“Luke,” Jord begins, “have everyone in before dark. We are going to bomb the hole and sweep the surrounding area to minimize our threat. We don’t want any more casualties. Respond.”
“I understand,” Luke says, and we get in the truck Seits got out of.
The ride back is awkwardly silent. All three of us likely have several things we’d like to shout. Luke keeps his eyes peeled, still fuming. We’re far from the base, driving over nothing but dirt, periodically passing a shrub or tumbleweed. Mountains in the distance line the land and slice the cloudless sky in half. Just beyond the mountains to the west is a wide stretch of deserted land that goes on for miles, valleys of dirt and scattered grass, minimal trees for shade stretch thousands of miles to the Ocean where an entire state resides miles beneath the surface. We’ve been there once. But it wasn’t a pleasure, knowing the millions of people who must’ve lived in that state before it was drowned by the flood.
The air is blasting through the truck; the wind whipping my loose strands of hair. It feels amazing to my still burning skin, hot from both the blazing sun and whatever they injected me with. I relax on the seat and kick my boots up on the dash, using the toe of my boot to adjust the vent. Cory is a total asshole for what he did. Seits too. The two of them, though having different motives, set me up. And I won’t stand for being used or targeted.
I begin to make out the base in the heatwaves, but it’s hard to judge how near or far it is.
When we make it back to base, Luke parks in front of Jord’s office, and we jump out and walk to our home with Cory following us all the way through the door. Once he closes it, I whirl on him. Shifting my weight, I put all my might in every punch. Elbow spiked high over my head, I drive down every blow fast and steady, landing solid jabs in his face. I do my best to shatter his cheekbones and knock out a few teeth.
Luke yanks me off him. I shove Luke away from me, shouting, “Back off!” And I’m back at Cory like a magnet. On my next punch, I knock Cory off his feet, and I resort to kicking him, shoving the toe of my boot into his ribcage and neck. Thankfully, one lands on his face.
“Stop, Ky!” he shouts, spluttering blood. “Let me explain!” I bend down and throw another jab in his mouth, wanting to shut him up forever.
Luke tugs me back again. I’m shaking out my fist; it’s pouring blood by what seems like the pint. I rip the bottom half of my shirt off and wrap it around my knuckles. I see Cory stand in my periphery.
Once he’s on his feet, I point, yelling, “You set me up, you son of a bitch! I should kill you right now!” I reach around to my rear holster, finding it empty, forgetting I was stripped of all my weapons.
“I didn’t do anything,” Cory shouts, arms splayed at his sides.
“You’re a liar! You knew you were being watched. You told them you would show them who the implants were by always being around them. And you are always trying to be around me! You tried to set me up,” I accuse angrily. “Just because you are a snake, a traitor, a manipulator, a terrorist,” I yell, “doesn’t mean I am.” I step toward him, and Luke holds me back.
Cory dabs at his busted lip and swollen eye. Looking over his blood-smeared hand, he fires back, “I did tell them that, Ky! Sheesh, what the hell is wrong with you? What I was doing didn’t include you. Sir Jord and Madam Seits know that.”
“Just because they know doesn’t mean whoever else is watching you knows, you idiot!” I lunge at Cory, but Luke keeps me back. I grunt and jerk against his hold. “Agh! Think about it, Cory. When the Trade steps in, the generals are obligated to follow the Trade’s orders. They see you around me, that’s showing the Trade I’m an implant, and they will want me to prove I am not.”
“I’m sorry, Ky,” he says, pressing his palms together. “I swear.”
Luke throws a glance at me, one that questions if I’m okay. I give him a quick nod, and he releases me, taking a step toward Cory. “You saw her when she was a Zombie and shot her? How’d she turn back?” Luke asks.
“I snuck one of their syringes with the Creation cure and used it.”
He’s a liar! But I blurt, “Okay. You can leave now.” I’m losing a lot of blood and need Luke to heal me before I grow too light-headed. I’m also dying of thirst and need to rest.
