Imminent Threat
Page 12
“Our purpose is simple. We do not have time, Cory.”
He slows our pace. “We make time.”
“What’d you want to talk about? I don’t really have the time right now.”
“You didn’t care when you were avoiding me. Why do you care now?”
“Be nice, Cory.”
“I’m trying to be nice, but lately, you haven’t been.”
We arrive at the living compound. Four rows and two columns of homes make up the housing section that’s placed half a mile from the recreation area and three miles from the entry to the base. Each home is two floors, eighteen-hundred square feet, holding six bedrooms for three sets of twins, two large bathrooms that have been converted into stalls like those in a gym, a living area, a small kitchen, and a den.
Cory and I stroll between the houses and stop behind the third one from the end, where neither the post lights nor the moonlight can reach.
I lean my back against the wall of the house marked “F” and grab the shoulder straps of my vest as I look into Cory’s eyes. He says, “I thought we’d finally got our moment, Ky. But then you started disappearing and avoiding me like we’re associates or something.”
I kind of like Cory. When he watches me with those soft green eyes and gently trembling bottom lip, it makes me susceptible to his wants. Then he erases our personal space and anchors his hands on my waist in a way no one has before, and while a part of me thinks it’s nice, the other part finds it excessive. There’re two sides to Cory.
“Are you avoiding me, Kylie?” he asks, moving closer.
I shake my head, unable to tear my gaze from his. “No.”
“So, what’s up?” He backs away, brows knit and shoulders slumped.
What’s up? “We aren’t here for this. For self-pleasure,” I say in a grave tone. “We are here to train first and fight later. We’re here to protect our country and the remaining people, and maybe, if we’re lucky, give us all a fresh start one day. If they found out we were participating in these actions, they would dispose of us.”
“They will not dispose of us, Ky. We are too valuable to them. You think they will imprison us because we kiss,” he closes the distance between us, slipping his arm around my lower back, “because I hold you like this?” His free hand braces his weight against the wall.
“Maybe. And you’re too far in my personal space.” I push my arm against his chest, nudging him back a bit.
“Well, they won’t,” he whispers, leaning into me. “Trust me.” He stops short of meeting my lips.
I won’t seal this embrace.
His gaze flicks downward, and my lips burn. He closes the distance, pressing his mouth to mine. His lips are tender, full. They’re warm and magnetic. His tongue grazes my bottom lip. It’s soft and moist, and it causes a flutter in my abdomen.
I place my hands against the wall at my back and firmly press my shaking palms to the cold brick. My head leans back with the force of his kiss, and his body tries to move against mine, but the bulk of our suits and protective vests holds him back, thankfully.
I’m not sure of my comfort level in this action, or the exact feeling I’m experiencing. It’s not excitement. There are some nerves, but I’m more nervous we’ll be caught than I am from arousal. Arouse: evoke or awaken emotion, feelings, or a response. This may be uncertain nervousness because this action is new. He’s the first boy I’ve ever kissed and crossed this line with.
Cory leisurely slides his hand down my arm to my hand, slipping his fingers between mine.
Orderly footsteps come around the corner before we have a chance to wrench away from each other. I’m shoving Cory away from me as I’m wiping the back of my hand over my mouth. As if that would wipe away the action of the past minute.
Luke and Marc stand there, observing us, both wearing glares of disapproval and resentment. I can already hear Luke’s scolding words, and I throw my hands over my face, awaiting them. But to my surprise, he says, “Ky, let’s go run the course.”
Embarrassed, I scrape my hands down my face, avoiding everyone’s eyes around me as I follow Luke to the obstacle course.
Wind is whistling by my ears as I pick up speed to catch up with Luke. Jumping over low and high logs, the air whips in my face. The sun is gone, and the course lights will soon fade out. We have to finish before that because the field in this obstacle is pitch black at nightfall.
I almost catch up with Luke. In another two feet, I’ll be right on his heels.
Luke never looks behind him as he runs. He is only, always, focused on his goal. I push harder, making it to his side. Everything is only a shadow. There’s another layout of logs we must jump over or duck under next. Jumping over the log, my legs lunge out, and I smoothly glide through the air, clearing it.
Ducking under, my knees bend, stretching in my two-step squat. With my hands and feet, I push myself up to leap over another obstacle. Luke’s no longer at my side. I hit the finish line, Luke hot on my heels.
“Yes,” I cheer, pumping my fist in the air. It’s not often that I beat Luke, and boy, when I do, it’s like I’ve won a race or got a promotion.
Luke approaches me, wearing a smile so large it reveals his teeth. He extends his hand to shake mine. “Good job, Ky.” I high five him and grab it. “Thanks, big brother.” I grab him into a hug. “I beat you.”
“I know, soak in your glory.” He pushes me back, and we catch our breaths.
I jump up and down, overly excited, singing, “I beat you. I beat you.”
Palms up, he throws his arms up and down in a way someone would encourage another to pump up the tunes. “Sing it, Ky, enjoy your moment.” He only gives up on being a sore loser for me.
“Thanks.” I wrap my arm around his middle. “Come on.”
