I greet Zeke, Jace, and a few others I recognize from Desert Hills but don’t know by name. Gia bumps my fist. Her narrowed eyes and crooked smile hint at her curiosity about Sean. “He’s going to be very happy to see you,” I say to her. She smiles wider and nods. I look over their group. “What are you all doing here?”
Gia holds her rifle close to her chest, saying, “We’re here for Citizen Management, keeping everyone from leaving via the roadways. What are you all doing here? They said you died on a mission that involved the outsiders. We had a memorial.”
I turn down the corners of my mouth. The Guidance is convincing the Creations to come for Citizen Management. That’s how they are getting them here: under strict orders.
Ellie and the other Creations have joined us above ground on an empty street with a row of connected two-story homes on each side. They have pointy roofs, and each home’s door is brown. Five concrete steps lead up to the doors, and two triangular bushes are beside each staircase.
An eerie feeling crawls over my flesh as I look the houses over, as though someone is in each of them watching us. It forces me to keep moving. I head east, in the direction of the rising sun, waving for everyone to follow. As we hurry, I say, “You all likely won’t believe me, but you can’t follow the rules on this one.”
“Why?” Marshal asks, jogging beside me, vest and rifle bouncing with every step.
“They are killing Creations,” Ellie shouts from the back, and I regret not telling her to let me do the talking.
The crowd halts, each of them facing Ellie and the other underground Creations, guns drawn. “Excuse me,” Marshal asks.
I step in front of the underground Creations, arms out at my sides. “She’s not lying.”
Seits blocks the others to my right where I can’t reach. “They tried to kill us on more than one occasion.” Her face stays even, but her tone goes solemn, “It’s more bad news to say the least.”
The guns lower. Marshal asks, “Where’s General Jord?”
“We’re on our way to him, Sean’s there too. We lost Luke, Collins, and Cecilia in battle.”
Marshal nods. “And Kylie…”
I throw a directive hand out in front of us, though I don’t know if we are headed in the right direction. “She’s waiting for us too.”
Unconvinced, Marshal narrows his eyes. “Prove to us what you said about them killing Creations. Then we’ll decide to believe you or not.”
I lower my arms, and though I hate to waste the time, we’ll need them on our side too.
Right behind me, Elizabeth makes a move, and the guns raise again, this time loading. “No swift movements, Ginger,” Gia says, glaring at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth steps back, hands raised. Her voice trembles as she says, “I just wanted to say, showing them would be a good opportunity.” As she lowers her shaking hands, her brows raise with a hint of excitement. “If they have an event capture device, we can record them wiping out Creations and broadcast it over every screen in Highrum. Everyone will see what the Guidance is up to. It may not change the minds of the child Creations, but all the others, seeing us get wiped out may have an effect on them. Maybe they’ll help too.” She eagerly nods, a glimmer of hope in her eyes that they’ll agree to her plan and lower their weapons.
I nod, stepping in front of Elizabeth. “This is a good idea.” Their guns lower. And to Marshal I say, “We can record the massacre and show everyone. You’ll see it for yourself. They will lead us. Do you have a recorder on you?”
“We do.”
“Well make sure it’s on. Everyone’s going to need to see this.”
The massacre is worse the second time around. These Creations living in the shadows have witnessed it time and time again. They’ve sat around and done nothing to stop this indecency. We’re designed to protect our fellow Creation. If one of them is shot and falls to the ground, we go back for them, throw them over our shoulders, and carry them to safety. If our fellow Creation is in danger, we must go out of our way to see to it that they are warned and protected. If there is a matter where our existence is in danger, we are required, under any means necessary, to maintain our existence in order to protect the citizens of the America and the America itself. Should anything jeopardize this, we have the permission of this government to terminate it.
The question, likely holding everyone back, is what if the something jeopardizing our existence and this country is what gave the permission.
On the first floor of a building across from the one they think they blew us up in, Seits and I stand behind everyone as they peer out of a window sitting high on a wall. It stretches ten feet in width, and most have risen on their tiptoes to look out of it. This building is also a warehouse. Sheets of glass and steel are stacked against the wall, and a ten-foot tall machine is in the middle of the floor. We entered through another sewer line right next to it. I suspect the machine is what they use to make the glass and steel.
