The Separation Trilogy Box Set: Books 1 -3

by Felisha Antonette

  “Start, sir.” Sean states. “Start introductions,” he corrects.

  The man waggles his extended finger in Sean’s direction as he says, “Be happy I have a sense of humor, Seanabe.”

  He leads us through the base to a large lecture hall lined with chairs and an open floor. All the other Creations from our age group are sitting here still in their nightwear. We line up side by side, twin by twin. I look out at the other Creations, seated in the rows of chairs. Some I know, most I don’t.

  The general of the Army, Jord Archibald, walks back and forth in front of us. His five star badges reflect the light beaming from the ceiling as he turns on his heels. “The eight that stand before you will be your leaders. Each of you has been assigned to one of them.” He faces us. “All of you will have twelve under you with the exception of Lukahn and Marcain. The two of you will have sixteen.” He turns away, looking at nothing. “Respond!”

  “We understand!” the room bellows.

  “The lists with your names are on the tables in the back, in alphabetical order. The name of your assigned Chief is printed to the left of your name.” He walks to the door. “Leaders, fall out.”

  The unidentified captain who greeted us coming off the bus leads us to a recreation hall full of other Creations in black army-suits. They’re relaxed, without facial covers or guns, sitting around tables with attached benches. They’re eating and chatting amongst each other.

  The captain finally pulls down his face scarf, revealing he’s Cory.

  Cory was specially selected for placement in Separation two years ago. He and his sister used to live next door, and he and I would sit on his rooftop and talk for all hours of the night. We told each other everything, and trusting him was like second nature. Luke hated it, always yelling for me to avoid him because he felt Cory was trying to manipulate me. But I knew better than to be swooned by Cory’s smooth linguistics and haughty smile.

  Our eyes meet, and the corners of Cory’s mouth twitch upward before he quickly looks away from me. He grabs the shoulders of his vest and in a friendlier voice says, “This is where we eat, where we hang out, and where we can let our guard down, apart from when we are home. Never let your guard down or relax outside of this area or that one. Our monitors do not take well to sloth and lingering.” He takes off his guns. “Keep your distance. Do not befriend your subordinates. Do not get comfortable with them. Do not let them see your weak side, if any of you possess any—which I doubt you do. Do not open up to them. You are not their parents. If they do not listen or perform to expectations, we do not need them here. Abolish them. We do not waste time. We have no time to waste.”

  He places his weapons on what seems to be an allocated spot and comes back to us. “Apart from being assholes for twelve to sixteen hours of your day, we have six hours to sleep, if you choose to sleep. We are up at five a.m. on Monday, Tuesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Up at nine a.m. on Wednesday and Thursday. Wednesday and Thursday are our off days. We do not have to see our units on those days if we do not want to. Any other day, you train and push them for those ten to twelve hours. After that, the rest of the day is yours. Designated eating hours will be assigned tomorrow.”

  He nods, and we respond in kind.

  “Okay.” He sounds like a nineteen-year-old now that he’s finished barking instructions. “Now that that’s over.” He smiles, coming over to me for a hug. “I haven’t seen you in forever,” he says in a sing-song voice.

  Luke’s big arms push between us, forcing Cory back.

  “Still overprotective, I see.” Cory extends his hand to shake Luke’s.

  “She’s not here to hug. Keep your hands to yourself.” They shake.

  “Well, I missed her.” He winks at me.

  I give a shy smile. Shy: being reserved or having or showing nervousness to timidity in the company of other people. I think on the depth of this emotion. This one may be okay.

  Cory and I were never factioned as potential Breeders, but he’s always hinted at it. He mentioned words like infatuated, interested, affection. I won’t ever. I can’t. It’s not in me, not a part of me. The neediness for someone to have and… um... love…? Is that it? There’s no point. This, to fight, to kill, to control, to manage, is what we were created for. Not to love, not to be with someone happily ever after. Not to breed. Only fight. Feelings of affection are restricted, unnatural for us. It keeps us from having our twin as the only one to protect or to care for.

