“I’m not looking forward to it,” Pfeifer says in an undertone, tucking her fire-red hair behind her ears.
Luke’s eyebrows knit together, reflecting his disagreement. “I am,” he states profoundly. “I was created for battle. This petty fighting isn’t nearly enough.”
“It looked like enough for you today,” Pfeifer says, leaning her elbows on the table. She looks at Luke dead on, pursing her cherry red lips as though she’s waiting on him to deny it.
Luke bites back his anger, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. “Clearly it wasn’t since I was able to walk out of the ring.”
“At least it was a fair fight. Both of you are good,” Danny adds.
Major, another of our associates who we often meet here at the Diner, snatches a chair from a nearby table and twists it around to plop on it backward. He whips his head back, flipping his thick dreadlocks from his face. “That was better than a good fight.” He cheers, “Ooh wee! That fight was something for the ages. That guy gave you a serious run for your money, Luke.” Major bumps fists with Danny then greets everyone around the table. “So, who is he anyway?”
I line up the fries in my basket as I reveal, “I don’t know, but he’s a Creation.”
“How do you know that?” everyone but Luke asks, astonishment sewn in their eyes.
Feeling everyone’s attention centered on me, I straighten my spine. “He has a twin.”
“Having a twin doesn’t make him a Creation, Kylie,” Major argues with his hand waving over the table.
“Duh. I, of all people, would know that. His twin was healing him.”
“Speaking of him,” Pfeifer begins, “he’s entering the Diner. Completely healed.”
Luke’s glare burns holes in my face. I won’t look over my shoulder to see Marc. I only stare at my fries.
“And he’s coming over here,” Pfeifer says under her breath.
I peek up at Luke. He fixes me with a laser glare. It’s so annoying.
“Wassup everybody?” an unfamiliar voice greets us. It’s too perky, full of life. It can’t be Marc.
Counting, I face him. One, I see his cheek; two, I see his nose; three, I see his eyes. He’s looking back at me. I quickly turn away not wanting to look at him for too long. Luke might have a cow.
My friends speak, remaining cordial.
“Good fight, Luke. First time I’ve ever been beat.”
With a conceited smirk, Luke says, “Yes, guess I had to break your record.”
“Maybe,” Marc says in a low voice, and quickly follows with, “I’m not from around here, as you know. But I’d like to become acquainted. Except for Luke, I’m familiar with him already.”
“Hi, I’m Pfeifer.” She takes over the introductions. “I’m usually farming during this hour, but the senior groundskeeper shut it down for harvest inspection. This is Major.” She points next to her. “He doesn’t have a purpose that any of us knows about yet. And that’s Danny. He’s the only Normal looking forward to Separation. And there you have Ky, she’s Luke’s sister.”
“Thanks for the intro, Fire.” Danny asks Marc, “Where did you ship from?”
“They didn’t ship me. We,” he points to his brother across the Diner, “came from Chicago with our mother.” He shrugs lightly. “We’re preparing for Separation. Arizona’s training centers are better than back home.”
Danny nods and says, “We are also going off for Separation. All but one of us are looking forward to it.”
Marc taps my shoulder with two fingers. “Would that be you?”
Luke clears his throat. “Not Ky. She was born ready to go. But Fire over here,” Luke flicks a fry at her, “is not too thrilled.”
I hold my breath. Marc’s hand is so close to me. He moves away from me, and I exhale.
Marc grabs a chair and sits backward between Luke and Pfeifer. “Why do they call you Fire if you’re not a ready fighter?” Marc asks her.
“It’s because I don’t like my real name.”
“That’s it?” He smiles at her, brows knit. “Then tell me what’s so bad about Pfeifer.”
Discomfort rolls in my stomach.
She grins flirtatiously. “I’m also good with a firearm,” she says, giggling as she nudges his shoulder with hers.
The two of them flirt with giggles and smiles while Major, Danny, and Luke argue about a fight between Major and Esque, a Creation I don’t know very well. Bored with both conversations, I leave the table, heading for the counter.
