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

by Milo James Fowler

  At the time, lying out under the sun and bleeding out, I was prepared to die; but Luther and company managed to bring me back from the brink of death, and I owe them big for my new lease on life.

  As far as I’m concerned, I died that day—shot point-blank and served up as Muto Lunch Special #3. So whatever Samson tells me to do, I’ll do it. They’ve been good to me here, and truth be told, I like it. Back in Eden, Willard never would have made room for someone like me in the upper ranks of his organization. But here? I can see myself being useful to Luther, and once I’ve earned their trust—hell, maybe even Daiyna’s and her bunch, to boot—I’ll go through a whole swarm of mutos to help out however I can.

  “This way.” Samson leads me down the earthen corridor where green glowsticks mounted along the walls give the space an eerie light. “Stay close.”

  I nod and sniff, shuffling after the big cyborg. “So, I hear we’ve got a bunch of unexpected guests now. From the coast, is that right?”

  “Who told you that?”

  I shrug. “I hear things.” They’ve kept me in a private alcove during my recovery, but I’m privy to snatches of conversation between the folks who tend to me, passing each other in shifts so there’s always somebody watching over me. Luther’s orders, I’m guessing. “Am I right in assuming these folks aren’t exactly your allies?”

  Samson keeps his gaze fixed ahead of us. “You’d do well to mind your own business.”

  “Good advice.” I do my best to keep up with his long strides, metal legs clunking along through dark patches between the glowsticks. “Will Daiyna be at this meeting?”

  Samson grunts something that sounds affirmative.

  “Any chance she’s found it in her heart to forgive me?”

  “Nope. Why else would you need me by your side?”

  Good point. “So this team of people with Margo, they’re really from the UW?” No response from Samson. I let out a low whistle. “Isn’t that something? I mean, the rest of the world is still out there, just living their lives day to day. No flesh-eating mutants to contend with, no superfreaks like you and me. No offense.”

  Another grunt from the cyborg.

  “How’s it strike you? The reason they’re here, I mean.” I sniff and run the back of my hand across my nose. My skin smells like the healing salve has seeped down deep into my pores. Only a good long shower would clean me up—something I sure as hell won’t find outside of Eden. “To claim your kids, right?”

  Samson halts, half-turning with a serious look of menace on his broad, bearded face. “Remember that advice I gave you?”

  “Mind my own business? Right. Got it.” I raise both hands in surrender and wait until Samson resumes walking. Then I continue, “Never was sure whose babies they were, those two I carried through the desert. Who belonged to which parents, I mean. Not that it really mattered. I just had to make sure they got to where they needed to go. That’s all Margo wanted. Guess I’m still curious, though.”

  The cyborg’s shoulders of flesh, thick with knotted muscle, seem to sink, as if Samson has relinquished his hold on something. Without turning around to face me, he slows his pace. “We’re grateful for what you did, Tucker.”

  “So yours is—”

  “The boy.” Samson’s voice is grim. He picks up his pace. “And plenty more are still in Eden.”

  I hurry to follow and am about to apologize for sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong when Daiyna appears, blocking Samson’s path. A younger woman of slighter stature stands beside her. The girl’s eyes don’t look exactly natural, more like something you’d find on a robot. So that would make her Shechara, and her artificial eyes Margo’s doing. Just like Samson’s limbs, they were an attempt to make up for Perch’s sadistic butchery.

  “Where are you taking him?” Daiyna demands, glancing at me with a scowl.

  I stare back at her.

  “Luther wants him there when the team shows up.” Samson’s frame is nearly wide enough to impede my view of the two women.

  “I don’t think so.” Daiyna crosses her well-toned arms. It’s a standoff, even though she’s obviously no match for the cyborg. “He has no business listening in on our decisions. Take him back to his bed and restrain him. Or I will.”

  I don’t like the sound of that. But I know better than to say anything.

  Samson grumbles deep in his chest. “Daiyna, if it wasn’t for him, those two babies we’ve got wouldn’t—”

  “If it wasn’t for him…” She leaves it unsaid, clenching her fists down at her sides.

