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

by Milo James Fowler

  If you're really not one of them, you'll come with me, I think at him.

  He looks at me and smiles warmly. It's becoming natural for you to communicate this way.

  No, it's not. I just wanted to get his attention.

  He laughs quietly, nodding to himself. Then he sends the assault rifle skidding across the floor in my direction and jumps to his feet. Lead on, Enforcer Chen.

  I shoulder the second rifle by its strap and lower my weapon's muzzle by a few degrees. "After you. We'll take the stairs."

  His eyes widen involuntarily. "Thirty flights?"

  "That's right." The last thing I want is to be stuck in an elevator with you.

  "You think they'll start hitting civilian targets next."

  Honestly? I don't know what to think. "Best to expect the worst."

  He regards me out of the corner of his eye as he heads toward the stairwell, a few meters beyond the bank of six elevators. "Is that an enforcer credo?"

  Unofficially. I nod for him to pick up the pace, and then I follow a couple meters behind. As we pass the last elevator, its doors open without warning. I swing the muzzle of my second rifle to cover the interior.

  An elderly citizen in a floral print dress cries out, covering her mouth, and staggers back against the support rail inside.

  I drop the rifle to dangle by its strap and hold out a hand to calm her down. "Please return to your cube, citizen. It's not safe outside right now."

  "Is he one of them?" She stares at Erik and the way my rifle is trained on his back. "A terrorist?"

  Are you? I think at him.

  He folds his arms and leans against the wall, shaking his head irritably. Everything else I told you was true, wasn't it?

  "Why aren't you taking him out of the building?" the woman demands, scowling. "We don't want his kind here!"

  Erik leans toward her and bugs out his eyes. "Oh, but we're already everywhere. We're your service providers. Your caretakers. Your custodians. You see us every day, but you don't give us a second thought!"

  She freezes up, her mouth gaping like an extinct fish out of water. I step toward the elevator and press the up arrow. The doors close on her startled expression.

  "Was that fun for you? Messing with someone's grandmother?" Probably on her way out for breakfast.

  "My audience is limited. Seriously, where is everybody?" His voice echoes in the stairwell as he opens the door and starts climbing.

  "In their cubes like good citizens, obeying the public service announcement." I let the door slide shut behind me and follow him, settling into a climbing rhythm that will carry me up the thirty flights without pulverizing my quadriceps. Easy does it.

  "Zombies," he mutters. "Every one of them cooped up inside their little units, plugged into VR while the world falls apart outside."

  "Careful there. You might start sounding like a misanthrope." I narrow my gaze at his boots as they mount one step after another. "Any reason why you're not jumping up these flights?"

  He glances over his shoulder at me. "Wouldn't want to show off..."

  "If it's true that you're not a dust freak, then what I saw last night was natural talent. Right?"

  He shrugs. Doesn't slow his pace.

  "Seems to me you're wasting time. You could be up on the roof in a minute flat. Find out if the security clones' aerocar is there, try to get it started." I pause. "Get away from the law enforcer determined to take you in."

  "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

  "One flight. Go on, show me what you've got."

  "Now I'm feeling like a circus freak." He shakes his head. "Maybe I'm not amped enough for it to work."

  "So your jumping ability requires adrenaline as fuel?" Interesting.

  Another shrug. "Not sure how it works exactly. Only that it does, when I need it to."

  "And you don't right now?"

  "Why would I want to miss out on such stimulating conversation, Enforcer Chen?"

  I duck my head to hide the involuntary twitch of a smile. This guy sure is a fan of idle banter. Not amusing at all. "What you said before, about knowing me before either one of us was born…"

  "Weird, right?"

  More like impossible.

  "It'll come back to you, eventually. All of your memories will." Another glance back. "As long as you don't get those augments fixed. The longer you go without them, the stronger your telepathic abilities will become, and the clearer your past will be. Trust me on that. I've been there." He curses quietly. "You would not believe our story."

  He means our shared history. Where we came from.

  The North American Sectors…

  My boot soles squeak to a halt. That can't be right.

