Ominous Order: A Young Adult Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Series (The Separation Trilogy Book 3)

by Felisha Antonette

  The metal door is heavy as I shove it open. I stumble out of the darkness onto a quiet block. Smog has filled the air, darkening the light of the early morning. I tear the bottom half of my shirt off to tie it around my nose and mouth.

  Carla’s boots are an inch too big. Threads hanging from the rips of my shorts tickle my thighs, and the bottom of Carla’s tight-fitting vest scrapes against my exposed stomach. The quicker I walk, the more noticeable these things become. Hopefully, I get used to them soon so they aren’t so much of a distraction.

  The light of the rising sun tries to break through the thick cloud of smoke, slicing beams of light across buildings and streets. Wherever the plane crashed, it must be close and still on fire for the city to be blacked out like this.

  I continue to round the Inn, stunned I’ve not run into anyone yet. Maybe they ordered everyone to remain indoors as a safety precaution against the Zombies. But I don’t hear or see them either. The front of the Inn should have someone standing near the entry to keep watch, seeing as most of the Guidance is being held inside. While I want to avoid being seen, I need a sense of direction and to know exactly what the lab looks like or where it is.

  I reach the edge of the building and peek around the corner. A heavy-duty engine I can’t see rumbles. There are no voices or footsteps approaching. I continue to the next corner of the building, putting one foot in front of the other as I keep my approach quiet. At the end of the building, I peer around the edge and see an empty Humvee with the passenger door open.

  They’ve deployed Creations for Zombies. It’s finally gotten out of hand, like Chicago. Highrum is heavily guarded. If they are going down, the entire country is definitely overthrown by those things.

  I step out to make a run for the truck, and three Creations and Arletta exit from the entryway of the Inn. I duck back around the building and squat to the ground.

  Arletta snaps, “The next time I give you an order, you follow it!” The Creation beside her, covered from head to toe, nods. “I want each of them dead. They are our only threat. They’re persuasive, manipulative, and know everything.” I rise, preparing to head over and offer my assistance until I hear, “Their entire squadron. How damn hard is it for you to shoot down a damn plane? Huh?” she shouts, jabbing her finger into the chest of the other Creation towering over her.

  I shrink back around the corner and down to the ground, my body heating with anger.

  “Bring her out,” Arletta orders.

  I throw a quick glance behind me, ready to fight the first person to lay a hand on me.

  I’m alone. No one comes.

  I turn back to the group. Another Creation shoves Carla out of the building. She falls to the ground but catches herself on her hands and knees. She’s still in the flats I wore and without a vest. Her knuckles are bruised. As she climbs to her feet, she swipes blood from her mouth. Spine straight, shoulders square, and head held high, she looks upon Arletta with a swollen eye and busted lip.

  Arletta clasps her hands in front of her belt buckle and looks at Carla without a glimpse of emotion in her expression. “Where is she?”

  Carla remains quiet.

  The Creation who shoved Carla draws his gun and aims it her. “She asked you a question,” they say in a male voice. “Answering is not optional.”

  Arletta stands tall, shoulders pulled back as a content smile spreads her red lips. Her patient face is enraged as she glares upon Carla. “I understand your allegiance, Carla. However, your loyalty is not to Kylie Alexander. It is to us. This is your last chance to save yourself and tell me where she went.”

  Carla snorts and spits blood to the concrete. “Even if I knew, ma’am. I wouldn’t tell you.”

  The Creation fires, and the gunshot is deafening. My focus zeroes in on Carla. Her head whips back, and she falls backward. The sound of her body thudding against the ground is equally loud, but it shouldn’t be as I’m not close enough to hear it so clearly.

  Arletta turns her back on Carla’s fallen body. “Find Kylie first. Bring her back here alive. I need her. She’s likely headed to the metagenetic labs on West. That’s the last place we heard they were, but it’s surrounded by the walking dead. Make sure the others don’t make it out alive.” She heads back into the building, high heels clacking against the concrete with every step. “Clean up before you leave.”

  The three Creations state, “We understand.”

