The Separation Trilogy Box Set: Books 1 -3

by Felisha Antonette

  Jord and the man from the truck rush through the door. The girl disappears into the shadows, but the father and son remain, mouths open, teeth bared, drooling growls escaping them. They crouch like animals preparing to attack.

  I don’t do well with things I don’t understand.

  Raising my gun, I cock it back, aiming at the man. I fire as he jumps for Jord.

  The little boy groans, and without a word or perceivable movement, the unknown man blasts him with a shotgun. As I watch the little boy fall to the floor, lifeless, I’m tackled, hitting the floorboards.

  Tiny hands and feet claw and pull at me. I turn over to fight the little girl who had disappeared into the shadows.

  “Eyes and mouth closed, Kylie! Lukahn, do not let it bite her. Don’t let it scratch her,” Jord says urgently, shoving a point in my direction.

  If I close my eyes, I have no way to defend myself. But I shut them, following orders. No way will your leader tell you to block your defenses without knowing something you don’t.

  I blindly punch the air, working on getting the wild child off me. She claws at my suit, and I’m grateful they’ve made us wear them.

  “Kylie, stop, don’t move,” Luke says.

  I cover my face so the girl can’t scratch it. A single shot bursts through the air. The small body is thrown off me.

  I jump from the floor, searching for her corpse. I shoot it twice. Once for panicking the heck out of me, and the second for being so little and having that much fight in her.

  The man continues to groan on the floor.

  My bullet went straight through his skull. And yet, he rises.

  Dead weight limply gets up from the floor. First facing the wall, his head quickly jerks toward us.

  I’m in awe, not able to think, not able to respond to his actions. A man—dead—I know he’s dead. I shot him in his head, a temple shot straight through. No one could survive that.

  “Lukahn, shoot,” Jord’s slow yell pulls me from my study of the living dead man. “Head shot!”

  Luke’s gun rises in my periphery. One shot rings out, and the man’s head knocks back, his face now pressed to the back of his skull.

  Pulling my eyes away from the new astonishment, I rest them on Luke. I throw out my hand for his firearm. “Lemme see that.” How was he able to do it and I wasn’t?

  Putting my gun back in its holster, I take the weapon Luke holds out to me. It’s much heavier than mine. Removing the magazine, I notice the bullets are not the same. It’s a nine-round modified magazine, but with the remaining three bullets in place, there’s only room for two more.

  I pop out one of the bullets. It’s heavier than the typical round for this M9 with a completely silver casing and a green line of liquid centered in the bullet from the rim to the tip. I hold up the bullet between my thumb and index finger, and ask Jord, “What just happened?”

  “We currently do not have a name for them. We only know they exist, are dangerous, and contagious. Their bites and scratches turn you.”

  “Like them?” My question is flinty, but if it were only Luke and I talking, my voice would have been squeaky and high-pitched. It would have expressed how irrational I feel about these living dead humans you can shoot―in the head―but not kill regardless of the bullet being used.

  “Yes. Something worse or nothing at all,” he responds numbly. “We’ve been researching the issue, researching the actual dead product and the—” he stops, thinking with his index finger bent to his bottom lip, “—live corpses.”

  “We suspect them to be dead although we identify them as appearing alive,” the driver says in a deep, hollow, emphatic voice. “But they are truly dead. They do not portray their humanity as we do. When cut open, the heart is dead with no blood flow, but the brain is alive, and it functions for motor response. However, personality and logic are absent. Reasons for why this has occurred, or what this is, remain inconclusive.”

  “In hopes to terminate them,” Jord starts, “we brought in Creations to experience this half of the war before the big one. Creations are the only ones who seem to be able to survive the virus when administered the vaccines.”

  Neither of them follows up, waiting for Luke and me to respond. I’m not sure what it is they’re expecting us to say. We—I—have no opinion. We have no say in the orders they give.

  “What’s the bigger war if they are not it?” Luke points to the child corpse.