“You may have won, but you are not in the clear.” He wraps his arm around my neck and shakes me twice. “Thought you weren’t going that far,” he says, easing his tone so as not to sound accusing.
He slows our pace, seeing the others waiting for us, and I respect him caring enough to have this conversation stay between us.
“It wasn’t supposed to go that far. That was an accident. I think I got caught up in the moment.”
“The moment?”
“Yeah, curiosity and a little interest. I didn’t want to kiss Cory again, but he has a way of looking at me, touching me. He says the right stuff.”
“Do not fall for that stuff, Ky. Don’t let him take advantage of you. He knows how to get you to do things, because you’re gullible.”
I shove Luke’s shoulder. “I am not gullible. And, what, don’t let him treat me the same way you do those girls, right?” I accuse.
Nodding, he states, “As a matter of fact, yes.”
“I wouldn’t do with him what you do with them.”
“That’s all I’m saying. Don’t let him convince you into doing something you don’t want to do. Draw your lines and stay in control.” He lightly punches my arm. “Don’t get your wannabe boyfriend killed.”
I laugh. “I do not want him to be my boyfriend,” I say low as we close in on the group. The girls clap for me at my approach. I pump my fist. “Woo hoo!”
“Go, Ky,” Fein and Collins cheer. We jog off from the boys, heading in.
Chapter Sixteen
After a shower, the girls and I head for dinner in the mess hall. Collins mentions, “Luke is top tier, Ky. Beating him means you’ll level up, I know that has to feel amazing.”
Collins and I are in competition for top female leader in our division, so beating Luke also means I beat her. I’m unsure if her statement is sarcasm or if she means it. “It does feel amazing, Collins.” Pushing open the mess hall’s doors, I add, “And now we eat.”
Today’s dinner looks delicious: grilled chicken, broccoli, and cornbread. I missed lunch, and I’m starving. We grab our trays and pile them with food then find Luke and the others. Luke and I still need to discuss what we discovered today. Likely, he’s already re
ached out to the Vojin, and I’m eager to know what he may have been told.
Luke’s sitting at a table with Sean, Marc, and Floyd. A girl’s whispering in his ear, and another is doing the same to Marc.
We sit at their table, and before my butt finds the seat, my gaze is glued to Marc. I don’t even know why I sat over here, knowing my eyes would betray me by staring. Whatever the girl whispers has him fighting back a smirk. He’s looking down, at his plate maybe, and he’s not even noticed I’ve sat down.
It’s stupid of me to want him to notice me.
I pull my gaze away from him to Luke, who also has not noticed we’ve joined them. “Luke,” I blurt, slamming my hand on the table. I draw attention from everyone, including the whispering girls.
“Yes, Ky?” he drones, annoyed.
I shoot him a scolding glare, and cover it up with, “Eat your food.”
The girl kisses his cheek and walks away. My head tilts as I scowl at him with narrowed eyes, and the corners of my mouth hitched.
He rolls his eyes and looks away from me with an aggressive sigh.
I try to tame my eyes as they dare me to look at Marc and the girl who’s yet to let up. I force my gaze to my plate, and my periphery plays in the challenge, forcing me to notice him looking my way while she’s still whispering in his ear.
I fight to control my eyes, to force them to pay attention to my meal. They’re not playing on Kylie’s team right now. Why must they care about what he’s doing?
Someone slides into the seat beside me. I intend to dart my gaze to the left, but against my will, it lifts and meets Marc’s eyes across the table.
He takes a second before he looks away. I knit my brows, hoping to have read something in his gaze, but it was empty. I avert my eyes to the newcomer who’s sat beside me.
Cory. Of course. He brushes my arm as he scoots closer. “We should finish our talk.”
“No, you’ve talked enough,” Luke follows. “You’re actually sitting too close.”
Discomfort rolls in my stomach as Cory, Luke, and I look back and forth at each other. “I’ll talk to you later,” I tell Cory, feeling tension settle around the three of us.
Cory shifts closer to whisper in my ear, “Too far, I know. It was not intentional to be caught by your bodyguards. But you—”
“Kylie,” Luke scolds, uttering my name like I did his.
I whip around. “Eat your food.”
I glare at him through my lashes.
Cory grazes the back of my neck, and again, he nears me to whisper, “We’ll finish later.” His lips, ever so lightly, graze my ear before he gets up and walks off.
Shocked he did that in front of everyone, I stare in awe.
A fork pokes my hand. “Ky, close your mouth and eat your food,” Luke says. “And no,” he shakes his head, “you are not talking later.”
I shake the astonished look from my face. “That was weird,” I mutter to myself.
The girl who was talking to Marc pulls him from the table, and they head out of the mess hall. My stomach feels like it’s floating up through my body and trying to charge up my throat. Moreover, my entire body burns. It’s getting worse by the second.
I’m suffering from feelings overload, a ton of them crashing down on me. I try to pinpoint them all and am having issues identifying a few, but there’s one, envy, and I don’t like it. Envy: a feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else’s possessions, qualities, or luck. This feeling makes me question myself.
I lose my appetite, as well as the joy I was basking in for beating Luke. I leave my tray at the table and head to the door on the other side of the mess hall, in the opposite direction of Marc and his friend.
