Luke pushes me out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him. “That was unexpected,” he says, smiling shyly. “Let me get her out. I’ll be right back.”
“Yes, right back with an explanation,” I add.
He nods, slipping into his room without opening the door all the way.
I approach the door, making sure not to make any noise as I place my ear to it. Luke says, “Not at night. You know you are not supposed to come here.” How often does this happen? I hear rummaging noises on the other side of the door and a plop sound.
“I wanted to wake up next to you,” she responds.
“That’s not possible,” he says, voice muffled.
“That’s not fair. I only get you when you want me. Why can’t I have you when I want you?” A squeak sounds from the bed.
Before he responds, there’s another squeak, followed by two footsteps. “That’s not how this works.”
How what works?
“Why are you spying on your brother?” I jump away from the door, startled by a deep raspy voice.
Marc is shirtless. I step back, stumbling over my own feet until I catch myself against the wall. “Why don’t you have any clothes on?” I ask, staring at his bare chest. As expected, he has never missed a workout. His body almost looks like Luke’s, but he has a bit of hair on his chest and navel. He holds a towel in one hand, and his clothes drape the other.
He speaks, but his words don’t make it to my ears as my eyes revert to his chest and up to the way his neck falls in sync with the muscular build of his shoulders. “—That’s not nice,” he finishes.
“I wasn’t spying, only checking on my brother,” I state confidently, hoping not to tip him off that I’ve missed the majority of what he’s said.
He balances against the wall with his bare shoulder, and as he shifts, his head tilts a little to the right and turns slightly toward me. His wavy hair sways but stills after he stops moving. I wonder what his hair smells like and how it feels, if it’s soft, coarse, or silky smooth. I bet it’s soft and smooth like the look of his lips and would tangle around my fingers if I ever got the chance to touch it.
“Does Luke know you are checking up on him?” He eyes me slyly, acknowledging my stare. His vibrant purple eyes lock on mine.
I look away, feeling my face flush. “I’m sure he does,” I answer, focusing on a small hole in the wall near the crease of the ceiling.
“Um-hum,” he hums through his nose. “I’m sure Luke’s old enough to take care of himself.” His voice lightens as he becomes comfortable.
Mine shudders, “He may be.” Marc makes me uncomfortable. He makes me think about things that are not appropriate. About him, walking into his room. About me, on his bed. Him over me, touching me like he did in the ring. I shake my head to remove the prohibited thought. “But I wasn’t spying,” I say quickly.
“I know, you’ve said that.” He finishes his walk down the hall to his room. He’s a door down from Luke’s on the opposite side. I stare, watching him stride away. With his vest and suit off, his shoulders are more pronounced; his sides and lower back slanted inward, and his bottom comfortably holds up his loose-fitting pants.
I squint for a better view, noticing what looks like whip marks or slashes on his back.
“Oh.” He turns around, and I look away, farther down the hall. “I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone. I just came from the showers.” He opens the door. “That’s why I’m missing a shirt.” Not waiting for a response, he enters his room and closes the door.
I exhale.
As his door closes, Luke’s opens. “Excuse me.” The now-dressed girl passes me and rushes to the stairs.
I walk into Luke’s room, hoping he has his clothes on. He does, thankfully.
I lean against the small chest of drawers. The rooms are small. All of us have a twin bed, a brown chest of drawers, and a hanging rack that holds our army suits, which should be in a closet, but we don’t have one. Each of us has been provided with a week’s supply. We are to have them washed on Saturdays, and a new set of seven is provided at the end of each month.
“Explanation?” I probe as Luke straightens his bed.
“She’s an interest. Well, was. I’m no longer interested.”
“An interest that you have pursued?” A fair choice of words, I think.
He looks at me once he has fixed the bed to his liking. He fights back a smirk. The corners of his mouth twitch as his eyes narrow and his brows rise in confirmation. “Yes, but she wasn’t supposed to be here. Not after hours.”
