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

by Milo James Fowler

"We don't know for sure it was the Integrity," Justus allows. "Could've been the mutants."

  "They never attacked us that way before," Shechara argues.

  "They were never that hungry before," I suggest, remembering what the spirits told me.

  What would they have to say about our current debate? They can't speak to me or Bishop inside human-made structures, so I excuse myself and step outside. I wait until I'm halfway down the silent street before I stop and stare up at the stars, shining like diamonds scattered across black velvet. The cold night air chills my face and lungs as I take a deep breath.

  It's weird to see Luther and Samson at odds. Not sure why their dynamic has changed. Maybe being married has made Samson and Shechara want to play it safe. They're each protecting their new spouse.

  But I can't disagree with the points they've made. I don't share Luther's overweening urgency to establish a working relationship with the UW. As far as I'm concerned, they're the enemy. We should focus on surviving and making a life for ourselves here, not trying to hitch a boat ride across the ocean.

  "You'll have to travel east," the Julia-spirit says, appearing as I hoped she would.

  "For once, we agree on something." The Jackson-spirit appears as well, uninvited and unwelcome.

  They stand beside me, one on either side. Like an angel and a demon on my shoulders.

  "Why?" I demand.

  Travel east? Where to? This is not even remotely related to Luther and Samson's debate.

  "That's where he's been stationed," Julia says. "Captain Mutegi. The Argonaus is acting as lead ship for the freighter convoy loading all scavenged goods, materials, vehicles, and machines from the northeastern Sectors."

  I frown at that. "The UW is…"

  "Pillaging this land of anything useful in a very methodical manner," Jackson reports. "Freighters are on their way to your coast as well, and the Integrity will be supplying the soldiers and firepower when they start sending their raiders inland."

  "What the hell for? Don't they already have everything they need?"

  Julia tilts her head to one side. "They consider the Sectors, along with everything their factories ever produced, to belong to the United World. And they have no desire to aid infected individuals in their survival."

  "They want to starve us to death." I can't believe this. I mean, I believe it—the UW Governors are apparently inhuman. But after all we've been through, to have to deal with this now? "So you both want us to find Mutegi. Why?"

  Julia smiles at me. "You'll see."

  "Doesn't make sense that you'd be interested in our survival." I squint at Jackson.

  He laughs with a shrug. "Who said you're going to survive?"

  Best to ignore him. "How far east?" I ask Julia.

  "All the way to the coast. Bring that radio you found. You'll need it to contact Captain Mutegi once you arrive."

  I look at our jeeps, each parked at an angle on the hill. Factoring in the terrain, the max speeds running completely on solar batteries, and the distance from the west coast to the east... That's five thousand kilometers we'll have to cover, riding in vehicles that can travel at 50 kph for six to eight hours each day—barring no sandstorms or breakdowns.

  "A couple weeks," I murmur. "If we leave tomorrow."

  Julia nods. She's about to say more, but she's interrupted by Samson charging out of Homeplace 2.0 with Shechara right behind him. They're both carrying weapons, food, and water—enough to last two or three days.

  Luther pleads with them to rethink their actions, to stay and discuss matters.

  "We're not dying for you!" Samson booms. Then he flinches, pained by his own words, knowing he's hurting Luther. A man as close to him as a brother.

  The newlyweds climb into a jeep at the bottom of the hill and take off into the night, sending up a cloud of dust in their wake.

  Luther watches them go, defeat slouching his shoulders. He doesn't seem to notice me standing farther up the street.

  I approach him and clear my throat. "I've heard from the spirits. They want us to go to the east coast. We'll find Mutegi there."

  Luther's eyes glisten as he nods and smiles, clasping my shoulder in a strong grip. "All things work together for good." He sounds like he's giving himself a pep talk. Half-turning toward our erstwhile Homeplace, he says, "I'll tell the others. If you would...please go after Samson and Shechara. Let them know there is no reason to run. We need them with us. We are stronger together."

  I nod and take off, shooting through the night sky and landing twenty meters ahead of Samson and Shechara's jeep. My boots skid across the hard-packed earth as their headlights knife the darkness between us.

