Ominous Order

by Felisha Antonette

  I roll my eyes. I don’t need him telling me what to do.

  “After we’re out, then what?” Cory asks.

  “We fight without getting killed,” Harold answers.

  Snores echo through the hall.

  I sit against the wall, staring at the bed, my eyelids growing heavy with every breath. My head droops, and I jerk up, repositioning myself, stretching my legs out and pressing my palms to the cold glass. I breathe.

  “Hey Ky?” Cory calls.

  Thank goodness. Something to keep me alert. “Yeah?” The gray light of the hall has warmed to where it’s nearly hard to see. Nothing but a soft beam, like the glow of the moon on a cloudy day. This must be night.

  “Remember when we would lay out blankets on my roof and watch the storm clouds blow in the wind? We’d have to keep our stuff from blowing away because the wind would be so strong.” He chuckles. “Those nights with fewer responsibilities.”

  A small smile twitches at the left corner of my mouth. “I remember.” Those nights looked just like the dreary setting in this depressing prison. “I could go for the fresh air and breeze right now.”

  Cory huffs a laugh. “Me too.” He pauses. “Sorry about all the trouble I caused you. I was just trying to do my job.”

  “Un-huh.” There’s so much on my mind right now. The past isn’t taking precedence at this moment. “Thanks for your apology.”

  “The list I was getting for the Trade, remember?”

  I draw my knees to my chest to rest my head against them. Looking in his direction, I see him standing near his bars, bright green eyes looking my direction. “Of course I remember.”

  It’s difficult to make out his face in the low light. But the low tone of his voice has a taut edge that makes my stomach squirm at the thought of his next words. “I knew you and Luke were mixed. I’d been undercover with the Trade. Something unconstitutional has been going on for years, and they needed someone age-appropriate to be in Separation. It’s why I was shipped out early.”

  On my feet, I cross the floor to the bars.

  “My placement mother, she was undercover with your parents.” I wish I knew as much about my parent’s dealings with the Vojin and the Trade as Cory does. All I have is what the crumbled letter told me, and it wasn’t enough. “They were placed to identify the roles played by the Vojin and Guidance. They may be in cahoots, but no one has had the chance to report back or confirm this as fact. When the Vojin discover there’s a traitor in the midst, they don’t have as much kindness as someone like you. What you are is what can make this world a better place.”

  My brows draw taut. “In what way?”

  The door slides open, and the hall lights up with the gray shine of a Volones entering. We back away from our bars and ease into the darkness of our cells. The snores once breaking the silence stop.

  The Volones slowly strides down the hall to Cory’s cell. “Step out,” he orders, bars shooting up into the ceiling.

  Cory steps into the hall, standing before the Volones with his spine straight and his shoulders drawn back. His face is even and not a glimmer of fear stains his eyes.

  The Volones looks down on him. Almond eyes survey him as his arms hang at his sides and his fingers move fluidly as though he doesn’t know what to do with them. He asks Cory, “What was the reason for your implant?”

  Cory’s brows furrow, confusion wiping over his face for a brief second before he sobers. “I was born Vojin. I am my implant.”

  The Volones lifts his hand, first finger extended and swipes across Cory’s cheek as though he were wiping dust from a shelf. “Your flesh?” he asks.

  Cory keeps his eye’s locked on the Volones. The sudden contact doesn’t faze him. “The way I was designed to blend in with the Creations from birth.”

  At seven feet tall, the Volones towers over Cory, looking down at him with no expression on his face. It’s only by the deceptive tone of his voice that I realize this is an interrogation. “And you believe Creations do not need to be destroyed. Even though you are not a born Creation?”

  Cory’s left eye twitches, but he’s yet to move. “I have lived this way for twenty years. It is what I am accustomed to.”

  The Volones raises his hand to Cory’s face. His first and last fingers press to his temples, the middle one to his forehead, and thumb to his chin. Cory vibrates, along with the air around him, and he bursts with a soft poof. Blue and green particles sprinkle onto the floor and stick to the body of the Volones.

  My heart pounds in my ears. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, I stand as the world seems to expand and shrink with every beat. I hold my breath to slow my huffing and puffing.

