Imminent Threat: A Young Adult Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Series (The Separation Trilogy Book 1)

by Felisha Antonette

  “What got you feeling uneasy?”

  I’ve only played checkers a couple of times, and by the number of pieces he has captured compared to me, I’m losing. “Marc, would you be comfortable if a few girls saw you in the nude?” I move my red piece. “Probably not. I bet girls see you nude often.”

  He moves his black piece, jumping over two of mine. “No, that’s incorrect. No girl has ever seen me fully nude. I may be uncomfortable. Probably.” He shrugs.

  “Well I was, and then,” I move my piece, jumping over one of his, “I found out Cory was in my room waiting for me.” I shudder. “That’s what made me uncomfortable, more than my privacy being exposed.”

  “For what it’s worth, I didn’t see you; at least, no part you wouldn’t want me to see.” He’s looking at the board, and I look away before he catches me staring. “Why was he in your room?”

  I shrug, taking a turn. “But knowing that, in combination with my past, is why you caught me on the edge of losing it,” I admit.

  “Lost it,” he corrects with a throaty chuckle that doesn’t show in his expression. “But, your past? He’s done that before? I heard something about the three of you growing up together.”

  “Um…” I rub my hands over my arms. “I’m already going to have trouble sleeping tonight, let’s not welcome those discomforts by talking about them. But no, it’s not because of Cory, and yes, we were neighbors.” I move my piece, getting another jump. “Thanks for helping me.”

  He adjusts, a smile taking over his face. I’ve never seen Marc smile genuinely. A small smirk here and there, yes, but never the pulling out and upward of the corners of his mouth to form an actual grin. Even if it’s small and he tries to hide it, it’s still a smile, nonetheless. “No problem, I think.” He moves, jumping three of my pieces.

  I throw my arms up, gasping. “How do you do that? Are you cheating?”

  He shakes his head. “You just leave yourself open to lose.” I laugh. His expression turns serious, and I sober, clearing my throat. “If he makes you uncomfortable, why give in to him?”

  Without thinking, I say, “You make me uncomfortable. Him, I’m used to. I can knock him out like that.” I snap my fingers.

  “Really?” he responds, and I realize I let him into my secrets.

  Quickly shaking my head, I cover it up. “I didn’t mean that.”

  “You sure?” he asks, not yet taking his turn. His radiant orchid eyes are the color of a sunset with a purple hue. His low-set eyebrows darken their shine and request a truthful answer as he glares at me through his lashes. He says, “You tell me nothing else. You can at least answer that honestly.”

  “Your turn,” I insist, grinning. He moves, jumping two more of my pieces. “Yes,” I add quietly, a bit self-conscious, “really.”

  He nods. “You only have two more pieces. You want to quit and reset or call it a night?”

  Luke isn’t back yet, and I don’t want to go to my room. “We can play again.”

  He sets up the board again. “Were you two deposited to stand-in parents, or did you have breeders?”

  I draw my lips tight to the side, fighting the thought of my parents. He’s nice, and his hug was comforting. It reminded me of my mother, the only person who’s ever genuinely hugged me. His held the same feeling, but I’m not ready to talk about my parents. Marc makes me feel like I can be open with him, so I confess, “We stayed with my aunt. She was the devil’s wife. And since you asked,” I take the first move, “the devil, her husband, molested me and came pretty close to going further than that when I was younger. She sided with him. I hate her. Luke killed him. And she hates us. I’ve been looking forward to Separation for years.”

  “So, it was the thought of Cory waiting for you in your room and you going in there alone with just your vest that brought back all of that?”

  “It did.” I take my move after he does.

  “And you sleep with Luke to keep away the nightmares?”

  “Yes,” I answer slowly, pushing my hand over my forehead as I suck in an uncomfortable breath. “How’d you know?” I ask through my exhale.

  “This is going to sound weird, and don’t say anything, but Sean used to sleep with me a while ago. To keep away his nightmares of our father.”

  It does sound weird, but I dare not pass judgment. “Something you brothers do keeps the bad away.”