The gasps settle, and the chatter erupts. Marshal slowly turns to face me, head bowed. He holds his rifle by the barrel so it hangs near the floor. Marshal lifts his gaze and looks me in the eye. “Whatever it is. We’re in.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Carla must’ve known we wouldn’t stand for the Guidance killing off Creations. She gave her life for my freedom. The only way I can repay her is by saving the lives of the remaining Creations.
I sit on the curb, near a set of stairs that leads to a sewer that doubles as the entrance to the Creations’ bunker. I look to the east. The sun is beaming down on the better half of Highrum as if hope rests in my future. But over my head, the cloud of smoke circles like a yielding storm. It seems as though the fire from the crash might’ve escalated, taking over parts of the city. But the streets are empty. No Zombies like the mass I encountered. It’s impressive how they move along, maybe searching the ground for people to infect. Soon, I suspect the streets will be crowded with more of their kind and more X-Gen Zombies. Going against the Guidance gives us three enemies: Vojin, Zombies, and Creations.
My body is buzzing. The hairs on my arms stand on end, and like Danny mentioned, there’s a soft glow to my embellishments. Not wearing pants or sleeves makes it very visible, but I’ve yet to come across a spare change of clothes. No one has mentioned it. Maybe I am the only one who sees it because I know it’s there.
I’m humming with energy; my legs shake with unprecedented adrenaline, and I feel like I can physically take down a tank. I’m needed here, for the Creations and the humans, but I’d give up this phenomenal feeling to have a conversation with Luke. To tell him our parents were freaking aliens, a cool species of aliens that lights up brighter than anything I’ve ever seen. That we’re driven by our emotions, and maybe this is how we are driven to be our best, why he was compelled to kill the girl he loved, why it was so hard for me to say no to my emotions for Marc. It’s all because we were meant to feel, and our emotions were to help us thrive not hold us back.
It’s a relief in a sense. On the other hand, I still feel like I need to hide who I am, and that’s suffocating. I’ll still need to hide being an alien’s descendent, so maybe it’s the same thing. Maybe nothing has changed for me.
A screech bleeds through the city.
I throw my hands over my ears until the sound stops and is replaced by a kind feminine robotic voice saying, “This is not a test. Repeat. This is not a test. All citizens in Highrum must remain in order. Highrum is under att—” The instruction is cut short, overridden by a brief moment of static.
I rise to my feet and step out into the streets, looking one way and then the other. It’s barren, nothing but the shadow from the smoke cloud hanging over this side of the city.
“Attention, city of Highrum Creations and those Creations visiting.” The girls voice booms through the city speakers clear and calm. “Please turn your attention to the nearest broadcast.”
I run down the street to find the nearest billboard in view of where I stand. On the
screen, Creations are being shot down by children. Once all the Creations are down, the children, in one fluid motion, turn on their heels and march down a street to their right. They’re dressed in black suits, vests packed with ammunition, two guns strapped to either sides of their hips along with rifles slung over their shoulders. They march out of shot, and the camera turns to a girl.
The girl is a Creation. The light shining on her from behind the camera reflects off the embellishments dressing her neck. Her eyes are black. The color our eyes were when we were born, until they injected us with those serums the scientists swore would protect us from the virus of the Zombies. Now, I know those were lies. I don’t know yet what those serums did besides identify who may or may not have been mixed Creations, maybe even rebel Vojin hosts.
The girl blinks and then nods. Her brows are pinched so tightly her skin folds between them, a clear indication she wants to convey worry or anger. She says, “Those were Creations ordered here under the notion they were here for protection of our city. Unbeknownst to them, they were truly sent here for their assassination.” The muscles in her face relax, and she takes on a contemptuous expression. Her eyes darken, and her lips press into a thin line. Her gaze flicks down, and someone mutters something that isn’t clear. When she looks back at the camera, her eyes have narrowed, and her face burns red with anger. “The Guidance have slain countless numbers of Creations, and you are next. We must stop them. We have rights too. And one of them is having the right to not stand aside and watch—”
The broadcast is shut off. The billboard goes black.
