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

by Milo James Fowler

  “You said they disappeared…but this is insane.” I shiver inside my suit. The temperature plunged as soon as the sun went down, but up to now, the insulation has done a decent job of containing my body heat.

  “Guess they really did vanish. I thought it was just a glitch in my HUD.” Granger surveys the bloodstained ground beside me. “Speaking of which, how’re you holding up in there, Captain? Your O2 still good?”

  The oxygen levels are fine, as far as I can tell, but we’re all getting low. It’s the cold that worries me. I clench my teeth to keep from chattering. “How far will the temp drop?”

  Harris steps forward with the ambient readings displayed on his helmet’s face shield. “I’m afraid this is the warmest it’ll be until sunrise. Thermal energy readings are declining as residual heat loss increases. Give it an hour, and it’ll be close to freezing out here.”

  “Way to cheer him up,” Granger mutters.

  “He is merely stating facts,” Sinclair interjects, her face expressionless in the moonlight. “Allow me to follow up with an observation: We have no way of knowing where our weapons officer was taken. There are no tracks to speak of. It would make the most sense to proceed—”

  “We don’t leave anybody behind.” I turn away from her to scan the ground the old-fashioned way: with my eyes.

  “Even insubordinates?” Harris raises an eyebrow.

  “Them too.” I trace the last set of boot prints to a pair of twin streaks across the sand, as if the hostiles’ feet suddenly became runners on a sled of some kind. But that can’t be. Nobody said anything about seeing a sledge. I follow the streaks across the ground until they, too, end, dissolving into untouched terrain.

  “What can possibly be gained by staring at the ground, Sergeant?”

  I glance at Sinclair. “Head back to the jeep if you want. I’m not going anywhere until I figure out what happened here.”

  “According to my HUD, they disappeared completely: on radar one second, off the next. You think maybe they’ve got some kind of matter transportation device?” Granger looks dead serious. “You know, like maybe they were able to…beam themselves out of here? And they took our guy with them?”

  “Ridiculous,” Sinclair says. “That technology does not exist even in Eurasia, the most advanced city in human history. How would these hostiles manage such a thing?”

  “We’ve got tracks that vanish into thin air. What else could explain it?” Granger faces her with his chin jutting upward.

  She releases a weary sigh. “Have you considered a hovercraft of some sort? One with runners built for travel across the sand?” She points at the streaks on the ground where I stand. “Which are then retracted once the vehicle reaches full escape velocity.”

  I nod. It makes sense—except for the fact that nobody mentioned seeing any kind of hovering vehicle on their heads-up displays.

  “Hovercraft. Huh.” Granger sounds like he’s intrigued by the thought. “Maybe outfitted with cloaking tech?”

  “Possible,” Sinclair allows.

  “Regardless, we have a mission to complete, do we not?” Harris holds out empty gloved hands. Morley took his rifle, and it’s nowhere in sight. “I say we go back to the jeep, get a little sleep, and prepare to—”

  “Nobody’s stopping you.” I face west, the desolation glowing under frosty moonlight.

  “You’re not seriously considering going after him?” Sinclair steps forward.

  I turn to Granger. “Get the Argonaus on comms. See if Mutegi will send in support now.”

  “And if he doesn’t?” Harris sounds incredulous as Granger brings up the communications module on his HUD. “You would sacrifice our mission for the sake of one man? When the future of humankind is at stake here? We must go to Eden and see those fetuses! Nothing else matters.” His eyes bulge, his teeth clenched. “Nothing!”

  I stare him down. This mission is the only thing standing between me and seeing my wife and kids again. There’s nothing in my orders about bringing back every member of my team in one piece. Just make contact with Eden. That’s it.

  Do the job and get out alive.

  “Got him,” Granger says.

  “Captain Mutegi.” I face the holographic projection on Granger’s face shield and do my best to salute, despite the cumbersome hazard suit.

  “Sergeant Bishop. We were about to contact your team.” The captain’s features are drawn tight. On edge.

  “Sir?”