  He snorts a breathy laugh. “Yes, I guess so.” His frame expands as he sucks in a breath. “If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, I always keep an extra towel in my shower stall, you’re welcome to it if you wouldn’t mind going to the guys stalls.” Tugging his left ear, he looks over the checkerboard. “You want me to show you something?”

  I huff an astonished laugh, never expecting in a million years for him to make that offer. He blows over it so quickly, I don’t bring it back up, though I’ll always remember his kindness. I’m enjoying the softness of his voice, the soothing sound of his tone. It’s still a rasp in the back of his throat, but at ease, it’s not as deep and harsh as usual.

  With his shoulders relaxed, chest in, and eyes a little wider, Marc’s let his guard down with me. “Sure!” I watch him as he shows me a move with the checker pieces.

  He points and maneuvers pieces around the board, but my focus lies on his mouth. The words leaving it are silent, much like everything else in this moment, and I stare, enraptured by this boy. His mouth stops moving, and his head lifts, gaze rising to mine.

  Unlike before, I don’t look away. The direct eye contact warms me, like his hug.

  “Are you paying attention?” he asks after we’ve stared at each other for almost sixty seconds.

  I smile, pulling away from his gaze. “No,” I answer honestly. “I am now though.” I redirect my attention to the board and follow his instructions.

  “After this move, you can jump three of my pieces at once.” He shows me by first moving his piece and then moving mine over three of his scattered pieces.

  Somehow, it fascinates me, though I’m not the least bit interested in checkers. I only agreed to play to pass the time. “Great,” I cheer, “this time I can win.”

  “I’ll let you win,” he says without tearing his gaze from the game, “as long as I never catch you trembling like I did.”

  “Deal.”

  He sucks his lips into his mouth. I watch him as I take my turn. He lets go of them, and they come out red. I want to graze them, to see if the feeling of his touch and him being close will go along with the kiss of his lips. I shake away the thought. It’s wrong and shouldn’t have crossed your mind, Ky.

  “Ky?” Luke comes into the den. “You okay?” He sits by me and rubs my shoulder.

  “Yep, I’m good.”

  He stands. “Come on, let’s go to sleep.”

  “I’ll be up there after we finish this game.”

  “Marc,” Luke greets.

  “It’s cool?” Marc asks, the heavy rasp again present in his voice.

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “Nothing to thank me for.”

  “I see,” Luke responds quizzically. “Okay, Ky?”

  “Okay, Luke.” He leaves us, and I ask Marc, “When did you and Luke become cool with each other?”

  Marc shrugs. “We understand we are fighting on the same team. There’s no need for us to go against each other all because of a measly fight that happened before.” He cuts his gaze to the doorway of the den but focuses on nothing. “Although now that I might be into his sister,” he stalls, “and she’s into me, I think he’s going to reconsider that.”

  I smile, baring every tooth in my mouth. He tilts his head and eyes me questioningly. I nod. “I am,” I admit, “but I can’t explore that idea.”

  “I’m not asking you to explore the idea,” he says with taut brows. “I’m just letting it be known and requesting confirmation. I know the rules.”

  “And you wouldn’t break them?”

  He scoots back and rests his arm on the back of the
sofa, game forgotten. “I can’t answer that. But I know and understand what my purpose is here. Even though I have an interest in you, I wouldn’t request anything more of you than your friendship. Maybe another game of checkers and small talk here and there.”

  Knitting my brows, I drop my gaze to my lap. Why doesn’t he want to break the rules, but Cory does? Cory tries to persuade me with, ‘We’re too valuable for them to punish.’ Marc, on the other hand, wouldn’t even kiss me, and now, although showing interest, he will not follow through.

  I chew on my bottom lip as I think it over. And I must admit, I respect that as I wouldn’t ask anything from him either. “Small talk and a game of checkers are fine,” I say with a smile. “You not being with Christina right now, is it because of the rules?”

  He goes back to the game, contemplating his next move. “Mainly the restrictions, a little bit of you.” He leans back and says, “I don’t like Christina. I will not break the rules just for curiosity.”

