“Yes,” Jord responds as the elevator opens.
“Great! I’ll see you all there. Have a great day.” He smiles brightly before walking away.
“That is too much joy for one person,” Luke complains.
Chapter Thirty-Three
We stand in a glass box extended above a lab where they are conducting science experiments. They have samples of the fusing particles that make the Vojin and other concoctions that are mixed with it, trying to find out what will make it combustible. A Vojin replica, likely made by the scientists, is laid on an examination table.
“We have come to find the particles the Vojin seem to use, which assists them in travel. They bleed and are not as indestructible as we originally believed,” a woman in a white lab coat with goggles pulled over her eyes says. We sit in a skybox ten feet above their heads. Most sit, but as Creations, we stand. I don’t mind; I’m interested in knowing what they come up with.
“What have you all concluded to be the source of their destruction?” Richard asks in a doubtful tone.
“It seems the Vojin are made with a self-relative material. An element our Earth does not create. When testing it, it compares to a mixture of elements, two metals; magnesium and zinc, textiles, and the beneficial material…coal.” She smiles behind her white face mask. I can tell because her cheekbones rise. “We have found a specialized radioactive bullet that is effective with the right amount of fuel, oxygen―that our Earth provides plenty of―and heat, when shot in the right place on their bodies from a measurable distance. Once said bullet penetrates the Vojin’s body, it explodes, resulting in a deflagration within the Vojin.” Her smile grows wider as she looks at her nodding colleagues. “The best part about this is, once the Vojin’s outer layer bursts, it will be effective to start combustibility in the surrounding Vojin by overtaking the oxygen source.”
“Keep in mind,” a brown-skinned man in a white suit that’s covered by a lab coat cuts in as he sets his beaker down, “the hazardous material held within the bullets mixed with the Vojin’s matter can also be dangerous to anyone in the area. Take into consideration gas masks and facial protection.”
Everyone claps, except for us. I don’t know yet if it is the bullets that blow them up, or if it’s what the Vojin are already mixed with that does the job. I did pick up that us killing them can be risky, so we’ll need to strap up and wear gas masks.
Arletta presses the microphone button in the corner of the box. Speaking into it, she asks, “Can you show us an illustration of how it works? When will these bullets be ready to deploy?”
“We will gladly show you,” a bronze-skinned woman, possibly from too much sun, says, stepping toward the Vojin dummy. “It will be our pleasure, actually.” The three scientists surround the body. It’s fusing with the green and blue particles like the Vojin.
The man pulls out a black pistol with a long barrel. He instructs, “Standing at least a three-foot distance away from them will provide the time the bullet needs to meet the maximum required temperature. After penetrating the Vojin’s solid frame, it will explode within them.” He shoots. It’s quiet…silent. No pop and spark.
The bullet hits the fake Vojin’s body in the chest. There’s a small spark from the bullet before the inside of the dummy clouds with a gray fog. It builds, and the body expands like a balloon before popping. As it explodes, a glass dome encases it, keeping the explosive matter from spreading.
Murmurs of excitement fill the room with a low hum. The shift in energy is almost palpable.
“Of course, a rush can be put on making the bullets,” the male scientist states. “We can design them to fit the guns everyone already has to kill the Zombies.”
Speaking of killing the Zombies, I thought Luke said Harold shot a Vojin, and the bullets used to kill the Creation Zombies were effective in killing them. I tap Luke’s shoulder and mention it.
“You have a point,” Luke says and passes along the detail to Jord.
Jord goes to Arletta and Richard to share the news. They talk, and then Richard presses the button to speak into the mic. “What is the difference in these bullets compared to the bullets used to kill the Creations that were infected by the threat?”
The three scientists exchange glances before the tanned woman says, “The pink infused bullets.” She picks one up from a table behind her, stocked with items of all sorts. “These can effectively kill a Vojin; however, after being shot, their infused particles are still alive. This will call out to more of them. That’s what the material does. It informs other Vojin if they are needed, when they are needed, so they can track each other, as well as check in on those who are infused with their particles. By using these bullets,” she raises a slim black round, “they penetrate the flesh without leaving an opening for the particles to leak out and contact others. As you noticed, the dummy Vojin did not leak.”
That is beneficial. I imagine us raiding the Vojin’s realm and using those bullets.
“Excuse me,” I say to Richard. “Is it the gun that makes the shot silent? The barrel on that gun is much smaller than the silencer that we would attach to our guns, and the butt on the gun she used is larger and slightly wider than what I have seen.”
“Brilliant observation, Kylie Alexander,” Arletta states. Finger still on the microphone button, she asks, “Did you all hear her question?”
The scientists look up at us. I assume they are trying to see me, so I walk to the glass. “Hello,” they all greet. I nod, letting them know I acknowledge them. “These bullets we are making work specifically with these guns.” The man shows me his pistol. I nod, letting him know I see it. “They fit the bullet precisely to provide the needed friction to heat the bullet and get the combustible components warmed to the right temperature as it glides through the air toward your target.”
“How many of those guns do you have today?” I ask loudly.