  Now or never, Kylie.

  I wait for them to tend to the body. Carla’s blood stains the concrete, and they’ll have to clean that up too.

  It’s engraved in my head, “The lab on West.”

  I press my fists to the ground and pump myself up. You can do this, girl. I rise into a crouch, taking a runner’s stance.

  Two of the Creations bend down to pick up Carla’s body, and the third looks over his shoulder toward a bomb that goes off in the distance.

  I take in a deep breath and snap forward, booking it for the Humvee. I dive through the passenger door and scramble upright to get it closed.

  Bullets fly at the metal and bounce off the windows. I maneuver into the driver’s seat, shift the vehicle into drive, and slam my foot on the accelerator.

  The takeoff is slow. The truck gradually picks up speed until I’m flying down the street. Once I find the lab, I’ll ditch the truck a block away from it and run back, but I need to see if it’s still surrounded by Zombies.

  The streets are bare, free of pedestrians and automobiles. I plow through the clouds of smoke, never sure if something will be waiting for me on the other side. I head for the airstrip. If I can get near there and see where the plane crashed, I can get an idea of the direction they would’ve headed, and that should lead me to West.

  The thick smoke turns into a dense fog, and I squint, trying to see through it, but my efforts are useless. Bodies emerge in the distance.

  “Shit!” I slam on the brakes and shift the truck into reverse.

  The Zombies bloat the roads, flooding onto the side streets and charging for me.

  I back into an alleyway to turn the truck around and head back up the street I came down. I make a right and slam on the gas, unable to see behind me with the smoke so thick. But I know the Creations are coming after me too. The Guidance’s Creations will do anything to keep me from making it back to my group, even if that means using the legion of Zombies to their advantage.

  I happen upon West and slam on the break, stopping in the intersection. To my left, I scope out the street. I can’t see through the smog. But that’s likely the direction I need to go.

  The steering wheel is clutched tightly in my hands as I pull it left and ease off the break. I firmly press my foot to the gas and allow the Humvee to pick up speed. The buildings fly by until the front of the truck plows into the mob of Zombies.

  I stay on the gas, gritting my teeth and gripping the wheel until the truck is forced to stop. The Zombies slap and claw at the metal and windows, snarling as they snap to get to me.

  I search the truck for the Creations’ extra ammunition, usually packed and stashed away in the backseat. I find it tucked under the seat and pull it to me. The duffel bag is light in weight. “Ugh,” I grumble. “Those Creations were clean, there’s no way they ran out of ammunition that quickly.”

  I unzip the bag and find two regular grenades and a full magazine with regular rounds. I take in a sharp breath and release it, slamming my head against the headrest once.

  “Alright. It’s okay, Ky. You can work with this.”

  I pry my eyes open and look around at the ocean of Zombies surrounding the vehicle. “You always said if you had to go out, you wanted to go out in battle. I don’t think it gets worse than this.”

  I stuff the extra mag in a pocket of the vest and hold the two grenades in my left hand. On the driver’s seat, I climb onto my knees and pop open the roof. Standing, I keep my breaths even to avoid inhaling a lungful of smoke. The air’s rotten with decomp and stale blood. The snarls of the Zombi
es sound like a lasting thunder, and their arms and bodies thrashing about are like angry waves.

  I scan the surrounding five buildings. One is a place for eating; it’s one level and sits on the corner in front of a larger white building with mirror-like windows. Across the street is a building that goes up five floors; its windows are clear and the lack of sun brightening the city makes it easy to see the office-like setting inside. Across from it, on the third corner from me, another five-level building takes up the entire corner. The top has black windows, and the first level of the building is made up of glass. Clutter blocks the doors, but a few of the windows are shattered and Zombies have flooded in.

  That’s it. Institute of Metagenetic. The name is engraved in the glass windows of the second level. “The lab…”

  Over the growls of the Zombies, there’s a rumbling of revving engines.

  I climb to the roof of the Humvee and steady myself so that I don’t fall off. With another glance over the Zombies, I pull the pins from the grenades and toss them into the crowd in the direction of the lab. Snatching the knives from their holsters, I take them tightly in my hands.

