The Separation Trilogy Box Set: Books 1 -3

by Felisha Antonette

  He’s quiet enough to not be heard by anyone, but that’s not my concern. I grab him by the back of his head and look him in his eyes. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. Know that you’ll come first after we find Ky.” I pat the side of his head and let him go. “I’ll make it work.”

  “Hey.” Sean grabs my shoulder and pulls me back. “If I have an inkling of doubt, I’ll kill her, Marcain. Seriously.” He passes me and walks over to the general.

  I cover the impact of his verbal blow with a cough. There’s no doubt that he means it. And I don’t have a solid plan as to what I’d do if the worst was to come. But I’ll have it figured out by then. First thing I need to do is know that she’s okay. Even if she still chooses to not leave with me, she at least needs to know what we found out.

  I don’t know how she did it, but she made me care about her in a way I’ve cared for no one, not even myself. She made me look forward to her blue eyes. To her nose twitching when she gets emotional. To the way she softens her voice when we’re alone and curves her body against mine when we’re close. I don’t know how she did it, but she’s made me love her.

  I pull the hood over my head and meet the group at the table they stand over. “I’m going after Ky,” I say.

  Seits says, “I’ll go with you. She’s in danger.”

  I nod.

  “If your friend is with the Guidance, she’s probably already dead. No one needs to put their lives on the line to try and save her.” Napoleon grabs my shoulder with a firm hand, a sympathetic condolence he can save for someone else. “She’s already gone. Let’s strategize a way to get you all home.”

  I smack his hand from my shoulder. I’d warned him once not to touch me. “The next time. You’ll lose the arm.”

  Seits speaks over me. “Ky is too strong to walk into a trap. You all figure out a plan to get us home. Marc and I will go above ground and check things out.” She meets my gaze. “We’ll go back for Ky.”

  I give her a nod. “Sean,” I press my fist against his shoulder, “don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Marc, you don’t do anything stupid. I mean it.” He grabs me by the back of my neck and presses his forehead to mine. “Don’t die while you’re out there doing something stupid. And please,” his eyes close as he pleads, “think of me before you think of her.” He meets my eyes. “Swear it.”

  “I got you, brother.”

  He backs away from me and throws a hard punch in my chest. “You better.”

  I always beg Sean to grow up and take things a little more seriously. But when his plastered-on smirk disintegrates and his excited brows relax, I want to take those words back. His eyes narrow untrustingly as he stares me down, jaw clenched.

  He doesn’t believe me.

  I look away from him. “You couldn’t be clearer, Sean.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Marc.”

  My gaze sweeps across the multiple eyes pinned on our exchange. “You want to talk to me; we’ll talk somewhere else.” Every word incriminates us. He doesn’t know yet that these Creations down here murder each other for things we ignored back in Desert Hills. While they’re right to do so, if someone lifts a gun to me, we’ll be having our own war beneath Highrum.

  “No. We don’t have anything to talk about. I’ve said it.”

  “Fine. Let’s head out, Seits.”

  Napoleon digs around in a bag on the floor. “Take these.” He stands and hands us two communication earpieces. “Let us know what you find. And be careful of Fourth-Generation Creations. We’ve not yet seen them, but we hear they’re deceptive and callous.”

  Seits and I take one earpiece each and stuff them into our right ear. With a single tap, it activates. There’s a second of static and then silence.

  “We will. Thank you,” Seits says. “We’ll be in touch. If you don’t hear from us or we don’t come back, leave without us,” she says to Jord and Sean.

  We head for the exit.

  “Marc?” Sean calls.

  I look over my shoulder.

  “Come back.”

  Seits and I ascend a sewer ladder; she’s in front of me as we climb. She reaches the top and ducks, waving for me to stop. I halt. She peeks over the cement edge that leads to a landing from the sewer to higher ground and ducks again.

  She looks down at me, confusion drawing her brows inward as she chews on her bottom lip. She looks back over the edge and then to me once more. “How long would you say we were down there?”

  “A few hours by my watch,” I say.