  "Told you it was unbelievable," he says, continuing upward.

  I must have collected that tidbit from his subconscious mind. The North American Sectors—that's where we're from? It makes no sense.

  "Twenty years ago, when we were born—" I frown, picking up my pace to keep up with him. "That was shortly after All-Clear. The bunkers opened, and nobody came out. They all died underground."

  "The official story." He smirks over his shoulder. "The truth? Hundreds survived."

  Ridiculous. "Without a protective biodome? I'm sure they survived for years and years."

  "People are still alive over there. Survivors from the bunkers. Somehow, they've managed to scratch out a living—like one of those post-apocalyptic VR games, but for real."

  "How can you possibly know that?" Anything outside of Eurasia is a forbidden zone. No citizen is allowed out of the Domes except those few in the military. Brave men and women who raid ruins across the globe and send back usable goods and materials.

  He stops. Stands still for a moment before pivoting halfway around to face me. He's not smirking or flirting. His expression is dead serious. "Would you believe I've met some of them?"

  "Survivors." My tone is flat. Incredulous. As if I haven't heard enough insanity from him already. "Don't tell me you've been outside the Domes."

  He shakes his head, almost smiling. "They're here. In Dome 1."

  This is too much. Either he's full of it, or my entire world is based on lies. I have every reason to believe the former and no reason at all to ponder the latter.

  My life is orderly. Predictable. Maybe a little too much, but that's debatable. Being a law enforcer is important, and I'm proud of what I do. Every night, I help to make Dome 1 a safer place. My corner of it, anyway. During the day, I enjoy the quiet time in my cube. Resting, listening to music, maybe delving into some VR every now and then—swimming through pristine oceans as a dolphin, or soaring through blue skies as an eagle. The most popular avatars are always extinct creatures that died out decades ago. There's no harm in it. I'm not a zombie, plugged in all day long. Balance is key to a healthy life, and I've always sought to keep mine in order: work, rest, and play.

  But then Erik shows up and disrupts everything. Turns my world upside-down. The Hawthorne Tower gets hit with a massive EMP, and terrorists are running loose outside my cube complex. And to top it all off, without warning, I'm apparently a telepath.

  But it gets worse. According to this guy, the world itself is nothing like what I've been told. There are survivors living outside Eurasia's walls, and some of them have managed to sneak inside.

  I don't believe it. I can't.

  "Why not?"

  "Stay out of my head." I point a gloved index finger at him with one hand; with the other, I tap the assault rifle dangling from my left shoulder. "And keep moving."

  No more talking.

  He honors my request for the next few flights. When we reach the twentieth floor—my floor—he hesitates at the door to the hallway.

  "In case the aerocar is keyed to their proximity…" He raises an eyebrow at me.

  We're not even sure there is a vehicle on the roof. "You want to drag a clone along? You'll be outnumbered."

  He's not concerned about himself. He wants me to be safe. After seeing th
e violence outside, he's having second thoughts about immobilizing those security clones.

  I got all that from a cursory telepathic sweep. Damn. It is getting easier.

  "We'll make sure it takes orders from only you," he says, stepping toward the door. It slides open, sensing his presence. The hallway beyond is dim in comparison to the glaring LEDs in the stairwell.

  The two clones lie right where he left them, outside my door.

  "Fine." I hold the rifles still against my thighs. "After you."

  Reaching the first security clone, he drops to one knee and fishes into his jacket pocket. What else does he have in there? I should have frisked him as soon as I had the upper hand—both weapons. I should've had him empty his pockets, at least.

  I must be slipping. Granted, there have been a few distractions, but I'm a trained professional. Better than this.

  "What are you doing?" I demand, aiming a rifle at his back.

  "Easy there." He raises his old phone. "Just running a diagnostic."

  "Explain."

  He nods toward the disc he planted on the clone's chest plate. "The shock I gave it should have canceled all incoming signals and prior directives. If so, I should be able to give it new marching orders: obey and protect Enforcer Sera Chen." He winks at me. "Best to keep it simple."

  "You're not dealing with a robot."