I nod, dropping the subject. I’m ready to go to sleep and remove that naked girl and Marc’s half-nude body from my mind anyway. “Is it safe to sleep in your bed?”
Luke laughs. “Yes, lie down.” He sits, rubbing his face. A smile remains as he shakes his head.
I lie on the side of his bed, nearest the window. It whistles from the wind seeping through. It’s soothing.
Luke lies next to me on his stomach, and I take my usual position, pressing my head to his shoulder.
My mind is clear and free of prohibited thoughts, but my dreams are vivid, a fight with Marc and a quarrel with Cory. In my fight with Marc, he holds back, letting me bring him to his knees with blow after blow, while Cory brings me to mine with aggressive kicks and hostile punches until I wake up.
Chapter Thirteen
The blowhorn either blares earlier than usual this morning, or I’m so far gone in my dreams that I missed resting. My head is wrapped in Luke’s arm, and he sluggishly pulls away, getting out of bed.
“Let’s go, Ky. Get up. Get to your room so you can get suited and not miss breakfast.”
I roll out of bed, craving another hour. Dragging my feet to the hall, the one person I never want to see me come out of Luke’s room catches me every morning. Each time I open the door, he passes, meets my eyes, and without a good morning, looks away. Each morning, I walk to my room with a red face, embarrassed Marc knows I sleep with my brother.
Usually, I wouldn’t care. Yes, I’m older and can’t sleep alone out of refusing to relive the nightmares that bring out the killer in me. Because yes, it kills me to relive them. Yes, this is a new room, and yet my old room still haunts me when I’m alone. The things that happened in there still crowd my dreams. And yes, Luke’s right. It’s something I will have to get a handle on.
Creations don’t know fear, I remind myself, hoping if I drill it in deep enough, it will become true.
I dress in the required jet-black suit, bulletproof vest with my name stitched into the right side of my chest, combat boots, scarf that I keep tied around my neck, gloves that I tuck into my pockets, and head gear that I hold and will not put on unless necessary. It’s heavy, and I’m still not used to it after wearing it for the month and a half I’ve been here.
Luke’s waiting for me by my door when I yank it open. “You didn’t sleep well?”
“I don’t remember sleeping,” I admit.
“You whooped my ass all night. Were you dreaming of fighting? Is it getting worse?”
I did dream about fighting, but not fighting the ones who haunt my nightmares. “Yes, I was. No, it’s not getting worse.” I close the door before we start to the stairs. “I was dreaming about fighting here. It wasn’t a nightmare.”
“Good.”
The mess hall is mellow. Everyone is still half asleep and lacks energy. We are usually greeted by calm chatter and people walking around. Not today. They’re all quietly sitting at the tables, eating. I’m guessing it may have something to do with the vaccines they’ve been administering. Whatever the disease they’re trying to fight is, it seems more like they’re trying to find the cause of it.
“Kylie and Lukahn, may I have a word with you?” Jord requests as we approach the food counter.
We straighten, standing at attention. “Yes, sir,” we say in unison.
“Your units will join another chief’s for today. We need the two of you for something else.” He stares
at us, transmitting something with his eyes. I can’t read into it. “Respond!”
“We understand.”
He nods and turns on his heels, heading out of the mess hall.
I grab two trays, handing Luke one. “What do you think it is?”
“Not sure,” he looks over his shoulder, “but they’re preparing to leave, so we’ll find out after breakfast.”
I grab a roll and continue down the line as I throw glances over my shoulder. “Maybe it has something to do with why they brought us into Separation so early.” I spoon hard scrambled eggs on my plate before moving on to the porridge.
Luke follows, taking the same food as me. “I don’t think so. Did you see the way he looked at us?”
I spoon up some hash browns and grab a carton of milk. “Yes, it was peculiar.”
We sit at an empty table. Usually, we sit with the other leaders of our draft, but before we leave, we need to figure out what we may be getting into. Or what we are leaving for. Luke wouldn’t admit to experiencing worry, and aloud, neither will I, but every day we ride the lines of being discovered.
“He’s suspicious of something. Or maybe curious.”