  "We've made up our minds," Shechara says as Samson brakes a few centimeters away from my kneecaps. He keeps the motor running, using up the solar battery's juice. "We don't want any part of it."

  "I agree with you about not contacting the UW. That's wise. But I've heard from the spirits, and they want—"

  "We don't much care what they want," Samson says, fixing me with a hard stare. "It's time to go after what we want."

  I guess they never got their honeymoon. Is that what this is about? Doubtful. More likely: neither one can stand the thought of losing each other. And contacting the enemy is a whole new level of danger.

  "Where will you go?"

  Samson shrugs with half a grin. "No daemons to worry about now. This land is ours for the taking." He winks at his bride, and she leans onto his metal right arm, wrapping both of hers around it. "We're gonna see what's out there."

  This feels like farewell, and I don't much care for it. "Once we get to where we're going...I'll find you. Let you know where we are, in case you want to join us..." I trail off lamely.

  The newlyweds have eyes only for each other. "Goodbye, Milton," Shechara says, and I step out of the way.

  Samson gives me a salute, his metal hand reflecting starlight. Their jeep takes off into the night. I watch them go.

  "Goodbye." The word catches in my throat.

  Part IV

  Conspiracy

  17 Sera

  22 Years After All-Clear

  As D1-436 maneuvers the aerocar out of the dark maglev tunnel from Dome 2 and back into the brilliant light of Dome 1, we have a surprise waiting for us.

  "Friend of yours?" Erik peers over my shoulder as I lean over D1-436's. The motionless clone with the smashed kneecaps sits up front in the passenger seat.

  "Drasko." I wave to him through the windscreen, and he gives me a crisp salute. He's got his lanky frame propped against his black and white aerocar, parked beside the government vehicle D1-436 left behind when we had to go chasing Erik on foot.

  Dazzling sunlight reflects off the mirrored glass of every domescraper, causing me to squint as my unaugmented vision adjusts. I keep an eye on the surface streets while we land. No signs of anyone running, shooting, or throwing things. Broken windows and doors along both sides of the street are the only evidence that lawlessness existed here a couple hours ago. But like Dome 2, everything is quiet and lifeless now, with citizens confined to their cubes or workplaces.

  "Why are we stopping?" Erik seems surprised. "We've got places to be."

  We do. He needs to meet with an underworld contact in Dome 10 and pick up some EMP grenades, and then we need to go to our class reunion and meet the Creator, whoever the hell that is. But first—

  "He's a good guy." I nod toward Drasko. "Just give me a minute."

  Erik mimes tapping an antique timepiece that people used to wear on their wrists in the days prior to neural implants. Just when I think the guy's antics can't get any more cringe-worthy.

  The aerocar sets down with a soft bump, and the side door rises. I tell everybody to stay put and jump out, jogging straight toward Drasko.

  "So, you are alive." He gives me a wink, the wrinkled skin around his neck scars more pronounced in daylight. "Been hailing you all morning. Figured I'd stop by your cube to check on you." He raises an eyebrow like he knows mo
re than he's letting on.

  Probably because of the immobilized security clone he found on the floor outside my place.

  "Augments are out." I double-tap my temple. "Been on special assignment."

  He looks impressed. Then he coughs into his fist and turns toward his aerocar. "Figured you'd want these guys back." He hits the cargo compartment's manual release, and the door drifts upward.

  On the bench seat, belted in like I had them last night, sit Wink and Blink. I could be wrong, but they both seem to light up at the sight of me. Probably their motion detectors recognizing my movement. Without my augments, I'm just a human-shaped blob to them now.

  "Good as new." Drasko pats Blink on its flat chassis.

  "Thanks, Drasko." I can't help smiling. Haven't been doing much of that lately. "I owe you one."

  "Okay." He nods toward the aerocar with D1-436 at the controls. "Tell me what you're up to."

  "Can't. It's classified." I unbelt my drones and pick them up, sliding one under each arm. Not sure what I'll do with them, but it's great to have them back. Maybe Erik can sync them with D1-436, and they can go back to keeping me out of trouble. Sounds like they'll have their work cut out for them where we're headed. "Never seen Dome 1 like this."

