“While you’re there, we’ll track down the members of the Guidance,” Jord says with Seits nodding at his side.
“And we’ll try to get a hold of the Trade to let them know what’s going on in case they’re unaware of what the Guidance is doing,” Marc says, and Sean bumps Marc’s shoulder with his fist, giving him a nod.
“For everyone else, you’re our cover. Fight everything that comes our way. Circle the outside of the building and have a Creation on the inside of every entrance. Respond.”
“We understand,” the group says, nodding or throwing their fists in the air.
“Fall out!” I pivot and look everyone over. “And thank you. All of you.”
I amble through the clearing crowd, the embellishments on my legs glistening in the sun. The Itteix illumination is a constant glow on my skin. Though I’ve not slept in days, the boost of energy Danny gave me is pushing me through every breath, step, and minute without a yawn or tired eyes. The only things that bothers me is the constant pain in my side and that I’ve not had a shower. I feel the dirt caked on my skin and staining the clothes I’m aching to get out of.
My weapons are limited. One knife for this entire mission. Those around me carry rifles and handguns loaded with grenades and extra ammunition. None, though, have the necessary bullets for X-Gen or the Vojin, should they come down and join the battle.
“Hey!” Ellie runs to my side, blonde hair flapping in the wind until she slows. She furrows her brow and crinkles her nose. “Which group is taking over freeing the captured Creations?”
I size her up. Her small frame and ambitious attitude remind me of Jesail and Amber. I call them over. They hustle to my side, and I introduce the three of them. “We have an alternate mission I’ll accompany you on before I take care of those babies. They’ve captured Creations, and Ellie is going to help us free them.” I look at Ellie. “You know the way, right?”
She nods eagerly. “Like the back of my hand.”
Jesail lifts the back of her hand in her sight. I shake my head, still unable to understand how the Creations here have so much time to study the back of their hands.
“You show us the way, Ellie. We’ll help you find your friend.”
Ellie jumps on her toes, throwing her fists in the air. She shouts, “Marc!” and runs back to him, telling him our plan.
“Anything you need us for, Ky, we’re in,” Amber says, loading her gun and checking her pockets. “It’s been one hell of a ride, but after seeing those Creations shot down, we’re ready to take out everyone responsible.”
“I heard something worse went on down at the base after you left. They wiped it out. But we’ll make up for it. Just try not to die so we can see the other side of this,” I say with a smile. I twist around and walk backwards to speak to everyone behind us who’s with our group. “Highrum Creations, lead the teams to the underground bunker in the Guidance building. We’re throwing a wrench in my mission to free the captured Creations. Everyone knows their part.” I lift my fist and cheer, “Let’s do this!”
I twist back around and pick up my pace into a run. “Let’s go girls. We’re going straight through the front doors. We still need to cause a distraction for the others to infiltrate the building. Knock out the Creations at the entrance with everything you’ve got. If you can avoid killing them, that would be ideal. We don’t need to sink to their level. Snatch their cuffs and restrain them.”
We race down the street back beneath the cloud of smoke now raining ash. It causes a dense film of gray to be cast over the land, making it hard to see. I throw up my fist, and we stop across the street, crouching in the shadows of the building to our right. The other half of our team parted from us. They’ll swarm the building from the rear and sides, and once the two are down in front, they’ll stand guard and keep out anyone coming to stop us.
As I suspected, two Creations twice my size guard the entrance. In black suits, with an M-4 clutched in their hands, scarves over their mouths, and helmets strapped around their heads, they stand feet apart, scanning the street. Goggles cover their eyes, and their heads slowly turn to the left then the right.
The second we step out, they’ll shoot us down.
I look beside me and whisper, “Girls, stay here.” In the shadow, I rise to my feet and step out onto the sidewalk. With my hands raised in the air, I walk into the street. The Creations aim their guns at me. I say, “It’s Kylie Alexander. I hear you’ve been looking for me.”