  “There’s been a…situation. You’d best clear out of there as fast as you can. We’ve tracked movement headed your way—and judging by the heat signatures, they’re moving at some godawful speeds.”

  Harris has already started backpedaling. “What did I tell you?” he hisses as if he already knows what’s coming.

  I glance westward. I’ve got a feeling that’s where any trouble will originate. “How many, sir?”

  “Two dozen, at least. Armed and dangerous, covering ground like nobody’s business. You get back to your vehicle and get the hell out of there. Do your damnedest to stay ahead of them.”

  “And our man?”

  Mutegi pauses. “Sergeant, your man is dead. I’m sorry. That’s a whole other issue we’re contending with on this end. But rest assured, I’m pushing hard against my superiors for permission to allocate the help you need. For now, Eden is sending a transport to pick you up. You get that jeep of yours to run on fumes if you have to, but you head north by northeast. That’s where you’ll meet them. Argonaus out.”

  The hologram dims, revealing Granger’s wide-eyed expression behind it, pale in the moonlight.

  “Move out,” I order.

  The debate is over. It’s back to lumbering along as fast as our bulky suits will allow. The only plus side: movement keeps me warm. Somewhat.

  “We should’ve asked about that hovercraft,” Granger huffs.

  “Why would they take our man only to kill him?” Harris sounds honestly perplexed. “It makes no sense at all. Wouldn’t they have made a demand of some kind? Ransom, perhaps?”

  “If these hostiles are the same as those creatures we came upon earlier,” Sinclair says, not sounding winded in the least as she strides ahead of us, leading the way. “They could have taken him to feast upon.”

  “And now that they know how good we taste...” Granger coughs.

  I nod. “They’ve scrambled a full-on hunting party.”

  At the same instant, all three of my team members’ helmets chime a warning signal.

  “Movement detected.” Sinclair half-turns toward me. The upper right quadrant of her face shield shows thermal images of our pursuers. “Five kilometers out and closing, Sergeant.”

  “Mutegi wasn’t kidding.” Granger struggles to keep up despite his short legs. “They’ve got to be on hovercrafts or something—they’re moving so fast!”

  “Five minutes, at this rate. That’s all we have until they overtake us.” Harris curses, always the optimist. “We can’t outrun them.”

  “How many?” I keep my tone level.

  “More than twenty distinct heat signatures, sir,” Sinclair says evenly.

  “Some of that heat’s gotta be from their hovercrafts, right?” Granger sounds hopeful.

  “The heat readings are organic,” Sinclair says. “No vehicles detected.”

  No one responds. As unlikely as it sounds, this is reality: people moving at superhuman speeds.

  “So we’re outnumbered five to one.” Granger curses. “We could’ve handled better odds—say, three to one. But five? I don’t know, Captain. What do you think?”

  I almost grin at the half-sized engineer’s bravado. “I think we need to get back to that jeep.”

  “We’re on a mission that will change the world—save the world—and the Argonaus can’t be bothered with providing us any air support?” Harris complains.

  “Mutegi’s working on it. You heard him,” Granger says.

  “Two kilometers and closing,” Sinclair reports for my benefit.
I appreciate the gesture, if not the news itself. “One kilometer to the jeep.”

  “Damn it!” Harris shrieks, stomping his boots. “We’re not going to make it!”

  “Don’t you quit on me, Doc.” I tug his arm with a rough jerk. “Think of all those little babies waiting for you. All those medical journals with your bio and image in 3D. C’mon, you owe it to your readers to keep moving.”

  “They’re going to kill us, just like they—!”

  “Pull yourself together.” I would slug him a hard right hook if his helmet wasn’t in the way. “Stay on mission. You’re alive, I’m alive. You can fall apart later, but right now you’re running as fast as you can. Got it?”

  Breathing heavily, Harris nods with a stolid air of defeat. Yet he keeps moving.

  “Hey, don’t you think these suits should’ve been rigged with a turbo mode or something?” Granger breaks the tension.

  “Turbo?” Sinclair eyes him with disdain as he struggles to keep pace beside her. “Yes, that would be quite convenient, now wouldn’t it?”