  I know all too well what she was about to say. If I hadn’t betrayed her trust, she never would have been captured by Willard in Eden, never would’ve been forced to go under the knife. There’s plenty of blame to go around, but I know full well that I carry the lion’s share.

  Shechara puts a hand gently on Daiyna’s arm. “I will keep an eye on him.” The mechatronic orbs in her eye sockets twitch as she speaks, focusing on me.

  “It’s not like he’s invisible for the three of us.” Samson half-turns to allow her a full view. “Not with that salve making him look like a ghosty.”

  Shechara nods. Daiyna curses under her breath. “If he tries to escape, I’ll put an arrow in him myself.”

  They talk about me as if I’m not even here.

  “He’d have to get past me.” Samson sends a look my way that says, Are we clear on that?

  “Where the hell would I go?” I can’t help blurting out. “I’d rather not face those mutos out there again, thank you very much. Not in this condition.” I gesture at my tunic and the wounds underneath in various stages of the healing process.

  “I don’t want to hear another word out of him.” Daiyna points in my direction but holds Samson’s gaze. There’s fire in her eyes. “And that goes double during the council meeting. He says anything in there, I’ll hold you personally responsible.” Her finger presses into Samson’s chest.

  “You’ve got me quaking in my mechanical legs.” He grins amiably.

  Shechara urges Daiyna away by the arm. “Let’s go find our seats.”

  Daiyna allows herself to be escorted away, but she gives Samson a final withering look. He’s in no hurry as he resumes his trek up the passageway after them.

  “I meant what I said.” I sniff, following. “There’s no place else I’d rather be. I’m grateful to you all for taking me in like this.”

  Samson exhales loudly. “Yeah, well, she meant what she said, too. So if I was you, I’d zip the lip once the meeting starts. She might aim for you and shoot me by mistake.”

  “Understood.” I’m guessing he plans to stick by my side. And I’m glad of it.

  We turn and enter a wide cavern, more or less circular in shape, with plenty of glowsticks mounted along the perimeter. Large stones have been arranged as seats to make the place look like an indoor amphitheater, roomy enough to fit a hundred or more. Luther stands in the center of the space and confers with two armed sentries dressed like those fellows I encountered. They wear sand-colored cotton garb and carry automatic rifles slung back on their shoulders by thick straps. UW-issued weaponry, by all appearances. No doubt snatched off dead mutos.

  Luther looks up as Samson approaches. Kind of difficult to miss him with all the clanking parts. Luther raises a hand in greeting, and I return the gesture, forgetting Luther can’t see me. I lower my hand at a low grunt from Samson. The cyborg gives a slight nod toward where Daiyna and Shechara sit in the front row. Daiyna stares unblinking in my direction, her eyes full of unguarded hate.

  “I hear you’re healing well,” Luther welcomes me with an outstretched hand in my general direction, having dismissed the two sentries. They jog out of the cavern, keeping their eyes to themselves. “I’m glad.”

  I meet his firm handshake, and gasps erupt from those who’ve already gathered. It isn’t every day they see their leader vanish before their eyes. But Luther reappears just as suddenly when I release his hand.

  “Your med
ics know what they’re doing,” I tell him. “I’d be a goner, otherwise.”

  “The very least we could do, considering it was one of our men who shot you.” Luther has seriously aged since I saw him last, and it’s only been months. Still as well-built and sharp-eyed as ever, though. “The way you risked your life to bring those incubation pods to us… We owe you.”

  “How are they—the babies?” I step forward, causing Samson to shift his weight uneasily.

  “No sudden moves,” he cautions in a low tone.

  Luther smiles, the expression genuine and full of warmth despite the sorrow lingering behind his eyes. “They are well. You will see them shortly.”

  “Are they out already? Born?” I guess that’s still the word for it.

  “Not yet.” Luther glances at Samson. “That is one of the matters we’ll be discussing today. Sure to lead to more heated debate—something we’ve been fielding a lot lately.”

  “Never in short supply,” Samson mutters.