“What have we done to make him curious?”
“I cannot say.” Luke takes a bite of his roll and adds, “The only thing I can think of is your episode,” he says, chewing.
“I don’t think so, Luke. No one was around.”
“The nurse was around.” He takes another bite. “She could have said something.”
I’ve failed to consider that. “Do you think she suspected something and reported it?’”
Mockingly, he states, “Let’s see, Ky.” He drops his fork down after picking it up. “After she administered the shot, you were dazed and incoherent. You bolted out of the hall the moment she turned her back. And,” he practically sings, “regurgitated on the side of the building. Not to mention your lack of fight.”
I breathe in, taking in the truth of his perspective. “This may be what he wants to talk about. Maybe check how we move and respond to see if we’re affected by the vaccines.”
“I can’t be sure. Maybe. Seeing as we have no choice but to go, we’ll find out soon enough.” His eyes drop to my plate. “Eat your food. You’ll need the energy,” he says, pointing around my plate with his fork.
“You’re not worried about what we’ll get into?” I ask, picking up my roll.
“Why worry about something I have no control over? Good or bad, it’s going to happen. We are always prepared for the unexpected. Just pay attention to detail. And read between the lines of what they say.”
I eat my food, going over his words. At the last sip of my milk, Jord comes to our table. He nods toward the door as he says, “Let’s go.” We rise and follow him out. Everyone’s glares pinned on the back of my head nearly burns a hole through me. And if Cory’s in here, witnessing the personal request of his commander, I’m bound to be questioned by him on my return. If I return.
Luke and I get into the backseat of a black Humvee. Jord and a man I don’t recognize are in the front. The unknown man wears his tinted goggles tight over his eyes, and his scarf sits upon his chin with his mouth exposed. I watch him, curious as to why he’s chosen to wear the goggles in the truck. We are in the clear; there’s nothing requiring the extra protection.
“Luke,” Jord calls light-heartedly, a different personality peeking out from his usual hard-ass façade. “Your rank is being tested by Marcain, huh?”
“I will remain top in the ranks, Sir Jord. There is no test,” Luke answers confidently, unaffected by the implication. Unlike Jord’s slack shoulders and upbeat tone, Luke sits as though he’s got a stick stuck up his ass, never allowing anyone to see him relaxed or comfortable in public.
“He’s cutting it pretty close,” Jord continues. “Make sure you hold your rank. There is a promotion to captain waiting for you if you remain number one in ranking.” He turns in his seat to face Luke.
“I understand,” Luke says, a thought cutting off his words.
“What about you, Kylie? You and Collins are neck and neck. That brawl against Marcain set you back.” He chuckles. “It’s quite amusing how it’s the same cadet that’s causing the two of you trouble.” He turns in his seat and steals my gaze. “Is there a falter with him?”
I’m sitting behind him, and I do my best to not show how his insinuation has thrown me for a loop. Keeping my spine straight and my face blank, I assure him, “No, sir.” But I feel small at the mention of my hesitation with Marc and how noticeable it was.
“With Marcain, you were not at your best, Kylie. Now,” he carries on with a husky chuckle, “you put up a damn good fight. Very entertaining. But I know from what I’ve seen from you, you can do better. Much better.” He faces forward. “I thought you two were going to go against each other.”
I would’ve preferred to go against Luke. I wouldn’t have been so easily distracted. “It appeared Collins wanted to fight against Luke. I fell in line and went against Marc, sir.”
He nods slowly, eyeing a building sitting in the middle of the desert, nothing in the distance but red-dusted mountain hills and landslides. The light from the rising sun rests on the tip of the small home. Two bedrooms, tops, and maybe a kitchen with a neighboring living room. Nothing but a front door and a window on each side of it is visible on the structure.
“Off road there,” Jord says to the driver, pointing to the structure. “Where did that come from?” he says to himself. The truck pulls in front of the house, kicking up dust that blurs our destination. “Lukahn, Kylie. Go check it out,” Jord commands.