  “Hell yeah!” He clears his throat. “Turbo,” he says, using that solemn tone he reserves for voice commands.

  “You can’t be serious,” she says.

  “Why not? Has anybody else even tried?”

  “It was not in the operations manual.”

  “Like you read the whole thing.” His sidelong glance becomes an open stare. “No kidding. You did?”

  “There is no high-speed mode, I can assure you.”

  Granger frowns. “Well, what if it’s a hidden feature?”

  “You’ve lost me,” she says.

  “Turbo. Turbo! Turbo.” He alters his inflection slightly, but always with the same result: nothing. “Jetpack! Rocket launcher!” Still nothing.

  “Can’t fault him for trying,” I tell the doctor as we press forward.

  Harris nods and then stops abruptly, planting his boots into the sand. “I can see them,” he whispers, rotating on his heel until the HUD rearview becomes a full frontal view of the west. He stares at the approaching figures moving in a convergent blur of speed, and he curses hoarsely in disbelief.

  Reaching the jeep is out of the question. We’re just not fast enough.

  “Ready weapons,” I order, raising the only one I have—the handgun I took from Morley. It’s like waving a twig at an advancing herd of angry beasts. I have to fight against the overwhelming sense of futility. “This is it, folks.”

  Granger and Sinclair halt and do an about-face, fumbling with their assault rifles.

  “Conserve your ammunition,” I tell them.

  “So many...” Harris says in a hushed voice. “How is it even possible—moving so fast? Could it be…that we are witnessing a new stage in human evolution?”

  “Back to back. Get into position.” I can’t help recalling the bloodstained earth Morley left behind. “Don’t fire until I say so.”

  “It has been an honor, Sergeant.” Surprisingly, there is no reproach in Sinclair’s voice as she and Granger take their positions behind me.

  “Right back at you.” I stare as the blurs of speed solidify into human forms all around us. Tall, muscular figures in hooded cloaks with an array of assault rifles, handguns, and blades.

  “Ain’t over till it’s over,” Granger mutters.

  “Stay in the middle, Doc.” I nudge the unarmed doctor behind my back toward Granger and Sinclair. “If one of us has to survive this, it’s you.”

  “Thank you,” Harris says absently.

  The hostiles surrounding us are entirely unlike the creatures we saw before. These are fellow humans, not sun-charred monsters—but these people have the ability to run faster than humanly possible. So they’re more than human.

  The silence runs on as I glance from one superhuman to the next, noting their lack of breathing apparatuses or face shields. They stare back at us with unguarded fascination. Yet no one speaks.

  I clear my throat, lowering the muzzle of my handgun slightly. It points toward the kneecap of a superhuman who doesn’t seem to mind. Can the guy move fast enough to dodge a bullet? That would explain his total lack of concern—seemingly shared by all of them.

  “Who’s your leader?” I demand, my voice emanating loud and clear inside my helmet, my breath fogging the cold face shield.

  The superhumans don’t respond.

  “They can’t hear you, Captain,” Granger says on internal comms.

  Right. My fractured helmet strikes again. For some reason, I continue to hear ambient noises fine, but I have no way to activate the external speaker.

  “Want me to interpret?” Granger offers.

  “Go ahead.” I nudge him, and he repeats my question.

  Silence. The superhumans’ breath comes out in short bursts that float like mist before dispersing.

  “I am Markus.” One of them steps forward and bows slightly, his gaze never leaving me. He holds no weapon in sight, but Granger’s HUD has already lit up, identifying small explosives in his pockets.

  “I am Vincent,” says another one, striding forward to stand beside the man named Markus. Vincent sweeps aside his cloak as he bows, revealing blades of various sizes sheathed across his leather-clad abdomen. “We have been sent to find you. We hope you will come with us without any…ugliness.” He extends open hands.

  Can these be the same men who took Morley? Hard to believe, considering their curious, almost childlike interest in my team.

  “We’re on a peaceful mission.” I push Granger’s rifle muzzle down a few degrees. No need to shoulder the weapon. Not yet. “But we’ll defend ourselves if necessary.”