  The Volones wipes his hands over each other and turns on his heels to head for the cell beside mine. Harold hisses under his breath, daring the Volones’s attack.

  I hear the bars rise, a quick whiffing movement as they lift into the ceiling.

  If Cory was one of them, and the Volones had no problem taking him out, what does that mean for the rest of us? I lean against the bars of my cell to peer into the hall.

  Harold steps out of the cell, sizing up the Volones, glowering at him. Harold’s usually covered from head to toe. They’ve taken his mask and helmet. Harold’s ginger beard brushes his chest. Ice blue eyes peer at the alien giant towering over him.

  “You once had a twin Creation?” the Volones asks.

  “Yes,” Harold responds simply.

  “What was the reason for your implant?”

  “Not to have my twin killed by the Vojin who we thought wanted to help the Earth, not destroy it!” Harold says through gritted teeth.

  The Volones lifts his hand and Harold smacks it away. “Hell no! I’m not going out that easy!” he snaps. Harold throws a punch at the Volones’s stomach, but it has no effect. The Volones doesn’t move from the attack.

  His hand shoots out, grabbing Harold around the neck, and in a blink, he erupts like Cory. There’s a small pop, like a bubble bursting. Unlike Cory, there’s no blue and green dust. Only flickering atoms that dissolve in thin air.

  I swallow hard. Glancing over from my cell, I see Jord’s wide eyes and knit brows. As he stands back from the bars, I can see the fight in his eyes. The second his bars rise, he’s planning to fight to the death, and I understand. We’ve learned: avoid the touch.

  I expect the Volones to come in my direction, but he heads the opposite way, down the hall.

  My face is pressed to the bar as I watch the Volones stop in front of Luke’s cell. “Step out,” he orders once the bars rise.

  I’m barely able to see Luke when he steps out of his cell, only hearing his steps cross the floor. There’s a drumming in my ears that makes it hard to hear, my face is burning, and my hands shake. A feeling is sinking in my stomach that makes me heavy.

  “What was the reason for your implant?” The Volones asks Luke.

  “To replace my parents and enforce change on Earth at the point of the Vojin’s takeover,” Luke answers truthfully.

  “Ah,” the Volones says, understanding. “Your parents are diminished?” Dead.

  “Yes. However, the—”

  “Luke!” I shout, cutting him off. “Just yes.” You cocky bastard, don’t let your mouth get you killed.

  “Is that your Creation twin?” the Volones asks.

  “Yes, I am,” I answer for Luke. “How about you come down here and talk to me.”

  The Volones looks to be lifting his hand. He says, “We have no use for any of you.”

  “Hey!” I shout. “Wait!” I tug at the rigid bars that have grown warm from my sweaty palms. “Don’t you lay a finger on my brother!” Ramming my fist against the glass, I shout, “You hear me?!” The glass doesn’t budge or crack.

  “Don’t beg, Ky,” Luke scolds.

  “Shut up, Luke! I swear if you kill my brother, you lanky light pole, you’re going to wish you took me first.”

  What feels like a sonic blast blinds me. A crack of thunder is quick to follow
as a gust of wind smacks into me, and I fly back, hitting the floor. The glass bars of the cells are vibrating, causing a hollow ring to echo in the hall. It only lasts a second before a hush falls over the area.

  The Volones stammers over his words, managing to say, “What kind of creature?”

  I scramble to my hands and knees and crawl to the bars. “Luke?”

  I try to shove my head through the bars, but I can’t. I use the bars to pull myself to my feet, my knocking knees and numbing legs making it a chore. “Luke!” I shout. “Answer me. Please?”

  I ram my fist against the glass again.

  “Luke!” I scream. “Please answer me,” I whisper but know he won’t.

  The door to the hallway slides open then whips closed. The lights dim. It’s dark again.

  Crumpling to my knees, hands sliding down the bars as I fall, I gasp for air. My chest caves, and my stomach tightens. I drop back down to the floor, legs giving out. “Luke?” comes out croaky. I tug myself onto my knees, short-winded. Looking to Jord, I ask in a hoarse voice, “Please tell me my brother’s okay. That he’s just passed out.”

  Jord’s gaze drops to the floor, and his shoulder’s slump inward. “I’m sorry, Kylie.”