  She shakes her head. “By the way it looks up here, it’s been days.” She snorts, “A year. You hear that, right?”

  I take a moment to listen to the echoes. “Nothing but screams. Zombie snarls.” I shrug.

  Seits looks back over the edge and quickly ducks back down. “They’re live up there. They’re everywhere, running around like mad dogs. What’d they call them, those Creations turned walking dead? They’re up there, chasing down the humans. The regular Zombies are latching onto their kills.”

  The X-Gen Zombies. Those things are wicked, and our bullets will do nothing against them. “We can’t stay hanging on to this ladder. Let’s get up there and make a run for it.” We maneuver around so I can replace her. “We’ll find somewhere safe to scope out the area…” Shit. I peer over the edge. The Zombies claw and eat at people. Fear has those who’re able to flee from their grasps blindly running into the fire that’s rapidly consuming the city. The humans and Creations who’ve been attacked rise, and the Zombies numbers grow quickly. They search the grounds for more to eat.

  I continue to scan our surroundings, searching for somewhere we can go to get out of sight. I whisper to Seits, “We have a building to our left, there’s a door we can probably get in to. Across the street, which is out of the question unless you want to charge through the flames, there’s a tall building with a flight of stairs leading to entry doors. On our right, there’s a herd blocking everything.” Down the sewer tunnel is a flight of stairs that looks to lead to upper ground judging by the soft beam of light resonating above it. “Let’s go check that out. See if we can sit there for a bit, give it ten minutes.” I gesture to the stairs. “We’ll at least get off the ladder.”

  We climb down and hustle to the stairs. Side by side, we stay low and peer over the top step. “We’ve got enough ammunition to get us to our next stop, but my concern is getting us to the final destination,” Seits says.

  “Maybe there are more Creations like this group. Maybe there are more of these underground safe havens.”

  Seits looks around, and something catches her attention, causing her eyes to widen. “Maybe not.” She points to our left. “Look. You think that’s the Fourth-Generation Creations Napoleon referred to?”

  I hear the marching before I can make out the Creations approaching through the thick smoke from the fire. “Wait.” I squint. Four-foot-five, dressed in black armor suits carrying M4 carbines, are children no older than ten years of age, trudging down the streets. “What the hell?”

  The Zombies head for them, running and plodding across the ground. The children lift their weapons and fire. Body shots. The Zombies plow through their rounds, making it to the children and biting at whatever flesh they can stick their teeth into. The children continue to shoot, but after being attacked, they don’t turn. Eventually, they fall, dead. And even after death, they still don’t turn.

  Gunshots sound in the distance, attracting the herd of Zombies.

  We wait for them to pass. When only a few linger, we climb the stairs to the upper ground and take them out. “Let’s go check this out,” I say, heading for the fallen children.

  They marched the ground in line formation, ten to a line, five to a row.

  “They’ve forced children into the war?” Seits asks. “They couldn’t wait for them to grow up?”

  “Maybe they didn’t have the time. Everything happened too fast.” I glance over the fifty boys and girls, finding one on the brink of death. Black
hair hides her blood-smeared face. I squat down beside her and drag my index finger across her forehead, swiping the strands away. Pink flexion embellishments dress her face, dimly flickering with every breath she takes. “They’re not just children.” The girl’s lids drag open. Her eyes beam a tense green.

  “They…” she stammers. “They said it wouldn’t hurt.” She grabs my ankle tightly and tears pool in her eyes. “He said we would be okay, and there would be time to swing at the playground when we returned.” The girl belts out a cry. “I don’t think we’re going to make it back. It hurts. It hurts so badly.”

  “Shhh,” I soothe, sitting beside her. I lift her upper body onto my lap. “Who told you these things?”

  “The man. The Guidance leaders.” She meets my eyes. “You’re like me?” Her arm struggles to lift, but she gets it up and runs her finger along my embellishment on my neck.

  I nod.

  “Does it hurt you too?” She gestures to the glowing embellishments in her palm.

