The Separation Trilogy Box Set: Books 1 -3 Read online

  “Jeez, what’s that about?” Sean asks, gone serious. Rather, he tries, chuckles still accompanying a bright smile in his violet eyes. Sean’s skin is a little brighter than Marc’s, his eyebrows aren’t as bushy and don’t hood his eyes as heavily. He’s a lighter version of his brother.

  “She’s pissed she wasn’t selected to go to Chicago,” Marc tells him. Sean shrugs, biting into the apple and jumps into a conversation with Luke and Fred.

  My attention is already pinned on Marc when he faces me. I surprise him, but he doesn’t falter, saying, “Can I ask you something?”

  I nod, standing from the table with my tray in hand. He follows me. I’m crossing the slick tile to the trash can on the other side of the mess hall instead of using the one nearer our table. We’re just out of earshot of our peers, the way I like it.

  Marc rubs behind his ear before easing his hands through his hair. “Sorry, I, um, walked off on you after I pinned you to the couch,” he says, gaze on his feet. We’re heading for the door leading us out of the mess hall.

  “You’re…sorry?” I stutter, discomfort of rejection showing through the timid sound of my voice. Even though pinning someone to a sofa without an explanation is a reasonable thing to apologize for, I’m more concerned by him not apologizing for making me question everything I know about everything. Actually, everything I thought I knew about everything.

  The tone earns me a questionable glance from him. The same look I use when I glance at him, one of curiosity. “Yes…” he drags on like he’s not sure if he’s answering my question the right way.

  “Oh,” I respond, regaining my confidence as my self-esteem lowers. “What did you want to ask me?”

  “Nothing.” He shakes his head. “I needed to apologize.”

  “Okay. Well, you’ve apologized.” I swallow hard, trying to push down my nerves.

  “Are you upset?”

  I shake my head.

  “You seem like you are though.”

  Shrugging, I admit, “I guess I don’t understand why you’re apologizing.”

  “It might have made you uncomfortable. By the way you were screaming, I’m positive it did. But I couldn’t watch you suffer like you were.”

  In a way, it did make me uncomfortable, but I don’t think it’s the same way he suspects and not because of my uncle or my dream. Those nightmares are often put aside once I wake up. I’ve been dealing with them for so long, they don’t bother me as much anymore. But how he brought on my discomfort was through his solemn rejection. Now I realize I may be attracted to Marc in a way he’s not attracted to me.

  I shake my head.

  “I thought of revisiting that theory. But like you said, that’s not what we are here for, why you broke things off with Cory, and you have no interest.”

  You’re an interest, I want to say, but I swallow it back, realizing he held back not because of me, but what I said.

  “I’m not supposed to have interests, and I usually don’t. I honestly never do. I was just curious. But I know how not to explore my curiosities,” he says, looking behind him and back.

  Again, I nod. I don’t want to say the wrong thing or the right thing that may come off to him as wrong.

  “You don’t have anything to say?”

  “Umm.”

  He pitches his nose. “Anything else?”

  “We aren’t here to explore our personal interests, but fulfill our purpose. Although,” I take a pause to check our surroundings so I can add, “I will continue to ask you to do that thing when you wrap your arms around me. Even though I shouldn’t, it makes me feel better.”

  He smirks. “I’m okay with that.”

  “Good.” We stroll at an even distance away from each other. Not close enough for suspicions to arise, but close enough for us to hear our low voices.

  “Your hugs are nice too,” he says when we’ve made it out as far as the obstacle course. It’s a place to stroll by that wouldn’t draw attention to us since someone’s always watching when we’re outside.

  “That was the first time I was comforted by a hug in a long time,” I say. “Luke and I don’t hug that way. He’ll wrap an arm around my shoulder, or I’ll wrap my arm around his waist.” I draw my lips to the side. “He even wraps his arm around my head.”

  Marc nods and drags the heel of his hand down his bearded chin. He’s quiet for a while, overlooking the obstacle course. It’s not until we turn around, five minutes from our arrival, that he asks, “Did that feel weird to you?”

  All these situations have me battling with myself, why some are okay, and others are not? How I can feel so many different ways and yet not be able to pinpoint any of these emotions properly. Tugging at the hem of my shirt, I stammer, “Weird like how?” Touching him? Him embracing me? Of course, it felt weird. It felt like a lot of things.

  “I don’t know.” Stopping, he furrows his brows and shrugs. “Weird like, different, maybe?”

  “Different, yes.” But I’m okay with different; it leaves me wanting more of whatever it is, though I know I shouldn’t. Marc makes me nervous and impatient as I try to read through his shield, beyond the constant nonchalant attitude that makes up the bulk of his personality.

  We crowd around Jord as he gives us the run-down for our mission in Chicago. “Urgency,” he instructs. “Do not linger. If you must question it, dispose of it. If it doesn’t look human, dispose of it. A few of you are familiar with what we will be facing. Those of you who are not, these things… we do not yet have a name for them. They look human but are not. Somehow, they are infected, and this infection spreads fast, killing them and somehow bringing them back to life. They have no heartbeat, but their brains are alive and working. The guns you have been given are specifically made for the bullets designed to abolish these things. No bullet is to be wasted.” He taps his forehead with the barrel of his handgun. “Head shots. Do not aim anywhere else.” A quiet bus pulls up beside us. Jord gives the driver a nod and then continues, “These things are fast. Faster than what the three of you have seen.” He points to Luke, Marc, and me. “You have to be faster. Move out if you are bitten, spat upon, or scratched.” He’s speaking low, sure to not alert the others or be heard by anyone listening in on us. “Any questions?”