The clicking of the guns loading echoes in my ears. My heart is pounding, but I know they won’t shoot me. I take in steady breaths, a part of me wants to charge into action, dive for the first Creation with a jab to his neck, twist him so he’ll take the shots of the second before I drop him to his knees and use his body as leverage to throw a kick in the face of the other Creation, making him hit the ground. But something tells me that just beyond the entry door, there’s another set of Creations standing watch. One of the four is bound to get the jump on me.
The Creations speak low to each other. I’m just beyond earshot. One nods and leaves the stoop, descending the stairs. “Kylie Alexander,” he says as he approaches, “you are wanted by the Guidance for treason. Please do not resist.”
I turn my back to him and pull my hands behind me. I want to defend myself, but I remain silent, having nothing to prove to these people. I’ve yet to betray my country or the Guidance. Maybe they’re getting me on conspiracy because they caught my mini speech moments ago. Or possibly, Arletta is lying, making me the enemy because she may be under the impression that I know her secrets.
A cable tie is strapped around my wrists and zipped tight. The Creation takes me by my shoulder, turns me around, and shoves me forward. “Arletta would like to see you.”
“Good,” I say evenly. “Because I want to see her too.” I glance over my shoulder to check the Creation’s height once again. I come to his shoulder. We make it to the stairs, and I stall before I ascend them.
“Move,” he orders.
The other Creation, still near the door, keeps his gun aimed at me. My breaths quicken as the multiple options to get out of this work through my mind. The doors to his back are tinted too dark to see through.
I risk it and climb the stairs. I reach the stoop, and the doors are pulled open by two Creations on either side. There’s a second set of doors after the first, which is pulled open by a third set of Creations.
Okay. So, it’s six of them and one of me. No biggie.
As I enter through each door, I’m followed by the Creations standing at each entry I pass. I stand in the gold, empty lobby. A Creation stands at the entry of each of the four halls. There are two to my left, one leading to the Guidance meeting room, the other leading to ballrooms. The other two are to my right, one leading to the elevator, the other leading down a hall that leads to the black door I saw Seits exit the day I was looking for Carden. Before I die or leave this building, I plan to find out what’s behind that door.
Heels slowly clack against the gold-plated floor, approaching slowly. Arletta, dressed in her flowing white suit, comes into my periphery. She says, “You’re back to where you started, Kylie.” As she makes it into clear view, eight feet before me, she smiles. Red-covered lips spreading over white teeth, cheekbones rising high near her gray eyes, lids covered with red eyeshadow. Her arms hang at her sides, sleeves hanging down to her resting hands, finger slightly curled at the hem of her sleeves.
I’m waiting for her to continue, but she only looks upon me with patience. So I say, “I’m here because I want to be. Not because I have to be.”
“And for your friends, surrounding this building and hiding across the street.” She nods her head toward the door. “What about them?” Looking to the Creations at my back, she gives them a nod, and they fall out, boots thumping against the ground as they rush from the building. Within seconds, the blast of bullets breaks the silence.
I turn my head a quarter of the way to the door, to better listen to w
hat’s going on. There are no screams, no other ruckus. Only a constant stream of shots. I breathe, keeping my breaths even, not allowing the turn of events to affect me or my appearance. Turning back to Arletta, I shrug once and say, “Things don’t always go as planned.”
She laughs once, throwing a cuffed finger over her mouth as she does. “I can attest to that, Kylie.”
“So what’s next, Arletta? You killed off all my friends. I’m standing before you, restrained. What now?” I keep my tone as even as I can, my facial expression expressionless, and my eyes pinned on her. The Creations stationed around her hold their ground, keeping their attention on me. A chuckle cuts from my throat. “What do you think I’m capable of? All this security.” I shrug. “What do you think I can do to you?” I take a step forward, and the Creations lift their guns, loading them as they aim them at me.