  I turn my back to them and scream through my clenched teeth, wrapping my arms around my aching stomach. I wail and heave for air. “Dammit, Luke!”

  Chapter Five

  I pick myself up from the floor when the door slides open again. My breaths are deep and slow, awaiting the gray shine of the Volones to brighten the hall, for him to come and finish the job.

  A high-pitched chuckle escapes Collins. Sets of footsteps smack the glass floor as the others enter the hall.

  Though my cheeks are streaked with tears, I turn around to see the four of them coming down the hall. I study each face, memorizing them and picturing how I’ll murder each of them.

  I clear my throat when Collins meets my gaze.

  “What’s wrong with you, Ky?” she asks with a nagging edge to her joyful tone. “You sad? Finally seeing the bigger picture?” she taunts, bottom lip poked out.

  “Yes,” I answer calmly. “Yes, I am sad.” I drag the back of my hand across my tear-drenched chin.

  She stares at me blankly for a second. Then she begins to shift her gaze up and down the hall. She rubs her right arm up and down and her chin trembles. “Why are you sad, Ky?” she asks with less sarcasm.

  I ignore her.

  Collins stomps her foot and shouts with more emphasis. “Why are you sad, Kylie?”

  “Because,” I start, as my tears return, skating down my face and falling onto my arm. Though I cry, I keep my facial expression calm, muscles remaining relaxed. “My brother is dead,” I say peacefully, glaring at her.

  Her gun hits the floor, and her mouth falls open. Raising her hands to her mouth, she lets out a wail that echoes off the walls. There’s plenty I want to say, but I don’t. Instead, I turn my back to her and lean against the bars. She goes on for a while, and when she finally quiets, I calmly inform her, “I’m going to kill all four of you.” Turning around, my gaze instantly meets Marc’s, and I say, “Especially you.” Tears continue to fall from my eyes. “And I can’t wait for that moment.”

  Collins cries again, falling to the floor. Her arms are splayed out at her sides, and her back arches inward as she wails for my brother’s death.

  “Shut up, Collins!” I shout. “You wanted this! You wanted all of us to die, remember? Why are you crying over him? You want Marc, don’t you? He’s alive. For now. Enjoy him, and don’t weep over my brother like his death is some big damn deal to you, you fucking traitor! Every death that happened in here is on you four,” I say, waving in their direction.

  Marc takes a step toward my cell, and I warn, “Don’t come near me. Ever.”

  He retracts.

  The door slides open, and my stomach drops again, waiting for the gray hue to wash the hall. It’s pink, but the relief never comes.

  The female Vojin comes down to my cell. The bars rise and Noranti says to Marc, “Go in with her.”

  “No!” I shout, backing farther into my cell. Marc steps in, and I shove him out. “I said no!”

  He pushes me back so hard I fall over, and in the time it takes me to regain my footing, the bars shut, and he hands his guns over to Sean.

  We meet in the center of my cell. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hands, needing clear vision to knock him out. I charge forward. As I raise my arms for an attack, he snatches them by my wrists. I yank them from his grasp, forcing him to bend over, and I drive my knee into his chest.

  He grunts and stands, keeping me tight in his grasp. Twisting me around, he has my arms crossed in front of my chest as my back is to his frame. His hold on me grows tighter now that his arms are wrapped around me.

  I struggle to get loose, and realize all the times before, he wasn’t using half of his strength in our fights. He starts forward, forcing me to walk to the other end of my cell. Once there, he loosens his constricting hold.

  I break out of it and shove him away from me.

  He grumbles, his face contorting into a scowl and his shaggy hair swaying around his head. Charging for me, he shoves me against the wall and pins me there. “Stop it, Ky.”

  I huff and puff, grunt and growl, all as I’m trying to break free. “Get away from me, Marc.”

  In a tranquil tone, with a soft, concerning knit to his brows, he says, “Kylie, stop and listen.”

  Droplets of sweat bead my forehead as anger raises my temperature and my hands and knees continue to shake. “If it wasn’t for you turning on us, he wouldn’t have been killed, Marc! What did you do?” I thrash forward, but he keeps me pinned. “Let me go!”