Cory leaves, taking his exit with a nod. I grab Luke’s hand and encourage him with a rise of my bloody hand to heal it. Before doing so, he plucks out a piece of Cory’s tooth. “I’m keeping this as a souvenir,” he says with a smug grin.
I roll my eyes. “Just heal my damn hand, Luke.” He heals me in seconds. I ball and un-ball my fists, testing it out. Taking off my vest, I reveal, “He’s lying. There is no cure, and we all know that. I woke to a Vojin, only I pretended I was sleeping. They took out the infection and warned him I was not infected by a Zombie but by an injection.”
“You think he set you up?”
“No, I think they set him up. And he is a negligent idiot, and he needed to taste his own blood because of it. I’m angry because they used me as bait.”
Luke hugs me, patting my back. “You scared the shit out of me, Ky. The call came in from Cory saying you’d been turned into a Zombie, and he had to take you down. You look worn. Go clean up and get some rest. I’m going to tell everyone to wrap up and let them know to be in before night falls.”
I grab his shoulder as he pivots. “They took my blood.”
Gaze cast on his boots, he doesn’t turn around fully. “I heard you mention that. I guess we’ll find out what they know, if anything, soon enough.”
“What do you think they’ll do to us?”
One shoulder shrugs. “Depends. If they were truly using you as bait, they wouldn’t care to test your blood, but maybe they also wouldn’t have taken it in the first place. I don’t know, Ky. We’ll just wait and see.”
I let him go, and he continues out of the house. I’m not afraid of them finding out our secret. If I die, let me die, but I do care about being tortured and tested on. The scientist would love to get their hands on Creations like Luke and I, who’ve removed our implants. They are interested in seeing how the Vojin cells bind with the Creation’s DNA. How two entities can merge and primary control can be the Creation’s. They may actually be considering a new species of Creations, finding great value in Vojin-infused Creations; our minds are wired differently, our bodies function differently. Even I don’t know the depth of our physics and structure, but the scientists will definitely find out.
But they won’t find out with me.
I clean my blood from the floor and toss the towels in the trash. I’m drained and need to sleep. My body has been through more than it can handle today.
I go to my room. The marbles I placed in the sock are clinking against each other. They shouldn’t want anything right now. Why would they be calling us?
I take out the sock with the marbles and walk to my bed to empty the contents. Red-colored marbles topple out of the sock. They were previously the colors of the Vojin. This must mean something is wrong, but without speaking to them or going there—neither of which will I be doing—I won’t find out what it is.
It might be a good thing for something to be wrong.
I pick up one of the marbles and hold it between my thumb and index finger. A dim light appears as the marble whispers, “The time is coming soon. Be ready to undergo the ending of the current species of mankind. What is destroyed, we hope can be reconstructed. With your help, we can stop the destruction and maintain an understanding.” The marbles shift back to their original blue and green shade and stop moving on their own.
I put them back in the sock, and I put the sock back in the drawer.
Chapter Seventeen
As much as I would like to lounge around after being turned into a cannibal…it’s not an off day. After I clean up and eat a protein bar, I shove on my helmet and head outside to finish the day.
“Kylie Alexander,” I’m called by a light, male voice as I’m leaving the stoop of our corridors.
I look out to see a man marching in my direction.
I halt, acknowledging the slicked back black hair, beige slacks, collared navy-blue shirt with a fancy stitched T on the pocket, and a silver and black plastic and metal earpiece on his ear that looks artificial. All the Trade affiliates have one. They all wear the same uniform, and they all have their hair smoothed back and short, stopping at the nape of their neck. Females included.
At attention, I stand, shoulders back, chest out, back straight, in silence. You speak to the Trade after they have requested you to speak.
Looking straight forward, I wait and avoid eye contact.
