Salient Invaders: A Young Adult Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Series (The Separation Trilogy Book 2)

by Felisha Antonette

  “Tonight?” I ask. “Isn’t it unsafe to go out after dark, Guidance Leader, sir?”

  Arletta shakes her head. “Highrum doesn’t have this issue. There have been no walking dead in our city. But if we did, we have a brutal set of Creations just waiting for the opportunity to take them out.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Luke lies next to me on the bed nearest the window. “I’m stuffed, Ky.” He belches.

  I rub my stomach. “Me too. I haven’t eaten like that since before we left for Separation.”

  “Too bad we were only born as Creations.”

  “Yeah, if we could have been born anything else, we could enjoy this kind of life every day.”

  “Yep.” He belches again. “Why do you think they don’t have Zombies here?”

  “I was wondering about that earlier, before we left for dinner. You think they even know about them?”

  “These snobs, no way. The Guidance wouldn’t even allow Highrum citizens to experience that kind of fear. They monitor everything these people eat, watch, and read. Notice how the Creations stay separated from the Normals? We’ve never had a Creation here before,” Luke mocks the receptionist from earlier. “Creations know too much, and they don’t want them sharing it with the Normals.”

  “I didn’t notice that. But I did notice how skinny their Creations are.”

  “These Creations here are useless in a fight. They’re just for show and city maintenance.” Luke yawns and stretches his arms over his head. “What’d you and Seits do when you went out?”

  “Shopped. What are we supposed to do tomorrow?”

  “They are going to show us effective ways to kill the Vojin. Well, they will show us ideas they believe may be effective in killing the Vojin.”

  “Do they have any Vojin?”

  “Supposedly.”

  “Oh,” I sing, shocked. “This oughta be good.”

  We receive a wake up call at 7:35 AM. Sleeping in feels luxurious, and I’ve missed it. “Luke, wake up. We need to go find out how to kill the Vojin.” I shove his arm.

  “I know how to kill the Vojin. We shoot them.” He turns over on his stomach, throws a pillow over his head, and snores.

  I kick the side of the bed. “Come on, Luke.”

  “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.” he grumbles groggily, pulling himself from the bed.

  I make sure he’s at least sitting up before heading to the bathroom.

  I shower, dress, and leave the room to roam the halls while I wait for everyone to get ready. The halls on this level of the Inn have pictures on the walls, and the floor has white tile instead of gold. The pictures, in black and white, are events from before the world’s first destruction. The collages cover the entire wall. The one I pass is of a group standing among debris, holding hands with the American flag hanging over their heads.

  “Excuse me.”

  I turn around to face a tall, teenage boy with blond hair that stops at his shoulders. He has a strong jawline and sharp light brown eyes. Smiling brightly, he gazes at me.

  “Yes?” I answer skeptically. Luke was right. We don’t see the Normals speaking with Creations here, so this boy speaking to me is throwing me off.

  He slowly crosses the hall. “I couldn’t help but notice I’ve never seen you before. And from the light in your eyes, I can tell you are not from around here.”

  “No, I am not,” I answer, turning to finish my walk down the hall, interested in studying the remaining pictures.

  The boy jogs to my side and looks at the walls. “Where are you from?”

  I cross the hall and observe the collage on this side where the pictures depict happier events. A marathon of some sort, people smiling with their fists raised in the air. “Arizona Separation. Why?”

  “Just curious. I keep up with newcomers in this area.”

  “Who are you?” What authority does he have to keep up with people here?

  “Carden. I’m in line for Citizen Guidance Leader, second in rule. Because I’m only nineteen, I can’t have the title as a Guidance Leader yet.”

  I nod. “Not until you’re twenty-one can you become a leader of the Guidance.”

  “Exactly. What’s your name?”

  “Kylie. If you would excuse me, I’d like to finish looking at these pictures.”

  “I could explain them to you. By the look on your face, you don’t seem to recognize the events.”

  I do not recognize these events. I’m not very familiar with the history of the America before its partial destruction. The picture I’m looking at is of a burning building and another that resembles it, but it’s standing tall. Not too far from the building, however, is a plane and by the way its path is headed, it may hit the building still intact. “What happened here?” I ask, touching the part of the picture with the undamaged building. “Did this aircraft collide with the building?”

  He raises his hand and places it on the wall and walks, gliding his hand over the picture from one end to the other, saying, “Thiiiisssss.” He inhales. “All of this is an event labeled as nine eleven.” From the end of the hall, he walks back to my side. “Terrorists attacked the America back on September eleventh, two-thousand-one. They took over two planes and flew them into these buildings,” he points to each building, “in the middle of the day. Many lives were lost. It happened in New York City, and these were called the Twin Towers.”

  “New York City?” I ask with highbrows and wide eyes. “New York was big enough to be its own city?”

  “It was, believe it or not. That’s how it got its name. It affected everyone in the America, and even some other countries. Stories say that for once, everyone who lived here actually got along. People joined together and were unified.”

  “That must’ve not lasted long.”

  “Of course not.” Carden chuckles. “But this moment made history because of its destruction and reconstruction.”