We exit the truck. Luke takes one side and I the other. We meet at the front, dust slowly settling around us.
Luke steps first, and I follow. We pull our guns from the holsters resting on our lower backs and cross the dirt to the small house.
I reach for the knob.
Luke puts out his hand, stopping me. He extends his index finger.
I wait.
He points to his ear and then the wall.
I listen, hearing nothing but the rumbling of the truck. Luke nods for me to go ahead.
I reach for the knob again, turning it. It’s unlocked, and I nudge it open.
Neither of us enter, waiting on the wooden door to finish whining open. It knocks softly against the wall before swinging back toward us an inch or two.
The sun beams have burst through the entrance, lighting a wood floor, table, and a wall with floral wallpaper. I nod at Luke to go in. He nods in agreement, and we enter with caution, guns aimed and loaded. I always keep a bullet in the chamber with the gun on safety. It’s quieter to click my automatic handgun off safety than to cock it back to load it.
The heat of the desert has warmed the wood and the wall plaster. The mix of smells burns my nose. A room to my left, small like a closet, is empty. The home is quiet; I’d likely hear a bead of sweat glide off my forehead and sizzle on the wood floor.
A squeak in the floorboard sounds in the shadows of a room the sun doesn’t reach, just beyond the wall that’s parallel to the entry. I whip around to Luke, making sure he heard it too.
He nods after looking around on his side once more. He had opened a closed door that exposed a toilet and sink.
On my side, there’s only this dark room where something just moved in. Luke moves to my side, swiftly but quietly.
A light reflective surface shines in the room then charges for us.
I fire. Two shots boom through the silence. A soft thump, and something collapses, falling lifeless onto the floor. The sound comforts my slight rise of panic. We cautiously approach the body on the floor.
“Good job, Ky. You saved us from an attack by a coyote.”
“I didn’t know it was a coyote,” I say mildly. His sarcasm annoys me. “If I did—”
“Shh,” he hushes urgently.
Nails are scraping along the wall to our left. My heart rate spikes, startled by the unexpected noise. We�
�ve let our guards down. The coyote must have only been a diversion.
We examine the area, seeking the thing or person that caught us by surprise. Nothing’s here.
“You heard that, right?” I whisper.
“Yes,” Luke utters. “Let’s move.”
Back-to-back, him facing the door and me facing the room, we walk stealthily from the shadowed room.
More sunlight has snuck into the living area, brightening the pinks and oranges of the floral wallpaper. It depicts flowers falling from a blossom tree. It’s nice but is old and outdated.
Luke abruptly stops behind me, causing me to nearly stumble over him.
He doesn’t breathe. He nudges my back, and I hold my breath and remain as still as possible though I’ve not seen what’s caused him to falter. I turn around, shoulder to shoulder with Luke, staring at a man and two children in the shadows near the door.
They are, I notice as I examine them cautiously, not average humans. Their gray skin is beaten, scratched, broken, and torn.
Bruises cover their bodies. Some wounds need stitches, but they do not bleed. Their hair is matted with dirt and rubbish I’m assuming they have picked up along their journey. The two little ones growl at us.
My brows twitch, hearing the unanticipated sound. The angry faces suggest we are the weird-looking ones, the ones who will cause them damage.
The corner of my mouth twists upward, holding back a grin as I realize we are the ones who will cause them damage. They’re right to growl.
“I’m going to shoot them,” I say low to Luke, but sure, at this distance they can hear me. I just don’t care.
The little boy screams and charges at Luke and me. Teeth bared, canines sharpened into skin-shredding points. Tongue black with white buds. His lips have splits displaying red under his colorless skin.
Luke kicks him back before he can reach us, boot ramming into the boy’s chest, not killing him but knocking him off balance.
At least, it was supposed to. The boy only takes a step back and charges again, making a sound I can only describe as a hungry snarl. Luke kicks him harder, and the boy stumbles backward into the legs of the other one who may be his father.
The Separation Trilogy Box Set: Books 1 -3 Page 10