He stops in front of me, stepping twice, spacing his feet evenly apart, shoulder width. “Kylie Alexander. I am Trade Officer Audrey Grandin. I’d like to speak with you. Reply.”
“Yes, sir.”
“In your home,” he says, directing me toward the front door of the house.
I turn on my heels, heading back inside.
“There has been a lot of talk about the actions involving the Creations and humans within this sector. As you are aware, we keep watch on all sectors and all Creations. There is an understanding put forth in every Creation. The rules and laws for Creations to follow are not complicated. These actions go against your required roles as Creations. No Creation was designed to engage in relations with another. It will prevent you all from undergoing the task you were created for: War, to fight for the America. To protect the America. To stand for the America is the entire point of every Creation’s life. The protection and priority of keeping your twin first is where your relation to another being should stand.” Being? “If this should change, you not only risk your own life, but the life of your twin. No Creation wants to see their twin die.”
“I was turned into a Zombie. Ordered by the Trade.” I change the subject. Speaking out of turn may get me a fine, but I can’t ignore this. I need an explanation.
Trade Officer Grandin removes his earpiece that someone is speaking loudly into. They never remove their earpieces. Could it be that the person at the other end is a distraction, or has he muted it? “There was discussion that you were a possible implant from the Vojin, the outsiders labeled as protectors of the Earth.” I dare not cut in to explain I know the Vojin’s relationship to the America. “You have proved yourself not to be. However, in order for us to be sure, you and others needed to undergo some tests.” Tests. It’s plural. “You are aware of the persisting threat that has been placed by them. This is not a recent threat. This is a threat that was issued years ago. Near the first destruction. We are not sure what they are after, but we have been putting forth more…” he stalls, tapping his thumb on his knee, “research to understand them, which will probably help to defeat them.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of research?”
“That is above your Creation level of clearance.”
I do not appreciate his response. I have the right to know what’s going on. Especially because of that note about my parents being implants from the Trade to the Vojin. Would that happen to be the research? Could his research be code for implanting Creations in the homes of the Vojin to understand them? I can’t say anything about the letter, but I wonder. “With all due respect, Trade Officer Grandin, every day my twin Luke and I go outside and put our lives on the line for you, for the citizens of the America, and for our country as a land. We deserve to know something. We need more information.”
He sits forward, his face twisting oddly, his scowl conveying insult. “You were not created to question our decisions. We understand you have your own mind, your own thought processes.” He points his finger at me, elbow rested on his knee. “That does not mean you need to use it. You were created to fight for us, our land and our freedom. It is what you were designed for. Deserve,” he hisses with disgust. “There isn’t even a need to thank you for what you are supposed to do. We do not owe you anything special for doing what you were created to do. Your monthly payments to your depository and families are reimbursement enough.”
I’m insulted. We are nothing to them. To anyone. Not the Vojin, not our country, not the Trade. “As told by the Guidance, we are the best of what the America has to offer.”
“The best the America has. There was a requirement for the Trade. Things have changed, lives have changed, and people have changed. With the Vojin, more and more people are dying every day, including Creations.” I peep a word, and he shuts me up with the flick of his hand. “Your parents would be glad to know their child, unlike other Creations, has a voice. You are different from a lot of the other Creations. You and Luke. Which was expected.”
I scoot to the edge of the sofa. “What do you mean by that? Expected?”
He stands, grabbing his earpiece from the table. “Do not engage in relations with Cory Braden, the previous captain of this sector. A watch was placed, and he is the eye of many, not only the Trade.” He hits a button on his earpiece as he slides it back on his ear. “I am to return,” he says to whoever speaks to him. “Kylie Alexander has been spoken with. And warned.” He looks me in my eyes. “Do we have an understanding?”
Hell no! Absolutely not. We do not have any understanding! I stand, snap my boots together, and draw my arms behind my back. Holding my head high, I nod once. “Yes, sir.”
“Escort me to the door.”
