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

by Milo James Fowler

  "Then we return to our rendezvous point," Luther says, nodding to himself. "Drasko knew to meet us there if all else failed. There's nothing to be done here."

  I'm about to agree, but that's when I'm hit with a pulverizing force, and I drop to the floor against my own volition. Pinned there by some kind of energy field that burns my nerve endings when I try to resist. Glancing around, I find Luther, Bishop, and Mara in the same predicament.

  So we were led here. Into a trap. That's just awesome.

  "I had three bartering chips, and now I have four more." An unfamiliar voice and a pair of hard-soled boots approach us.

  Was there another hidden chamber behind a fully functional holographic wall? Strange that Mara's augmented vision didn't pick up on that. High-end black market tech, I guess, designed to fool the best of the best.

  "It's raining opportunity in Dome 10 today!" The languid voice chuckles while the gravitational field encapsulating me rises from the floor, carrying me right along with it.

  Immobilized, I drift toward the room's rear wall where I dangle upright, suspended above the floor. Luther, Bishop, and Mara join me. We face a solitary figure, tall and broad-shouldered, with a spiraling tattoo covering most of his pierced, pale face. He wears the standard slicked-back hair and armored faux-leather suit of a fellow who prides himself on being the very dangerous sort.

  "Who are you supposed to be?" Mara grates out. Apparently, even speaking is unpleasant while restrained by this field. Good to know.

  "I am your opposite in every way, Commander Bishop. You embody the rule of law, the Chancellor's iron fist, while I am Eurasia's nebulous shadow lurking in the deepest dark, always just beyond your reach. I am everything your society doesn't allow itself to be. I am crime. I am disobedience. I am terror. I am treason."

  He should add wordy to the list.

  She strains to raise her weapon, grimacing with the effort. She manages to bend her elbow, her finger curled around the trigger. "I've heard of a low-level gangster named Trezon operating in this area. Heard he's almost as ugly as you."

  He raises his hand, and I notice the device he's holding. It looks like a chrome baton, maybe thirty centimeters in length. He points it nonchalantly at her, and she flattens against the wall with a short cry, her weapon forgotten.

  "What do you want?" her father demands.

  "The famous war hero, Sergeant James Bishop!" Our far-from-gracious host grins, revealing a mouthful of pristine teeth. Almost have to respect anyone these days with a penchant for dental hygiene. "So glad to see you're alive. And I do apologize for interrupting what I'm sure has been a very heartfelt family reunion. But you see, a certain situation has come to light. Mainly due to a sorry excuse for an actor showing up on my doorstep and trying to borrow a few EMP grenades off me. As if I run a charity here! And if that wasn't bad enough, then his little girlfriend shows up, followed by a damned security clone that abuses half my clientele and scares everybody off before whisking her away." He shakes his head, glowering at the memory of it. But abruptly his expression brightens. "If I've learned anything over the years, it's that with every minor setback, therein lies great opportunity."

  He swings his baton through the air, and three more figures float into sight from beyond a holographic wall. It ripples as they pass through, from invisible to visible. The first is a young woman, the second a bruised and bloodied young man, and the third is none other than Drasko himself with one arm in a makeshift sling cut from his own shirt. They glide toward us and slide into place, joining the lineup. Pinned like we are.

  "I assume no introductions are in order," our host says with a broad smile. "Drasko and I have been involved in various business ventures for many years. He's my favorite dust supplier because he never holds back, never keeps any of the merchandise for himself. I could always trust Drasko. But I realize now that I didn't really know him. "

  He twitches the rod, and Drasko screams, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back in agony like he's being crushed by the pressure field.

  "I already knew he led a double life, working as a pilot for Dome 1 law enforcement, and I had no problem with that as long as it didn't affect his work here in Dome 10. But you see, our friend Erik, whom I've also known for quite some time—these wannabe actors always want a piece of the good life, you know, thinking they might find a current that will carry them upstream, away from the little fish—he has very little tolerance when it comes to pain. And he spilled everything that Drasko has been so good at hiding from me." Our host chuckles. "Everything. Including the fact that Erik's little stunt last night, leading that curfew enforcer on a merry rooftop chase, was not due to any dust high. He's naturally gifted that way, just like our speedy friend here. Nice moves, by the way." He winks at me. "So I'll make you a deal. You explain how I can have my very own superpowers of a very permanent nature, and I'll let most of you live. How's that sound?"

