In the next window is a Rogan, a spider-like giant made of eight mechanical legs and poison dwelling chelicerae. They used these creatures to keep us from traveling beyond their designated city limits. Rusty steel legs are on this one. It looks years old, dented by beatings and legs uneven as though pieces of its limbs were chopped off in its past. And maybe it has taken a beating or two. We’ll kill these things if we must.
I continue down the hall, finding the lion’s body hooked up to cords with its face missing. It lies on the ground still, IVs pumping a dark fluid into its body. The gorilla’s head sits beside it, facing away from me. A human is inside another with its body parts missing, also strung up with cords and IVs.
A cough echoes through the hall, and I know the sound of the voice.
Jackson.
I run down the hall and find an open double set of doors. The only doors held open by wood stoppers.
Another room built for surgery with monitors lining the walls, IV stands, and whiteboards with chemist level math problem scratched across them.
I run across white tile, sliding to a stop when I make it to the hospital bed Jackson lies upon. He’s got an IV pumping dark fluid into the veins on both arms. There’s a thick tube shoved down his throat, and another is sticking out of his chest. His eyes are closed, brows drawn taut, wincing. “Jackson?” The name comes out like a croak, burning my throat.
Next to the bed is a cork board on an easel. Pictures of people, the teenagers in our town, are tacked on it. At the top reads, Breeders, and beneath it are the boys’ and girls’ pictures coupled next to each other. Jackson and I are at the top, labeled as two. The couple labeled as one is Jerry and Samantha. There’s a check mark next to both their pictures.
I look down at Jackson and push my hand over his sticky hair, wet with sweat and whatever they’ve put on him. I realize whatever future he and I had is over, but I’ll still try. “I’ll get you out of this.”
I grab the tube stabbed in his chest, wrapping my hands around the cold metal.
“I wouldn’t do that,” a deep male’s voice comes from behind me. The heels of his shoes clack as they cross the glass without a stutter or double step. A tall figure approaches my right side, and their well-shined black shoes come into my periphery.
“Why?” I turn to meet the cynical eyes of a tall man towering over me. Thick, dark eyebrows rest evenly above wide-set obsidian eyes. He smiles a reassuring gleam that raises the hairs on my arms.
He rubs his left shoulder before lifting the hem of his black suit jacket and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “You’ll kill him.” He turns down the corners of his mouth and shakes his head. “Humph,” he rubs his free hand over his bearded chin. “Animal mixtures are too intimidating, our armored soldiers,” he throws a point over his shoulder, “are far too aggressive. And frankly, they are equally intimidating in a worse way and send a message we’re not necessarily trying to convey.”
I lock my arms as I prepare to snatch out the cord.
The man gently places his hand to the crux of my elbow, holding me back. “Jackson here is our first Creation in a long line of many to come. The key isn’t to mix humans with other species to make them better, but to revolutionize the human species. To alter the genetics and unlock elements and qualities humans already possess. Humans are the greatest creation on Earth. The accomplishments, the growth, and the possibilities are endless for what you can do with the human brain and the human body,” he says, leaning his body forward.
I curl my upper lip, and my nostrils flare. “You’re a pig. Trying to use humans for your sick experiments. It’s wrong. This is a boy! He has a life, a mother.”
Nodding, the man says, “There are some flaws and a couple of drawbacks. We’ll figure these things out after we have a few prototypes and can better understand how far we can go with this.” The words leave his mouth like sap slipping down the bark of a tree. He doesn’t see Jackson like a human, a living being, but as the start of an experiment.
My hands remain clasped around the metal tube in Jackson’s chest. If I leave him here like this, I’ll lose him, anyway. They’ll wipe his brain and make him a puppet, what we feared. They’ll use him, and who knows what will come after that. Jackson would want death over this.
I missed my opportunity to say goodbye, but at least, I’ll save his life. I wrap my hands tighter around the tube, and as the man is going over the percentage of the brain humans use, I yank the tube from my best friend.