  I pause to survey the silent streets. There's an uncanny resemblance to one of those post-apocalyptic VR games where a virus has killed off the entire population, but every building here is left standing, looking so pristine yet devoid of life.

  "I have." Drasko grimaces like he's tasted something bad. "During the plague, martial law was in effect for months. Just as quiet as this. Eerie." He nods to himself, seeming lost in a memory as he follows my gaze to the surrounding domescrapers. Then he clears his throat. "You been in touch with Bishop?"

  "She gave me my orders."

  He holds my gaze. "Nobody's seen her. Not since the Chancellor went missing."

  "You think it's the patriots?"

  "Kidnap two of the most powerful women in Eurasia, then make demands." He nods to himself. "Sounds like a terrorist plan." Then he frowns. "But you've heard from Bishop recently?"

  "Half an hour ago." I have no reason not to trust him, so I add, "She said the Chancellor is fine. They're in a safe location. Waiting things out."

  Drasko exhales, looking relieved. "Alright then." He gestures toward the other item sitting in the cargo compartment: my exo-suit, looking polished up and ready for action. "Want to take this along?"

  "Can't." Without my augments filling in the gaps, wearing an exoskeleton would be like learning to walk all over again. "Thanks, though. You've outdone yourself."

  He almost smiles. Then he glances at my aerocar before stepping toward me and lowering his voice. "Is Chancellor Hawthorne still giving the clones their orders?"

  "I assume so. Why?"

  "Law enforcement and the Chancellor's private security have been working together to establish martial law. But there's what you might call a leadership vacuum right now. Nobody has addressed the public. Nothing is on the Link other than conjecture—the usual talking heads repeating themselves with nothing significant to share. But the conspiracy types—"

  "Nobody listens to those wackos."

  "You'd be surprised. They think there might be a coup in the works. They're claiming somebody, maybe one of the Governors, is trying to usurp Hawthorne's position. The so-called terrorist attack might have been just a diversion, not even led by real patriots."

  "Intriguing theory."

  He smirks. "But you can't tell me if any of that lines up with your current assignment, because it's classified. Curfew Enforcer Sera Chen on a secret mission. Nothing weird about that at all."

  He has every right to be suspicious. But I don't know how much to tell him.

  "Minute's up!" Erik calls out the open aerocar door.

  "I've got to go." I shift Wink and Blink upward. "Thanks again. Like I said, I owe you."

  "Your holster's empty." Drasko nods toward where my shocker should be cased on my hip. "And that guy with you looks a whole lot like last night's dust freak—the jumper. I finally got around to watching the footage while I was fixing your drones."

  Erik sees Drasko staring at him and decides to grin and wave. Like an idiot.

  Drasko's steely-eyed gaze doesn't falter as he continues, "Then there's the clone I found outside your cube. Somebody rattled that thing but good. And I see you've got two more of them up front in your vehicle. The Chancellor's own security personnel are chauffeuring you around?" He shrugs like it's all a bit much to process. He'd be right about that. "Not sure what to think here, Chen."

  I can't tell him the truth. Not until I know what it is.

  "I'll explain everything once this is over, I promise." I backpedal toward the waiting aerocar.

  He crosses his arms and watches me leave, a frown of what could be concern across his brow. I jump inside, and D1-436 fires up the engines, sending a burst of air outward as the aerocar rises. The side door seals itself shut behind me, but not before I hear Drasko call out,

  "Watch your six, Chen!"

  I give him a nod through the porthole. Then we're off, soaring toward the Dome 10 maglev tunnel. All nine of the outer domes are connected to Dome 1, but none of them are connected to each other. The only way to visit Domes 2 through 10 is right here, via the central maglev station. Just another way the Governors designed our society to keep all of the outlying domes reliant on central authority.

  "He seemed nice," Erik says. "Boyfriend?"

  Drasko? "He's my father's age."

  "Maybe not." Erik winks. "You haven't met your biological father."

