Love it when she gets feisty. "Roger that." I kiss her forehead and notice Daiyna staring at the dead shooter. "You knew him."
"We met." Daiyna turns away.
"He didn't like you very much."
"He should've left me alone."
I nod slowly. "Bounty hunter?"
"He thought he was."
I won't be getting his creepy eyes out of my head anytime soon. "Looked like he was turning into a daemon. Ever seen anybody change like that before?"
She shakes her head, unsettled by it. I don't blame her.
The raiders herd us together, and we head into the tunnel, lit only by the narrow beams of their flashlights. My first trip to Eden was bad enough. Never thought there would be a second, much less a third. This return trek takes the longest, since the raiders appear to be in no hurry, either due to overweening caution or a desire to keep their captives in line while en route. The monotony of boot soles meeting pavement is broken only by the sounds of my metal feet clunking along.
Nobody says anything. Even Cain is silent. The skull-faced Wastelanders with their feathers and studded leather seem right at home in a murky tunnel like this. They swagger along without a care in the world.
They've got to be getting awful hungry by now. Even my stomach is grumbling.
A while later—impossible to judge how much time has passed; maybe an hour—the raider in the lead holds up a clenched fist, and we stop.
"End of the line," Shechara whispers, but I hear her loud and clear.
"Quiet." The raider in front points at Daiyna. "You. Come with me. Everybody else, stay put."
Daiyna joins the raider, and they exit the tunnel. Their footsteps echo as they enter the dark, spacious area in front of the airlock. The raider clears his throat. His rifle-mounted flashlight sweeps across the massive blast door before them.
"Twenty hydropacks, dead or alive." His voice is loud and confident. "Who do I see about claiming my bounty?"
No response. The Wastelanders shuffle their feet, unable to stand still like the rest of us. We wait. After seeing that scrawny, half-daemon shooter back there, I can't help wondering if Perch and his men have all starved to death. Or are too weak to open the door.
But then the intercom switches on, and Perch growls low and conversational, "Knew I'd be seeing you again, Daiyna. What's it been? Something like three years, right? Hope you're not here for your eggs. We had to divert power a while back. Sealed off Margo's lab. Let everything down there rot. I'm sure it's a real mess now."
She doesn't respond.
"Well. We sure are gonna have us a good time."
The steel blast door creaks as it retracts into the ceiling, revealing the sealed airlock vestibule inside.
"Drop your gun, Mr. UW," Perch says. "Then you and Daiyna will be allowed to enter."
The raider's flashlight flicks from the intercom speaker above the door to the airlock as if weighing his options.
"Otherwise, my men will shoot you right where you stand," Perch says, "soon as that door opens."
The raider curses under his breath and backtracks toward the tunnel where we wait. He unclips the Tavor from his shoulder strap and hands the weapon to a member of his team.
"Soon as that door opens," he repeats in a whisper, and his teammate nods. Then he returns to Daiyna's side, gripping her arm above the elbow—which she surprisingly tolerates. "Ready," he says aloud.
Perch chuckles on the intercom. Not a sound I've ever wanted to hear again.
The airlock cycles open with an expanding halo of light. Three Eden Guards in O2 masks step out wearing their blue fatigues and black berets. They point assault rifles at the unarmed raider and the tunnel as they step toward Daiyna. One swings a satchel forward, and it slides across the slick concrete floor.
"Twenty hydro," says the guard. He reaches for Daiyna's other arm.
Bad idea.
She grabs him by the wrist and lunges into the air, back-flipping over his head to land behind him—nearly breaking his arm in the process. He tries to stifle a yelp but doesn't do a great job of it. His arm's bent at a painful angle, and he's unable to stop the raider from seizing his weapon and turning it on the other two Eden Guards.
They freeze. For the moment, no one fires.
"Daiyna, Daiyna…" Perch clucks his tongue on the speaker. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Go!" the raider shouts, gesturing for his two teammates at the tunnel exit to run into the airlock before the heavy door swings shut.
That leaves only four raiders in charge of us captives. Our odds are looking better.
