The Separation Trilogy Box Set: Books 1 -3
Page 1
The Separation Trilogy
The Complete Series
Felisha Antonette
Contents
Imminent Threat
Creations
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Salient Invaders
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Ominous Order
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Inception (Boxset Bonus)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Felisha Antonette
Imminent Threat: The Separation Trilogy Book 1
Copyright © 2020 by Felisha Antonette
FELIANT PUBLISHING
www.felishaantonette.com
Cover Design by Cover by Christian
Edits by Novel and Kind
Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9971455-6-4
Hardback ISBN: 978-0-9971455-2-6
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Created with Vellum
For everyone who stands up against who the world says they can’t be.
-FA
Creations: genetically engineered human twins designed with a healing ability for longevity and the protection of the America.
When an extraterrestrial attack destroys majority of the world, humanity dwindles to the low billions and someone is to blame for the invasion. The America, at the center of the cause is forced to defend what remains of their country from the terrorist and Citizens who seek revenge.
Refusing to roll over, The Guidance enforces order and fear with the development of genetically altered humans called, Creations. Designed to manage and enforce law and order amongst the citizens, Creations are designed void of emotions and freedom. Their sole function is to fight the enemy and live to battle again.
Orphans Kylie Alexander and her twin brother, Lukahn were born for this purpose. Dedicating their lives to sharpening their deadly skills and forfeiting the chance at a future beyond the fight. They ready themselves for Separation, the deadly rite of passage where the oldest teens are drafted into the final preparation for war.
When Kylie and Luke are shipped off to Separation three months early, questions arise. Who is the real enemy? What is really happening beyond the fractured sanctuary of the training compound?
Humans and Creations alike have become lethal foes when a plague of the living dead becomes the number one hazard. Strategies change as the twins discover they may not be the saviors of humankind after all. They may be the real enemy of the people.
Chapter One
I’m free falling, seeking the thrill as my body plummets toward the earth, counting the seconds before it’s time to pull the cord. Wind blasts around me as I drop through the clouds, preparing myself for the point in the sky when I’m more like a rock than a feather.
My twin brother is falling next to me, his shirt and open jacket flapping in the rushing wind. Goggles covering most of his face, he does what he can to smile with the wind smashing against his cheeks. He gives me a thumbs-up.
The wind picks up, joining forces with gravity, driving us faster and faster to the ground. I grab the handle of my backpack, ready to pull the cord that will release my chute. I look at Luke, checking if he’s ready. He extends his index finger. I wait but grow impatient. We’re getting closer to open land, a flat, green valley that tricks me into believing it will catch me on its plush grass.
Luke signals me with a point, then pulls the cord on his backpack.
I yank mine.
The parachute blasts from my backpack, swelling as the wind gathers under it, yanking me back into the sky. I float through the air, a gentle descent, though the earth’s tugging me to its core.
I’ve skydived on hundreds of occasions, practiced this route over and over, but the landing gets me every time. Gravity pulls me down hard, and I tumble to my knees. I push myself up from the ground, feeling the weight of the chute settle on the grass. As I yank off my backpack, I see Luke landing a few feet away. He yells, “Ky, hit the ground running.”
I’m so caught up in the ride, I nearly forget my objective.
I tug off my goggles, toss them to the ground, and sprint toward the end of the field. The feeling of sheer weightlessness in the air contrasts to being tethered to the ground, takes a toll on me as I push for speed.
Luke passes me, sparing a second of his time to g
ive me a contemptuous glare.
Come on, Ky, I tell myself. Push harder.
We’re ahead of the others in our death race, and everyone else will know it when they see our black chutes in the valley.
“Let’s go, Ky,” Luke yells. “Hurry up!” He’s now more than eight feet ahead of me.
I pick up speed to catch up with him. My brother will kill me if I’m the reason he loses.
We near the edge of the field as a racer’s plane flies over our heads. Entering a copse of trees, we hasten through the woodland, jumping over large rocks and trunks. Luke tugs my arm, directing me to our left, through thicker bushes.
A swift whistle blows as something flies past me. Though I recognize the sound and can call its name, I still turn toward it.
Stupidity.
The arrow strikes my cheekbone, slashing deep into my flesh. I whip forward, resisting the urge to graze my cheek. Pain surges through the right side of my face. But I ignore it, much as I ignore the annoyed, repulsed expression on Luke’s face as he assesses my injury. Irritation: the state of feeling annoyed, impatient, or slightly angry.
We head west, dodging more arrows that zip through the air in search of their targets. Around trees and over boulders we race, doing our best to avoid paths we will easily be spotted on.
They don’t hold back in these races. I stay near Luke as we flee. In the race, you never want to separate from your twin. One fails, you both fail. And worse, if one is badly injured, and the other is too far away, they can’t heal their twin fast enough.
Finally! An opening is within our reach after minutes spent running and dodging arrows, rocks, and branches.
I wince, feeling another arrow enter and exit my forearm. I continue to ignore the pain. Stay focused, Ky, stay by Luke. Worry about the pain later. Ignore the pain, I tell myself, pushing forward, trying to stay on Luke’s tail.
Luke must not be able to feel those two arrows sticking out of his back. He doesn’t falter. The head of each arrow is lodged deep in his flesh. I turn away, looking back to the opening as we burst through.
Five trucks line the forest’s edge, their wheels pressed on soft, honey blond sand.
Luke pulls a set of keys from his pocket and hits the button. Lights flash on the black one, second from the yellow truck at the end of the line. The other three are red, blue, and green. We race to it. Without doors or windows, I’m able to swing myself through the back and settle in the passenger seat. Luke climbs into the driver’s seat, starts up the truck, and slams on the gas.