  My stomach sinks.

  Do you still think these people should be given supernatural gifts? Julia asks.

  If it means saving my friends…

  I just hope I won't have to lock lips with this guy.

  24 Sera

  22 Years After All-Clear

  While the seventeen of them smile like imbeciles with their unfocused eyes staring up at the ceiling, enjoying whatever delights exist in their virtual Promised Land, I get out of my lounge chair and inspect the room, activating every alcove I remember by touching various points along the white walls. By the time I've made a complete circuit, the first few sections that I opened have already begun sliding closed. I go around again, faster this time, making a game of it.

  It should be obvious to anyone monitoring us that I've grown bored with VR and become restless. Only a matter of time before someone checks in on me.

  Eventually, a section of the wall slides open to reveal a doorway to an outer corridor. A boxy robot with large optical lenses but no other anthropomorphic features rolls in on wide treads. I step in front of it.

  "Who's in charge here?" I demand.

  Keeping its lenses to itself, the bot reverses and then navigates a course around me. It heads for each of the end tables beside the VR zombies and collects their half-finished drinks and meals, piling them into a spacious receptacle in its midsection. Job complete, it circles back to find me blocking its path again.

  "Answers." I fold my arms and glare down at it. "Now."

  The door slides open behind me, and I pivot to find—

  "It's not a very sophisticated machine," Chancellor Hawthorne says as she steps inside the room. "It couldn't communicate with you verbally even if it wanted to."

  Taken aback by her sudden appearance—smiling like a young grandmother and dressed in the same white bodysuit the rest of us are wearing—I stumble back a step. She allows the robot to pass between us. Once the door slides shut, she steps close to me, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially.

  "I don't much like them myself. Bots. I've always preferred clones for my security force. I like knowing the personnel protecting me have hearts pumping inside them. That they would bleed for me, if necessary."

  "Chancellor…" I blink, having trouble believing my eyes. "What are you doing here?"

  She gives me a knowing look. "You heard I was taken someplace safe during the terrorist attacks."

  I nod.

  She spreads her arms wide as if to encompass the entire underground facility. "This is the safest place on earth, Enforcer Chen. The perfect venue for your Revelation Banquet, don't you think? All we need are the final two members of the Twenty to arrive, and then Dr. Wong will share the details of your glorious Ascension." She takes my hand in both of hers, and they're soft and warm. "I am so excited for you, Sera. What happens next…" Her eyes glisten with joyful tears. "Do you remember books? No, probably not. They were outlawed long before you were born. But this is like a final chapter ending, a book closing—only to be reopened, and much to the reader's surprise, for there to be yet another chapter waiting to be e
njoyed. And it's the best chapter in the book, Sera." She nods emphatically, her grip tightening. "Because the best is yet to come—for all of us!"

  I politely extricate my hand. "Where's Commander Bishop?"

  Her expression falters. The smile is still in place, held there with some effort. "She had to return to Eurasia. Those terrorists will not catch themselves, you know."

  "And who's running things while you're away? Who's in charge of the Domes?"

  She stares back at me without response.

  "Martial law only works for so long, Chancellor. People will start questioning what's going on, and law enforcement won't have answers for them." I nod toward the Seventeen in their chairs, blissfully unaware of our conversation. "VR might hold citizens' attention for a while, but they'll eventually want to leave their residences and places of business, returning to their daily lives in the absence of further terrorist activity. And the enforcers keeping our streets safe will want to know what their orders are."

  Hawthorne laughs mildly. "They are expected to keep the peace. What other orders are there, really?" She reaches for me again, this time patting my arm. "The Governors take care of day-to-day business between the Domes, and they have matters well in hand. Trust me."