The two raiders in the well-lit airlock force the exterior door to remain open while they get to work unlocking the interior door. In a matter of seconds, they have the vestibule wall panel torn off and a jumble of wires exposed.
"You think we haven't prepared for every eventuality?" Perch scoffs.
He must have taken a vocabulary course since we saw him last. I don't remember him being able to string more than a few words together. And they were usually of the single-syllable variety.
"Go ahead, cut those wires. Cross those other wires. You won't short anything out." He pauses. "But we may have a surprise in store…"
On cue, white smoke pours into the vestibule from above. If it's some kind of gas, the raiders won't be vulnerable to it with their helmets on.
Except it's not gas. It's liquid nitrogen.
The raiders stumble out of the vestibule in a hurry, covering their face shields with both hands. Their armored suits are now frosty white instead of black where the liquid struck them. No real damage there. But the polymer of their face shields is cracking in web-like patterns, and it won't take much to compromise the integrity.
The outer airlock door remains propped open with a rifle jammed in place, but nobody seems eager to enter. Particularly those of us without any sort of protective suit.
"You see?" Perch says as the vapor clears. "Nobody gets inside unless we want them inside. And Daiyna, we definitely want you. So let go of that guard, and let's proceed with your warm welcome, shall we?"
She shifts her hold on the Eden Guard, placing her other hand on his elbow. He groans, grimacing in pain. She's got him on the verge of bone-breakage, and he seems eager to avoid that.
"Can you get through?" one of the raiders behind me says in a low tone. "Team leader wants to know."
They must have been conferring on internal comms.
"Maybe." I shrug.
A rifle muzzle digs into my back. "Move."
The others clear a path as we pass them by. Shechara's frown deepens.
"Enjoying yourself?" I raise an eyebrow at Daiyna as I exit the tunnel. The Edenite she's holding glares up at me.
"All part of the plan." She graces me with half a smile.
"Right." There's no plan. That much is obvious.
Time for a change in tactics.
The lead raider says something obnoxious, but I ignore him. I've got my eye on the airlock's exterior door, propped open precariously with that rifle. Not sure it will hold. So I step forward and jump, grabbing onto the upper rim of the door and pulling, bending it out of shape. The hinges moan, and the entire thing shudders under the abuse. But the end result is exactly what I had in mind.
I let go and take a step back to survey my handiwork. That heavy exterior door will never shut again. All that's left to contend with is the interior airlock door—and that liquid nitrogen.
"Good work," says the lead raider, mildly impressed.
Perch curses on the intercom. "Now why'd you have to go and do a thing like that, Samson?"
I look up at the intercom's camera lens. Then I point at it with a metal index finger. "See you soon."
I grab the raider by his armored neck and hoist him up into the air over my head as I charge into the airlock. He shouts and thrashes, but I've got a solid hold on him, and I'm not letting go. His teammates surge forward and aim their guns at me, but nobody fires. Not yet. The Wastelanders whoop and cavort
inside the tunnel, enjoying the show.
The liquid nitrogen rains down moments later, but I've got my raider shield in place. His armored suit catches the brunt of it, streaming off him to strike the floor with thick clouds of vapor. Tough to see through, but I manage, flipping my other hand into a multitool and using it to rearrange the inner door's locking mechanism.
"Shoot him, dammit!" the raider yells.
"Hold your fire," says the rig driver. She doesn't seem too worried about her associate. "Let's see what the cyborg can do."
"You're a dead man! You hear me? I'll tear off your arms and legs myself—!"
"Good luck with that," I mutter.
My work on the wiring is done, the short already producing a nice little electrical fire. I whip my hand back into the anthropomorphic variety and plant my metal palm on the interior door, fingers splayed. Locking my mechanical elbow and planting my mechatronic legs, I push.
Perch is silent on the intercom as the door caves inward with a resistant creak, the hinges straining, the airtight seal weakening. I maintain my role as an unstoppable force, pressing forward incrementally. As I feel the door give, I continue to apply pressure, until the seal pops with a rush of cool, filtered air. The best Eden has to offer.
