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

by Milo James Fowler

Where the hell is that flying man? Having him along right now would be helpful.

  “Raise your hands,” I order, and Harris quietly relays the message to my team.

  “We’re unarmed, as you can plainly see,” the doctor adds in a louder voice.

  “But that vehicle of yours holds a small arsenal.” A figure garbed in loose-fitting material appears behind an outcropping of rock and holds a high-powered rifle aimed straight at Harris.

  “Tell Luther we’ve arrived.” Margo steps forward, her eyes fixed on the sentry, concentrating on him.

  Is she entering his mind?

  “Stay out of my head, Eden bitch!” the sentry shouts. At that moment, four others armed and dressed as he is stand up and train their weapons on my team.

  Margo’s boots shift backward, off balance.

  “You’re a real motley bunch, you know that?” sneers a female sentry with one eye behind the scope of her sniper rifle. A red pinpoint of light jitters across my armored chest. “Two of you wounded, two sealed up tight in some kind of environmental suits. An Edenite. And a runt from the Shipyard. He’s armed, by the way. To the teeth. You forgot to mention that.”

  I clench my jaw. I neglected to take into account the blades the kid has strapped on under his cloak.

  “Stopping here wasn’t my idea.” I glance at Margo, whose eyes haven’t left the first sentry. Not the welcome any of us was expecting. But if they don’t want us, fine. “We’re late for our rendezvous with Eden anyway.”

  “I won’t go back,” Margo murmurs.

  “Perhaps we’ve arrived at a bad time,” Harris calls out with a twitchy smile, nodding and attempting to bow for some reason. “We’ll just be on our way, then. Sorry to bother you—”

  The first sentry chuckles. “You’re not going anywhere. Not until Luther has a word with you.”

  The woman with the sniper rifle steps off the ledge and drops fifty meters to the gravel below like it’s only a meter-long jump. She lands in an easy crouch, the laser sight on my chest expanding in diameter with her proximity.

  “Follow me,” she says with a self-satisfied smirk, turning to lead the way up the mountain on the east side of the cliff. “Those who can, anyway.”

  “Go on, Captain.” Granger nods after her. “We’ll be fine here. It’s you this Luther fellow wants to talk with, anyhow.”

  I frown, turning to face Sinclair. I don’t like the idea of leaving them behind, but there’s no way either of them will be able to make the climb in their condition.

  “He’s right,” she says. “We would only slow you down. The sooner you meet with this man, the sooner we can be on our way.”

  “Without our chauffeur?” Harris retorts. “You heard her. She won’t return to Eden. Face it. We’re not going anywhere. This mission is a complete failure.”

  Images of my family flash before my eyes yet again. I clench my fists. The mission has to be a success, and I have to return home. There’s no other option.

  “We’re not through, not by a long shot. You got me?” I look each member of my team in the eye, even though Harris is the only one who can hear me, now that Sinclair’s helmet battery died. I gesture at the driver’s seat. “Tell Granger to figure out how to drive this thing.”

  The good doctor reluctantly relays the message.

  “How hard can it be?” The engineer shrugs with a grin. “Consider it done.”

  “Good. And you—” I knock on the doctor’s chest plate. “Make sure those two are healing up all right. I’m not losing anybody else on this mission.”

  Harris looks relieved that he won’t be expected to climb the mountain. “We will wait for you here, Sergeant.”

  I stare him down—it’s becoming a habit. Then I turn to Margo, who will be acting as my translator of sorts. “Ready?”

  She nods and glances at Lemuel.

  “What about him?” I note the kid’s hesitation.

  Her reply worms its way into my head: He has nowhere else to go.

  Putting a brave face on the situation, Lemuel starts up the hillside after the sentry.

  “See you soon, Captain.” Granger salutes. “Just promise me one thing.”

  I half-turn awkwardly to face him.

  “Bring us back some grub!” He winks. “And don’t go getting yourself sucked into their mutant cave cult. You already have two freaks-in-the-making right here!”

  Harris doesn’t look amused. Neither does Sinclair.

  “Be careful, Sergeant.” Her gaze drifts to the armed sentries. “We have no idea who we’re dealing with.”