  “Don’t drop. Don’t doubt. Don’t stop until you’re out. You got this, Ky.”

  I squat to brace myself against the explosion of the grenades. They go off simultaneously.

  I leap into the crowd of Zombies, stabbing the ones nearest me in the head. I kick the ones in my path and spin out of the way of the other’s attacks.

  There are too many of them. I’ve only gained inches toward the lab.

  I wanted to reserve the bullets, but I need to make it through this more quickly. My shoulders are getting tight, and every time I yank my knife from a Zombie’s head, their blood sprays in my face. They’re everywhere, at my back and sides.

  I snatch the gun from my waist and plow them down, making a path as I climb over their bodies and hurry forward. Ten rounds, gone. I make it to the broken glass and climb in, ducking behind a shelf to avoid the Zombies milling about on the inside.

  It’s hard to catch my breath, and I don’t have enough time to sit, but I want to.

  There’s an explosion that makes me snap up. A blinding light encamps the building, and blazing heat wraps around my body. I should’ve kept moving.

  Chapter Nineteen

  *Marc*

  An explosion shakes the underground passageway.

  I throw my arms over my head as rocks beat down on top of us. Rumbles roar down the tunnel and back, vibrating the rock-strewn ground and shaking the cave walls. Bent at the hip from the low ceiling, I awkwardly maneuver through the tunnel, led by a couple of Creations who came to our rescue when the Zombies crashed into the labs, delivering us to a safety shaft that dropped us into this cave-like passage clouded by dust and grime. The Creations say it leads to a bunker a few miles down. My muscles spasm from the amount of time we’ve been cramped down here.

  “Wait a minute.” Isaiah, one of the Creations leading, stops us. “I need to find the entry from over here.” He runs ahead.

  I blink the rock dust from my eyes and check on Sean at the front of our line on the other side of Seits.

  Jord, in front of me, looks away from Seits beside him and says, “That may be the third dynamite we set going off.”

  At the end of the line, I check behind me at the blocked path, crowded by fallen rock and debris.

  “Okay,” Isaiah comes jogging back down the tunnel. His twin, Ingram behind him. “I found us an entry to the sewer passage from over here.” A flashlight is strapped to his arm. The light jumps over the group of us huddled against a wall.

  Crouched to avoid knocking his head against the sharp rock, Jord moves in front of Sean to shake Isaiah’s hand. “Thank you for your help. We were outmanned up there. If it had not been for you lifting that hatch, that would’ve been the end of our road.”

  “And I would’ve hated going out as a Zombie’s meal!” Sean throws his arms out as he straightens his back and smashes his head against the rock. “Argh!”

  I lift my gaze to the dark rock and shake my head. “Why do you think he’s hunched over, Sean?” I punch him in the back. “Be smarter.”

  Sean groans, rubbing his head.

  Isaiah snickers. “You’re all welcome. When a Creation needs help, we’re usually right there.” He chucks his thumb over his shoulder. “The opening is a mile down. Watch your heads on the way. It doesn’t seem like the boring of this tunnel was properly completed.”

  We must be at least eight feet underground, trotting through this safety passage I assume was built under Highrum years ago.

  Ingram passes each of us a small flashlight. “We may need to stay down here until those Rumblers move out. They’re covering blocks up there.”

  “Rumblers, huh?” Sean laughs once. “That’s a cool name for them.”

  “It is,” I follow. I look behind me once more, checking the shadows are empty and we’re still clear. We lost the flight attendants to the first line of Zombies, and the two Normals quickly turned and attacked us too.

  “Since we won’t be able to make it above ground, we’ll take you all to our spot.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but underground and in shadows is where they like to hide. You’re nestled in their comfort zone,” Jord says. He looks behind him to check on Seits, and she gives him a nod. “Your best bet is a high-rise. They can’t climb.”

  “They’ll climb up each other, though,” Sean says.