He raises his hand to his ear, shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” Arletta states. “I wasn’t pressing the button.” She hits the mic and repeats, “How many of those guns do you all have today.”
“Currently, we have twelve that have recently passed testing,” the man informs.
I look to make sure Arletta is pressing the button. She is, and I look back to them, saying, “We need sixteen, today. Before we leave. And as many of those bullets you have and can be made prior to our departure.”
Luke goes to the microphone, adding, “We will actually need over three hundred bullets tonight. And a follow-up of three hundred to be expedited to us the moment they are ready.”
The scientists look at each other, concern narrowing their eyes.
“Will that be a problem?” Richard asks.
They shake their heads. The tanned woman confirms, “Three hundred tonight?”
“Yes,” Arletta responds. “Looks like you all should get to work.”
The scientists shuffle around each other, racking up their equipment and hustling from the room.
“Kylie Alexander, Lukahn Alexander, lunch?” Arletta asks.
We leave the lab, going back to the Inn for lunch. “You two are very demanding,” Richard says.
“They know how to take charge,” Jord responds.
“I want to ensure that when we leave here tonight, we will be leaving with the required ammunition and artilleries that will help us kill the Vojin if they intend to attack,” Luke says.
“Great,” Arletta states. “Do you all have a big problem with Vojin in Arizona?”
“Not yet, but we have been threatened and would like to be prepared if they come.”
She strolls with her hands tucked in the pockets of her white suit. “We will make sure you all are well equipped with what you need before you leave tonight.”
“Thank you,” Seits says.
We sit at a table in the dining area of the Inn. Carden has graced us with his joyful presence. Through my observation of an exchange between him and Arletta, where she greeted him with a hug and kiss to his chee
k, he is her son. He also calls her Mom. The two do not resemble one another. Arletta is assertive, direct, and seemingly heartless. Her olive skin is pulled perfectly over high cheekbones and a narrow jaw. Gray eyes add to the intensity of her face while her perfectly plucked eyebrows lighten the fierceness she must know she has.
Carden’s hair is blond while his mother’s is black. His boyish face is bright from the overbearing smiling, and his natural blue irises add to the easiness he has on the eyes. His mother has likely spent a ton of money to get his teeth perfectly straight and to keep his hair this blond color. I suspect it’s treated from his dark, also plucked eyebrows. “After the celebration this evening, you all are going home, Kylie the Creation?” he asks.
“Yes, we are,” Luke answers.
Carden looks at me. I look at Luke, and he shakes his head. What is this Carden boy playing at? A small girl walks up and sits next to Luke. She has dark orange hair and a petite shape.
“Hi,” she chirps. “I’m Sandy.” She turns to Luke. “I’m your escort for tonight, Lukahn. Carden,” she points to him, “is Kylie’s escort, and Andel,” she points across the room to an older lady with short red hair and a wide butt. “Is Jord’s escort.” She then points to the other side of the room, now to our left to a tall, slim bald man. “Greg, there, is Seits’s escort.”
“Why do we need escorts?” I’m okay with going by myself.
“It is a formal event with a date required,” Sandy says, smiling at Luke. Is there any girl on this planet who won’t try to flirt with my brother?
I nod at her and finish my food. Drinking from my glass, I look over its rim at Luke doing that gazing thing with his eyes as he beams at Sandy. “Cut it out, Luke,” I tell him.
“Stop it, Ky. Because as soon as we get home, we know where you’re going.”
I place the glass down a little more aggressively than I intend. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You want to talk about this now, Kylie, or enjoy this lunch?” Luke asks with a plastered smile.
I glare at him. That was a low blow, even for him. “We’ll eat lunch.”
“Ky, I’m going,” Luke tells me with a nudge to my side. “What time should we be ready for tonight’s celebration?”
“We have three hours before we need to get ready,” Sandy responds.
“Thank you,” Luke says as he gets up, leaving his plate behind. We were instructed to not lift a finger.
“Kylie, would you like to go out and find a dress you’d like to wear tonight?” Seits asks.
“You all don’t have to worry about that. There will be clothes placed for you in your rooms,” Arletta happily informs us.
“That’s good to know,” Jord says, scraping his plate clean. He stuffs the last forkful in his mouth and wipes his chin.
“Should I remove my plate from the table before I leave?” I ask. It’s killing me to walk away and not clean up after myself.
Arletta stands and drops her napkin on her empty plate. “Leave it. The waitress will clean it.”
Leaving the table, I’m followed by Carden. “Can you explain to me, Kylie the Creation, where would you be going when you get home if you are already at home?”
Striding to the elevator, I say, “I think you should mind your business.”
“I just thought we could get to know each other before our date this evening.”
“You are my escort. This is not a date.” He’s at my side, his consistent bright smile making my stomach turn. “Is there something I can help you with, Carden?”
“Kylie the Creation—”
“Just Kylie.”
“Kylie?”
“Yes?”
He presses the up button for the elevator and takes a step back. His hair sways loosely around his skinny shoulders. Carden has likely never worked out a day in his life; I bet he needs help to open a pickle jar. Or he has servants who do that for him. “I think you should visit us here in Highrum more often. Maybe get comfortable exploring your other talents apart from being a Creation.”