  Can somebody please explain what's happening to me? Arienna interjects, thinking at us with her newfound telepathic ability. How is this possible?

  Erik gives her an understanding smile and dives in, explaining our situation with as much enthusiasm as when he introduced me to life as I now know it. I turn my attention to D1-436 and the mute clone beside it.

  "You're sure this unit's comms are down?"

  Without turning my way, D1-436 replies, "Yes, Enforcer Chen. Like the rest of us. It will not be able to notify anyone of our intended destination."

  First: Dome 10. Then: wherever D1-436 found out the Twenty are being taken. I could have asked, and I'm sure D1-436 would have told me, but for some reason—call it instinct—I think it's best I don't know until it's too late to turn back. Maybe because I have a feeling I won't like where we'll be going.

  As if anyplace could be worse than Dome 10.

  The aerocar glides through the tunnel with enough room on all sides to keep from bumping into the walls, ceiling, or maglev rail below. The neon green overlay on the windscreen maps out our trajectory, and D1-436 keeps us on track without a single wiggle in the wrong direction. Would Drasko, the best pilot I know, be able to fly us through at this velocity without shearing off even a smidge of the aerocar's paint? Tough call.

  Part of me really wanted to invite him along. But the last thing I wanted to do was pull him into whatever maelstrom I've fallen into. His conspiracy theory gave me pause—the idea that the terrorist attack on Hawthorne Tower might have been staged by someone intending to take over while the Chancellor is indisposed.

  I shake my head. Drasko's always been a fan of those Linkstream conspiracy theorists. I've chalked it up to life in Dome 1 being too safe and perfect at times. A man like Drasko was bred for adventure. I'm surprised he didn't ask to accompany me on my secret mission. Maybe he could tell I wanted to invite him but couldn't. Obviously, I appreciate the work he did on Wink and Blink, not to mention my exo-suit. He's one of the good guys.

  I pat the drones absently, belted in beside me, as the aerocar leaves the maglev tunnel and passes the guards stationed at the Dome 10 terminal. D1-436 flashes the emergency lights, and we soar over the locked gate without incident, heading into the dingy cityscape beyond.

  This is the only dome with access to the Mediterranean, since the primary responsibility of Dome 10 is
waste management and water reclamation. All of the plumbing from Domes 1 through 9 leads here, and all of the saltwater captured for desalination starts here, where it's purified and pumped into the rest of Eurasia to flow through our sinks, showers, and toilets.

  Unlike Domes 1 and 2 where the streets were devoid of life, Dome 10 is bustling with vehicular and foot traffic, everybody headed somewhere in an orderly yet congested manner. As far as I can tell, ours is the only aerocar currently airborne, yet it receives no attention from the citizens walking below. They all seem to have someplace to be but aren't in much of a hurry to get there.

  While Dome 1 is a crystal metropolis of light and Dome 2 is a lush forest, Dome 10 appears dilapidated: grimy, polluted, and listless. The transparent plexicon of the dome itself hasn't been cleaned in ages, lending a rust-colored hue to the subdued sunlight streaming through.

  Erik leans over D1-436's shoulder and points. "There," he says, and the clone takes us toward the rooftop of a tall building identical to the ones beside it.

  All of these structures would have looked out of place in Dome 1. They're half the height of a domescraper and a hundred times grungier. Instead of mirrored glass covering the buildings from top to bottom, there are stripes of black-tinted windows surrounding each floor, while the rest of the exterior walls are simply exposed brick.

  Arienna leans toward me while staring out the windscreen. "Have you ever been outside your dome before?"

  "First time." Admitting that aloud, it sounds strange. Why haven't I taken the time to visit other domes before now? "You?"

  She shakes her head. "So…" she hesitates, not sure how to phrase what she wants to ask. "You remember...not being born yet?"

  I note the lost expression on her face. She's mulling over everything Erik told her about us. About herself.

  "Give it a few hours. You might, too."

  Erik said the memories would come back, and they have. I remember Margo now, how much she loved us. I remember Tucker, how he risked his life to take us home to our biological parents—but I don't remember ever meeting them.