Ominous Order

by Felisha Antonette

  I slap the back of my hand against Sean’s chest. “Let’s check it out. They may be weird, but they aren’t a threat.” Plus, if they do try anything, I doubt they’ll get the best of us.

  We head through the quarter-mile tunnel to another bunker, larger than the first. The ceiling is higher, and sunlight is allowed in through a thin window near the top of the wall. The beam doesn’t make it down here but only shines against the opposite wall. Floodlights line the metal walls, hooked on three levels of rails that reach the ceiling. Stretchers, cots, and table carts cover the floor. Groaning humans and Creations lie on the cots, pleading for aid from injuries caused by gunshot wounds and other types of attacks. Physicians tend to their needs, but there aren’t enough of them to care for everyone.

  Angie walks ahead of us, taking a path along the wall of the ward. We follow her. She says, “About a year ago we discovered the Guidance were killing off first- and second-generation Creations. They started with the City Maintenance Creations first and then the Groundkeepers. They ordered the Fighters, like yourselves, to do the dirty work. It started here in Highrum and slowly began making its way around the country.” She approaches a trench dug deeper in the ground. Bodies of deceased Creations are piled in the hole, bodies riddled with gunshot wounds. She quickly leaves it, going to what seems to be the recovery wing of the bunker. “It was the outbreak of Zombies that put a stop to it, but only because they were a distraction. We’ve heard about Zombies quickly overrunning cities and even states. Had the Guidance not taken out so many Creations, I believe they would have had a handle on it.” She shrugs. “But we’re done here. They’re replacing us.”

  Seits crosses her arms, and her shoulders and biceps buckle threateningly. “How do you know this? We’ve heard nothing of the sort.”

  Angie faces us. Sadness clouds her features, but she doesn’t let it sound in her sober tone. She squints her eyes and points. “Desert Hills, right?” We nod. “So Separation. You’re needed. You take care of the wars and are the best defense they have against our enemies.” Crossing her arms, she narrows her eyes when she looks at Sean and me. She points to us. “Marc and Sean Thanatos, am I right? Creations who single-handedly took down the Havoc Terrorists.” She chortles. “They say it was hundreds of them that attacked Illinois. They dropped from their planes and roped off towns and cities, wiping out innocent humans and taking over the state. Creations died trying to take them down because they knew the secret to the healing. But you two, while still boys in training, came through like thieves in the night. They never knew what hit them. You saved Illinois and any other place in the America they intended to attack.”

  Sean waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t exaggerate. It wasn’t hundreds,” he adds emphasis on the S, carrying it on for nearly ten seconds, “it was only about a hundred.”

  Angie rolls her neck and stabs her fists against her hips. “Doesn’t put a damper on the tale, though.” She shoves a point in our direction with her free hand, angrily stating, “Though we saved you, for all we knew, you could’ve still been sent to kill us, and we just walked you through our front door.”

  “We’re not here for that. And thank you,” I say.

  Angie flips her red hair over her shoulder as she turns to leave, saying, “Don’t thank us. Your turn to be on the chopping block is coming soon enough. Unless they think they were successful in shooting down your plane.”

  Sean takes the spot Angie left, standing with his hands on his hips. “She was kind of rude and nice at the same time. Anyone else pick that up?”

  Napoleon jumps in before any of us can respond. “We used to work directly under the Guidance. We heard them discussing the annexation of Creations. It started off as them capturing us and then killing us off. They don’t realize how intelligent they made us though.” He walks to a round steel table in the middle of the floor. We sit on the chairs placed around it, and he continues, “Once we found out, we started looking for safety. We stumbled upon this,” he gestures around him, “when one of us fell into a sewer. It’s long been forgotten. We checked every map just to make sure. So we cleared it out, added lighting, electricity, and water. It allows us to give the people who need a safe place a home or temporary dwelling.”

  “Napoleon! Gwendoline!” A stocky boy comes charging into the relief bunker. “Haley has been hurt!” He pants, waving for them to follow. “Come quick!”