  I stammer, “What?” Taken aback, I repeat skeptically, “Destruction and reconstruction. There is no reconstruction after things are destroyed,” I tell him. Cory and the Vojin instantly crowd my mind. Maybe Carden’s no different.

  “You must be a Creation,” he articulates with a wide smile. I look back to the wall as he says, “This moment proves that after destruction, things can be reconstructed. Maybe not what was destroyed.” He waves for me to follow him down the hall, and we stop where people are hugging, holding hands, crying, sad and happy with gray faces where no one is separated by eye color, skin color, or hair color. “See,” he says. “These two buildings were destroyed, thousands of people died, and look what came from it. People were brought together, regardless of who they were or what they presented. Even if just for the short time it took for these pictures to be taken. It shows reconstruction in mankind. It shows we can come together.” He looks at me to see my reaction before he continues. “What’s sad about it is that something tragic had to happen in order for it to occur.” He strides down the hall and points at the wall at different times when people are not covered in ash, and they are holding hands with raised candles, signs that state the event and flags that represent the America. “The gatherings didn’t last long, but this moment was always remembered. And I hope that when they did remember it, it continued to bring people together and made the America a better place back then.”

  I cross my arms, keeping my gaze on the picture as I ask, “You believe that in tragedy lies good?”

  “And in hate lies love.”

  “And things of bad nature can hold destruction in order to implant a reconstruction of happiness to make it a better place?”

  He nods once. “Just about, but it’s not the same beliefs as what you might think. I don’t believe the whole world needs to be destroyed, just a part of it. It’s the reason why the world is this way. It’s the reason why we have turmoil and tragedies, why there is death, why there is hate. As humans, we have to see the difference, which gives a choice in what life we are to partake in. The hate or the love.”
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  I flick my gaze to the wall on the other side of the hall. A couple is laughing, hugging. “Some of us don’t get that choice.”

  “It doesn’t seem like it right now because of how humans are born into factions with instructions and meanings and requirements of life, but any human with a brain can choose what they want to do. Doing as you were made or not.”

  “So if I wanted to be in construction though I was born a Creation, you are saying, I could leave being a Creation and go into construction?”

  “Yes,” he states simply with a nod, and his blond locks brush his cheeks.

  I scoff, “And get myself killed for going against the Guidance.”

  “If that’s what you choose. Do you fear death, Kylie the Creation?”

  My lips twist, disgusted by the word. “I fear nothing.”

  “Good. You sound like a respected Creation. Born for what they created her to live by.” That sounds insulting. He looks past me. “And this must be your twin? Hi,” he says cheerfully. “I’m Carden. Soon to be Citizen Guidance Leader.”

  “Hello,” Luke greets dryly. “Let’s go, Ky.”

  I turn as he turns. “Bye, Kylie the Creation.”

  Luke knits his brows and crinkles his nose.

  “I don’t know, Luke, he’s weird,” I say for only Luke to hear as we head for Jord and Seits’s room.

  “How long have you two been talking?” Luke asks as he knocks on their door.

  “However long it took you to get dressed. He was telling me about the pictures on the walls.” I gesture around us at more pictures plastered around the hall.

  Seits opens the door. “Good morning,” Seits greets us as she and Jord exit the room.

  “Good morning,” I say.

  We head for the elevator, and Luke asks, “You left and got a history lesson from that guy?”

  “That’s exactly what happened. He was telling me about this event called nine eleven. Said it was tragic and killed thousands of people, but it also brought them together. I was into it until he mentioned destruction and reconstruction. I don’t understand how people can think what’s destroyed can be reconstructed. It’s like trying to iron out a wrinkled sheet of paper—impossible. But then he made this point by saying, everything doesn’t need to be destroyed in order for reconstruction to take place.”

  “Like saying,” Seits begins, “destroying the tree but keeping the seed. Then planting the seed to grow a new tree from the base of the old one.”

  “Great analogy, General Seits, leader of 23rd base, division section 245.” Carden welcomes himself to our small discussion as we’re waiting for the elevator.

  “This is Carden Fett,” Jord introduces, “He is in line as leader for the Guidance.”

  “Hi,” Carden greets cheerfully. I’ve taken that his cheerful attitude is a reflection of his entire personality. It goes along with being a part of the Guidance; their motto is “One must appear happy to make the citizens feel there are no worries so they can also be happy.” Our motto as Creations is “Appear fearless and manage the fearful.”

  “Are you attending the Premier’s birthday celebration this evening?” Carden asks, clasping his hands gleefully in front of his chest.

  “Yes,” Jord responds as the elevator opens.

  “Great! I’ll see you all there. Have a great day.” He smiles brightly before walking away.

  “That is too much joy for one person,” Luke complains.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  We stand in a glass box extended above a lab where they are conducting science experiments. They have samples of the fusing particles that make the Vojin and other concoctions that are mixed with it, trying to find out what will make it combustible. A Vojin replica, likely made by the scientists, is laid on an examination table.

  “We have come to find the particles the Vojin seem to use, which assists them in travel. They bleed and are not as indestructible as we originally believed,” a woman in a white lab coat with goggles pulled over her eyes says. We sit in a skybox ten feet above their heads. Most sit, but as Creations, we stand. I don’t mind; I’m interested in knowing what they come up with.