But that's not all that leaks out. A barrage of automatic weapons fire pounds the door from the other side, and I can't help cringing against the sudden salvo. Since it appears the liquid nitrogen has run out, I drop the raider onto his feet and grab the airlock's interior door with both hands.
"Get ready," I tell him.
His entire back side is covered in frosty white, and his gloved hands are clenched into fists down at his sides. For a moment, he looks like he's going to take a swing at me. But then he realizes what I'm planning to do, and he orders his team to prepare to fire. They advance, one of them handing him his rifle.
They take aim, right at me.
"Samson!" Shechara cries.
Not sure what's going to happen next, I grit my teeth and put everything I have into pushing that airlock door open. But not just open. Off its hinges, tearing it free with a steel shriek. Then I'm charging into Eden, shielding my fleshy parts with the door as I storm the gates. The raiders are right behind me, crouching and returning fire as the Edenites pound my massive shield with relentless barrages, rounds thudding and deflecting on impact, hitting my mechanical legs when I fail to keep them covered.
The Wastelanders race after us without any weapons or body armor. Or much in the way of brains. They launch themselves at the Eden Guards like wild maniacs, and the guards stare wide-eyed like they've never seen anything so bizarre. Their aim falters as they stumble backward, their training forgotten for the moment. But that's all the raiders need. They step out from the cover of my shield and fire headshot after headshot, taking down the men of Eden with practiced ease, not wasting any ammo.
The Edenites retreat to a rally point, hiding behind empty crates scattered across the floor of Eden's expansive subterranean dome, lit up as bright as day. I remember when this area was covered in pallets stacked two meters high with hydropacks, standard rations, and canned goods—actual food. Not anymore. And the Edenites I've glimpsed don't look much better than that guy we encountered in the parking structure. Just as hungry, but no yellow eyes among them.
Five of the raiders stand out in the open now, pointing their weapons either at the crates on the floor or the catwalk above, where apartment units hang suspended from the dome's interior. The first two raiders who encountered the liquid nitrogen lie dead; Edenite rounds shattered their fractured face shields. One of the Wastelanders lies among four dead Eden guards, and the other two bikers sit nearby, heads bowed as if in mourning.
Silence holds the moment.
Until Daiyna walks out of the airlock with a firm hold on her Edenite, staggering in front of her.
"Well, Perch," her voice echoes, filling the entire dome. She takes a look around. Unimpressed. "I'm here."
It's still unclear whether she's out for revenge. But I know I'm not. For all I care, Perch and his people can starve to death in their compromised refuge. I'm not about to help them along.
And I'm through with these UW raiders.
I hurl the airlock door at the five of them, and they go down like dominoes. Next, I slug the Edenite Daiyna's holding, and he collapses to the floor.
"We're leaving." I jerk my head for her to follow as I charge straight for the open airlock.
She looks confused for a second, like things aren't going according to plan. But the expression doesn't last long. Something seems to click behind her eyes. Purpose, maybe. With a nod, she runs after me.
Shechara is alone with Cain inside the tunnel. She's got a rifle aimed at him, and he's groaning, favoring his broken ankle. She brightens at the sight of Daiyna and me but winces at the roar of weapons fire emanating from inside Eden, reignited with a gusto. Reinforcements led by Perch himself, who's screaming Daiyna's name.
I pull Shechara into a gentle squeeze. "Ready to hit the road?"
She nods eagerly. "What about him?"
Cain. He grunts at us with a spark of hope in his eyes.
"Leave him," Daiyna says.
Good idea.
The three of us sprint up the tunnel and out of the parking garage as fast as we can, my legs making enough racket to let every raider, Edenite, and Wastelander know our exact location. Fortunately, they have enough to keep them busy at the moment: trying to kill each other.
Outside the parking structure, the big rig sits right where we left it. I can't help grinning at Shechara.
Looks like we're hijacking another one.