“Hi Ky, good job on the race yesterday. Sorry I shot you.” Seas was in the races yesterday with her sister. Their bald heads have matching tattoos of a falcon where the bird’s beak starts right between their eyebrows. It’s inked in white and is flawless against their deep-chocolate skin, almost like it can lift off and fly away. Seas is nice, always giving me extra fries and an extra cherry in my shake.
“It’s just a game, no hard feelings. Can you give me a white shake?”
“Of course.” She turns from the counter, grabbing a glass off a back shelf. I lean against it, feeling uneasy. I can’t say why, but watching Marc and Fire made me uncomfortable.
“Can I ask you a question?” I turn to the husky voice. Marc’s brother.
“Yes, I think so,” I answer, quickly finding his eyes.
His gaze shifts, flickering to our left, to me, and then somewhere past my shoulder. “Why do you call it a white shake?”
What a weird question. “Because,” I face him, resting my right elbow on the counter, “that’s what color it is.”
He turns his back to the counter, leaning against it, head slightly turned to me. “But it’s a vanilla shake.”
I contemplate his statement, frowning and twisting my lips before I say, “I never thought about it like that.”
He tips his chin toward my table. “I see my brother is getting comfortable with your friends.”
“Yes, I suppose he is. Marc, right?” He chuckles deeply in his throat. Contemplative, I glare at him, faltered by his hilarity.
“No, I’m Marc. He’s Sean.” He runs the nail of his thumb over his beard. “He always does this.”
“You’re Marc? You fought my brother Luke?”
“Yes, I did and lost. I would never fraternize with someone who beat me. I’m not a team player, and it’s more than just a fight, a game, or a race to me.”
“You take things personally.”
“I do.”
Seas brings me my shake. “Thank you.” I grab it, taking the straw to my lips.
“Can I ask you another question?” he asks once I’ve stop sipping my shake.
I look into his black eyes staring back at me. His hooded brows heavily shadow them. He cocks a questionable brow, awaiting my response.
“Okay. Sure.” I shrug.
“What’s your name?”
“Kylie.”
“Hi Kylie, I’m Marc, the real one.”
I smile. “Nice to meet you.” The awkward feeling I had watching Fire and Sean’s obnoxious, casual flirting passes.
“Same to you.” He looks away from me. “Your brother is coming over. Nice chatting with you,” he says casually.
“You too.” I hold back my grin.
Luke’s right in front of me when I turn away from Marc leaving through the side door of the Diner to the outdoor patio. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I hand him the shake. He rejects it. “That’s Marc. Sean is,” I point to the young man sitting at the table, “the twin brother.”
“Ah ha.” Nodding, Luke crosses his arms. “So, that’s not Marc,” he says, looking over his shoulder. “I knew he was too comfortable to have just gotten a beating.”
“He didn’t just get a beating, so he’s more than comfortable.”
“What were you talking about?”
“Nothing, he just told me who Marc was and who wasn’t.”
Luke shrugs. “Don’t get caught up with that guy. I saw the way you looked at him. It was different, m
ore concentrated than your normal obnoxious stares at people.”
“Shut up, Luke.” I pull him back to the table. “I didn’t look at him any kind of way. Plus, I’m only focused on our purpose, not a boy.”
“Good, and don’t say that too loud.”
I nod. He’s right to remind me. We’re not to reveal or discuss our true purpose, not even with each other. But when it’s time to execute it, we must be ready.
Just as I am taking another sip, Luke snatches the shake from me as we sit at the table. It drips on my lip and my chin. Major wipes it off and licks his thumb.
“Yuck,” I exclaim, grabbing a napkin to wipe off the residue.
Luke jumps up and shoves Major. “Don’t touch my sister, maggot.” He’s not angry, but he means it.
Everyone laughs as Major grabs the table to keep from falling out of the chair. “You should really calm down, Luke,” Major states coolly. “Your sister’s cute. Men are going to try to chase her.” He winks at me; long eyelashes fan over his deep brown eye with crust still resting in the outer corner. His dark lips, deepening in color from chain smoking for the past four years, smile as he licks them.