“I admire you, Kylie.” I hear his voice before I see him. Richard enters from a hall to my left, silently crossing the floor in black socks. Each step is fluid as his arms sway at his sides in his stride. “You face danger with your head held high, alone, as if you have nothing to lose.” He makes it to Arletta’s side. They share a glance and then look back at me. “For all we know, you could be capable of nothing. Then again, you could be capable of everything.” He tips his chin as he shakes his head, saying, “We only wanted for you to stand with us. Give yourself the opportunity to discover who you are in an environment beyond guns and war.” They both clasp their hands in front of their golden belt buckles and gaze upon me.
I, again, look to my left and right, juggling how I’ll get out of this. The war outside has silenced, but the Creations haven’t returned. The only weapon on my person, my knife, is tucked in a pocket on the front of my vest. Unreachable with my hands behind my back. They either need to take me away or I need to move as quickly as possible to knock down all four of these Creations and not get shot. “I’m not too interested in sitting around and chatting with you people. I know you’re not going to kill me. So let’s get a move on. You’re going to strap me to a chair or something? Examine me? Take my blood?” I cross the floor and the Creations’ barrels stay on me as I make it in front of Arletta and Richard. “You’re wasting my time. I’ve got Creation lives to save.”
Richard nods. “You want to save your fellow Creations, come with us. Plain and simple. We don’t intend to torture you or hold you against your will, unless you force our hand. You are a unique specimen, and we would like the opportunity to get to know you better.” The corner of his mouth turns down and his left shoulder shrugs. “You could save the Creations.”
As the words leave his mouth, a line of Creations fall into the lobby, coming from each hall.
I back away from Arletta and Richard, keeping my eyes on every single body in the room. The smirk on Richard’s face and smile on Arletta’s are daunting. Their eyes glow with interest, growing wider as I become surrounded by their minions.
“The least you can do is make this a fair fight and untie my wrists,” I say, seeing their intentions for what they really are. They want me in action.
Richard throws up his hand, waves it once, and it falls. “Cut her free,” he says.
A Creation runs behind me, snips the ties, and continues running to the other side of the room. I rub my hands over my wrists, looking the mob over again. I don’t need to fight each of them, I just need to make it to the nearest exit.
I choose the black door. Worse case, it’s locked and there’s a stairwell beside it that I can escape through which will take me upstairs, maybe to the baby room. I look at the Creations in the opposite direction as I retrieve my knife. With a slight squat to my knees and crouch to my back, I wave them forward, saying, “Alright. Let’s give them a show.”
They charge for me, all stomping forward at once.
I twist around on my heels and race the opposite direction, charging for the hall with the black door. With the speed I pick up, I drop to my butt, sliding across the slick gold floor, slicing the left ankles of the Creations I pass.
I jump to my feet, unable to take the time to check if someone is coming up behind me. Forward is the only way. I throw a punch at the Creation nearing me, jabbing him or her in the throat. They’re each covered head to toe, and every blow hurts me more than it hurts them. I didn’t want to kill them, but my options are limited if I want to make it out of here.
I adjust my knife clutched in my right hand, mind made up.
Someone grabs my shoulder, and I spin around, slicing their neck. I’m tugged to my right, and as I whip around to catch them, another person throws a punch to the right side of my head.
I’m surrounded.
Blow by blow, kick by kick. I tense every muscle in my body to fight against the pain. They smash against the tender bruises I have from earlier and create new ones. Rage, an unorthodox amount of fury, charges through my body.
There’s a snap and crackle, and I’m warped with a heat that consumes me and then explodes from me as if every inch of my flesh were shouting at the top of its lungs.
Silence. And light.
The lobby of the Inn is engulfed in a—my—silver-blue light. It casts off my flesh as though I were an LED lightbulb powered by the stars. The bodies of Creations lie around me, smoldering. I hold my breath, blocking the coal-like sulfuric scent tainting the air.
The light flickers then dims, and when I look back at my hands, I see my flesh. “Whoa,” I say under my breath, panting.