Disappointment sits heavily on my chest, and my breaths shorten. It irritates me to feel this way, considering I’m not supposed to. I’m not supposed to be disappointed because the opposite sex lacks interest or doesn’t care about me. Nor am I supposed to have all these feelings. Why would they let us possess these human feelings if we are not supposed to experience them? I breathe, trying to even out my breaths, trying to remove the discomfort from my chest.
“Please do not go talk to Cory. I was serious.” Luke runs up behind me, pushing open the door of the mess hall for me.
“I’m not going to talk to Cory,” I say sulkily. “Leave me alone, please.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned.
“I don’t feel well.” I truly don’t, the feeling of my stomach missing makes me feel a little nauseated.
“Still thinking about earlier?”
That’s what I’ll blame it on. “Yes, earlier,” I say, remembering he mentioned something about reaching out. “What was said?”
He checks our surroundings. There are a few lingering but none within hearing distance. He starts low, “They weren’t willing to release all the information, but they have approved those things to enact destruction if it’s required of us.”
“What about the threat?”
“Like the man who spat in that lady’s face said?” His brows lift inquisitively. I nod. “They are the threat.”
“So, the threat’s put forth already?”
“Yes.”
“Then what are we supposed to do?”
“Follow instructions. Stick to the plan for now. Nothing is changing for us.” We stroll quietly for a minute, then Luke asks, “You walking?”
“Yeah. I need a minute.”
“Okay, I’ll meet back up with you when you’re ready to go to sleep.”
I throw the back of my hand against his shoulder before he jogs away. Our chat doesn’t help me get past my discomfort. So I stroll, trying to walk it off and clear my head, but all it does is allow the events to fill the quiet. Marc’s smile as the girl’s lips were too close to his ear and the pull of his hand in hers as he followed her away from the table. And why do I even care?
“So, you watch me but kiss him?” a voice calls from the shadows of house two that I’m passing. “That seems off.”
I look over my shoulder at Marc, leaning against a wall in the darkness. Not knowing how to respond to his insinuation, I ask, “Why are you standing in the dark?”
“Hiding. Why are you walking by yourself?”
“Hiding from what?”
“Christina. Why are you walking alone?”
Because you are not walking with me, I think. But I will not say that to him. “Just walking. Going over my thoughts.”
“You’d prefer to walk by yourself?”
“If you’re done hiding, you can join me.” Something I shouldn’t have said. I should’ve said ‘yes, I’ll walk by myself, staying far away from you, and the weird sensation you give me.’
“Can we walk in the shadows?”
I step into the darkness, now able to see him better, but I continue my stroll. He follows, and I slow my pace so we’re side by side. “Why are you hiding from Christina?”
“Why do you kiss him but watch me?”
“That wasn’t supposed to happen. Neither of those,” I answer honestly.
“Neither of those?”
Boggled, not understanding the context of his question, I say, “Right…” I step over a brick and push my hands into my pockets. “And you?”
He chuckles without any amusement showing on his face. “She was a little too forward.”
“What do you mean by forward?” I question, unable to picture how this relates to Christina’s personality.
“She wanted me to have sex with her, and that wasn’t about to happen.”
My cheeks burn, and I’m glad we’re in the dark. All I can say is, “Oh.”
We walk in silence for a bit, strolling further than I intended. “So instead of telling her you weren’t interested, you hid?” I finally ask. I have been thinking about asking it, but I just now got up the nerve. I could never ask the question she did. I find it out of the ordinary that it’s even a topic on the minds and in the conversations of so many.
There’s no harm in being honest. He did see me kissing him, which should not have happened. “I kissed my leader,” I say, nodding. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
“What, you kissing him or me seeing you?”
The answer is both, but I don’t know why. His purple eyes shine in the darkness and flash when he blinks. The straightforwardness of his question catches me off guard. “Um.”
A scurry in the darkness halts our steps and silences us. The rushing footsteps seem to stop when I notice it.
“Wait,” Marc warns low, putting his arm out in front of me. “You heard that?”
“Yes.” I reach for my gun. It’s not there. “I’m not armed.”
I hear his, the sound of it loading echoes in the darkness. “I got it. Do you see anything?”
“No. But I’m sure whatever is out there can see us with our bright, colorful eyes.”
“Let’s head back. You cover me, and I’ll cover you.”
We’ve traveled past the houses, past the field of crops where our fruits and vegetables are growing, all the way to the edge of the base. I step to his back, facing the opposite direction. “Okay. Let’s move.” With every step, his back reacts against mine.
The clouds blow away from the quarter moon, providing light to the shadows we were welcoming. It reflects off a line of five of those dead-alive people standing ten feet from us.
I halt. “Do you see anything?” I ask, making sure we are not surrounded.
“Nothing.”
“Well, I do.”
Marc turns, now at my side. If he’s shocked by the scene, he’s superb at hiding it, not a twitch or a sparkle in those radiant, purple eyes. He pulls another gun from his front holster and hands it to me. I take it, glad he’s prepared, and now I can defend myself.
The line of drooling creatures halt, arms hung at their sides, backs hunched a bit and their necks strained as each of them hold us in their sight.