  I doubt we have from the start.

  If anything, this detour from our mission might provide some answers. I can only hope. I start up the rise, already lagging behind the others. With my suit slowing me down, it becomes immediately apparent that I won’t catch up anytime soon. The other sentries jeer at me with catcalls and incessant comments.

  “You afraid what we’ve got is catching, Sarge?”

  “You really need to wear that clunker?”

  “Don’t you want to be able to read minds like that Edenite with you? Or that kid—hey, show us what you’ve got, kid!”

  Lemuel flips them off. I almost grin, sweating as I stumble along under the heat of the morning sun.

  “Cool by five degrees,” I give the voice command, but of course my suit refuses to respond. No harm in trying.

  “Am I moving too fast for you?” the sentry woman calls down, already more than twenty meters ahead. Margo and Lemuel aren’t far behind her. “You’re not doing the UW proud, Sarge. Aren’t you supposed to be a superior race or something?”

  The other sentries guffaw. “That’s what they want us to believe. Keeping us quarantined like animals in some kind of Preserve,” says the first one. “Why are you people even here? Why’s the UW suddenly interested in us?”

  “Luther told us all about it in the assembly,” says one of the others, holding his rifle in a noncommittal posture.

  “Wasn’t invited.”

  “Oh—right. Cuz of how you welcomed that other Edenite.”

  Margo halts in her tracks. “Who was this?”

  “Word is he can make himself go invisible whenever he wants.”

  “He’s alive...” Margo murmurs.

  “Better haul ass if you want to make it to your sweet reunion,” snaps the female sentry. “I see dust rising on the horizon. Cain will be here by midday, daemons permitting.”

  “I left those flesh-eaters that invisible guy to munch on, a few days back. Guess his meat was no good.” The first sentry curses. “Now I’m pulling triple shifts. How is that fair?”

  “You didn’t have to shoot him,” mutters one of his partners.

  “We needed to get those two pods to the Homeplace. I had my priorities straight!”

  I glance up at him. His muzzle hasn’t strayed, still trained on me. This man shot one of Margo’s friends and left him at the mercy of those deformed creatures? Is such ruthless behavior representative of Luther’s crew?

  “I did what I had to do,” the sentry continues as if he’s trying to convince himself more than anybody else. “That’s what soldiers do. Ain’t that right, Sarge?”

  Bits of gravel and ashen shale cascade from my boots as I forge onward. “He’s no soldier. Mercenary, maybe,” I tell Margo.

  “How do you know?” she asks.

  “He’s got the bearing of a soldier for hire. The way he carries himself and holds his weapon. He says he takes orders from Luther, but I’ve got a feeling this warm welcome was all his idea. Maybe his way of getting back at Luther for those triple shifts?”

  “Possible,” Margo allows.

  “You two sharing secrets?” The sentry pauses. “That’s rude. Maybe we should leave you alone out here, see how you fare next time the daemons attack.”

  “So you’re here for our protection?” Margo sounds skeptical.

  Smirking, the sentry raises his muzzle toward my fractured face shield. “Better believe it.”
/>
  “Sir—is everything all right?” Sinclair calls out from below.

  I force a tight grin, my gaze riveted on the hot-headed sentry. Slowly, I raise my hand and give Sinclair a thumbs-up.

  “They’re just playing a little King of the Hill.” Granger’s voice echoes from where he sits behind the wheel of the Hummer.

  “Perhaps they should focus more on climbing the hill,” Sinclair replies.

  I glance down at them. Hot sweat dribbles from my brow. “Halfway there.”

  “You’re making steady progress,” Margo says. “As is your engineer.”

  “Has he already figured out how to drive that vehicle?”

  She pauses. “He has identified the accelerator.”

  “Good start.”

  “Pick up the pace, Sarge.” The sentry scowls at me. “You’re falling behind.”

  “Just planning how to take you out.” I haul myself upward with a grunt. The suit isn’t getting any lighter.

  “I see your mouth working, buddy, but I’m not hearing anything.”

  “His helmet is damaged,” Margo tries to explain.