  For some reason, I don't. "What's out there?" I point behind her at the seamless wall. No evidence that a door ever opened.

  "Hmm?" She's rubbing my arm now instead of patting it. Attempting to soothe me, but having the opposite effect.

  "What's outside this room, where you came from?"

  She shrugs with another noncommittal laugh. "Just more rooms. What does it matter? You are together here, all in one place, safe from harm, provided with anything you could possibly need. Dr. Wong has seen to everything. Isn't it wonderful?"

  "They call him the creator." I watch her for a response, but again, there's nothing to read. The consummate politician. "Why?"

  She squeezes my arm. "Because he creates life. Every clone in my security force, every baby born in the Ten Domes—they are alive, thanks to him."

  "And thanks to us." I point at the Seventeen behind me. "Our sex cells harvested monthly. He combines them, edits in a little DNA from the adoptive parents, and a few months later, we have another fresh batch of newborn citizens."

  "It is far more complicated than that, Sera."

  "I'm sure. And when Dr. Wong isn't busy creating life, he's ensuring that every citizen who can afford it doesn't look a day over thirty. Including yourself. What are you now, eighty-something? You don't look much older than me, Chancellor."

  Her grip tightens, her fingernails digging into my arm. I don't flinch. No need to give her the satisfaction.

  "You will show me the proper respect, Enforcer Chen." Her smile has been replaced by flashing teeth and the whites of her eyes. "I am your Chancellor!"

  I shake off her hold on me and back away, raising my voice. "Hey, everybody—wake up! Look who's here: our illustrious Chancellor Persephone Hawthorne in the flesh!"

  I make my way along the rows of chairs, nudging shoulders, rousting them from their VR-induced stupor. They blink and frown curiously, then stare in awe as they notice Hawthorne. One by one, they jump to their feet and bow their heads respectfully.

  She nods, her smile firmly ensconced again. "It is so good to see each of you. Dr. Wong sends his regards—"

  "Gather around, everybody." I gesture for them to encircle me as I stand beside the Chancellor. "Story time."

  They glance at each other, confused, but it's the best strategy I can think of. You want people to know the truth? Tell them a story—a true story. And don't leave anything out.

  "It's all about where we came from." I wink at their intrigued expressions and then glance at Hawthorne. "Would you rather tell this one? You were there, after all."

  The Chancellor's cheerful expression is unassailable. "Why dwell on the past? The present is all that matters, moving ever forward—"

  "Right. So here's the deal." I face my siblings and Erik's. "Your parents aren't your biological parents. The truth is, we're not from around here. There's a quarantined continent across the ocean where we were conceived. It took our parents a lot of years, but they've managed to get inside Eurasia. And now they're looking for us."

  I pause, holding their attention while doing my best to ignore Hawthorne scoffing behind me.

  "Which is why we've been taken to this secret facility on the other side of the Mediterranean. Underground, where our biological parents will never find us. There's no banquet, no ascension, whatever the hell that is. We're just being kept here until our government can find a way to banish or execute the people who gave us our DNA." I pause to let that sink in. "Once that's done, we'll be allowed to return to our lives as if none of this ever happened."

  They murmur among themselves, but only Lyria speaks up. "How do you know all of this, Sera?"

  Honestly? I—

  "She doesn't." Hawthorne gives me a steely-eyed glare and crosses her arms. "Sera may think of herself as an investigator, but she is merely a curfew enforcer. The least of all law enforcement assignments. Apparently, she has grown bored with her duties, so now she is creating fiction and finding conspiracies where none exist." She laughs, and a few of the Seventeen join in.

  But most don't. They stare at me with unguarded curiosity. Then they start speaking over each other:

  "Why can't we link with you, Sera?"

  "What's wrong with your augments?"

  "Are you...offline?" Eyes aghast.

  That gets the rest of them talking, turning toward one another and glancing at me over their shoulders. Chancellor Hawthorne leans uncomfortably close to whisper into my ear.

  "I don't know what you're trying to accomplish here, Sera, but it will never work."