I’m grateful we aren’t running anymore. My calves are pounding.
Lights flashing in the passenger’s rearview mirror grab my attention. “Seas and Samantha have gotten into their truck, and they’re coming up fast,” I say.
I jerk back as he shifts and accelerates. “Two more obstacles. We stay ahead, we win.”
“Okay.”
Luke floors the pedal, racing toward the bumps and jumps of the approaching hills. He shifts gears, eyes glued on the obstacles ahead of us. “Just in case, get in the back. We may have to slow at times as we make our way through. Anyone gets too close, slow them down.”
“I got it.” I climb into the back of the truck and pull my gun from the waistband of my pants. I won’t kill anyone. But I intend to pop a few tires and inconvenience our opponents.
I’m made aware of the bumps as my body jerks up and down and shifts from left to right. I’m more than aware of the long arrow sticking out from my arm, but I continue to ignore it, trying to keep my head in the game. I hold on to the rail that would have supported the roof as the ride becomes bumpier, and my body frequently lifts from the floor of the truck.
Seas and Sam’s red jeep races toward us.
I aim my gun, watching as Sam aims her weapon at me. “Luke, move, now,” I shout, watching her pull the trigger. The truck jerks right, and I hit my injured arm against the railing. I grit my teeth against the pain.
Luke has kicked up so much sand and dust with his maneuvers to lose the red truck, it’s no longer visible.
“Hold on,” he yells as the truck lifts into the air.
I grab a rail to maintain my balance. The truck’s airborne; the ground falls away and then the front end hits hard. I jerk around in the back, trying to remain standing.
Last year’s competition was far better than this year. We stayed neck and neck with two other sets of siblings the entire race, battling for first place. They did it for family, but not Luke and me. We do it for us. We give it everything we have and win because they require it of us.
I’m jerked to the left from the swift movement of the truck. Luke tries to avoid being hit. I crouch down, finding it easier to see.
The blue truck is trying to ram us. At the speed Luke’s going, if they hit us, we’ll spin out and take them with us.
I near the edge of the truck, aiming at their front tire. The next time they’re close enough, I’ll shoot them, forcing them to spin out alone.
It’s Kindred and Randel. They’re brothers, and new to the races.
I shoot twice. The first shot hits their truck’s left wheel, and as Kindred and Randel spin out, the second shot hits the right.
“Is your head in this, Ky? There’s no way they should’ve gotten that close,” Luke scolds.
“I got it!” I yell back at him.
“Come up here and sit down. I see the next obstacle, I’m speeding up.”
I climb into the passenger seat, placing my gun behind me. Luke’s on the edge of his seat, avoiding hitting the arrows in his back against the chair.
The next structure of an actual obstacle course appears in the distance. I can already see where we’ll be crawling on the ground and through tunnels, climbing ropes and walls, swinging across adult-sized monkey bars, and dropping ten feet to the finish line.
I’m ready. Energy pumps through me as the excitement of winning bubbles in my stomach. I spot the eagerness and readiness in Luke’s eyes. “You ready for this?” I shout over the engine.
“Hell yeah!” he answers with a grin. This is how we train at home. Winning is a dead cert, and it’s exhilarating: making one feel very happy, animated, or elated; thrilling.
I love this feeling!
The sand beneath the tires becomes wooden planks, but Luke shows no sign of slowing down as we approach a wooden railing. At the last possible moment, he slams on the brakes while leaning left, gripping the steering wheel tight enough to make his knuckles go white. The sound of rubber trying to grip wood fills the air, and the truck comes to a standstill mere inches from the fence. We jump from the truck, rushing toward the course. Luke runs to my right side and pushes me forward while forcefully yanking the arrow from my arm. It hurts badly, but I cannot afford to let the pain show.
I know he wants me to do the same to him, and I ready myself to inflict pain upon my brother. He runs in front of me. We’re almost at the course with no time to waste. I grab both arrows and wrench them out as he jerks forward. He grunts, the only expression of pain he lets out, no trace of it showing on his face.
I glimpse the blood staining his white shirt as we continue onward. We hit the course, first climbing the three walls with rope. Next, we crawl in the mud under low weaved ropes. I go first, Luke hot on my heels. We swing across the monkey bars, clearing two at a time. There must be thirty of them; the pain shooting through my arm begs me to stop.
At the last bar, we must hoist ourselves to jump from the bar to the last wall we’ll climb to get to the finish line. I maneuver myself to lift up through the monkey bars, coming to a squatting position.
Luke flips backward from the last monkey bar with a gymnastic move and lands in the same position. Luke goes first, propelling himself from the bars frog-like and grabbing onto the wall. He climbs.
I jump after him, but missing my post, I slide down the wall until my hands and feet catch onto a ledge I use to stop myself.
Luke’s going to be upset at me for missing that jump. The wall
is about ten feet tall. The bars are eight. There’s no way I shouldn’t have it.
“Nice of you to join the party,” Luke says when I make it to his side.
I roll my eyes as I pull myself up the remainder of the way. “Shut up, Luke.”
We sit over the edge of the wall in preparation to jump off. Hoots, shouts, cheers, and yells come from the waiting crowd. We leap off the ten-foot wall together, flipping to cushion the impact of our landing. We both land with one knee down and a fist to the ground. Standing in unison, we grab each other’s hands, and lift them in triumph. Another victory is ours for the third year in a row. Luke raises his fist, pumping the air as he hoots his excitement.