  Napoleon races for the tunnel, Gwendoline straggling behind him. The panic floods through the tunnel into the aid bunker, chatter and fear rustling amongst the injured.

  The group of us exchange glances before we head back into the first bunker where a few people are huddled over a small woman’s body. Creations drenched in sweat and dust shout for help while those who were resting moments ago are on their feet, asking what happened.

  Napoleon shoves the onlookers from his path. He drops to his knees, sorrow pouring from him in heavy groans as he looks over Haley’s body, hands raised at his sides like he’s afraid to touch her. “Dammit, Haley. I told you not to go. I asked you to stay put.”

  I shuffle through the swelling crowd to get a better look at the situation.

  Haley gives him a small smile. Blood pools beneath her, her body riddled with bullet wounds.

  The ruckus grows louder as the crowd goes bigger.

  “Shut up!” Gwendoline looks upon the two as a glimmer of hope widens her eyes. It’s evident Haley’s hanging on by a thread.

  I look over the crowd and see the eyes of those watching tremble with fear and sadness. Haley takes batted breaths and begins to pale. The probability of Haley’s death seems to wave over the crowd as their worry draws whimpers and words of condolence for Napoleon.

  Sean looks over my shoulder, whispering, “I thought Gwendoline was his twin.”

  I shrug. She is… By the way some here whisper about how he’ll handle Haley’s death, I begin to think otherwise.

  Napoleon leans over and mutters something to Haley. She barely nods. “Good,” he says.

  He yanks up his right pant leg and snatches a knife from the sheath strapped around his ankle. Loudly, he states, “A debt for a debt. Life for a life. I owe her this.” He drags the blade from the heel of his left palm to his pinky, across the enhancements built into Creations’ palms to heal our twins. Napoleon cuts Haley’s left hand in an identical way. The nearly transparent lining on their palms are sliced open and blood drips to the ground. He cuffs her hand as though they are greeting then shifts their grasped hands to clutch the opposite way. The curving enhancements dressing their bodies react, shimmering. A soft shine starts at their foreheads and works its way down. Napoleon places his right hand over Haley’s wounds.

  I near them, fascination getting the best of me.

  Haley’s breaths even. Her free hand reaches up to grab Napoleon’s, which is resting on her chest, healing the final wound. She brings it to her lips, kisses it, and whispers, “I love you.”

  They rise, Napoleon helping Haley to her feet.

  I look over her healed body. The life returns to her eyes, and she holds on to Napoleon’s healed hand in a way that implies she’ll never let him go.

  I ask, “How were you able to do that?”

  Napoleon raises his left hand before me. “It only works once.” Though he isn’t bleeding, the scar across his palm remains. “I’ve…” His head bows and despair creeps into his voice as he reveals, “I broke the healing link with my twin, but conjoined the healing lines, and my blood, with Haley’s. I witnessed it a while ago with Theodore and Richard.” He drags his fist across his chin then forehead. “I, um, promised Haley if her life was ever in jeopardy, I’d save her. I owed her that. Only thing is…” he gestures to his sister’s back. She’s pushing aside a dark curtain that leads to another tunnel. “…It separates you from your twin forever.”

  Not a single Creation I’ve met would willingly give up their twin. “Why not choose to keep your sister first?”

  Napoleon looks around
at the crowd. Their gasps have died down and many disperse. Napoleon says, “I appreciate your interest, but it’s not something we’ll discuss at the moment.”

  I lower my voice and say, “The affection. Right?” I heard what she whispered to him, and I’m surprised no one else did.

  Both Napoleon and Haley widen their eyes. They finally release each other, and Napoleon pulls me aside to a corner where we’re out of earshot. I snatch his hand from my shoulder. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Don’t say that here,” he hisses. “We don’t know those feelings. And anyone who believes they know or thinks they feel them…We murder them.”

  I work my jaw, glaring at them. “You just chose to break your links with your twin for your woman, in front of everyone. Believe me, brother, they know.”