There’s a rumble in the distance from the north and the south. A display like that should call many Creations to action. And if that broadcast went wider than Highrum, if there are any Creations in the America left, they may also rise up. I assume that’s what would follow her revealing the Guidance issuance of Creations’ murder. Let’s fight back!
A rapid patter of footsteps comes from the east. I stay in view, never being a Creation or alien to hide from the enemy. I face the direction the patter is coming from and ball my hands in fists so tight my nails scrape against my palm.
A mob of black-suited Creations jogs down the streets, Marc and Seits in front.
A pressure builds in my chest, relief, joy, solace, maybe panic. Whatever it is, it jolts me into a run, and I race down the streets, boots an inch too big, flopping off my heels, vest scraping against my back and stomach. This feeling, as I never look away from Marc, forces me to run faster. My hair slaps my neck and shoulders like a whip. I clear the ground in what seems like a blink, and I slam into him, throwing my arms around his neck as he curls his around me.
My chest is pounding. I bury my face in his neck and close my eyes, breathing so heavily I can’t slow it down.
Marc squeezes me tighter, arms pushing further across my back as he cuffs my sides. I cringe against the pain in my side, because pulling away at the end of forever would be too soon, though I know I have to let him go eventually.
“I thought I lost you too,” I say.
Marc sighs. His breath thrashes against my collar bone, and he draws me even closer, eliminating every ounce of space between us. He doesn’t say anything, and his silence is so loud. I allow myself to drown in it. If he doesn’t care about the thoughts and judgement from those around us, I sure as hell don’t care. I realize it was me who separated us, but anyone or anything who tries to lay a finger on him or myself, or even Sean, will have to go through me. And I sure as hell am not going down easily.
My emotions, I won’t hide them anymore. The care I feel for this boy I hold in my arms, I won’t allow anyone to mistake it for anything less than what it is. If they want to kill me for that, I dare everyone to try.
Marc draws back a half-arm’s length. He grabs my neck and looks me in my eyes. A smile takes over his face, one greater than he’s ever revealed. “It’s taking everything in me not to kiss you right now.”
I match his beam and push my hands through his hair and rest them at the back of his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Shut up, Ky.” He tugs me close and his kiss builds a familiar pressure in my chest. The same feeling I had the night we went all the way.
Gasps erupt around us.
I yank back, checking myself to see if I’m glowing. Seeing I’m fine, I close my eyes and sigh. Though I’ve broken out of our hug, I keep one arm wrapped around him as he does around me.
Marc whispers in my ear, “They kill Creations who show affection.”
I open my eyes and look the crowd over. The girl who was in the video stands near Seits. She’s a few inches shorter than me. I shift to the others looking upon us with shock in their wide eyes, jaws dropped. Their expressions go ignored. A couple of them, though, are relaxed, familiar with the embrace.
“Gia!” I say, joy heightening my tone.
She slings her rifle from her hand to her back and crosses the ground to me. We greet with a handshake, though I can see in her eyes that a hug would enhance her relief. “They told us you were all dead. And for a while, it felt like something was missing with you all gone. Zombies thrashed through the base, and we were scooped up and shipped here. A lot of us didn’t make it.”
“Supposedly,” Marshal approaches with a smile. We bump fists. “We were about to walk into a massacre, and Marc steered us away.”
The girl from the video comes over and steps in front of me. Her blonde hair sweeps her shoulders, and she looks up at me with furrowed brows and a curled lip.
I shuffle out of Marc’s arm. “Excuse me,” I say to the girl. “Do we have a problem?”
She flicks her gaze to Marc and back. “Marc has endured a lot trying to find you. You must be Kylie,” she says with an edge of repulsion.
“And?” I cross my arms, waiting for the chance to throw a punch in her face.
“You better not be a manipulative Creation implant, here to kill or capture Creations, or you will have to answer to me.” She jabs her index finger against my shoulder, shoving me back. “You hear me, girl?”
My right shoulder pushes back against the pressure of her contact, but I stand my ground, trigger finger twitching. The seriousness in her twisted lips and tipped chin isn’t as intimidating as she may expect. I bark a laugh and hold myself back from slapping her in the face and shoving her away from me. I look at Marc, smirking. “You’re out here making friends?”