I close my eyes, shaking my head. “No.” I do not share his attraction.
“No,” Luke starts. “My sister is not a Breeder. If they want to chase someone, they should visit that division.”
“There are Breeders here?” Sean asks.
“Yes, there are, Sean.” Luke’s left eyebrow arches as he says his name.
Sean bellows a hearty laugh. Apparently, his lie is incredibly amusing to him. “Who’s Sean?” Pfeifer looks at Sean, confused.
I tap her shoulder to get her attention. “He’s Sean.” I point.
“Why did you tell us you were Marc?” she asks, giving him wide, disapproving eyes. He laughs harder, getting up, leaving the table without answering.
“I don’t get it,” she says to me.
I shrug and reach across the table to grab my shake. “Me either.”
Luke snatches it away before I can get a finger on it. He snorts a laugh, tilting his chair back on its hind legs. “Let’s get out of here, Ky. I’m ready to go,” he says, finishing my shake. The straw hits the bottom of the cup, making an annoying slurping sound in the empty glass.
I snatch it from him. “Don’t do that,” I shout. “It’s so annoying.”
He laughs. “Sorry. Go get another one for our trip home.”
I glare at him. “No way.” When he looks to the door chiming from someone entering, I slip the toe of my sneaker beneath a leg of his chair and further tip it back. He falls backward, drawing laughter from everyone who sees. Grumbling a line of cuss words under his breath, Luke smacks my leg when I step over him to head out of the Diner and to the car.
Chapter Five
Danny throws his duffel bag into the trunk of Luke’s coupé. I pull the seat forward for him to crawl in the back and drop down in the seat. Within seconds, it’s all too noticeable Danny hasn’t showered in days. Luke and I always leave the door open for Danny, and he’s aware he can visit and shower or sleep, whatever he needs. But Danny’s proud. He doesn’t need to be. We are all here to help each other.
Luke’s going to want to work out when we get home, and my body is still tired from yesterday. But he’s not going to let me sit it out. His words replay in my head, “Unexpected occurrences don’t wait until you’re at your best. You must put in your best work, even when you’re beat.” He’s right. With Separation in a few months, we have to be ready, look ready, and feel ready.
“Are you going to work out with us?” Luke asks Danny, confirming my thoughts.
“Sure, I don’t see why not. Just a basic workout, right? No demanding me to fight and then beating me down?” Danny asks, skepticism tightening the tone of his voice.
Luke snorts. “No, today is strength training. Tomorrow, we fight.”
Tomorrow we do fight, beating each other until one of us gives. I can count on one hand how many times he has given in. We don’t take it easy on each other because we know no one else is going to.
“Yeah.” Danny yawns. “I guess I can lift some weights.”
Luke backs into the driveway at the back of our aunt’s house. We enter through the back door, and Danny follows us into the basement.
“We are going to do the bench press first, so help yourself to anything else you’d like.” Luke points to the multiple workout and weight machines spaced out around our basement. Being the top contenders in our area has its perks. While the equipment is used, it’s in great condition. We come down here six days a week. The one day we do not, we are doing our bid for the government like maintaining the Waulers and enforcing order that never sticks.
There used to be jobs available for the Normals like police officers and security officials before the destruction. But since no one wanted the job and the New Establishment was in place, they did away with them. Too many were being murdered pointlessly. The Waulers and many Normals became unmanageable, and no one was willing to put their lives on the line anymore.
That wasn’t even the worst of what was brought upon our world, and I’d have to be classified to find out what was. The Premier and Guidance did everything they could, or so we heard. They increased salaries, promised safety, and ensured the citizens there was security in holding the positions, but the citizens of The America knew these were lies. The Creations are happy to do the dirty work, so this is where we come in.
Danny preps the chest press. “Thanks for letting me kick it here.”
“Anytime, Danny. You first, Ky,” Luke says as he puts fifty pounds on each side of the barbell.