  Neither of them respond. When it becomes clear Luke and I aren’t moving on until we get an answer, the unknown man, still wearing his goggles, finally says, “Preparation has been set in motion for the Vojin’s threat to enter our atmosphere and conduct world domination.” My expression remains at ease, but the news is more than shocking. They know about us. Our plan. “They have informed us they will soon come. And we will be helpless.”

  Luke nods. “This, the dead corpse, is why we are early. The threat is the reason for this Separation.”

  “That is incorrect,” Jord responds. “The corpse is our war; saving our country’s humanity is essential. Maintaining the human race is our priority. The walking dead were unexpected, yes. Fighting them alone is ineffective. Separation is for their defeat. They are spreading like wildfire, multiplying nightly.” He starts toward the door. We follow, and he continues, “The Vojin are what hastened the early arrival. We do not know their plan, only that there is a threat in place. We do not take threats lightly. Human or extraterrestrial, dead or alive.” He exits the house, heading for the truck. “Let’s continue on this journey. We’ll show you why we have brought you two out here today and away from your units.”

  The unknown man nods, indicating we should exit first. Outside, I hear the ring being removed from a grenade.

  We get into the truck, with Jord in the driver’s seat. He pulls the truck out so the passenger side faces the home’s door. The man throws the grenade behind him as he climbs into the truck, and the small house blows within seconds of us driving away.

  Back on the dusty road, we drive for at least thirty-five miles before stopping at the canyon. We get out and walk to the cliff overlooking it.

  “Here is their hoarding area.” Jord makes it to the edge before the rest of us.

  Looking over the edge, it’s dark. It doesn’t go down deep and looking at the correct angle, in the shadow, I make out someone or something’s hand and a jean-clad leg. The hole is acres wide, and if those things hide down there, escaping the sun, what will this mean when night falls?

  “Why bring us here?” Luke asks, pushing me back from the edge when I look further over.

  “To show you what we are up against. The two of you are next in line. If training goes well, you will be leading two groups into battle against these…things.” He walks away from the hole, back to the truck. “There is something else we need you to see.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Pardon the blindfolds, you two,” Jord states. We climb down two flights of stairs and hit a landing before he explains, “You don’t have complete clearance for this area yet. But we’re making an exception for what we need to show you regarding those things we just ran into.”

  A latch sounds, and a door whines open. My arm is tapped for me to move forward. I take five steps and am halted by a hand pressing against my chest.

  “You can remove your blindfolds,” Jord instructs.

  I tug the folded scarf from my head and stuff it into my back pocket. My gaze first meets a black suited woman who has her face covered by a black scarf and her helmet on. We stand in a corridor that stretches a few feet long. Light is provided by two-way mirrors that shine against the charcoal gray walls and ground of the hall.

  “Continue,” Jord instructs.

  The woman before me nods once and turns on her heels. She marches down the corridor, passing the two-way mirrors without looking into them.

  I do.

  In the first room, a woman with gray hair and dirt covered flesh is strapped to a chair by her bare neck,
arms, stomach, and ankles. She jerks and shakes as electric currents shoot through her body. I quickly look away as someone inside the room is yelling, “Tell us what you know.”

  Past the second window, a young, skinny man lies on the ground, silent, as Creations kick and punch him. They go on with their beating until a woman says, “Halt.” She’s not in my view range, likely far off in the corner to prevent splatters of blood from coming in contact with her. “Joseph,” she says light-heartedly, “I understand you have a code of honor and an allegiance to your people. But you can’t take much more of this.”

  Joseph lies on the ground, fists slowly unclenching as his body relaxes against the concrete. He breathes.

  “Continue,” she says in a sing song voice. The Creations return to their beating, and Joseph balls his fists, tears falling from his eyes.

  “Keep going,” Jord says, and I realize I’ve stopped and am holding up the line.

  “What is this?” Luke asks.