  We remain crouched, shuffling single file to the opening Isaiah mentioned. We make it to a circular door with a steel wheel with five spokes. Isaiah raps his flashlight against the door rhythmically six times. It’s shoved open, and a gust of wind shoots through the tunnel as though it’s been years since someone has cracked it open. The gravel and rock dust rustle around us and blow off our shoulders. Isaiah enters first, and Ingram waves us forward.

  I’m the last one through the door and help a man with silver hair and a protruding Adam’s apple tug the steel door closed. He spins the wheel to seal it shut. Metal planks push across the door and find their slots in metal holders drilled into the concrete wall.

  “Thanks for your help.” He extends his hand. “I’m Napoleon.”

  I accommodate his handshake and nod once. “Marc. Sean,” I gesture to my brother standing near Jord. They speak to a woman over a basket of fruit on a table. “General Jord and General Seits, they’re my commanders.”

  Napoleon nods and heads for them. He gestures to the woman I noticed standing near Jord. “My twin is Gwendoline.” He says to the room, “We’re good for now, everyone. They weren’t followed.”

  I look around the room, sweeping my gaze over the pairs of Creations spread out around their underground bunker. The walls and ceiling are plated with steel, and the ground has been smoothed down. Nothing like the passage we hustled along moments ago. Twin beds line a wall accompanied by small tables topped with a lamp. In front of each bed is a chest topped with an extra blanket. On the other end of the room, there’s a long counter with two faucets. Beside it are three plastic columns that reach the ceiling, I assume for their water reserve.

  “You all live down here?” I ask Napoleon.

  Napoleon presses his lips in a hard line and nods. “We made it as comfortable as we can.” He leads me to the table, and he introduces himself to Jord and Seits.

  Sean comes to my side with an orange and a bottle of water. “Thanks.” I bump my fist against his shoulder.

  He nudges me with an elbow to my side. “I’ve always told you I was the better brother.”

  Napoleon sees to it that the four of us have food and water. He motions for us to sit on the ground with him, but we remain standing. They have beds but no seating or refrigeration. I screw the top back on the warm water and twist the bottle in my hands.

  “Where you all headed back to Desert Hills?” Napoleon asks.

  “We were.” Jord swallows hard after downing his bottle of water. He crushes the bottle and Gw
endoline snatches it from him before he can toss it aside. Jord drags an insulted gaze away from her and looks back at Napoleon. “Our plane crashed. There must’ve been something faulty with the engine.”

  Gwendoline creases her forehead. Sitting next to Napoleon, she runs her fingers through her hair slung over her left shoulder and arches a sly brow. “You think it was an accident?”

  Seits crooks her index finger under her chin. “Of course,” she says firmly as though the inquisition is preposterous.

  “I doubt it,” a man says behind us.

  We look in his direction, seeing a dark-haired man sitting on the ground, glowering at us. “How do you mean?” Seits asks.

  Napoleon stands with Gwendoline rising beside him. They stare at us with frowns and pursed lips. Napoleon rubs the back of his neck. His free hand flies up at this side and falls. “I don’t know. Maybe we’re wrong.”

  “No way,” Sean carries, waving his hand for them to continue. “Out with the details. You all are too ominous, and we don’t like that kind of shit.”

  “He’s right,” I say, seconding Sean, facing the two other Creations directly. “We don’t.” Napoleon and I stand the same height; Gwendoline is a hair shorter. If I wrap my hand around their forearms my thumb and fingers would touch. Taking them on with their pale skin and slim frames wouldn’t be fair.

  Jord says, “We appreciate your help, but if we can’t trust you, we should be on our way.”

  Napoleon gestures to his right with a nod and a flick of his wrist. He starts for another passage at the other end of the bunker near the counter.

  “Fuck no,” Sean says in my ear. “I’m not following their creepy asses down that dark ass tunnel.”

  “It leads to another area of our underground corridor.” A small girl, standing the height of my shoulder, comes up behind us. She wears a dress that’s decorated in flowers, and her red hair sweeps her shoulders. “I’m Angie. They aren’t trying to be weird. You all are just quite intimidating.” She squeezes between Sean and I to pass us.