  "I just want them to know the truth. Someone explained it to me today, and it changed my life." I pivot to face her. And I'm only telling them half of it.

  She stumbles away from me, slapping her hand against the wall to steady herself. "What devilry is this?"

  Guess I'm getting better at this telepathy thing. Now I'm able to send my thoughts into the minds of others who aren't gifted the same way I am. Good to know. But it didn't work on the Seventeen earlier, so this must have something to do with Hawthorne's augments being off.

  Why are you offline, Chancellor? I step toward her just as the door reappears, sliding open behind her. She backpedals into the dark corridor beyond. I follow.

  "Don't go out there, Sera!" Lyria calls after me.

  The others crowd around, staring wide-eyed and echoing her concern.

  "We're not allowed to leave this room!"

  "Come back!"

  "You'll get us all in trouble!"

  Too late to turn back. I've found a way out, and I've got Hawthorne on the run. I have her undivided attention as she staggers backward, swinging her arm at me and shouting to stay back. Like she thinks I've got the plague.

  "How about giving me a tour of the place, Chancellor?" I smile at her. You seem to know your way around.

  The door behind me slides shut, and the corridor dumps us into the middle of a long hallway that curves out of sight in both directions. But unlike the room I just exited, closed off from everything, these walls and doors are made of glass, exposing what appear to be research laboratories. Inside, every piece of sophisticated equipment and every person in a white lab coat is clear to see as they go about their business.

  They stop and stare at us, all of them with identical faces. They look exactly like D1-436 without its helmet: young versions of Solomon Wong.

  "Help me!" Hawthorne spins on her heel and charges down the hallway. She throws open the first glass door she reaches and rushes inside, grabbing the nearest clone by the lapels. "There's something seriously wrong with that one!" She points at me, her eyes wild. "She's a dust freak or-or some kind of mutant!"

  Dust freak? Really, Chancellor? If I was snorting that stuff, the effects would've worn off long before now. I pull
the lab door open and follow her inside.

  "She's in my head!" Hawthorne shrieks, shoving her way past the placid clone and knocking over an expensive-looking piece of equipment. As it crashes to the white tiled floor, she staggers onward, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. "How can she do that?"

  Tell your boss I want to speak with him, I project toward the eight clones in the lab. My telepathy didn't work with D1-436, but maybe this is a different batch. Right now.

  "What seems to be the problem?"

  I turn to find another Solomon Wong standing at the door. But unlike the blank-faced clones, this one smiles like the version I saw on the wall screen when I arrived: grandfatherly, yet without any wrinkles or grey hair.

  "You're their creator," I blurt out the obvious. Then I gesture at his duplicates who stand rooted—not going about their business, but not interfering with mine.

  "Yes. I am responsible for thousands of lives in Eurasia, including your own. I was there at the birth of each member of the Twenty." His voice is a resonant baritone without a hint of humility. "I am a creator of life, Sera Chen."

  "But we're not in Eurasia."

  "No. We are not." He watches me closely. Intrigued, for some reason.

  "We're in a ten-story underground tower…in a forbidden zone."

  His smile broadens. "I like to think of Futuro Tower as an Ark."

  The reference is lost on me. Explain, I project into his mind.

  He raises his eyebrows, mildly impressed. "I heard that your biological parents exhibited certain rare abilities, but I had no idea these gifts transferred through their DNA. Of course, this leads me to wonder about the children currently growing up in the Ten Domes. Will they, too, exhibit such amazing talents when they come of age?"

  Sooner. I wasn't even born yet, and I was already communicating with Margo, mind to mind. What ever happened to her? Did she manage to sneak into Eurasia like Erik's biological parents?

  "Sooner!" he echoes aloud. "Fantastic. They will become marvels, as will their children and their children's children. One day, Eurasia may find itself overrun with superhumans. But by then, discord will have torn the Domes apart. Their well-structured society will no longer exist." He sounds like he's already seen the future, and he's resigned to it. "The fuse has been lit. The attack on Hawthorne Tower and other government centers across the Domes have shown the malcontents how powerful they can be. Now they know what they are capable of."