I stretch out, sit on the bench, and lie back. Grabbing the bar, Luke lifts it off for me. I lift the one-hundred-and-ten-pound bar until my arms will no longer allow me to continue. He adds another sixty pounds to the bar and presses way more sets than I did.
A good hour-and-a-half workout always makes me hungry, and I like to make sure Danny gets a good meal whenever he comes by. And Luke, he’s a food savage. I whip up some dinner, and we crowd around our small kitchen table.
Danny downs his red juice and clears his throat. “If you all were not of age, would you still have to go in this draft?”
“Yes,” Luke answers quickly. “Why?”
“Just asking. It seems like twins are affected differently by Separation than others.”
His statement diverts my attention from the dishes. “Why do you say that? What would make twins different?”
“Well, the ones born as Creations, who can heal by linking with each other,” he points to Luke’s hand, “seem to be made for it, accepting of it. However, naturally-born twins are like everybody else.”
Luke looks at his palm. “It’s how they created us.” He smirks, eyes rising to Danny. “It’s why they call us Creations. Because they designed us to be accepting of it. They made us want it, conditioning us to be better than everyone else.”
Danny rolls his eyes and gestures toward Luke. “You’re weird. All of you Creations.”
“No,” Luke starts. “We’re not weird. We’re just better than all of you Normals.” I laugh.
“That’s something extremely conceited to say,” Danny says, eating the last of his peas.
“It may be, but it’s also true,” I say. I take his and Luke’s plates and put them in the sink. “Mind getting the last of these dishes, Luke? I’m going to grab a shower.” I yawn, and my sore muscles crave for me to rest.
“Okay, Ky, right behind you.” Luke gets up and comes over to the sink. Turning to Danny, he asks, “you staying over ’til the morning?”
“Yes,” Danny nods. “Unless your aunt comes home early.”
I leave the kitchen. Moving to the stairs, I take two at a time. From my room, I grab my pajamas and head to the bathroom for a quick shower. I turn the cold water on first and gradually make it hotter because I hate when my showers are too hot and practically burn my skin. Finding the right temperature is a
science and makes for a perfect relief no matter how fast my shower has to be. I step in when it’s just right.
The water glides down the nearly transparent lined crevices of my body first, making them visible until my entire body is soaked. Sometimes the embellishments glisten, but the only purpose I know them to have is accelerating healing when Luke and I align our palms, and they visibly separate us from the Normals.
“Ky, hurry and get out. We have company.”
Darn it! I’ve only been in here for five minutes. “Okay Luke, I’m getting out.” The door closes.
I dress and head to Luke’s room. I don’t understand why he is so ready for me to have my own room. My sleeping in his room is fine, and we are both comfortable, or so I thought. I try to sleep alone; I test it once every year, and every time, by REM sleep, my pillow is torn to shreds, and Luke is waking me up ushering me back to his room.
Nightmares are my weakness. It’s odd because Creations shouldn’t have weaknesses. I shouldn’t be affected by anxiety: feelings of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome. I lie on his bed, staring at his crowded ceiling, full of pictures and writing.
Luke writes motivational quotes on his walls, things like, “I live to live in life’s living” which is written right over our heads. Another of my favorites is scribbled under a picture of a man with half his face burned and the other whole. It reads, “I failed because I declared myself not good enough to succeed.” The entire quote is in capital letters save the ‘I.’
Danny comes in with a blanket and a pillow. “’Night, Ky.” He sets himself a pallet on the floor and gets comfortable, waiting for Luke to finish his shower.
“’Night, Danny.”
Luke comes in after his shower. “You have to be gone before the sun comes up,” he tells him.
“I know. I’ll be gone before your aunt gets in. Just for a few hours.”
“Okay.” Luke lies next to me, and I move my head to his shoulder, quickly falling asleep.
Danny stumbles into the dresser, waking me up. “Danny, keep quiet,” I snap.
The Separation Trilogy Box Set: Books 1 -3 Page 4