  We make it to the last window. The soft light beams onto us, making it clear to see into the room and view our reflections in the glass. I watch Jord as he steps next to Luke, arms drawn behind his back, gaze peering into the room. “This is our observation corridor. We’ve caught a handful of Vojin who have been using civilians as hosts. We’ve discovered they’ve been here, on Earth, the entire time, and we want to know why. And those things, back at the hole, we believe they may have something to do with them too.”

  The room we peer into is an interrogation room. This one has white, tile floors, walls, and ceiling. The table and chairs are a reflective silver. A young Hispanic woman sits in front of a black man with long matted hair. His eyes are pinned on her, never blinking or looking away. They have his wrists restrained to the table with shackles, and his hands are balled into loose fists. He’s only staring at her.

  It’s normal for the Guidance to order interrogations and for Creations to get the answers by any means necessary. But what they don’t know is, regardless of their efforts, we were trained to remain quiet. Death will come before dishonor.

  “There are dozens imprisoned in the underground cells beneath the base. We’ve diminished eighteen so far, none of them willing to give up the information we need.” Jord adjusts the cuffs on his sleeves as he adds, “One of them will budge, eventually.”

  He nods to the woman beside me, and she leans forward and flips a switch. The rooms we’ve passed goes silent, and the one before us echoes through the hall with the young woman dressed in a cream pants suit, saying, “Terrel. We’ve learned your name.” She shrugs and leaves her shoulders near her ears as she adds, “You told us there was no way we would find that out.” They lower, and she waits for Terrel’s response.

  Nothing comes.

  The woman props her elbows on the table, and a glimmer of anger flashes on her expression. Her skin’s flushed, and the bags under her eyes reveal she may have been at this for hours. She questions him, “Who are you, really? Why are you here? Who sent you? What is your plan, Terrel, huh? How many are here?” She shouts, “When are they planning to attack?” slamming her hand on the table.

  The quieter he stays, the angrier she becomes.

  A door that blends in with the wall opens from the far-right corner. Two Creations enter, faces covered, helmets strapped on tightly. They wear facemasks with breathers that would usually be used if we were going to a lethal zone where toxins were involved. I doubt there’s a reason for them seeing the woman doesn’t wear any protection.

  The Creations help the man from the chair. They pull him from the room, and the man tries to jerk from their arms. It’s his first perceivable movement since we began watching him. He says, “All threats are beyond what is thought by you to be. When least expected, a threat will become your worst reality.” He flicks his gaze to the window, and I’m struck frozen as he makes direct eye contact with me. “What you expect should now be realized.” He turns his attention back to the woman and shouts, “The threat is not coming. What you fear is already here!”

  The Creations drag him from the room. The door’s closing behind them.

  Pounding footsteps echo from the hall, and the man bursts back into the room before the door can fully seal. He barges across the space to the table and spits in the woman’s face before the two Creations return and beat him down until the man has no fight left in him.

  “This,” Jord mumbles, never tearing his eyes from the scene, “has never happened before.”

  I give Luke frequent glances, expecting a comment from him that I can feed off of, but when his eyes widen in bewilderment as he stares at the woman, I turn my attention back to the interrogation room. The woman is vigorously shaking and foaming at the mouth. She tries to move and manages to stand up, but her legs give out, and she collapses to the floor. Coughing up blood, she goes still. Dead.

  I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I hear a huff coming from the female Creation. I’ve yet to learn her name.

  Two men, in all-white protective suits that guard them from head to toe as if the room were now quarantined, enter to check on the woman. They don’t approach her but cautiously look over the table at her limp body slumped on the floor. Her head jerks left before she rises slowly, limply, from the floor, much like the man at the abandoned house earlier. She takes on the same visage as him, but her skin is not gray, and her flesh is intact. She just looks lifeless.

  Her nostrils flare, and she climbs to her feet.