16 Milton
2 Years After All-Clear
I watch as eighty daemons scramble up the cliff like the rabid beasts they are and crawl into the Homeplace, squeezing between fallen rocks on their way inside the collapsed entrance. At the same time, Sergeant Bishop and Samson lead the ground assault on the twenty daemons left behind—sitting in their jeeps and holding the perimeter, due to some military instinct from another life. Waiting for their share of the meat to be brought down to them. Not expecting the headshots that send them toppling sideways.
Gritting my teeth, I release a rocket-propelled grenade from the launcher on my shoulder. I'm hovering a hundred meters in the air, so I'm hurled in the opposite direction by the recoil. But I manage to course-correct in time to see the front entrance of the Homeplace explode and cave in completely, dust billowing into the air as the opening is sealed shut. Hopefully setting off a chain reaction of collapses inside the entire cave network.
There's another opening on the other side of the mountain, so I fly over there in a matter of seconds and line up my second shot. This side was left completely undamaged by that missile strike, and the mouth yawns wide enough to aim an RPG deep inside.
I wait for any signs of daemons trying to escape. Ten minutes pass, then twenty without any movement. Automatic gunfire echoes from the mountain's west side, where my friends fight the daemons on the ground. Part of me wants to join them, to use my speed to disarm every last hideous creature in less than a minute. But I'm the only one who can fly, so here I am, floating in mid-air with a rocket-launcher on my shoulder and the second of three RPGs prepped and ready to go.
But I'm not alone.
"Your friends." The Julia-spirit hovers beside me and smiles. I do my best not to be distracted by her beauty. Emerald eyes glinting in the hot sun, golden hair undulating in the breeze. "They really are, aren't they? You've come a long way, Milton. No longer a lone survivor, you're part of a tribe now."
"A dwindling tribe," I mutter. Only fifteen of us left, and two are just babies.
I hope Victoria is doing alright with them. As soon as these daemons are exterminated, I'll be flying northward to those ruins to check on her and the little ones.
"You love her." Julia nods with a knowing look.
"What?" I frown at her. "No, I don't. I mean, I care about her, sure. She's a new m
other, and she's in charge of two very demanding—"
"You don't have to hide it. I'm not jealous." Julia winks at me.
Well, that's a relief.
The gunfire in the distance has abated. I hope we've won.
"You have." Julia nods. "The only creatures left are skulking inside this mountain."
I almost don't want to ask, but I have to know. "Did we...lose anybody?"
Her smile fades away. She nods grimly. "Five."
I clench my jaw. "Who?"
"Burke, Ethan, Connor, Deven...and Margo."
The sudden loss hits me like a punch to the gut. My eyes well up with hot tears. I can't believe they're gone, just like that. I saw each of them, spoke to them, only minutes ago. Now I never will again.
"They took down multiple daemons before they were killed." She reaches out to touch my shoulder. "They gave their lives for your future. So you could live without fear."
"They were good…" I choke.
The sheer volume of people we've lost has finally caught up with me. Now, at the end of our offensive, with my finger on the trigger, waiting for the first daemon to rear its ugly head from the collapsed cave network, reality sets in.
There are only ten of us now.
"They deserved better." My tears dry, replaced by a slow-burning rage. "Margo—after all she endured in Eden, she deserved to live in peace!"
"She will now."
I shake my head. "Don't you dare tell me she's in a better place."
"Even if it's true?"
My laugh is bitter as I look over our dead surroundings. "So why don't we all just kill ourselves? Why have we struggled to survive every day for the past two years?"
"Every life has a purpose, Milton. Just as Margo and the others lived out their purpose, so must you."
I curse under my breath. "What purpose? We're just living for the sake of living. Postponing the inevitable."
Dust stirs at the cave's mouth as deformed figures half-stumble, half-crawl out into the light. A couple of them at first, followed by half a dozen more. Bulbous yellow eyes staring as they snort and bark angrily at each other. One seems to notice me.
Spirits of the Earth: The Complete Series: (A Post-Apocalyptic Series Box Set: Books 1-3) Page 101