  Napoleon rakes his hand through his silver hair. He shakes his head. “What they know is that I owe her my life. They were there when I swore it to her after she saved Gwen. It’s by happenstance I have an attraction to her.” He shifts his weight uneasily. “People here freely show their attraction with intimate gestures. But for reasons likely still unbeknownst to you, because you fighter Creations are thick-headed by the book do-gooders, you wouldn’t know the difference between attraction or affection if they bit you in the rear end. We dispose of Creations who reveal signs of forbidden emotions.”

  Thick-headed by the book do-gooders. This disrespectful son of bitch. I should knock his ass out, but his insult is more amusing than it is offensive. We’re created equally, the only difference is where we come up, but somehow, they view us as being worse than them. I snort. “That’s obviously a load because I spot it in you two. So you’re either calling me a liar or lying to yourself. You could have told me, ‘No. I owed her my life.’ Or better yet, not reacted. Regardless of the position, Creations don’t choose anyone over their lifeline. Fuck a promise. That,” I gesture over my shoulder to where we walked from, “was dedication to someone’s heart, their mind. Call it what you want, Napoleon.” I shake my head and head back for the others.

  He’s either an idiot or he’s lying. Either way, he can’t believe that I don’t see through his impertinent explanation of affection and attraction. Attraction wouldn’t have someone rip off their twin. If Haley risked her life to save Gwen, the price of that would never amount to leaving your twin to fend for themselves. Love—this deep feeling of affection—maybe…

  “Wait,” Napoleon calls. “You…” he stalls. “You’re the only one who called it out.”

  I cover my tracks. “I heard her whisper I love you. You two gave yourselves away.” I make it back to my team. They’re unfazed by the recent events, plotting a way back home.

  Sean bumps my shoulder. He whispers, “The thought had better not cross your mind.”

  I ignore him and jump into their conversation. “We can’t make it back home without a plane. They don’t allow vehicles to drive in and out of Highrum. We’re over three thousand miles away, so making a run for it is out of the question. They’ll catch up to us. If they are trying to kill us, they’re just waiting for us to poke our heads out and reveal our location. We’ll have to fight our way out.”

  “We can’t prove the Guidance is trying to kill us.” Seits is still unconvinced of the Guidance’s plot against us. I don’t trust any part of our government. They have too much power and have shown they are willing to put anyone’s life on the line for their success. Seits clutches her hips and looks at the ground, saying more to herself than anyone else, “Why would they need to kill us? We’re top-tiered Creations.”

  Sean snaps and waggles his finger. “Because they’re working with the enemy.”

  “I agree,” I follow.

  Jord stands and leans on the table, hands pressed against the metal. His index finger thumps as he thinks. “Remember when Kylie returned from speaking with the Vojin? The Vojin want to wipe out Creations because they think we are a part of our world’s destruction.” Jord gestures to Napoleon. “They’re telling us the Guidance have given the order to kill Creations. This can’t be a coincidence.” He straightens and crosses his arms. “It’s all a part of their plan. And we know that plan. Now we’re collateral damage. They likely think we’re going to reveal what we know and get the Trade involved.”

  “Maybe that’s what we need to do,” Sean says. “Have someone with more power help us get down to the bottom of this.” He meets my gaze. “Think about it. Kylie is there and is likely in just as much danger. We can use that to persuade the Trade to look into it.”

  We nod contemplatively, considering our options. It’s a good thing Kylie didn’t come with us. She’d be dead now, like Collins, and I would beat myself up the rest of my life for talking her into leaving. Then again, Sean has a point. What if she’s worse off? I mean, them requesting her there to just sit around doesn’t make any sense. Unless the Guidance knows Ky’s true nature. The reason behind her glowing chest and extreme emotions. They may have saved themselves the trouble of a hunt by inviting her to walk right through their front door.