The man shouts, “No,” throwing his hands out a second too late to stop me. His cry carries out long and echoes through the room.
Jackson’s body goes limp. His wincing expression eases, and I breathe easier knowing it’s over for him. They won’t have him too.
Me, maybe.
“Doctors! Doctors!” the man shouts, motioning for people to come over. “We need immediate resuscitation.”
A few men in white coats enter the room through the double doors, and I’m shoved from the bedside. I snatch the cords and IVs from Jackson’s arms as I’m moved across the floor.
“You’re sick! All of you are the worst type of people,” I spit out strings of cuss words, waiting for the soldiers to come in and take me away.
No one comes.
The man looks over the doctor’s shoulders as they fiddle with Jackson. With a nod, he turns his attention to me, expression peaceful, a smile dressing his face. I expect anger, resentment for spoiling his plan, but he crosses the floor and looks upon me with a serene gaze.
He says, “Miss. Raven, I understand why you can’t see what we’re doing here is to save the world. They stuck you all in this dome, and you know nothing about what’s going on beyond this science experiment.”
I drag my sweaty palms over the thighs of my jeans. “Is he dead?”
The man nods. “You’ve accomplished killing his body, but we will be able to reserve the brain. Our plans have changed.” He gestures toward the corkboard. “We’ll require new arrangements. But it isn’t the end of the world. We’ll extract his knowledge and still get what we need. But it would’ve been far better to extend Jackson’s legacy with offspring.” His head hangs forward, and he sighs heavily as he straightens. “Would you like to see beyond the dome? I think it’s important for you to understand what you’ve stumbled upon. Or...”
His hands escape his pockets and gestures toward the door.
Three soldiers stare me down. I dare say no.
“You can be next. Your mind is just as useful.”
I shake my head. Both options are life threatening, so I choose the lesser of the two evils. I step to the man’s side. He grabs a white jacket from a nearby hook and passes it to me. I stuff my arms into its sleeves, and when he turns around, I follow him through the double doors. The soldiers move from his path. No one looks down at me as I pass. Usually, whenever we’d pass one, they turn down their mouths and narrow their eyes as if they were above us.
The gentleman has power over them I’ve never seen. We leave down the hall with the creatures, and I throw my hands to the sides of my eyes to block my vision. He unlocks the door, and we reenter the hall I thought led to a dead end. Instead, the wall opens to a door that lifts into the ceiling. It leads to a flight of stairs.
I cover my mouth with my hand to muffle my heavy breaths as I follow behind the mysterious man. Panic rushes my breaths. I don’t like not knowing what’s next, what’s waiting for me. When I get a grip of my nerves, I ask, “So who are you, and why are you telling and showing me this?”
“Norman Stalloh. I’m the Premier, the head leader of our restored country, The America. We’re dropping United. There’s nothing united about America any longer.” He continues up the stairs, constantly looking over his shoulder at me. “As to why I chose to speak with you, it’s because you broke free, Ari. Jackson put up quite the fight as well. This shows determination in your character. You’re strategic. I can tell that by the way you delivered your information to the commander. And
the way you manage to escape the hands of the soldiers. It’s not common. We never let those like you go to waste. Like Jackson, his ability to house information, train others, and help negate and dictate an entire resistance under the dome. Under the eyes of the surveillance, he still managed to dictate under the radar, and dammit, if that isn’t something at which to marvel. Leadership and authority are qualities we don’t discard. We’ll use these to help establish our Creations. Our genetically engineered servicemen and women who will protect and fight for our country.”
We make it to the top of the stairs to a circle pad. A glass cup-like roof seals off, and the circle pad lifts us into the sky and out the hole in the center of the dome. We stop at the top, and Jackson was right. Well, almost.
Nearest the dome is burned land and famine. Dark brown and reddish-orange dirt blankets the land for miles, but beyond it, there are buildings, moving parts, maybe cars and people moving about. I look behind me, where it looks like a new city is being built. “I thought we were the only people left.”