  I knit my brows and turn down the corners of my mouth. I assumed she was talking about the bite and scratch wounds in her neck, shoulder, and arms. “No. They don’t hurt.” I want to ask her why she thinks they would, and why hers hurt, but she cries, wailing as a child would while in pain. “Shh,” I say to hush her cries. I brush her forehead gently.

  “You’ll make it stop? Please?”

  I nod and draw my gun, placing the barrel an inch behind her head. The sound of the gunshot swallows the silence. She goes limp in my arms. I lay her back on the ground and look over the others. “None of them look alike.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Seits says, nudging a boy with her foot. “His palms are green.”

  I scan the bodies’ hands seeing they all have colored palms that match their embellishments. “Yeah. These would have to be the Fourth-Generation Creations. But whatever happened to the third generation?”

  Seits shrugs. “Let’s get out of the open. If Napoleon was right, we have targets on our backs.”

  “Sure.” I climb to my feet and dust my hands off on my pants. “Watch out and move slow. We’re in uncharted waters.”

  We head toward the fire, in the opposite direction of the herd. Low grumbles and movement start behind us. I ease a glance over my shoulder, spotting the children rising, jerking movements working their bodies from the ground. They snarl at our backs.

  “Shit!” I whip around, gun aimed.

  Seits says, “I know why they made them children.”

  “Don’t think about it. Just get it over with.”

  Zombie-turned, the children snap their teeth and charge for us. We take out the first line, but the second they drop, they’re back on their feet.

  “Fuck it.” I whip around. “Let’s make a run for it.”

  We book it toward the fire, hurdling over the flames. We make it out, escaping the kids and the growing blaze. Behind us, through the flickering fire, we spot the children stop abruptly. They snap their heels together and take on a human facade as they march away. As though the entire event never happened.

  The earpiece statics as we hunch over to catch our breath. General Jord comes in, “What’s going on up there?”

  Seits raises her hand to her ear. “Some weird shit, brother.”

  The ventilation system of an oncoming disposal truck draws my attention to a nearby street. Marching beside the truck are more child-Creations. They heave dead bodies onto the truck and the truck burns the remains. It’s not until I notice the truck, do I catch the stench of burning flesh tainting the air.

  “Spotter! Spotter!” A child sitting on the roof of the truck yells. He stands to his feet, pointing in our direction. “Spotter. Spotters,” he shouts.

  The others join in unison and charge for us.

  I grab Seits by the arm and pull her with me as I flee. We escape down a street that leads to a highway underpass that’s blocked by a line of Creations. We slide to a stop and hurry to a nearby building to duck behind it for protection. The thundering patter of rushing steps is coming for us and will likely soon draw the attention of the others.

  “We’re going to have to fight our way out of this, General Seits,” I say, shoving my mag holding two rounds back into the gun. Thankfully, my second handgun is still full.

  She looks over her two empty guns. “Yeah…Okay.”

  General Jord comes in again, “Hey! What’s going on?”

  Seits hurries to explain, “They’ve sent out children Creations. They’re like miniature Creation cyborgs or something.”

  “Psst.” The door beside me cracks open. A hand the color of caramel with nails painted pink sticks out of it and waves me toward it. “Here.”

  Seits heads in first. I shake my head, removing my second gun from the holster, and head in behind her.

  It’s pitch black.

  I can hear the story now, Sean pissed off, telling it to someone: “Marc’s dumbass blindly followed Seits’s even dumber ass into a building they didn’t even check first. They’re dead now, and the one thing I asked him to do was to not die. If he’s not saving my life, he’s letting me down. Stupid bastard.”

  The patter of footsteps passes outside the door, and I begin thinking it may not have been such a bad idea to pop in here, only hoping it stays this way.

  “You all aren’t from around here, huh?” says the voice from the darkness.

  “Obviously,” I reply to the faceless, lighthearted female.

  “Creations aren’t welcomed around here anymore.” She chuckles. “A couple get a free pass, but since the outsiders threatened our country because of the creation of us, they’ve been slowly wiping us out.”