  Everyone should know that. Every Creation knows that.

  “We wear this all the time?” Collins steps into our small circle. She’s an inch shorter than me with long blond hair at the top of her head and jet-black hair in the back. With her dark brown eyebrows, I’m curious to know how she’s going to keep her color up.

  “Yes. All the time. Even on off days. Sets you apart from the others dressed in their green fatigues. Only when you are in your quarters, can you wear something else. But every time you step out of that door, you must be in full uniform,” Cory answers.

  “When can we get some other clothes? Considering we were snatched out of bed.” She throws her hands on her slender hips. “I couldn’t even put on shoes.”

  “There’s a spot that has clothes here. It’s closed for now, but when it reopens, I’ll take you.”

  “Good. This golden tan pops best in cream and yellow. I cannot wear all black every day for the rest of my life,” she says, rolling her eyes, thick black lashes fanning her cheeks.

  “Not all your life. Eventually, you’ll get too old to fight,” Cory says, nodding toward a table with a clear expectation for me to follow.

  “How have you been?” he asks as we sit at an empty table.

  “I’ve been. What’s so important we needed to be seized out of bed to be here?”

  “Work’s over for today, Ky. It’s our day off. We can get into that tomorrow. Besides, I do not have clearance to discuss that with you.”

  I peer at him through my lashes. “When did you start keeping things from me?”

  He smiles, grabbing my hands resting on the table. He takes them between his and stares for a long time. Cory is cute. He’s five inches taller than I am and has always had the look of a soldier with his dark brown hair cut short. His suit makes him look bigger than I remember, and his hairless face has lost the chubbiness it had the last time I saw him.

  Cory and I met at the Diner before we found out he was our neighbor. He spilled his piping hot tea on me when I was standing in line behind him, too busy arguing with his twin sister Hanley about being beaten in the rings by Luke earlier that day. His apologies poured out of him like a rushing river, and he bought me every item on the Diner’s menu that afternoon. From that day on, we were really good friends and told each other everything. I doubt clearance is going to keep him from telling me this too.

  Cory started taking a liking to me a year before he and his sister were picked up for Separation. I may have to use that to my advantage to pull the details from him.

  “I missed you, Ky,” he says smoothly. His haughty persona contradicts his nice, pretty-boy appearance, though he has always been tough.

  “I don’t believe you,” I say, softening my tone.

  “Well, I did.” He pulls his hands from mine and bows his head a bit. “But I did not miss your brother,” he mutters.

  “What about her brother?” Luke approaches and sits beside me.

  “Nothing, Luke, just telling Ky how much I missed you.” Cory winks at me. The wink gets me.

  “I highly doubt that.” Marc arrives and sits by my other side. I analyze Luke and Marc. They’re agreeing. How odd.

  I frown at Luke as he adds, “Me too.”

  “When did you two start agreeing with each other?” I ask him.

  Cory waves his hands left and right. “Hold up! So now I have two brothers standing between us?” He shakes his head with his eyes closed, covering his emerald irises. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m not standi
ng between you and anything,” Luke states. “There’s nothing, and you know that, Cory. Why lead yourself on?” Luke’s being an overprotective jerk.

  “Luke,” I scold my brother, “we are only talking.” I turn to Marc. He looks away from me when our eyes meet. “Sean?” I know it’s Marc, but his actions with Luke are throwing me off.

  He shakes his head. “No, it’s me,” he confirms. My lips purse as I study him. “I’ll talk to you later.” He gets up, and I watch him walk away. His impassiveness sparks my interest; this is an odd fascination I don’t totally understand, a peculiar attraction I have to figure out.

  “Ky.” Cory taps my hand. “I see something has grabbed your attention. Or someone…” He rises and marches off. I find myself staring at him as well, wondering what I did to upset him.

  “See? See what you do,” Luke blurts, slapping his hand on the table

  “Luke, I don’t see what you mean.”

  “You just leave both of them alone. And you know Cory is not good for you.”

  I roll my eyes. “Cory’s a good guy, Luke.”