“Our entire world still exists. We’ve lost a lot. The extraterrestrial invaders did a number on our planet, but the sum of us left are still here. It’s not easy. The people are angry. The other countries want revenge. They’re blaming us for the alien attack, saying America is the cause for the invaders. We were not. But it means nothing. Every day they bomb us, trying to wipe us out. What’s left of us.” He shakes his head. A tear skates down his cheek. “We have nothing left. The citizens are turning against the government, adding to the destruction already eating at our states. We can’t get volunteers to stand up for our home of the brave. We’re defenseless. So we must enforce a change.” He clears his throat and points downward. “We need protection. We need leaders. We need structure. We need each state to do their part to reestablish The America. Even if these people are forced to comply. Creations will help us do that.” He faces me. “Not the armor suited soldiers or hybrid animal-humans. What we need are genetically altered humans who look like the average human, who will perform like the average human, but does not possess the same emotions. We need emotions to be limited so that the Creations’ dedication will remain to their government and to protecting our country. We need them to not focus on pain or affection or other human tendencies that make them weak, but on those aspects that make us strong.”
Mr. Stalloh looks down at me through his lashes as his left brow spikes high over his eye.
I shrug. “Okay?”
He stuffs his hand back into his pocket. “So what do you think we should do? Your father was full of ideas on how to change life under the dome, take down the soldiers first, then go for the leaders, demanding your freedom because he knew all this existed.” He points outside.
I shrug again. “I’m just a nineteen-year-old girl, sir. I can’t help you. I just know you shouldn’t be kidnapping people and playing God. It never ends well for people who do that.” I recall the corkboard. “So you intend to breed the town’s people to make these new Creations as you put it?”
He nods. “Most of them who possess the qualities we’re most interested in. We will model them to our liking. Some will be our breeders while other will become our new soldiers. Maintaining the new structure that I’ll soon be enforcing on this broken country, I’ll see they’ll fight for us, die to protect us, strive off their greatness, and maybe even encourage the citizen to act decently. My Creations will be the greatest army this world has ever seen.”
“Like everything else in this world, Mr. Stalloh,” I snort. “This perfect soldier will have flaws too.”
Mr. Stalloh gives me a bitter smile. “Well, you, Ari Raven, will be a producer of the first generations.” He yanks a pin from his pocket and strikes forward. “Thank you for joining me.”
“No!” I shout as he stabs the pin into my neck.
I wake in a room, alone, a bump in my stomach the size of a watermelon. A woman enters the dimmed room where I lie handcuffed to a hospital stretcher. I shake my wrist to break free of my restraints as the curtains pull open, rings scraping over metal like shaking chains. The sun bursts through wall-length window, and I squint against the beam, unable to remember the last time I saw sunlight.
“Where am I?” I jump at the raspy sound of my voice and scratch in my throat. “Excuse me.”
The woman comes over. She places the back of her hand to my forehead and pulls the hospital blanket up to my neck.
“Excuse me. Can you tell me what’s going on?”
She has her brown hair pulled into a ponytail tucked beneath the collar of her white lab coat. She wears black scrubs, and a stethoscope hangs from her neck.
“Please, say something?” I beg.
She looks down at me, deep brown eyes peering through her long curly lashes. “Ari Raven, you are a Breeder for Creations.”
I recall the term. “Mr. Stalloh’s Creations?”
She nods. “You are on pregnancy number four,” she says in a bored tone, rolling her eyes. I suspect we’ve had this conversation before. “The mother carries the fetuses through the first trimester, and then the babies are removed and placed in the incubator for genetic modification development. Having the babies out of the womb makes it easier for observation and necessary engineering adjustments.”
I jerk upward, but a gut wrenching pain keeps me pinned to the bed. “I’ve been knocked out for over a year.”