  “Have never or never will?”

  “Both.” Oh. “It’s your move, by the way.”

  “Oh.” I find a red piece nearest his and jump it, not exactly sure if the move was even legal. “If we weren’t here, a Creation, a part of Separation, would you?” I ask.

  “Um.” He moves, not jumping my piece when he could have. “I still wouldn’t do it out of curiosity. If it was something serious, like,” he thinks for a moment, “you know, something involving affection and attraction, I think,” he shrugs, “then maybe, but I cannot be sure.”

  I move, jumping two of his pieces like he showed me. “Everyone else thinks differently.”

  “I know.”

  “Why don’t you?” I ask, leaning away.

  His eyes lift to mine. “No one expects that from me,” he states, brows pulling taut, causing the shadow over his eyes to deepen. “Is it wrong to feel differently from everyone else?” He finally makes his move.

  “No. Not at all. I’m just curious.”

  He’s looking away from me as he asks, “Is it worth it?” By the solemn tone and lowness of his eyelids, it doesn’t seem as though he’s interested in the subject. I’d think he was tired if they didn’t always look this way.

  Shrugging and barely shaking my head, I tell him, “I wouldn’t know.”

  “I see. And now knowing I’m like you, you feel different about me?”

  Not even. I’m delighted to discover I’m not the only one of us who agrees with the rules they’ve set out for us to follow. That engaging in such activities such as relations with others is forbidden for a reason, not just to protect our own twin, but for the other’s twin as well. We’re supposed to stay focused on the task, our mission, and bettering ourselves, period. “No, I appreciate you giving me the opportunity to know you a little bit better.”

  “Same here.” He scans the board. “You want me to show you how to win?”

  “You tired of playing?”

  “No, but you interest me, and I want to ask you a million questions you may not want to answer. I don’t want us to get too comfortable or to a point where we know each other too well.”

  Though I don’t understand his reason, I give him a tight grin as I nod. “Okay, show me.” He takes my piece and jumps his back and forth over the board, from one end to the other. “Very shocking maneuver, Marc. That was cool.”

  “Sean and I used to play all the time. Before we came here.” Moving the game to the table, he stands from the sofa. On his feet, he faces me, hand extended.

  I take it, and he pulls me from the sofa into an embrace, with his arms sealed around my back. I copy the movement, slowly wrapping mine around his middle. He takes in a slow breath, and his chest swells against mine. Letting it out, he murmurs, “My mother used to hug me, that’s where I got the idea.”

  Hearing his voice compels me to tighten my hold. He doesn’t reciprocate. “That’s what it reminded me of. At first it was odd, feeling it from you, but wildly relaxing.” I move from around his middle, bringing my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me.

  He allows his head to bury in my neck and wraps his arms tightly around my waist. “Thanks,” he says, mouth moving against my skin. His lips are soft, and the scruff from his beard lightly scrapes at my collarbone.

  He draws back, and I drop my arms, still feeling his lips moving against the slope of my neck.

  “Sure, I think.” Not sure what he would be thanking me for, I start toward the doorway. “See you in the a.m.”

  “Goodnight, Ky.”

  I rush to Luke’s room, knocking before I enter. It’s silent. Luke’s tucked beneath his quilt. I hoped he would be awake. I wanted to talk to him before I fell asleep, but maybe we’ll catch up tomorrow. I take my usual position and, “First Cory, now Marc?” comes in Luke’s tired voice.

  “Thought you were down for the count. What did you talk about with Cory?”

  “Him backing off. First, you’re kissing, and now, he’s in your room. I know how those types of talks go, and you are not having them.”

  Usually, I’d argue with him over him telling me what to do, but I appreciate him stepping in with Cory. “I agree, Luke.”

  “And Marc?”

  “He’s different, nothing like Cory or you.”

  “I know.”

  He knows? “And you think he’s cool?”

  “He’s fine. I know if he’s attracted to you, he won’t try to do anything but be attracted to you.”