  A diplomatic way to say the Homeplace is rampant with discord? “I’m honored to be here, even if it’s just to listen in. Doubt there’s much I could contribute.”

  “On the contrary.” Luther claps me on the shoulder with a solid grip. “You are our resident expert on Eden. We will need your input when it comes time to discuss returning for the other incubation pods that remain in Eden’s sublevels.”

  I sniff, shuffling my feet. “Maybe it’s best if I just keep my yap shut for now, seeing how this is my first council meeting and all.”

  “As you wish.” Another warm, sad-eyed smile from Luther. “We won’t force you to speak. But if during our discussion you have anything to add that may help us, please don’t hesitate to speak up. You’re among friends here.”

  He squeezes my shoulder as Daiyna continues to stare daggers. Friends? Luther might be a bit out of touch. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “We should sit down.” Samson guides me away.

  Instantly, Luther is swarmed by a group of people dressed as he is in the same loose cotton garb. They look irate about something. Apparently, not everything is fine and dandy here in Cave-ville.

  How have these people lived like this for so many months? Humans weren’t designed to thrive inside the earth. At least Eden has filtered air and running water and electricity, even though it, too, is separated from the surface by meters of rock.

  “Does he ever get a moment’s peace?” I nod toward Luther as Samson seats himself in the back row, far enough from Daiyna and Shechara and out of their eyeshot.

  “Luther?” The cyborg gestures for me to sit beside him. The seat is far from ergonomic, but at least Daiyna isn’t staring at me. “He’s a busy man, alright. For good reason. He’s kept us alive, and he’s kept us together.”

  “I’ve never met anybody more at peace with life in general. How is he so calm?”

  Half a grin works its way up the side of Samson’s face. “Luther may not know what the future holds, but he knows who holds the future. He’s put his life in the hands of the Creator, the author and finisher of reality. So he doesn’t sweat the small stuff.”

  I’m not sure how to respond to that.

  The other seats fill in as men and women of all shapes, sizes, and skin tones enter the cavern with facial expressions running the gamut from anxious to angry. They all wear the same loose garments, like a cult’s uniform. Did they stumble across some sort of fabric warehouse on their journey west?

  “Your numbers have grown.” There were only five back when I chauffeured them out of Eden. I’ve counted three dozen here already.

  “We grew as we headed west, meeting fellow survivors along the way.”

  “If Willard could see you now. I don’t think he’s got a clue. You guys are a real force to be reckoned with.”

  Samson frowns at that. “Even with our numbers, we’d be no match for Eden. Not with Willard’s remote-controlled daemons. We wouldn’t get close.”

  “But isn’t that what this meeting’s about? Organizing an assault on Eden to retrieve those babies?”

  Samson exhales loudly and looks away, watching as more folks filter in. Luther converses with two of them while making his way toward the center of the gathering.

  “We’re in the middle of something big here, and nobody knows how it’s going to pan out.” Samson shrugs his massive shoulders. “All I know is Luther’s got to get everybody on board. If he can’t keep us unified—”

  “He’s already lost on that score.”

  Samson lets out a low growl.

  I didn’t mean to offend. “Just look around. The way people are clustering in groups, leaving plenty of room in between. Giving each other the evil eye.”

  I mimic their suspicious expressions and wonder what my face looks like to Samson. Gaping holes for my eyes and mouth? Probably. They didn’t rub any salve on those areas.

  “Can you blame them?” Samson frowns. “Your presence represents everything they’d like to forget. They’ve heard about Eden, and some of them want to blow it into a crater four stories deep. They hate what it stands for. What you stand for.”

  I blink at that. “What about the UW? I can’t be the only baddie on their minds.”

  Samson has a retort ready to go, but that’s when Luther holds up both his hands in a silent gesture, the tip of each finger permanently scarred from his time in Eden. He scans the faces gathered before him. Every seat has been taken, and many stand along the periphery. The voices peter out like a faucet turned off.

