THE CHILDREN OF THE EARTH ©2020-2021 MILO JAMES FOWLER This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the authors. Aethon Books supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights. Aethon Books www.aethonbooks.com Print and eBook formatting, and cover design by Steve Beaulieu. Published by Aethon Books LLC. Aethon Books is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is coincidental. All rights reserved. Contents AFTER THE SKY I. Beginnings 1. Milton 2. Luther 3. Daiyna II. Connections 4. Milton 5. Luther 6. Daiyna III. Possession 7. Milton 8. Luther IV. Origin 9. Willard V. Captives 10. Daiyna 11. Luther 12. Milton VI. Revelations 13. Willard 14. Daiyna TOMORROW’S CHILDREN I. Contact 1. Bishop 2. Cain 3. Margo 4. Bishop II. Turmoil 5. Cain 6. Margo 7. Bishop 8. Tucker 9. Cain III. Rescue 10. Margo 11. Bishop 12. Tucker 13. Margo 14. Bishop IV. Negotiation 15. Cain 16. Milton 17. Tucker 18. Bishop 19. Margo V. Blood 20. Cain 21. Milton 22. Tucker 23. Bishop 24. Milton 25. Daiyna Epilogue: Hawthorne CITY OF GLASS I. Awakening 1. Sera 2. Daiyna 3. Hawthorne 4. Samson 5. Sera II. Reunion 6. Bishop 7. Daiyna 8. Sera 9. Samson III. Annihilation 10. Luther 11. Sera 12. Daiyna 13. Bishop 14. Sera 15. Samson 16. Milton IV. Conspiracy 17. Sera 18. Daiyna 19. Samson 20. Sera V. Restoration 21. Shechara 22. Luther 23. Milton 24. Sera 25. Daiyna 26. Epilogue Spirits of the Earth FROM THE PUBLISHER AFTER THE SKY BOOK ONE For Sara All come from dust, and to dust all return. Who knows if the human spirit rises upward and if the spirit of the animal goes down into the earth? Ecclesiastes 3:20-21 Part I Beginnings 1 MiltonNine Months after All-Clear "You'll be sorry!" Jackson spits blood and drags his beard across the sleeve of his blue jumpsuit, leaving a trail of crimson. He stands over me with big fists clenched, knuckles spattered. "You knew it could be any one of us, Milton." I pull myself away from him, my battered body sliding across the slick concrete of the storeroom floor. My mouth works to speak, slurring. "Why?" "It's a random draw, Milton. Always is." I wish it was. It should have been. "Why her?" I manage, shaking my head to clear the flashing pinpoints of light. "It was her turn." Jackson shrugs like it's just that simple. I sob like a child, impotent rage dissolving into whimpers. The coppery tang of my own blood oozes thick from both nostrils, mixing with the sand and ash— I jerk upright with a start, spitting to clear my mouth. For a moment, I don't know where I am. I look for Jackson, for Julia—they were right there with me in the bunker. Not anymore. I'm the only one here now. Outside. Free. I'll never get used to the silence. Dawn's golden fire breaks across the eastern horizon and crawls along a massive ridge of mountains in the distance. They look like sleeping giants, lying on their backs. Dark, with only their profiles aflame, they wait with craggy jaws and protruding bellies for the full light of day to awaken them from their slumber. Part of me wishes they'd rise up and greet me with a yawn. I speak to them sometimes, but I know they won't respond. I'm not crazy. Not yet. "Time to wake up, boys. It's a new day." I grab one of my hydropacks and take a swig, swish the stuff around. It's enough like water to do the trick. I wipe my mouth with a sleeve, watch the ash trickle out of my beard. I curse quietly. I must have rolled onto my face in my sleep. Probably would have smothered myself if I hadn't woken up in time. Not a bad way to go out, I guess. Considering the alternatives. Starvation. Loneliness. I bend down to tie up my bedroll. The thermal blanket is showing serious wear. Maybe I'll get lucky in the next ghost town I pass through, find an actual sleeping bag among the rubble. "Any chance you guys can point me in the right direction?" I glance at the mountains, jutting upward from kilometers of desolate hardpan stretching out in every direction, parched and cracked, interrupted only by occasional wounded hills—shadows of what they once were in both size and shape. Silence answers me. A slight breeze whisks across the ground, stirring the dust. The only sound, my own voice. And my noisy thoughts. The mountains don't look as much like my giants now with the sun climbing over, burning across the scorched earth as far as my groggy eyes can see. For the past week or so, I've headed straight for that ridge, the only thing separating me and this barren wasteland from whatever lies on the other side. "Just more of the same, right?" I sure hope not. I still have hope? Now that sure is something. Maybe I am crazy, after all. The sun cooks my face a little before I pull on my hood and tinted face shield. I guess I could sleep under some kind of makeshift shelter at night, but I like breathing the cold air. It chills my lungs, reminds me I'm still alive. Sometimes I breathe in a little too much of the ash and wake up coughing and spitting like this morning—but it's worth it. Being out under the stars makes me