  "Believe me, I know. A robot would be so much easier." His thumbs swipe across the screen of his antiquated device, flicking through various images displaying graphical and numerical data. Then he starts typing. "This will work. Just promise me you won't tell it to crush my skull or anything."

  I shake my head. He has a bizarre sense of humor. "I plan to bring you to HQ intact, Mr. Paine."

  Saying his surname almost elicits a smirk. He really is a pain.

  "That should do it." He stands up and backs away from the clone. "Give it an order."

  "What about the other one?"

  "Well, I wouldn't want to be that outnumbered."

  "On your feet," I tell the clone, and it stands upright immediately, facing me with its black face shield. Not even a glance at its identical partner lying motionless on the floor. "Did you arrive by aerocar?"

  "Yes, Enforcer Chen," it says, its voice somehow different from before.

  "Lead us to the roof."

  Unarmed, it sets off for the stairwell at an even stride. I nod for Erik to follow and he does, seeming to find the whole situation amusing. He's the only one.

  We take the stairwell up ten more flights to the roof access door. There the security clone pauses, half-turning to look past Erik.

  "What is it?" My voice echoes down the switchback of stairs and landings below us.

  "There is gunfire in the streets, Enforcer Chen," the clone says. "The roof may not be a safe zone. I would be better equipped to protect you if I were armed."

  "Can you pilot an aerocar?"

  "Yes." It nods.

  "Your primary directive is to fly us to police headquarters. Leave everything else to me." The last thing I want is to be sequestered someplace safe with the other members of the Twenty. Until I see this clone follow my orders, I'm not giving it anything it can threaten me with—for my own good, of course.

  I'll decide what's good for me. Right now, it's taking a potential terrorist to HQ and finding out what the hell is going on in my city.

  The door to the roof slides open as the clone approaches. Outside, the sun is shining. A beautiful day in Dome 1. Nearby domescrapers loom, their mirrored glass reflecting the mid-morning light. Healthy trees in planters line the pathway from the door to the landing pad. The grass fields surrounding us, along with the jogging track, lie vacant.

  So much beauty up here, but so few take advantage of it—even on days when citizens aren't advised to remain inside their cubes. When was the last time I went for a run? I'm ashamed to admit I'm more likely to jog in place while plugged into VR, exploring some adrenalin-laced game environment.

  The pilot door to the aerocar rises automatically as the security clone steps within range. With a swipe of its white gauntlet, the door to the passenger compartment rises as well. This isn't your standard law enforcement vehicle, the type Drasko flies around the city every night. This is a luxury model straight from the Chancellor's private fleet.

  "Very nice." Erik grins as he climbs aboard and takes his seat. The spotless white faux-leather molds to his body, providing exceptional comfort. "Only the best for our Lady Persephone."

  The clone is already at the controls as the cockpit door lowers automatically into place. Both of its hands move expertly, running through the pre-flight sequence and activating the electromagnetic coils. A low hum courses through the padded inner hull as the anti-gravity system prepares to take us skyward.

  I drop into the seat across from Erik and rest the two rifles on my knees. Both muzzles are aimed in his general vicinity.

  He frowns at them. "What? You think I'm going to jump from a flying vehicle?"

  "I've seen you do crazier things."

  He leans forward as our door drifts shut. "I'm sticking with you, Sera. Of my own free will. I want you to remember that."

  Implying that if he wanted to escape, he could have done so long before now. "You're a model citizen."

  "I try." He leans back with his hands behind his head. Fingers interlocked. Big dumb smile.

  "We are ready, Enforcer Chen," the clone says.

  "Take us out." I keep an eye on the street below as we soar off the side of the cube complex and make our ascent. All other air traffic has been grounded. If I'm concerned that a terrorist may target us, it's because we're the only target in the sky right now.

  Erik watches the streets as well, leaning over to press his forehead against the pane of plastiglass. The sun washes his face in golden hues, filtered through the dome's blue-tinted plexicon. He closes his eyes for a moment, basking in the warmth. I'm instantly reminded of the boy he was—

  Do I really plan to lock him up?