  Marc’s breaths rush harshly against my arms. He’s using all his strength to hold me back, and the second he gets tired, I’m breaking through. He sandwiches me between his body and the wall. His head moves beside mine, and as he exhales, his even breaths brush across my neck. Gently, he sighs and drops his head. He whispers, “I’m so sorry, Ky.” His beard scrapes my skin.

  I bite my bottom lip and hate the tears for returning and the hurt that washes over me for being so mad at Marc. “I don’t want your I’m sorry.” This pain and the loss of Luke bombard me. “It feels like I’m being stabbed in my neck, my back, and my stomach. They killed my brother.” I sniffle. “And it hurts, Marc. It hurts everywhere.”

  I sob. And all at once, it comes crashing down on me. I collapse against Marc’s shoulder, crying because I’m imprisoned, because I lost my twin, and because even though I hate Marc I still love him and want him to hold me until it all passes.

  Marc hugs me to him, squeezing me as though he’s trying to soak up my sadness. We sink to the floor, and he finds a way to wrap every limb around me as I bawl against his chest. I release it, loosening the knot tightening my stomach.

  This is my destruction.

  Chapter Six

  I adjust and find myself secured by warm arms wrapped around my chest and strong legs enveloped around mine. I blink. As if Marc knows I’ve awakened, he hugs me, saying, “I understand you’re confused about me right now. But I’m here for you, and I love you. And I’m not allowing anything to convince you otherwise.”

  I crawl out of his grasp and climb to my weak legs. They’ve fallen asleep from the awkward position I was in for who knows how long. I turn my back to Marc and cross the cell to the bed. “Me leaning on you in that moment of weakness was an accident. Don’t take this as an opportunity to speak to me and feed me more lies, Marc.” I sit on the bed and lean over on my knees, taking my aching head between my palms. Every breath scratches my sore throat. Likely from the crying and the sore realization I’m solo forever now. They killed my brother, and it feels like I’ve lost the entire left side of my body. I can feel his presence no longer exists, and it slows me down. So many accomplishments left to me to achieve. I won’t let him down. I won’t let my parents down. I’ll never let myself down. Our name
will be upheld, and we’ll be remembered for all our hard work and efforts. For Luke.

  I push my hand over my messy hair, sighing. I’ll get through this. I can do this.

  Noranti remains outside of my cell, standing in the middle of the hall, facing the entrance. Her attention seems otherwise occupied. She may be using her telekinetic ability to tune into other things going on around her base. She may also be looking out while Marc takes up space in my cell.

  “Kylie,” Marc calls in a weak tone that causes his raspy voice to crack. I keep my back to him. “In order for us to get out of here, somebody had to remain outside of these cells. It was a dead cert we were caught. They were onto us days before we left the base. It was a whole thing, Ky. They threatened me and nearly killed Sean. My hands were tied. I. I,” he stammers and sighs. “I needed to save him this time. And hurting you is tearing me apart, but my brother needed to know I had his back.”

  My back is to him. I prop up my right foot on the cot and draw my knee to my chest. I couldn’t care less about his reasons for his deception. Whatever would have happened, I would’ve preferred to get caught and die before siding with our enemy, or shit-face Collins.

  “Ky, can you listen to me?”

  “I don’t have a choice, Marc.” I lean my shoulder against the gray glass wall and rest my head against its coolness. My muscles relax. Gah, that’s nice.

  “Trust me, Ky. When the time is right, we’re getting out.”

  Calmly, I reply, “I know that, Marc.” Facing him, I say, “That’s not my concern. We were going to get out with or without you turning your backs on us. Now, my informant over there,” I gesture in the direction of Noranti, “has let me know you’re needed in order to do that, and that’s fine. I accept it.” I shrug and shake my head. “But I’m alone now.” Narrowing my eyes, I stare at him. “Can you understand that? Forget everything else. I lost the most important piece of me. Now shut up about trusting you. Okay?” I look away from him to the corner of my cell where the bars meet the floor. “Because a true friend, or whatever you call yourself, wouldn’t have been standing on the outside of those bars looking back at me. He would’ve been inside, and we would’ve been working on a plan to get all nine of us out alive.”