before I grab hold of the unconscious soldier’s ankle and drag him through the sand toward shore. There I find two three-meter lengths of rebar, sharpened to cruel points at each end. I frown, wondering where they came from. But then I nod to myself.

  Gaia provides all that we ever need, does she not?

  “She’s thought of everything,” I muse, impaling the soldier through the chest.

  His eyes open wide as a ragged wheeze escapes his lungs. I lean toward him, watching the shock, rage, and confusion fade while his life slips away.

  Pounding the rebar through flesh and crunching bone, straight into the damp sand beneath, I mount the man’s body on the two iron bars. I cross them to form an X and drive the rebar deep into the earth to withstand the push and pull of the tides.

  Then I step back to survey my bloody handiwork.

  “Gaia be praised,” I breathe.

  Part III

  Rescue

  10 Margo

  18 months after All-Clear

  The Hummer rocks, lurching as it climbs another series of rock-strewn hills. I cling to the steering wheel, grateful for the automatic transmission. I wouldn’t want to stall while shifting between gears on such a steep grade. The collared mutant beside me groans and digs its sharp fingernails—claws, really—into the padded dashboard to counter the violent motion of the vehicle. The creature reeks like death warmed over, and constant waves of naus
ea swim through my insides.

  “Let’s hope we’re getting close.” I grimace and gun the accelerator. Rocks spit upward in the vehicle’s wake.

  The mutant doesn’t respond. I am fairly certain these creatures no longer comprehend human speech. But it does turn toward me at the sound of my voice and stare. The bulbous yellow eyes ooze the same fluid that drips from its other facial orifices—a gaping skull’s nose without any cartilage and a slack-jawed mouth, lips chapped beyond recognition, teeth sharpened to fangs—all the better for tearing into human carcasses. The fluid reeks worse than bile, and it has taken me more than a day to barely tolerate the foul stench in these close quarters.

  “I’ve got to be sure nothing happens to you while you’re out there, my fair lady,” Willard said before I left Eden. “I’d escort you myself…but you know how it is. I don’t make a habit of going topside.”

  We were sitting in Willard’s quarters, with Perch and Jamison reclining on the couches and the captain of Eden leaning against the mantle on the fireplace like a 19th-century gentleman. All he lacked was a pipe and smoking jacket—anything would have been an improvement over his blue camouflage.

  Unlike before, when we discussed the unborn children incubating in Eden’s lowest levels, I wasn’t their welcome guest this time. I was their prisoner, collared like one of the mutants and shackled hand and foot. Guards flanked me on either side.

  “She’s in no condition to travel,” Jamison argued with a scowl.

  He was probably right. After weeks of torture at Perch’s practiced hands, my appearance had deteriorated to what it was before, back when I’d been collared like one of Willard’s dogs. Long after it became clear that I was involved in Tucker’s absence, Perch continued to terrorize me. Even though there was no more information to be gained from the process, no new knowledge to extract from me, he’d enjoyed himself—committing unspeakable acts in that room.

  But unlike over a year ago, when I’d been a groveling, sniveling creature living at Willard’s beck and call, I was now able to stand tall before them—as tall as I could, considering the bruises and reset bones. I knew more than I would ever tell them. Before Willard’s men put the shock collar on me, I’d been in constant communication with the unborn female in Tucker’s care. I knew the two incubation pods had reached their destination and were now with their rightful parents. As for Tucker, his current whereabouts were unknown.

  That sound of gunfire I’d heard concerned me.

  “She’s tougher than she looks,” Perch said, giving my haggard features a glance. “Believe me.”

  If it had not been for the collar locked around my throat, I would have planted the thought in his mind that his genitals were on fire. I almost smiled at the thought of it.

  “She’ll be fine.” Willard looked at me with uncertainty in his eyes. “We’ll be in constant communication with you, thanks to Jamison’s new…” He snapped his fingers with a sudden mental lapse.

  “Relays,” Jamison said.

  “That’s right. Relays.” Willard’s eyes bulged with enthusiasm. “Up to now, we haven’t been able to send the dogs long-range. Their collars would lose connectivity, and the freaks would run off, thinking they were free.” He chuckled. “They had no idea about our little safety feature.”

  “Damned heads exploded!” Perch said with a snicker. “So don’t you get any ideas, little lady.”

  Imagining his genitals exploding instead helped me to maintain my composure.

  “You’re not stupid. Those mutos, on the other hand, have barely a brain between ’em.” Willard cleared his throat, smoothed his mustache—nervous ticks familiar to me. What did he have to be anxious about? “But that safety feature’s still in full effect.” He gestured at my steel collar, blinking with an array of remote-controlled features that included a camera to broadcast everything I saw as well as enough voltage to stop me in my tracks. It also had the added benefit of dampening my mind-reading and thought-planting abilities. “Your head will definitely burst if you go out of range without planting Jamison’s relays. And we wouldn’t want that to happen, now would we?”

  I frowned, vaguely curious. What were these relays they kept mentioning?