  That’s exactly what Marc said, which also confirms Luke and Marc have set aside their differences and have been doing some getting to know each other as well. “Sounds like you made a new friend, Luke.”

  Luke snorts.

  “Today was a crazy day, huh? Oh, we ran into some more of those things. Sir Jord, Marc, and I.”

  He yawns. “They were on the base?”

  “Kind of. But we took care of it. I hope they mention something about them soon.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Two bullets rip past me.

  I race across the field, dodging punches and kicks. Another shot snips my ear. Heat and blood leak down my neck.

  I draw my gun at two who appear in front of me; my aim is off—I only land shoulder shots. It doesn’t stop them, but it inconveniences them long enough so I can get to my destination.

  One from my group is on the ground. I jump over him, target in sight. Jord’s voice echoes in my head, We are supposed to help them, not leave them. Against my urge to win, I turn back, catching two bullets to the chest.

  I’m down, unable to breathe.

  I failed…

  Luke’s hand grabs mine, and his shadow shades me as he kneels down and places his free hand over my chest. He heals me and grumbles as he looks me over once more.

  I rise, annoyed by his disapproving glare. “I know, Luke, don’t say it.” He stands and stalks back to the side lines.

  Looking around the field, I see my entire group is down. Twin is on twin, healing and helping each other from the ground.

  “Kylie,” Jord shouts. “Two defeats?!” I didn’t want to hear it from Luke, and I don’t want to hear it from him. I can’t blow him off, though. “Everyone fallen. That makes you a bad leader.” He marches before me and shouts, “Are you a bad leader, Chief Warrant Officer Kylie?”

  “No, sir!” I shout back.

  “How is it your group cannot accomplish a single mission? Even after attempting twice?”

  Ashamed, I still stand tall. “We will run it again, sir.”

  “Do you not think the others are tired of shooting your group down? Tired of watching you fall?” he shouts in my face.

  I repeat louder, “We will run it again, sir.”

  “Run it again!” He lowers his tone, warning, “And this time, don’t fail.”

  This time, don’t fail. Do not fail, Ky. I cannot fail.

  “Here,” I yell for my group to fall in. “You all need to switch,” I order hastily, “because clearly this half of your twin is too wea
k to complete this course.” Only one twin runs the death match; the other sits off to the side in case they need to heal the runner.

  They switch vests and clear the field. “Ready?” I shout, balling my fist. There is no reason we cannot complete this course. “If you fail, this will not end, and instead of them coming after you running this course, I will. And I do headshots. It will also be a test to see how fast your twin can make it to you,” I shout at them. “Now spread out for preparation.” They run out to different spots of the field. “Ready,” I inform Jord.

  “Begin,” he yells.

  Focus Kylie, spot each team member. Five-thousand-square-foot dirt field, scattered with mounds of tires, wooden spools, barrels, and two bunkers. The attackers are hiding around the field, ready to take us out at the blink of an eye. We need to get past them to the other end of the field in order to beat this step.

  Frederick and Candace to my left, Alex, Jesail, Joe to my right, and Robert is in front of me. I breathe, and everything slows down as my adrenaline and anger stimulate me. There are six of us and twelve of them.

  Someone camouflaged with the dirt leaps from the ground and grabs Candace just after she leaves the starting line. I draw my gun. Two shots—neck and shoulder—and they’re down. Candace is freed, charging through the field. A bullet flies past me. I throw a glimpse over my shoulder, catching Joe lowering his weapon. He took down someone who was on my heels, inches from tackling me to the ground. I give him a nod.

  I take off toward Candace, now with two on her. One is around her neck; the other has a gun to her head. At my approach, I hit our foe in her head with the butt of my gun, knocking her to her knees. One shot to her spine. She’s down. Three neutralized.

  Throwing an eager glance over my shoulder, I see two of ours down. One can keep going: Alex. I race to him and help him from the ground. “To my back,” I demand as he stands. “Cover me, I’ll cover you!” His back presses against mine, I’m carrying most of his weight, and we make it across the field.