  “Brothers and sisters,” Luther greets them. Despite their divisions, one thing is clear: these people respect him. “Thank you for gathering on such short notice. I realize there are many of you who are concerned about our recent guests—our friends from the coast.” A fervent murmur runs through the crowd as heads nodded emphatically, but no one speaks up. Luther raises his hands again, and they quiet down. “I understand your anxiety, and I will not insult you by saying there is no cause for concern. Cain’s people are strangers among us, and it is human nature to distrust what is unfamiliar. But you have my word: they will not harm a single one of you while they are here. It is not you they are interested in, but rather a band of travelers who are now on their way to the Homeplace.”

  “Who the hell is Cain?” I whisper to Samson.

  The cyborg points a metallic digit, directing my attention back to Luther.

  “As you well know, it has been my desire for some time to unite our two peoples—those of us who reside in these caves and our friends on the coast in Cain’s Shipyard. Some of you have accompanied me as we’ve gone to visit Cain’s people to encourage them to join us, to invite them here to the Homeplace.” Luther rests his gaze upon Samson, and all eyes focus on the big man.

  There’s virtually the same expression on each of their faces: a profound respect, akin to what they show Luther. But with Samson it’s different, somehow. The only thing I can compare it to brings back memories of my youth in Sector 30, playing football in secondary school. My team respected our quarterback; we’d seen him in action, and we trusted him.

  Samson is this team’s quarterback, and Luther is their venerable coach.

  “But Cain would not accept our offer of kinship,” Luther continues. “He does not believe as we do, that we are all children of the Creator. The spirits of the earth have changed us with the Creator’s blessing, and it is His desire for us to be united as one family, not divided as we are.”

  “But they serve a false god!” a voice shouts from the back of the assembly. A few heads turn to look at who spoke while a few others nod in agreement. Most remain transfixed on their leader. Apparently, heartfelt interruptions aren’t uncommon here.

  “The Creator does not require belief from His creation,” Luther goes on, unfazed. “We all have been given the same choice, to accept or reject His existence. I am sure some of us gathered here today do not share my beliefs. I don’t expect you to. The Homeplace is welcome to all. I ask only that you respect m
y beliefs and those of others who see our Creator’s hand where you may not.”

  Heads nod, voices murmur assent. I shift my weight on the rock. I’m a little uncomfortable, but it’s not entirely due to the seating arrangement. Attending some kind of religious revival wasn’t on my radar. I glance up at Samson and wonder if the big man counts himself among Luther’s faithful—or Daiyna, even.

  Somehow I doubt it. Neither of them strike me as the holy type.

  “We have welcomed these men and women from Cain’s tribe. They may stay with us for as long as they like. It is our hope that they would choose to dwell with us permanently.” Luther pauses, sweeping the assembly with his serious gaze. “We are stronger together than we are apart. The daemons are our common enemy. Now as for the travelers on their way, I know there have been rumors circulating, and I blame no one for spreading them. But today we have time only for the truth.”

  “Agreed!” shouts a voice from the opposite side of the cavern.

  Again, Luther does not appear perturbed by the interruption. “As we have known for some time, this continent is under quarantine by what remains of the United World Navy. Their ships patrol the coast, allowing no one to leave our shores or to land on them—not that any have tried.” He pauses. “Until now.”

  Silence holds the cavern. Luther has their undivided attention.

  “It’s no secret that the children of Daiyna, Shechara, Samson, and myself are being held in Eden where they were genetically engineered.” Luther nods his head under the sudden deluge of curses and booing. I shrink beside Samson. “Those children are ours, regardless of how they came into being. They belong here. With us.”

  A roar of approval erupts from the crowd.

  “Mr. Tucker.” Luther singles me out with a grim smile and a hand raised toward my vicinity. I nearly choke in the face of the attention focused on me from all sides, whether or not they can actually see me. “Our invisible friend brought two of the children to us, braving harsh elements and the daemons to get them here. For that, we are eternally grateful.”

  Hesitant applause sputters from the crowd as murmurs circulate and eyes shift. I dip my head and glance sidelong at no one in particular, hoping with everything in me that Luther won’t ask me to make some kind of speech.