  The men jump at her abrupt movement, and their eyes widen. One runs for the door and bangs on the metal, yelling to be let out. He jiggles the doorknob, but the door is locked. No one comes.

  I move closer to the glass, skeptical of the outcome. Why would no one come to save him? I ask myself.

  Behind him, the woman lurches for the other man. She is faster than his defensive efforts as he throws out his arms to stop her. The protective suit is useless. She rips it off with little effort, clawing and biting at his body, exposing bloody flesh.

  The man being attacked shrieks in agony, bleeding out onto the crisp white tile.

  The other man continues to bang on the door in rising panic. Fear laces his cry and causes a concern for his survival to crawl up my spine. He looks back and forth, from the woman to the door, as his open hand slams against the exit. “Please. Anyone! Please help me!”

  The woman backs away from the man she tackled to the floor. He too rises and stares at the man at the door through bloodshot eyes. A part of his neck and face is missing, exposing open flesh, but it doesn’t deter him.

  The two survey the man.

  I spin around on my heels and stare at the gray wall before me. I know how this ends.

  The banging stops. The man’s breathing is loud, ragged, and scared. With his final cry, defeated, he pleads, “Please. Please someone, open the door.” He knows no one is coming.

  There’s a set of snarls. The man screams and within seconds, he’s silenced. Nothing follows his clipped scream but gurgling, chewing, and grumbling.

  I turn back. Crimson stains the interrogation room. The two have eaten the man down to nothing. They’re searching the room, throwing away his bones. They clatter against the floor and the table.

  Someone releases a sigh from where we stand.

  The man turned dead-alive looks our direction and runs for the glass. He rams it, and we jump back. The woman follows, smashing her head against the shatterproof glass, crushing her face. It doesn’t stop her. She appears to not have a hint of pain from the impact.

  Mist sprays from the ceiling and quickly fills the room.

  Someone clears their throat. “This has never happened,” the unknown man who rode with us earlier says. I forgot he was even here. He’s been so quiet. “This may be worse than we suspected. They are created by them,” he says, coming to the realization we are all catching on to.

  Considering all possibilities, why would the Vojin threaten to destroy Earth? For what? Yes, since the destruction of this
planet, things have gotten worse. This is why the government initiated Separation, to fight against other countries of this planet who blame what used to be the whole of The America for the destruction and to maintain order.

  There are the others. The invaders who came from beyond the Earth’s atmosphere we all banded together to fight against. But the Vojin… They’re protectors of Earth. Protecting this planet against the extraterrestrial who have intentions to attack. This planet’s protection is why Luke and I were inserted here. That being said, when did we plan to attack? Why would we be a threat?

  “Let us leave,” Jord says. “We’ll make it back in time for lunch.”

  At the thought of food, I fight my nausea.

  The ride back to the base is quiet. Luke and I are dropped off in front of our house. As we exit, Jord says, “No one should know about what you discovered today. Respond!”

  “We understand,” Luke and I say.

  Jord nods and the truck drives off.

  I follow Luke to the mess hall, still waiting on his comment on the recent events. He’s yet to say anything. We gather food, spaghetti and a roll. I’ve already made up my mind. I won’t be eating it, but to keep up appearances, I pile it on my tray.

  We sit at a table, and Luke forks his noodles. I stare at him until I can’t take it another minute. “It doesn’t make sense, Luke,” I whisper.

  He gives me a look of warning. “Don’t talk about it, Ky. Not right now.”

  “When are we going to talk about it? You need to reach out to them.”

  The corners of Luke’s mouth pinch, and his eyes narrow. “Here, Ky?” he asks with an edge of revulsion. “Reach out to them here? Of all the places,” he hisses.

  No. I guess that would be stupid. “But we need to find out what’s going on. We can’t ignore this, Luke.”

  He stands, lunch tray clutched in his hands so tightly his knuckles have gone white. “I know that, Ky.” Without sparing another thought, he walks away.