He shrugs. “I have that effect on people.”
I shake my head, holding his gaze. “You do not, Marc. Not even close.” I scan the empty streets. There’s no telling how long they will stay this way. “Let’s get off these streets. Your brother will be happy to see you. And General Jord will be happy to see all of you alive,” I say to Gia and Marshal. The group splits and out walk Jesail and Amber.
I bounce on my toes once and quickly cross the ground to meet them. I throw an arm around each of their necks and reel them near me as they wrap their arms around my middle. “Thank you,” they say together. “For the training,” Jesail follows. “We wouldn’t have made it out of there without it.”
My cheeks hurt from the smile stretching my face. I pull away from them, saying, “I’m happy to see both of you.” I pat their shoulders once. “Good job, girls.”
I lead our group down the street to the stairs I climbed to make it above ground. Seits is at my side as we clear the stairs and march through the sewers toward the underground bunker where Jord and Sean are waiting their arrival. She bumps my shoulder with her fist. I meet her peaceful gaze as she says, “We thought you were a goner. There are all types of stories about how they’re racking up Creations like test subjects. When you stayed, I started thinking they had you brainwashed.”
My hand is clutched in Marc’s, an action he initiated like a magnet when we started our march. I’d usually be uncomfortable about public affection, but I’m unaffected. And for some reason, it relieves me that I don’t care. My breaths are freer, seeming to enter in and out of my lungs so effortle
ssly they, too, are alleviating.
I admit my intentions to Seits, saying, “I was privy to information about the Vojin and the Guidance, and I needed to figure out what was going on. I also needed to do this independently, seeing as I’d lost my twin. I needed to prove to myself that I would be fine without him, and I realize now that I will be.”
Seits pats my back twice. “Good for you, Ky. Know, though, you never have to go at it alone. We’re all here for each other.”
“Thank you,” I say.
We make it to the stairs, a group of twenty-two Creations, hastily making it through the sewer entry that leads to the tunnels that takes us to a well-established bunker. There are two parts: the first is the primary living area, it seems, and beyond it is for aid.
Sean and Jord are waiting in the living area, sitting around with local Creations. Sean jumps to his feet when we enter, and I let Marc go so he can meet his brother. Jord and Seits also share a greeting with a handshake that turns into a hug. Their reunions with their twins are both pleasing and disheartening. But I stuff the negative thoughts in a deep place. Now is not the time to give those remorseful feelings access. I know I can’t stuff them down forever, but I’ll give the sorrow attention at a later time.
Now, we have work to do.
I cross the room to counter near the far end of the bunker. I climb on top of it and whistle to grab everyone’s attention. “I’m Kylie Alexander, Creation number two-six-seven, Arizona, Separation Base One. I know I look silly with these flimsy shorts,” I pull at the torn hem and let it go, “and this battered tank.”
“I was going to asking you about your new look, Ky,” Sean interrupts me to say. “But I was waiting on the right time. I don’t like it,” he adds, turning down the corners of his mouth.
“Hush, Sean.” I grumble. My hair is all over the place, sticking to my lips, heavy on my shoulders. I rake my hands through it from my forehead to my neck to pull it out of my face. As I do, I glimpse the dirt, bruises, and scars on my arms, but know they dress my entire body. “I know I look like I’ve already gone to war, but don’t be intimidate or judge me by my appearance.” I find solace in the smiling faces of those who look up at me. “These are crazy times. For us,” I gesture to those of us who are from Arizona. “Our lives have been turned upside down. Our base is getting raided without reason; our travel is being interceded and shot down, and we didn’t know why. For you all,” I look over the Creations accustomed to living in the bunker. “You’ve been dealing with this for some time. It’s catastrophic to live with the cloud of death swirling over your head. And I understand we’ve played a part in your fear, why you live this way, why your freedom seems in the past. But it’s time we turn the tables. We all have something in common, and it’s not that we’re all Creations, but that we’re all targets. Let’s change this.”
The Separation Trilogy Box Set: Books 1 -3 Page 80