  “Like old vehicles,” a guy’s voice follows.

  “What’s up with the colorful kids?” I ask.

  “There was talk about new Creations some time ago. They’re supposed to be a better version of us, supposedly less violent.”

  “They seemed pretty damn violent to me,” Seits says.

  “Sure. They’re only violent with us, Spotters.” The girl emphasizes. “Spot and kill. To the Normals, though, they’re kind. You may not have witnessed it yet, but those little monsters can withstand anything. They’re mutants. Cut something off, it grows back. Turn them into the undead, they turn back. You shoot them, they rise up and will shoot back. And they’re born in singles. The color helps in some way. We don’t know the scientific term for them yet, but we know they are here to get rid of us. And,” she carries on as footsteps cross the cement. “Once their job is done, they’re done.”

  The same light voice from earlier adds, “Walking time bombs.”

  “The America without Creations?” Seits asks.

  “Yeah.”

  I grow uncomfortable standing in the dark while multiple footsteps shuffle around the ground. “Would any one mind hitting a light?”

  Metal drags against metal, and bright sunlight beams through the darkness, lighting an old two-floor lab stockroom.

  My eyes adjust. “Thanks.”

  “Come up here, take a look,” a girl calls from the upper level. She seems to be the owner of the hand with the pink fingernails. She gestures to the window. “Every eight hours, a helicopter lands over the building of the Guidance. Creations exit and then come here under instruction to monitor the entry and exit to Highrum via the highway. They’ve been told that nothing and no one should pass. Two hours into their shift, those little monsters show up. They stop thirty feet from the Creations and shout, ‘Spotter, Spotter,’ pointing their colored glowing fingers at them. The Creations shoot them down. Pow. Pow. Pow.” She holds an invisible gun and makes a jerking movement as though she is firing off. “The little monsters drop.”

  I climb the stairs to the second story so I can look out the window and spot the children Creations pointing at the Creations blocking the highway. The Creations fire, dropping them, just as she said.

  “Okay. Now, they lie on the ground for exactly eight minutes. Enough time for the Creations to take
back their post and wait for the truck to come by and pick up the bodies. Within the first two minutes, the truck arrives but doesn’t release the claw receiver to scoop up the little monsters. Instead, it stalls. Now, the Creations become uneasy, a few remain, surveying the surroundings and others watch the truck.”

  A truck pulls up, and the child Creations still appear dead.

  “See. The Creations turning their head and moving their mouths. Here, they’re discussing their suspicions.” We watch them for a few minutes. “Here comes the good part, don’t look away,” she warns.

  The child Creations climb to their feet and unload on the Creations.

  The girl turns her back to the window, and she slides to the ground. “They bring the Creations here to execute them.”

  I look down at her, clenching my jaw to bite down on the anger. “And you all just watch?” I look back out the window to see a child Creation walk up to a Creation trying to crawl to safety. The child fires off three times, once in the shin, another in the spine, and finally, in the back of her head. The child Creation turns on his heels and marches back to the line. They depart in formation. I make an exasperated sigh, shaking my head. “Knowing this is going to happen, you don’t warn them? Do you know how many Creation lives you could save if you would just say something? You have the timing down! Any Creation approaching this execution can be saved just by your warning.”

  “We’d risk our lives saving theirs,” she says, jabbing a finger against her chest.

  “Damn right you will!” I slam the side of my fist against the concrete wall. “That’s what you were created for.”

  “Jord,” Seits calls into the earpiece.

  The earpiece screeches loudly, and I yank it from my ear.

  “Spotter!” The children yell. I look out the window seeing they are aiming their guns in our direction.

  “Move! Move! Move!” I nudge the girl and Seits away from the window and we leap over the railing to the first level.

  “To the underground passage,” a boy shouts. “They’ve gotta launcher!”

  The girl grabs my wrist and leads me around the stairs to a hole. We jump in, one by one. Back into the darkness, in another tunnel, we try to escape the attack. We’re too slow getting the access closed.