“Whoa, is right, Kylie Alexander.” Rising from behind the lobby desk, Richard stands with Arletta at his side. “We can’t let her leave,” he says to her.
I walk backward down the hall, unable to avoid the view of the fallen bodies of my brother and sister Creations. Their smoking corpses give me no satisfaction or regret. The only two things I feel are the buzzing energy picking at my flesh and the pumping adrenaline charging through my veins.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The circular, silver knob of the black door is ice cold but quickly warms in my hand. I throw a glance over my shoulder. Seeing no one is behind me, I yank the door open and slip inside.
Beyond the door, the space is dark and empty. I pull the door closed and search the knob for a lock. There isn’t one.
My skin has the faintest glow, just enough for me to make out the room isn’t dark. The ceiling, walls, and floor is just black. Directly across from the entry is a single door that’s ajar. I cross the floor in two strides and nudge the corner of the door open with the toe of my boot. It opens to a flight of stairs. At the top, it’s dark, but the light of the room at the bottom of the stairs casts light up to the middle of the flight, luring me to descend it.
I creep down the stairs, clutching my knife tightly in my hand, senses on high alert.
At the landing, I enter a wide hall with huge windows to my left and right. They lead into rooms with three white walls, a ceiling with a large light, and a white tile floor with a drain in the middle. A person dressed in a white jumpsuit lies on the floor in the fetal position.
I look from my right to the window on my left. A woman with long silver hair, eyes darkened by bruise-like circles around them, and pale skin stumbles to the window. I stand in the middle of the hall, between the two viewing rooms. The woman’s shaking hand rises and presses against the glass.
I knit my brows as I near the window, studying the padded room and the malnourished woman. “What is your purpose here?” I say. She can’t hear me. She only stares, brows trembling as they rise, chapped lips cracking as her mouth tries to make words.
I back away from the window and look around me, noticing the lookalike rooms—eight on each side, an occupant in each one—take up the entire hall.
This must be the people they’ve captured and are studying. I continue onward. Some rise as I pass, others remain passed out on the floor, either curled into a ball or flat on their stomach.
My stomach turns as I pass them. Their trauma is evident on their faces, necks, fe
et, and hands from new wounds and old, possibly caused by whips, electrocution, bullets, and other objects that would leave straight or round bruises.
The light in the hall is provided by the light of the rooms, coming from the ceiling. It feels wrong walking in it, as though their pain lights my path. I pass the fifth window on my right. A woman with dark, wavy hair messily hanging around her head sits on the floor with her legs crossed. She appears unfazed, unlike the others. As though she’s waiting for something, her eyes are closed, and her chest steadily rises and falls, breaths even. She’s gone through her share of torture; her lip is busted, and a fresh pink scar parts the warm-toned skin on her neck.
Her eyes shoot open. Our gazes lock, and her hooded eyes narrow as her bushy brows furrow. There’s something familiar about her that I can’t look away from. She stands and walks to the window, steps steady and even. When she’s closer, I study her narrow nose and square jawline.
My stomach drops, and I swallow hard.
I stumble away from the window, tripping over my feet. “How on Earth?” I mutter under my breath, catching my footing. “You’re…” She resembles Marc. I slowly approach the glass and stare into her dark eyes. “Are you Marcain Thanatos’s mother?” I ask, but I know she can’t hear me.
Her brows rise, and she points to her ear, shaking her head.
I nod and back away from the window. I hustle down the hallway, stumbling upon a suited Creation’s body lying next to the only door in the hall. She’s covered head to toe, black suit and no weapons. I kneel to check the pulse in her neck. She’s alive. Someone’s been here first, but they left her badge on her hip. I lift my gaze to the black steel handle-less door and scan the white wall it sits in. I see a keypad next to it, the height and width of the glass badge clipped to her pocket.
The Separation Trilogy Box Set: Books 1 -3 Page 82