  Chapter Twenty

  *Marc*

  I leave the discussion to look for Gwendoline. From the main bunker, there are two other passages, one that leads to the aid bunker and another that’s blocked off by a black curtain. Where I saw Gwendoline pass through earlier. It’s quite dark, and the wall on my left is lined with steel doors. Maybe personal rooms. They’ve put a lot of work into this bunker, from security guards who sleep in the bigger space, to a hospital wing, and private rooms. On the ground, there is a strip of red tape that stretches the length of the tunnel, and I wonder if the other has a similar identifier to distinguish between the two. Though they seem comfortable, Creations shouldn’t have to hide underground. They shouldn’t fear for their lives because we have a twisted government.

  Gwendoline exits a room further down the tunnel. “Excuse me, Gwendoline?” I catch up to her.

  “Yes, Marc?” She stops and faces me, expression blank.

  Her solemn tone is evidence of my assumptions, but I still ask the question I already know the answer to. “Are you okay?”

  She shrugs and purses her lips. “My twin just ripped himself from me for another Creation. No. I’m not doing too well.”

  I stick my hands in the pockets of my hoodie. “I know. It’s a stupid question. No one else seemed concerned about you, so I thought I’d offer a body.”

  She scoffs. “The difference between us and you Creations—you who have lived under the thumb of the Guidance, required to fight for this corrupted country and maintain the fake freedom of this poisoned land—is we don’t fake our reactions.”

  I sigh heavily, irritated by their judgements and assumptions. “Your perspective, all of your perspectives about us, are wrong. And as long as someone thought to be there for you in your moment of weakness, what does it matter if it is real or not?”

  She throws her head back, chuckling. “They teach you that in your Humanity Emotions classes? It’s more than the thought, you realize this, don’t you, Marc? It does matter if one is being authentically caring or just pretending.”

  And I agree. We’re used to the misconception others have about us. They aren’t a part of our world and can’t truly understand us fighter Creations, but they all have an obscure opinion about us. What’s worse is their opinion matters more than our truth, and yet, she scolds me, a stranger to her, for going out of my way to check on her.

  She’s right, though. My intentions aren’t pure. I’m here attempting to break the ice so the weight of my next question doesn’t bog her down.

  The problems surrounding Creations are even here in Highrum. They’re hiding the piece of them that makes them closer to being human, either out of fear or hate. It’s important I find out how these Creations perceive feelings of affection. I don’t want the effort I will put into keeping Ky alive—and I know I’m going to get her back—to put us in danger.

  “I’ll cut the shit, Gwendoline. Why does your group dispose
of Creations who display affection?”

  She leans her back against the wall. Her hair is also silver, pulled into to a braid that lies against the back of her head. Gaze cast on the ground, her lips pucker as she sucks in a deep breath. “Because,” she pauses, “Those who display affection, they’re implants.” She waves her hand in front of me, cutting me off. “Not the Vojin. There’s another race. A race that can’t control those feelings.” She huffs, and her brows lift high before relaxing. “They have a lot of feelings actually. I realize Creations have emotions and feelings, but they’re dormant, vaulted in a deep part of the mind where they can’t be easily accessed without great effort. But this being within the Creation brings these emotions to the forefront. It makes them easily identifiable. All implants are bad regardless of what enhancements they give to a dying breed.” She shrugs. “So we dispose of them.”

  I look away from her and snort. Uncomfortably, I clear my throat and fork my fingers through my hair. “Damn aliens are invading earth left and right. What does this species want from here? To spread love?”

  She laughs and relaxes against the wall. “Would it be such a bad thing if Creations saw humans in a new light, or for our enemies to see the America is actually okay? A loving culture? That while they feel the America’s to blame for the demolition, it’s not the citizen’s burden, and they shouldn’t be punished?” She flicks her gaze to me and then down the hall. “But,” she sighs. “We can’t say for sure. No Creation should be able to love. They’ve never felt it. How can they recognize it? What identifies that feeling to them as love? What even is love?” she snaps, balling her fist and kicking her heel against the ground.