  “Got that right,” Granger mutters, aiming at Vincent’s boots. Then he remembers to repeat what I just said.

  “An understandable reaction,” Markus says. “Your comrade felt the same way.”

  “Is that why you killed him?” My grip tightens on the handgun as Granger relays my question.

  The hooded faces around us look surprised, then seem to take offense.

  “We did no such thing.” Markus’s gaze narrows haughtily. “We captured him. Pacified him—”

  “We saw the blood.”

  “He resisted,” Vincent says. “We defended ourselves. Your man was alive when we delivered him to Lord Cain. He may have expired due to complications afterward, but we did not kill him.”

  “Complications.” My jaw clenches. “The air would be bad enough. Did you think of that before you pried him out of his suit?” I nudge Granger, and he repeats what I said, word for word.

  “There is nothing wrong with our air.” Vincent inhales deeply, nostrils flared, and exhales a loud, contented sigh. “You see?”

  Harris pushes his way out of the huddle protecting him, breaking free of Granger and Sinclair, neither of whom offer much resistance.

  “You must realize how different you are from us. Your ability to travel at such great speeds, to breathe this air that is toxic to our kind…” Harris’s voice falls near a whisper. The superhumans incline their heads and focus their dark eyes on him. “You have evolved far beyond the capabilities of homo sapiens as a species. I have to wonder, are there other...abilities you possess besides this amazing speed?”

  Markus holds up a hand to halt any further questions. “Lord Cain will explain these things to you. He has asked that we bring you to meet him, without delay.” He reaches for my handgun. “So, if you would kindly hand over your weapons, we’ll be on our way.”

  I raise the muzzle, aiming between the tall superhuman’s eyes. “We’re headed the other direction. Place called Eden. Ever hear of it?”

  Just as Granger finishes relaying the message, Harris cuts in, “Sergeant Bishop, put down your weapon. Can’t you see they mean us no harm?”

  I don’t lower my gun.

  “I would listen to your man there, Sergeant.” Markus holds his ground despite the gun barrel level with his forehead.

  “You might be fast enough to take my gun, but I doubt you’re fast e
nough to dodge a bullet. Otherwise you would’ve tried already.” I keep my aim steady and wait for Granger to finish echoing me. The ring of superhumans tenses, ready to spring into action. “You can tell this Lord Cain of yours that we decline his invitation and must be on our way. We have a date with Eden, and we’re already late.”

  Vincent smiles—a strange reaction in the moment. Hands on his hips, blades plain to see across his broad chest, he says, “Wouldn’t you like to taste our air, Sergeant?”

  “You’re making them agitated,” Harris grumbles at me before stepping closer to the superhumans, seeming to dare them to lay hold of him. “We mean you no harm. We come in peace. I for one would very much like to meet your Lord Cain. Please, take me to him.”

  “Well, that’s more like it,” Vincent announces, half-turning to his men. They chuckle and nod.

  “Get your ass back here, Doc,” I order on comms.

  “This is the opportunity of a lifetime.” Harris extends his arms as if to embrace new friends. “We have so much to learn from these people. UW Command has no idea they exist!”

  “What about Eden?” Granger frowns.

  “It’s not going anywhere.” Harris smiles broadly.

  “Neither are you,” I seethe. “Get back here, or I’ll shoot you myself.”

  “Such a violent lot.” Vincent shakes his head. He must have read my lips. “It’s no wonder you think your man is dead. Violence breeds only more violence.”

  “Let us be on our way, and there will be no trouble. You have my word.” I nod. So does Granger.

  Markus crosses his brawny arms. “And what good is the word of a United World soldier? Your people destroyed this continent—not to mention the rest of the world.”

  Vincent pats him on the shoulder. “We’re wasting time here. Lady Victoria says Cain grows impatient. We are to act now.”

  “No communications equipment, yet they receive orders from their superiors in real-time...” Harris muses aloud.

  “Fire at the first one to make a move,” I order on comms.

  Sinclair and Granger respond with curt nods, their rifles checked and at the ready.