  “A mute ambassador? Wow, the UW really sent their best and brightest.” The sentry laughs. “Hey, you’re gonna like having us around when Cain gets here. Rumor is he wants you people off this continent ASAP—dead or alive. And I’m pretty sure he prefers dead. What the hell did you do to piss him off, anyway?”

  “It’s an act of war, them stepping onto our soil.” Lemuel speaks up for the first time. Not winded in the slightest, he passes the female sentry leading the climb and reaches the level sheet of rock above. Dusting himself off, he adds, “But Cain knows Gaia will protect us. Or so he says.” The youth shrugs.

  “You’re not so sure.” Margo watches him as she climbs.

  “I think the goblyns do what they want, and nobody has much say about it. They shot down your helicopter because they could, not because Gaia made them do it.” He’s changed his tune. “And because they were hungry.”

  “They usually are,” the first sentry mutters, spitting off the side of the cliff.

  The female sentry reaches the ledge and pulls herself up and over without accepting Lemuel’s hand held out to her. Is the youth suffering from a new crush? For the hundredth time, I find my thoughts drifting back to my own wife and family.

  Get the job done. Get it done and go home!

  She stands on the ledge above me. Not the sentry. Not Margo. My wife—Emma. Without a hazard suit, her silken hair caught by a soft breeze, a white gown clinging to the curves of her slender body. Smiling down at me, she holds out both hands, her arms bare but not blistered under the sun’s scorching rays.

  “Come,” she says, but her voice isn’t in my ears. It enters my mind. “We have much to do, you and I.”

  Who are you? I gasp through the breather, my heart surging in my chest. No one else seems to notice she’s there.

  “You know who I am. Come. We must make things right, before it’s too late.”

  “You need to take a break, Sarge?” the sentry sneers.

  I do my best to pick up the pace. Are you Gaia? I look up at her with that question in the forefront of my mind. She looks like a goddess.

  “No.” She smiles sadly. “Gaia is only an illusion.”

  Like you. I know she isn’t really there. This isn’t my wife. It’s not even a hallucination. This is something else, supernatural. I recognize her essence from before, when the chopper crashed and those flesh-eaters came after me and my team. Only I wasn’t able to see anything at the time. I wasn’t able to see her. If I had, would I have managed to hold onto my sanity?

  “I am no illusion,” she says. “I stand here before you. Waiting for you.”

  Nobody else can see you. My body trembles. She looks so real, reaching for me. More than anything, I want to run to her and take her into my arms.

  “Their eyes remain closed to the spirit world. They cannot see what they do not believe exists. Unlike you, James Bishop.”

  I’ve never thought of myself as a man open to anything supernatural. I’m not religious; most aren’t anymore. D-Day had a way of shaking people free of their superstitions, and the citizens of Eurasia have considered themselves to be post-religious ever since the beginning, when the domes were built. But if they were presented with something like this—a spirit able to take the form of someone they love—would they become true believers in an instant?

  Who are you, really? What are you? I have to know.

  “Luther will tell you all about us—and what you must do to save the world.”

  I decide it’s best to ignore that last part. Luther can see you too?

  The spirit seems to hesitate, if that’s possible. The familiar face of my wife chews on her lower lip the way she does when she’s thinking something over. How can this entity do that? Is it pulling strands of memory straight from my subconscious to create this persona?

  “Luther believes in our Creator. That is where his faith lies, as it should. Only the Creator is worthy of worship.”

  I didn’t ask for a lesson in spirituality. So he can’t see you.

  She shakes her head. “As much as he wishes he could, he cannot truly believe in us. He says he does, and he may believe that is so, but it is a guilt-ridden belief. He does not think we should exist, because we do not appear in the holy writings.”

  We? There are more of you? What kind of crazy fantasy land is this?

  She reaches for me, insistent now. “You must hurry. Luther needs to speak to you before Cain arrives. Already his dust clouds the horizon.”

  I curse as my gloved hand slips, but I catch myself before plummeting to the gravel below. I take a moment to collect myself, let my pulse slow down a bit. This suit wasn’t made for climbing. My recent extracurricular activities have more than likely voided the warranty.