  “Come on, Ky, this has been a cat and mouse game with you two for years before he left. He is not that good of a guy. And whatever he wants from you is not what you’re here for. Don’t get caught up in him.”

  “I won’t. I know what I’m here for. But there’s nothing wrong with flirting. Like you were doing on the bus with Collins.”

  Luke glares at me. He hates it when I smash his pie in his face. “I was amusing myself. And she was flirting. I entertained her by giving her my attention.”

  “Okay Luke. Whatever. So―I’m amusing myself too.”

  “Don’t amuse yourself or them.”

  “Don’t be so overprotective.”

  “Kylie, enough,” he says, using a disapproving tone that annoys me. It’s a tone that brings back a faint memory of our father, but it’s not strong enough to draw out the feelings of caring. Still, I recall preferring a life with him and our Breeder mother over our aunt and uncle.

  I roll my eyes at Luke’s fatherly scold. “I think you’ve been taking care of us for too long, Luke. You’re confusing your role in my life.” He doesn’t avert his gaze, and it begins to burn, so I give in. “You know I wouldn’t take it past innocent conversations. It’s not like I could. We can’t even feel things like that.” He should chill out. “I know my purpose here.”

  In my ear, he hisses, “Never repeat that again. Especially not here.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Separation takes place in eleven weeks. Prior to this date, those of you here will have advanced training.” General Jord has been talking for over an hour, explaining our roles and what we are to do.

  Waking up at five in the morning was not as challenging as I had anticipated. We had thirty minutes to dress, a thirty-minute run, and thirty minutes to eat breakfast. Having accomplished that, we were sent to the auditorium, where we’ve been sitting for the past three hours. Luke’s assumption about having a new room is way off. It’s no better or worse, but our living arrangements are far more comfortable here than back home.

  Once the general finishes, we’ll meet the groups we’ll be commanding. By the looks of it though, he’s nowhere near finished.

  Cory has been on edge but confident, or as confident as one could be in front of the general with his army suit on and a standalone M26 MASS shotgun sitting on his lap. Witnessing him antsy like this makes me curious to know what’s really going on. Why all the secrets?

  “You will be prepared for any type of attack. From creatures you know exist like humans and creatures you don’t…” the general trails off without providing any insight. “Things you learn here, as before, will not leave here. We fight all over the world; we battle and defeat others for what is ours. But what is ours can only remain ours if others do not know about it.”

  He stands back, and a woman steps forward. “Good morning. I’m General Seits Archibald. I am glad to see expectant faces,” she opens in a clipped voice. “It was unfortunate to hear we lost two yesterday. I want to take this time to explain something. You each were born in twos. You each will die in twos, depending on the circumstances. This is not every man for himself. You live for your twin and them for you. If your twin dies, blame yourself and shoot yourself in the skull before one of us can.”

  There’s a heavy resemblance between the two of them when General Jord steps forward again. They both have slender faces with bald heads, light-brown skin, and deep-set purple eyes. The only feature separating the two is she doesn’t have eyebrows. “General Seits is right. And even beyond your twin, we are a team. We fight with each other, we live with each other, we eat with each other, and we will die for each other. Remember that when you see one of your comrades alive, sprawled out on the ground, in need of aid. You are not selfish and must remember it takes a team to preserve our world.”

  “Chief Warrant Officers,” a female voice loudly commands from the side of the stage.

  Our row stands and states, “Attended.”

  “The chiefs of our current and incoming privates stand before you. They have been sought out as leaders. They’re the best in proving themselves worthy of the position,” General Jord states.

  He nods once, and those in the room harmonically state, “We understand.” The voices echo through the room.

  General Seits stands next to Jord. “Lukahn and Marcain, introduce yourselves,” she orders.

  Luke speaks first. “I am Lukahn Alexander. Kylie is my twin.”

  I straighten, pulling my shoulders back when they look at me. They nod, acknowledging me, and I return it respectfully.

  “I am Marcain Thanatos. My twin is Seanabe.”

