The Separation Trilogy Box Set: Books 1 -3

by Felisha Antonette

  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.

  “Something that apparently pisses you off.”

  Gwendoline swipes the silver strands of hair from her face. “I beg your pardon?”

  I breathe and put myself out there, because it’s evident, it’s her and Napoleon who are the implants she speaks of. “We all have feelings and access to feelings and emotions. It’s our responsibility to ignore them and not to put ourselves in situations where they may be employed. Our humanity wasn’t stripped of us. We were just brought up without knowledge of our feelings, conditioned to ignore them. However, when they put us in the world, and we’re exposed to displays of intimacy and affection, it would draw on anyone’s curiosity. We’d be doing ourselves a disservice to ignore that. Those who fight the hardest to ignore them are the ones who have something to hide.”

  She inhales deeply and exhales slowly. “Each of us do not possess the same types of feelings.”

  I lower my voice to a whisper, “Then that would imply you and your twin are implants, Gwendoline.”

  She stiffens. Her gaze pins me, eyes growing wider the longer she holds her breath.

  I back to the wall across from her and cross my arms. I wait.

  Gwendoline stammers over her words until she whispers, “I never said that.”

  “And you aren’t denying it.” I look down the empty tunnel, lit by the light from the outer area. The chatter from the entry bunker is lessening by the minute as the commotion settles. “I won’t mention it. I’m familiar with a similar situation of a girl who was born a Creation. She knew love and recently lost her twin.”

  Gwendoline rolls her eyes and scoffs, “Well, she’s like Haley who has no problem with someone giving up their twin for her. She’s giving up nothing and gaining everything and doesn’t care about what Napoleon has chosen to sacrifice.” She clears her throat. “Um, not Napoleon, but whoever is her person.” Her voice cracks as she says, “Honestly, it’s not that he loves her. I’m okay with that, I think even Creations should have that privilege because we are technically humans too, just better. But it’s that I didn’t matter enough for him to love me too.”

  “To love you more,” I correct her.

  She looks at her palm and mutters, “Right,” and utters, “To love me more.” She brushes her palms together. “You slice it the exact way on each hand, breaking the union with your twin. Then, align the palms,” she presses her palms together, “mixing the blood and regenerative genes. And because of the healing ability, the imperfect bodies get confused and begin to bind with one another. From then on, the body is convinced the lover is the twin.” She looks back at her palm. “Napoleon’s palms will never align with mine again.”

  I rub my hand over my beard, seeing distress cloud her dark eyes. “Could you not find another solo Creation and request their allegiance to you?”

  Her nose wrinkles in distaste, and the words leak with disgust as she says, “Would you slice yourself open and mix your bodily fluids for someone who wasn’t your twin?”

  I pull myself from the wall and turn away from her question to head back down the tunnel. “Thanks for talking to me, Gwendoline. I hope everything works out for you. And I mean that
genuinely.”

  “Wait.”

  I pivot.

  “What happened to the girl?”

  I breathe. “I don’t know yet.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  *Marc*

  “Marc,” Sean yells for me, meeting me as I exit the tunnel.

  He just makes it in before me as I say, “What?”

  He tosses me a vest. “We’re loading up. Let’s go kill some Zombies.”

  I pull the vest on and follow behind him.

  “You’ve been quiet since we made it in here. You’re okay?” he asks.

  I smack away the hand he tries to lay on my forehead. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

  As Sean and I come up on Jord and Napoleon, Jord’s stuffing a roll of paper into his back pocket and shaking hands with Napoleon.

  I pull Sean to slow down and say low, “They’re implants.”

  Sean smacks his lips. “Dammit. I was already growing skeptical after finding out they miraculously escaped Creations coming to kill them. If they’re that good, why are they not killers instead of the ones hunted to be killed?”

  I glance over the room, checking for eyes on us. If they were fighter-made Creations, at least one would be watching, plotting. But there’s nothing. Everyone minds their own. “I don’t know, Sean. What do you think?”

  “Pfft. We use your knowledge, not mine.” He jabs his finger against my temple. “I am for whatever you want to do as long as it’s not finding Kylie and saving her from the Guidance because you think they’re going to kill her. Anything but that, and I got you.”

  I press my lips into a line and look at him with lifted brows. “You know me so well.” I pat his back and continue toward General Jord.

  “Marc!” Sean’s right behind me. “I’m not helping you find Kylie. You’re not leaving me in the world defenseless. It’s not right. I’m supposed to come first, and you’ve proven a few too many times that I don’t. I don’t trust you anymore.”