  “You will not always be able to wear it.” She is very serious now. “No one else here wears one.”

  “C’mon, Sarge!” the sentries resume their catcalls. “You move like an old man!”

  As troublesome as it is, there’s no chance I’ll be taking off my suit—even if I have to breathe shallow. Seeing my family again is contingent upon remaining contamination-free.

  “You assume too much of your superiors,” she says. “You think they will be true to their word.”

  Apparently, my mind is now an open book to her.

  “How do you know they are not prepared to wipe out every living thing on this continent, once and for all—you included?”

  I shake my head. It’s not possible. Captain Mutegi would have warned us. He’s a good man, and I trust him. You know something I don’t?

  She smiles slightly. “All will become clear to you in time. But I must caution you: Do not hold too tightly to your hope of returning home. Such a dream could easily be shattered.”

  True enough. A single round from one of these high-powered rifles aimed at me and my cracked helmet will be done for. Say goodbye to any chance of seeing my wife and kids again. They’ll become wards of the state, subject to manual labor without my government paycheck.

  No way in hell I’m ever allowing that to happen. I’m finishing this mission, and I’m not getting infected. My superiors will allow me to return home. Life will be the way it’s supposed to be. Nothing else matters.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, James,” the specter says in my wife’s voice. “There is so much more at stake here. The future of the world depends on what happens in the next twenty-four hours. Speak to Luther. Listen to him. He only wants humankind to survive. Unified.”

  Humankind? From what I’ve seen, my team is the only group of humans on this messed-up continent. The rest of these people aren’t members of the same species.

  I grunt as I haul myself up over the ledge in front of my wife’s bare toes. Except she’s no longer there. Not that she ever was.

  “Sergeant, how are you feeling?” Margo leans over me where I lie on my back, struggling to catch
my breath.

  I nod and give her a thumbs-up while doing my best to keep my mind clear. The less she can read, the better.

  Heavy metallic clanking sounds echo from inside the cave. As I roll slowly onto my hands and knees, I catch sight of a large, muscular man lumbering toward us with mechatronic arms and legs of riveted steel. The joints and hydraulics allow for almost lifelike motion.

  “Samson.” Margo looks relieved at the appearance of the monstrous cyborg.

  “These idiots giving you any trouble?” Samson glares at the sentries. They’ve lost some of their swagger in the presence of the mechanized man—clearly top dog. Luther’s second-in-command?

  “Tucker has been injured—” She presses past him.

  “He’ll be all right. We’re taking good care of him.” Samson’s metal hand clamps her upper arm and holds her in place. She doesn’t resist or wince at the pressure. Either the cyborg has incredible control of his extremities, or the woman is accustomed to pain.

  “I must see him.” She stares up into Samson’s eyes. Reading his thoughts?

  “You will. Soon as Luther has a chance to talk to you and—” He frowns, sizing me up in an instant. “You’re the UW envoy?”

  “Sergeant James Bishop,” Margo introduces me. “The rest of the team is below. Due to his damaged helmet, I’ll be acting as interpreter.”

  I step forward with one hand outstretched.

  “And who the hell are you?” Samson leaves me hanging, instead turning all of his attention to Lemuel. The youth hangs back with his arms folded, boots near the edge of the cliff as if keeping an exit strategy open.

  “This is Lemuel,” Margo says.

  “I’ve heard of you. Luther’s cyborg.” Somehow, both contempt and respect leak out of Lemuel’s tone. “How many goblyns have you pulverized with those arms?”

  “Is he with you?” Samson glances first at me. Then, thinking better of it, he rests his world-weary gaze on Margo. “Some kind of stray cat you’ve picked up?”

  “He’s been exiled from his people,” she explains.

  “Then a reunion’s in order. Cain’s bunch is here, the same crew who tried to take you out.” Samson gives me a hard look. “But don’t worry. I won’t let them bite you.” He smirks. “Wouldn’t want that pretty suit of yours to get scratched or anything. That could turn your life into a real tragedy. Hell, you might end up stuck on this continent with the rest of us freaks.”