“I am only interested in being a Creation, Carden.”
“What about when things change?”
The elevator dings, but the distraction isn’t enough, and I question, “What is going to change?”
He pinches his lips to the left, the right, then forward. Time ticks by as he studies me, before saying, “You would have to be around to find out, Kylie the Creation.” He smiles wider. “I will be at your door in less than three hours to escort you to this evening’s celebration.”
I ignore him as I step onto the elevator.
Carden throws his hand between the elevator doors, preventing them from closing. “Just a minute, Kylie. If you will, can I show you something?”
“Like what?”
“A few things that we keep ourselves entertained with here in Highrum before we are required to strictly care about our nation and the citizens of the America.” He steps onto the elevator and calls, “Floor six.” There’s a soft chime before the elevator lifts. “Would I be right in assuming you’ve been consumed with duties as a Creation your entire life? Fought forever, marched even as you strolled. I’d like to show you the softer side of life. You’ll like it,” he insists, smoothly turning his attention away from me and to our reflections in the gold-plated elevator doors.
They part.
I say, “We do not have time to explore, Carden.” Plus, there is no softer side of life. There is managing, control, and reliance. Dominating the weak, managing the poor, and eliminating the useless. This is what we’ve been conditioned to believe, and apart from that, I’ve learned there is love and intimacy. These two things are the softer sides of life, but Carden isn’t going to show this to me.
He flashes a welcoming grin at me and heads down the hall. “If you prefer to march rather than casually stroll,” he calls back. “I can march instead.” He stomps his feet against the floor, pounds echoing down the hall.
I laugh at his arms, angrily swiping his sides and his knees, lifting high past his hips. “Will you stop this obscure dance move if I come with you?”
“Is this not how you march?”
“No, it’s not. We do not march; we order our steps. And you’re pushing your fists back and forth; we do not do that either.” I walk at his side as he leads me to the “softer side of life.”
“You referred to it as a dance move. It was not; I know this,” he imitates his version of marching, “is not how you move. I could show you a dance move, but it will involve touching you.”
I drop my hands on my hips and look ahead. “I’d rather we do not try the dance move unless required.”
“Understandable.” He picks up his speed. “Let’s add some pep to our step. We only have three hours.” He grins brightly. His cheeks ought to be sore with how frequently he smiles. And if his cheeks aren’t sore, the wrinkles that form around his eyes should at least be permanent. When the muscles in his face relax, and he looks at me without expression, the wrinkles are invisible. Carden isn’t hard to look at, but this continuous observation makes me uncomfortable. I’m not used to someone smiling every minute of the hour.
I follow Carden to a ballroom full of wall-sized pictures like those I saw in the hall on our room’s floor. These pictures, though, are of different events, and the people look incredibly happy.
“Hey,” I sing, hurrying across the slippery black-tiled floor. “I recognize this instrument.” I point to a large pearl table with four legs and a bench. Its top is lifted by a thin post and the slim bars are black. “It makes music, right? I saw it on a movie once!” I reach out my hand to graze its beauty, but retract it, afraid I’ll break it.
“It does. It’s a piano. It can make soothing tunes. Come, sit.” He adjusts himself on the bench and glides his fingers over the black keys. “I’m playing the keys of the piano.” It’s like magic, the way his fingers glide over the keys, and the soft rhythmic melody echoes throughout the ballroom.
My lids fa
ll over my eyes, and I exhale.
Softly, he sings the lyrics long and flowing with the melody of his song. It’s relaxing as he croons of feelings and pleasantries.
“This is one of the softer sides of life in our world.” He speaks. My eyes shoot open, and I jump to my feet, straightening my stance. I clear my throat.
“Interesting,” he utters, no longer playing.
I pull my arms behind my back and look ahead, gaze falling on nothing specific. “It looks easier than it is.”
“I bet.”
“You sing?”
“No.”
Carden licks his lips before drawing them between his teeth. Nodding, he stands. “Let me show you something else I know you’d never experience as a Creation.”
“Well, I think I should head back.”
He throws his palms together and pokes out his bottom lip. “One more thing. Please?”
I chuckle. “Okay, fine. Then we depart and prepare for this evening.”
“Yes. God forbid a Creation of your stature and high influence is late for the Premier’s Grand Celebration that he has every year on this same date.”
“I’m sensing sarcasm in your statement.”
He hitches a brow. The smile fades, and Carden fixes me with his studious gaze. “You are cute and smart, Just Kylie.” Looking away from me, he asks, “Now what would be your response to this statement?”
“Thanks for your observation of my appearance and intelligence.”
He scoffs, “They’re right. You are a well-trained Creation.”
“Thank you.”
I follow Carden back through the door we entered, and he leads us to another room of the Inn. “Okay, Just Kylie, there are Breeders here in Highrum. The scientists have crafted Creations of a different nature that I can’t really get into detail about. Before the babies can be released to their placement parents, they stay here and are monitored for specific behavior patterns or any irregular growth.” I follow him through a door. “Can I have your word that what you see will remain between you and me?”
The Separation Trilogy Box Set: Books 1 -3 Page 55