The nurse turns down the corners of her mouth. “Maybe a little longer.” She turns a little nob on an IV pumping silver liquid into the vein on my right arm, and then she comes to the other side of the bed to another IV pumping red liquid, maybe blood, into my left arm. She continues, “The first time, you put up a pretty tough fuss when being feed the plasma and umbilical cords from your newborns.” She throws her hand over my mouth, seeming to sense the hurl burning my throat. “Before you start gagging all over the place again, it was in a nice strawberry and banana smoothie, and it was for the genetic compounds provided by the enzymes and haematopoietic cells produced by the powerful cells. This…” She taps the IV bag with the silver liquid, is for the babies, not you. The other one is for you.”
I throw one hand around my throat, and the other to the baby bump on my stomach. Tears burn my eyes.
“If you want to go back out, we can shoot you up again.” She wiggles a small syringe between her thumb and index finger.
I shake my head, and she stuffs it back in to her pocket.
The nurse seems extremely familiar with me, while I can’t even remember how I got here. I’ve been locked away from everything for who knows how long and I’m…a mother. “Can I see the babies?”
“No, Ma’am,” she answers quickly. “Only the doctors can see the babies. But…” She tilts her head left, then right. “I’ll be right back.” She leaves the room from a brown door in front of the bed.
I snatch my arms inward, hoping to break the handcuffs or the metal bar they’re cuffed to. My wrists bruise, and the metal clinking against metal echoes through the small room. But my freedom is unachieved.
The room is empty. Nothing but the bed, a light over me, and the IV poles. I know Jackson is gone, my mother and sister too. Maybe the entire town of Tulson now.
The door opens, and the Nurse returns, cradling two infants in her arms. She walks to the side of the bed and holds the children so I can easily view them.
“This is Hayden and Cameron. Creations are born in twos. Twins!” she says with her eyes lighting up and a smile spreading shoulder wide. “They can heal each other.”
The two babies, sleeping, hold hands. A nearly transparent moonlight-colored glimmer moves over their skin. I sit up on my elbows and lean a little closer, seeing curving and circular lines embedded in their skin. I reach to touch them, but the nurse steps back.
“Sorry, you can only view the babies.”
“What are those glimmering lines on them?” I ask, pointing.
She looks down and smiles. “These embellishments aid in healing. They can
heal each other, no medical attention needed. Once the infants reach a certain stage of development, we assist in them linking.” She nods her head toward the babies. “That’s the hand holding, and when they link they heal each other. This occurs six to nine months after removing the child from the womb.”
I look down at my belly. “So I have two babies growing in me?” I rub my hands over against the sides of my stomach.
“Yep!” she says, rising on her toes. “You’ve given us our first set of Creations. A total of two hundred Creations have been born to date, between you and others.”
I lie back on the bed and look up at the ceiling. “It’s the army he was talking about. We’re breeding the army he wanted. You’re using us.”
The baby on the right coos. The nurse bounces them in her arms, saying, “Everyone has their role in our restored country, The America. Breeding The America’s Creations is yours. Soon, there will be volunteers and the people from Tulson won’t be used for this task, but for now, you have what they need.” She heads for the door, rocking the babies in her arms. “Welcome to the New Establishment of The America. Your services to our country are valued and worthy of praise. The Premier of The America and Guidance Leaders appreciate your dedication to the growth and development of the protectors of our country. We desperately need them. Thank you.” She exits and the door seals closed behind her.
Death would be better than this…
I swallow hard. The government has succeeded in colonizing our country. They’ve infused me with genetically modified genes to create a specific breed of humans. Creations.
What they’ve failed to acknowledge is, there’s something darker coursing through my veins, and they will soon find out who really attacked this planet, and it won’t be the beings they expected. They’ve created a dying breed, and I can’t wait for it to bite them in the ass.
The End
Keep reading for a Sneak Peek of Imminent Threat: Book 1. Dive into the world of a Creation and find out what came of the New Establishment, Highrum.
The Separation Trilogy Box Set: Books 1 -3 Page 92