“Yes, sir.” Grandin is a skinny man with blond eyebrows, showing his actual hair color is not the black he wears. His clothes are tailored to fit his body as all Trade members are. Usually, the Trade does not speak directly to soldiers. They usually do not address any of us. Messages, orders, and instructions are passed through the Guidance, from the Guidance to our general, and from the general to us.
He knows something; his insinuation revealed a lot, but too little. Everything and everyone keep bringing up our parents. Separation is supposed to be simple, like the life of a Creation. I shouldn’t have to deal with jigsaw puzzles, word problems, and pop-up visits. I’m getting all these questions with no way of answering them.
I stay in and wait for Luke to return. With everyone in our home gone for Citizen Management, it makes the house the perfect meeting spot.
The door opens and Luke says, “Luke.”
“I’m in the den,” I call. “You will never guess what just happened to me.”
He comes around the corner, eyebrows high and eyes wide, ready for me to tell the story. “You had even more of a day? After being turned into a Zombie,” he asks with knit brows.
“Trade Officer Grandin stopped by.”
“What?” his voice rises an octave. “I didn’t see anyone.”
“Well…” I roll my eyes. “He was here. It was pretty weird too, because the things he said didn’t seem important enough to bring them down from the island.” I throw up a finger, starting with my thumb, as I list off his topics, “Warning against relations, telling me to stay away from Cory. They know his secrets and must be using him. But forget about that,” I say, waving my hands as I sit up from the sofa. “In a light voice, he said, ‘You are different from a lot of the other Creations. You and Luke. Which was expected.’ That our parents would be proud I have a voice unlike other Creations.”
Luke grumbles, dramatically shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you spoke out of turn to the Trade.”
I purse my lips, shrugging. “He said we don’t mean anything to them.”
“Bullshit. We mean everything to them, or they would let us have lives and do what the hell we want to do. So…we are expected to be different…Do you feel any different?”
I shake my head.
“Did he happen to hint to you anything about that note? Did he mention our parents?”
“The only thing he said about our parents was what I just told you. But my voice, which I’m assuming he was implying I was expressive, effectively conveying thought or feeling.”
“I know what expressive means, Ky,” he drones.
“Right, well. He said I sho
uldn’t use it. The only other thing was he mentioned they were researching the Vojin, giving me even more reason to think that letter is connecting our parents with the Vojin and the Trade. We just need to find out how.”
Luke rubs his hand over his shaggy hair. He’s in desperate need of a haircut. Sean usually cuts it for him, but Sean is gone and there’s no telling when he’ll be back. “Are you, too, getting the feeling everyone else knows something about us we don’t?”
“More and more every day. And I think Seits is lying.” I lower my voice to a whisper, “When they turned me into a Zombie, they filled three vials with my blood, Luke. They know…”
Luke’s eyes narrow. He leans his shoulder against the doorframe of the den, drawling, “Questions will draw suspicion.”
“How do we get answers to questions we can’t ask?”
“We don’t. They’ll reveal it like they’ve been doing. Slowly? Maybe. But we’ll find out soon enough. Anything hiding in the dark is sure to come to light. Even us.”
“You’re talking crazy, Luke. If we’re discovered, it’ll be worse than death.”
Luke shrugs one shoulder. “Just be ready to fight, Ky. Because if you’re right, and Seits knows, there’s only a matter of time before they come for us.”
Chapter Eighteen
Time drags as we train and wait for the return of the Creations who departed for Citizen Management around the America and those who left to call a truce with the other countries. A month is too long for them to be gone and Luke won’t give me any updates except, “everyone is doing fine and getting their jobs done.”
I’m stuck here, training the Normals on how to fight Zombies. I wish I could tell them about the Vojin so I can hear their ideas on how they would take down such creatures. But the generals haven’t given us the okay for that yet.
Salient Invaders: A Young Adult Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Series (The Separation Trilogy Book 2) Page 14