  “What have you all concluded to be the source of their destruction?” Richard asks in a doubtful tone.

  “It seems the Vojin are made with a self-relative material. An element our Earth does not create. When testing it, it compares to a mixture of elements, two metals; magnesium and zinc, textiles, and the beneficial material…coal.” She smiles behind her white face mask. I can tell because her cheekbones rise. “We have found a specialized radioactive bullet that is effective with the right amount of fuel, oxygen―that our Earth provides plenty of―and heat, when shot in the right place on their bodies from a measurable distance. Once said bullet penetrates the Vojin’s body, it explodes, resulting in a deflagration within the Vojin.” Her smile grows wider as she looks at her nodding colleagues. “The best part about this is, once the Vojin’s outer layer bursts, it will be effective to start combustibility in the surrounding Vojin by overtaking the oxygen source.”

  “Keep in mind,” a brown-skinned man in a white suit that’s covered by a lab coat cuts in as he sets his beaker down, “the hazardous material held within the bullets mixed with the Vojin’s matter can also be dangerous to anyone in the area. Take into consideration gas masks and facial protection.”

  Everyone claps, except for us. I don’t know yet if it is the bullets that blow them up, or if it’s what the Vojin are already mixed with that does the job. I did pick up that us killing them can be risky, so we’ll need to strap up and wear gas masks.

  Arletta presses the microphone button in the corner of the box. Speaking into it, she asks, “Can you show us an illustration of how it works? When will these bullets be ready to deploy?”

  “We will gladly show you,” a bronze-skinned woman, possibly from too much sun, says, stepping toward the Vojin dummy. “It will be our pleasure, actually.” The three scientists surround the body. It’s fusing with the green and blue particles like the Vojin.

  The man pulls out a black pistol with a long barrel. He instructs, “Standing at least a three-foot distance away from them will provide the time the bullet needs to meet the maximum required temperature. After penetrating the Vojin’s solid frame, it will explode within them.” He shoots. It’s quiet…silent. No pop and spark.

  The bullet hits the fake Vojin’s body in the chest. There’s a small spark from the bullet before the inside of the dummy clouds with a gray fog. It builds, and the body expands like a balloon before popping. As it explodes, a glass dome encases it, keeping the explosive matter from spreading.

  Murmurs of excitement fill the room with a low hum. The shift in energy is almost palpable.

  “Of course, a rush can be put on making the bullets,” the male scientist states. “We can design them to fit the guns everyone already has to kill the Zombies.”

  Speaking of killing the Zombies, I thought Luke said Harold shot a Vojin, and the bullets used to kill the Creation Zombies were effective in killing them. I tap Luke’s shoulder and mention it.

  “You have a point,” Luke says and passes along the detail to Jord.

  Jord goes to Arletta and Richard to share the news. They talk, and then Richard presses the button to speak into the mic. “What is the difference in these bullets compared to the bullets used to kill the Creations that were infected by the threat?”

  The three scientists exchange glances before the tanned woman says, “The pink infused bullets.” She picks one up from a table behind her, stocked with items of all sorts. “These can effectively kill a Vojin; however, after being shot, their infused particles are still alive. This will call out to more of them. That’s what the material does. It informs other Vojin if they are needed, when they are needed, so they can track each other, as well as check in on those who are infused with their particles. By using these bullets,” she raises a slim black round, “they penetrate the flesh without leaving an opening for
the particles to leak out and contact others. As you noticed, the dummy Vojin did not leak.”

  That is beneficial. I imagine us raiding the Vojin’s realm and using those bullets.

  “Excuse me,” I say to Richard. “Is it the gun that makes the shot silent? The barrel on that gun is much smaller than the silencer that we would attach to our guns, and the butt on the gun she used is larger and slightly wider than what I have seen.”

  “Brilliant observation, Kylie Alexander,” Arletta states. Finger still on the microphone button, she asks, “Did you all hear her question?”

  The scientists look up at us. I assume they are trying to see me, so I walk to the glass. “Hello,” they all greet. I nod, letting them know I acknowledge them. “These bullets we are making work specifically with these guns.” The man shows me his pistol. I nod, letting him know I see it. “They fit the bullet precisely to provide the needed friction to heat the bullet and get the combustible components warmed to the right temperature as it glides through the air toward your target.”

  “How many of those guns do you have today?” I ask loudly.

  He raises his hand to his ear, shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” Arletta states. “I wasn’t pressing the button.” She hits the mic and repeats, “How many of those guns do you all have today.”

  “Currently, we have twelve that have recently passed testing,” the man informs.

  I look to make sure Arletta is pressing the button. She is, and I look back to them, saying, “We need sixteen, today. Before we leave. And as many of those bullets you have and can be made prior to our departure.”

  Luke goes to the microphone, adding, “We will actually need over three hundred bullets tonight. And a follow-up of three hundred to be expedited to us the moment they are ready.”

  The scientists look at each other, concern narrowing their eyes.

  “Will that be a problem?” Richard asks.