  Jamison spoke up, rising to retrieve what looked like a spear from behind the couch. “This is what we’re talking about. It’s basically an iron stake outfitted with the necessary equipment to receive our remote signal and carry it another five or ten kilometers, depending on weather conditions. Unfortunately, that’s as far as we can go for now. But you keep planting one of these at regular intervals along the way, and we’ll stay in range, no matter how far you travel.”

  “Which is where, exactly?” I almost didn’t recognize my own voice, it was so hoarse.

  Jamison deferred to Willard and set the relay down on the carpeted floor.

  “You’re going to meet our guests,” Willard said. “The UW team. They’ve had a…little trouble with their chopper, apparently, thanks to our wild muto friends out there. The five-man team is hoofing it the rest of the way in their hazard suits. The captain of the Argonaus is concerned they won’t have enough O2 to get them all the way here.” He paused. “They should be less than five hundred kilometers from Eden by now. Due southwest.”

  I nodded, silent for a moment. “So I’ll need a hundred of these relays to keep my head from exploding, is that it?”

  “Well now, she can count.” Perch smirked.

  “We’ve got them all packed up in the back of the Hummer you’ll be driving.” Jamison seemed eager to answer. “As long as you plant one every five kilometers or so, we’ll be able to keep in contact with you,” he repeated himself, meeting my gaze briefly before looking away.

  I faced Willard, my shackles clinking. “You want me to run a shuttle service.”

  His grin was tight, stretching his gaunt face. “You’ll bring them back here, and we’ll continue our negotiations with the United World government. We may have lost out on the chopper, but we haven’t lost our bargaining chips.”

  “The children,” I said.

  “We’ve got what they want. Soon as their people see it firsthand, we’ll have ’em right where we want ’em.”

  “But don’t even think about joining your sand freak friends once you’re out there,” Perch growled. “You deviate from the course we set for you, even half a klick, and that pretty little head of yours goes to pieces.”

  I did my best to ignore him. “Explain to me again why you’re sending one of your dogs on this little joyride? I doubt the UW team will like being greeted by such a thing.”

  The collar would require someone with a finger hovering over the muto’s voltage control to ensure the creature didn’t eat one of my limbs while I wasn’t looking.

  “If we could go with you, we would,” Jamison said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Perch grunted, shifting on the couch to expel some gas. A real charmer.

  “Jamison’s working on the suits we’ll need once we eventually make our exodus from Eden.” Willard turned toward him. “How’s that project coming along, by the way?”

  Jamison nodded. “I need more time to—”

  “There you have it.” Willard clapped his hands together and rubbed them quickly. “So we’re sending one of the dogs with you instead. But don’t worry. The thing is completely tame with Perch at the controls. He’ll be camped out in the control center and will make sure the dumb muto behaves itself. And if you run into any trouble out there with the wild mutos, we’ll sic this one on ’em. Get a little muto-on-muto action going.”

  “We could sell tickets.” Perch grinned. “I’m sure the boys would go for it. Haven’t seen us a good fight in—”

  “We’ll be watching the whole time, Margo,” Jamison interrupted. “Through your camera. You won’t be alone out there.”

  I nodded, understanding I had no choice in the matter—as long as I wanted to keep my head. “No special suit for me, then.”

  “You’re already a sand
freak.” Perch cursed. “What good would it do?”

  Jamison ignored him. “A standard-issue jumpsuit is the best we can offer. The windows in your vehicle are tinted, so you won’t need to wear the face shield while you’re driving. But be sure to put it on if you step outside during daylight.”

  “Don’t want the sun to mess up that gorgeous face of yours.” Perch guffawed.

  The jumpsuit they had for me was not impermeable to the demon dust that Willard was so afraid of, a toxic, mutagen-carrying agent that turned anyone who breathed the stuff into a sand freak—his pet term for anyone with superhuman abilities. So far, none of the other men in Eden had displayed mutations like my telepathy or Tucker’s invisibility, and Willard planned to keep it that way. Jamison’s current project was to create environmental suits to safeguard against all external air and dust, with enough O2 to see the men of Eden out of their sealed, underground refuge and up to the surface. A chopper would then take them off this diseased continent and into the domed, sterile world of Eurasia on the Mediterranean Sea, the last bastion for all-natural humankind.

  Willard’s dream come true.

  “No suit for the muto, obviously.” Willard chuckled. “Even God himself wouldn’t be able to reverse what’s been done to that thing.”

  Sitting now in the Hummer with the creature beside me, I glance at it intermittently to find the protruding eyes either staring straight ahead or focused on me, the drooling fangs gaping. Willard was probably right. There is no hope for these mutants. They carry no memory of being human. All they know are animal urges and the primal need to feed.

  “You still there?” I dip my chin toward the mic on my collar.

  “Another kilometer until your next relay point. We hear you fine.” Jamison sounds exhausted. He’s been in the Eden control center from the moment I drove out through the tunnel, and he’s been on watch ever since, unwilling to leave Perch in charge. For now, Jamison keeps tabs on me while Perch supervises the mutant riding shotgun. “Everything all right?”