  “Interesting name, Marcain Thanatos. What does that make of your family?” General Seits asks.

  “We have no fear,” he responds simply. His voice is strong, the rasp consistent.

  They nod, and General Jord says loudly, “These two will stand at the top of the command chain. The leaders holding equal rank will report to them. They will report to Captain Cory and Captain Ace. And Cory and Ace will report to us. Respond!”

  “We understand.”

  Jord names each of us, and we salute him. “Chiefs, find a section in here where your unit can meet with you.”

  We nod and disperse.

  I pick a row of unoccupied seats where my group will be able to crowd around me.

  The first to walk up is a tall kid with a short haircut and broad shoulders. Muscles bulk beneath his fatigue suit as he crosses the floor. “Chief Warrant Officer, ma’am,” he greets, standing at attention, voice lighter than I expect.

  “At ease, Private. Informalities are fine. Hi and goodbyes work best for me. Hi, I’m Ky. I’d like you to address me as Ky or Kylie. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Joe.” He crosses his arms across his chest and drops his gaze to the floor. “Josephine Carpenter is my full name.”

  Oh. “If you don’t mind me asking, Joe. What’s your preferred pronoun?” I just want to make sure I’m addressing Joe appropriately.

  “He,” Joe says with a nod and soft smile.

  I throw my hand out for him to meet it. We shake. “Welcome to Team Kylie, Joe.”

  He smiles wide and nods. “Thanks.”

  A short boy with curly hair steps next to Joe. He’s as pale as the snow. “Hey, I’m Alex Kenny. I may be small but I’m fast.”

  “Hey,” I greet, with a smirk and slight hitch of my brow. “Welcome aboard, Alex.”

  Identical twin girls with smooth skin and black pigtails plop down in the seats in front of me without speaking or looking my direction. That’s just downright rude.

  The rest fall in, introducing themselves, and I give them the same intro I gave Joe. Anthony, Joe’s brother, is first. They only slightly resemble each other with narrow noses and matching scar-like birthmarks on their necks.

  Frederick and Franklin Hurdle, they’re incredibly tall with short dark hair that has waves lik
e the ocean.

  Gabriel and Candace Regale, they are the most fraternal twins I’ve ever seen. Gabriel has black hair and warm olive skin, and Candace is shorter with red hair and light skin. Nerves or excitement has her red in the face, but her smile is pleasant, while Gabe’s is quite bland and wears a thin grin.

  Robert and Edward Fennel, they’re short and stocky.

  Alex’s sister, Megan, is the last to come up. Taller than her brother, with big doe eyes and a button nose, sounds like a child.

  I kick the two chairs in front of me that the two girls who didn’t speak are sitting in. They slowly look at each other and then turn to me in an even slower manner.

  “I see the two of you are going to give me problems,” I say.

  “No, you will not get any problems from us if you don’t cause them,” they say in unison.

  I smile, holding back the urge to slap them both. “I’m Kylie for those of you who don’t know or haven’t heard. These two,” I kick the chairs in front of me again, harder, making them push forward, “are the first on my shoot-in-the-skull list.” I rise. “I can be a kind person. I’m not friendly, but I can be nice. I will not hesitate to blow your head off if you slack off, do not follow orders, or,” I squat down with my arms resting on the back of the twins’ chairs. “act like these two.”

  “You seem nice enough to not blow our heads off,” Candace cuts in.

  “Good,” I respond with a smile. “Any comments or requests? Likes or dislikes?”

  The twins stand. “Besides you… No.”

  “You,” I point to the twin that didn’t speak. “Grab her hand.”

  She follows the order, though not without some hesitation. I yank my handgun from the holster behind me and fire two shots at the ignorant twin, hitting her in each leg. Through and throughs. She hollers in pain, dropping to the floor. Her sister goes with her, grabbing her hand and placing the other over her bullet holes. The area I shot now glows in an ambient light as her groans cease.

  I replace my gun and jump over the back of the chair, landing in the seat next to them. The twin I shot scowls at me, hate sewn deep in her black eyes.