  I have to. It's my job. And besides, it's not like he'll be incarcerated for long. Once he explains himself to an interrogator, he might get out early with some requisite community service. Or he'll be charged with resisting arrest and stalking a law enforcer, entering said enforcer's domicile without permission, incapacitating two of the Chancellor's security personnel, possessing dangerous tech including an EMP grenade…

  On second thought, that's enough to put him away for a very long time. Particularly now, with the attack on Hawthorne Tower and whatever insanity is taking place on the streets of Dome 1. Eurasia has always held a zero-tolerance policy towards insurgency. Any sort of rebellion will be crushed, and those even remotely connected to the discord will be punished severely.

  Erik picked a very bad time to find me.

  "So, I'll probably miss the banquet," he echoes my thoughts. Listening in, most likely. There should be a law against that, too.

  "It could be indefinitely postponed."

  "One can hope."

  "How many others have you found?" I hold his gaze. "Of the Twenty."

  He abandons the view below and faces me. "I know where they are. The government did a standup job of separating us—especially those sharing DNA. Couldn't have us reproducing. We'd end up with inbred monstrosities. So they placed us with various families in different castes in order to keep us apart. And once we received our neural implants, they made us forget that we had certain...abilities."

  "Did the Governors know? Did the headmaster—our teachers?"

  He shakes his head. "We were smart enough to hide what we could do from them. We made a game of it, keeping our abilities secret whenever our teachers were looking. But when their backs were turned…" He smirks at a particular memory. "Pretty sure we drove them nuts."

  "Secret," I echo. "Like that rooftop show you put on last night?"

  "Things are different now. Dust addicts can do everything I can—for a limited time. The more prevalent dust usage becomes, the easi
er it will be for us to use our abilities in public."

  "Where does it come from?"

  "Dust? I think you already know."

  The North American Sectors? "But how does it get inside Eurasia?"

  He shrugs. "Same way anything illicit enters a highly guarded, civilized society—or totalitarian regime. Smugglers."

  "They would have to be in the military." No one else is allowed to work on those freighters or gain entry into Dome 10 from the sea. "Or criminals posing as military personnel."

  He gives me a wink. "Now you're catching on."

  "The survivors you mentioned—that's how they're getting into Eurasia."

  "Are you sure you're not an interrogator? You might want to ask for a promotion, Enforcer Chen."

  I shake my head and look out the window. "Still doesn't explain how you know all of this. Unless you're some type of subversive yourself."

  "Oh, I am all types of subversive." He follows my gaze to the vacant street below. Quiet, with no one in sight. Local law enforcement must be elsewhere, bringing peace to Dome 1. "Unless I'm mistaken, that's a maglev entrance."

  I nod absently. "No trains are running." Due to the current lockdown.

  "Perfect."

  He stands up and hits the emergency release. The door to the passenger compartment shudders as it rises, buffeted by the wind.

  "What the hell are you doing?" I point a rifle at his head. "Return to your seat, citizen!"

  With one arm, he braces himself against the upper lip of the doorframe. His hair thrashes wildly as he leans out.

  "I can't go to jail, Sera," he shouts. "I have too much work to do."

  "Shut the door!" I yell at the clone.

  It remains focused on piloting the craft. "I am unable to override an emergency—"

  "There's no way you'll survive this jump, Erik. I don't care how talented you are!"

  Another shrug and dashing smile. "You wanted me to show you."

  "I saw enough last night! Please, return to your seat, or…" My aim wavers.

  "You'll shoot me? Then we'll be the Nineteen. Nobody wants that!" He gives me a crisp salute. "See you around, Enforcer Chen."

  He falls sideways out the open doorway like he's the class clown, toppling into a swimming pool at a rowdy party. I lunge forward, the rifles swinging from my shoulders, the wind blasting against my face as I peer out after him. We're 400 meters up in the air with nothing but plasteel and plasticon below, streets and sidewalks and buildings with mirrored glass reflecting his fall. He doesn't wave his arms or flounder. He looks very composed as he plummets to his death.