  We shake our heads.

  “Good. Let’s move out. The bus will take us to the plane. We should be there by morning. The moment we touch down and are off the plane, we are at war. They are at large at night and day unlike the ones we have here.” He heads for the bus. “I, like you, want to be back here before sunrise Friday morning.”

  It’s late, twelve or one in the morning. After lunch, Jord instructed us to meet him here, behind his office, after everyone else headed for bed.

  We pile on the bus, and Seits sits next to Luke. He told me she wanted to discuss something with him. I sit behind them, taking the window seat. I can keep them both in sight and possibly hear a bit of their conversation from here.

  Cory stops in the aisle, next to the empty seat beside me. He looks it over, contemplating taking it, but Marc smoothly passes him and plops down on the seat as though he didn’t see Cory considering it. Cory settles for taking the seat across from us, and his sister sits next to him. Her green eyes are a bit warmer than her brother’s, and her hair’s so long she sits on it.

  Sean and Jord take the first two seats to the left.

  Luke looks over his seat at me and says, “Don’t fall asleep.”

  I nod.

  “I’ll make sure you don’t fall asleep,” Marc whispers near my ear. “Wouldn’t want to not hit you again after you smack the shit out of me.”

  I break our gaze, fighting a smile. “Sorry about that by the way.” He shouldn’t feel responsible for keeping me awake or even waking me up from one of my nightmares. It was wrong of me to fall asleep without Luke.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He slouches down in the seat as the bus pulls off.

  The lights shut off, and everyone calms. Marc’s elbo
ws rest on the cushioned armrests, his hands in his lap. I reach over, grabbing his right hand.

  Instead of him pulling away like I expect him to, his fingers move between the spaces of mine. My hand sinks into his, feeling the large circled embellishment on his roughened palm as my fingertips graze his scabby knuckles.

  My cool breath blows slowly past my lips as the nervous flutters finally settle after days of torment. The contact is peaceful and consoling. I want to draw him nearer to me. I don’t, though. This impactful yet simple sentiment between us lasts for a while, and I don’t want to go another day without it, though I know I’ll have to.

  My eyes grow heavy. The soft snores of some of the others make me feel even more tired. As great as Creations are, even we aren’t at our best when we’ve not rested in twenty-four hours, and I am nearing my limit. Luke continues his talk with Seits, and I don’t want to interrupt. Hopefully, they’ll finish soon, and I can catch some Z’s before we’re called into action. I lean back in my seat and hear Marc whisper, “You getting tired?”

  “I am.”

  He breaks our clasped hands and wraps his arm around my shoulder, then he leans my head on his shoulder. I lift my gaze to him; his head is reclined with his eyes closed. His free hand rubs my inner arm up and down, and the other rests on the outer side of me, rubbing my hair back. The comfort in it feels nice even though my hair is out of place.

  Drifting off is easy, an action I thought was impossible without my brother.

  “Ky,” Luke hisses. I jump, straightening my spine as I sit at attention. His facial expression morphs from skeptical to awed, and he calmly says, “You fell asleep.”

  Ignoring my pounding heart, I relax against the seat, and meet Marc’s eyes. “You didn’t hit me,” he utters with a smirk as he’s straightening in his seat.

  Hiding my smile, my lips pinch to the side, but I can’t help my cheeks rising. “That’s good to know,” I tell him, turning my attention to Luke. Sleep snuck up on me, and it was so pleasant, I didn’t even realize it. This has to mean something.

  Luke nods once. “We are almost to the plane. Get up.”

  “Okay.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A black, private jet is awaiting our arrival. It blends in with the night, lights giving the winged beast eyes as it roars to life at our approach. We board, twin beside twin, and sit in large over-cushioned seats. In three hours, we will land and get an introduction into this new war we hasten to join in a few short months.

  Luke looks away from me when I meet his gaze. “You okay?” he asks, sounding more suspicious than interested in my current state.

  “Yes. No dreams,” I whisper, knowing he’s referring to my peaceful rest on the bus.

  He nods. “With him?” he asks in an equally low tone.

  I shrug my shoulder and nod once.

  “Why is that?”

  “I cannot say,” I whisper, “but for the first time I didn’t sleep close to you, I didn’t have nightmares.” It’s a mystery to me too, and after we get back from this mission, I will make it my mission to figure it out.

  “That’s good, I guess.” His brows knit as, I suppose, a few different thoughts cross his mind. Luke rolls his shoulders, and the discomfort rolls away with him doing so. Excitement replaces his concern. “You ready?” His smile steals his entire face.

  Luke and I live for this. A good dosage of nonstop action is what we crave. My grin matches his. “I am so ready,” I say, thrill thick in my voice.

  “I need everyone on this plane to have that same attitude,” Jord says. “Touch ground, be ready. I cannot say that the moment we get off this aircraft that we will not be attacked, so expect it.” He’s sitting beside his sleeping sister.

  “Rest up, Ky. I will too,” Luke says, getting comfortable, or as comfortable as someone can get in these cramped airplane seats.

  I peer out the small window. The skyline of Chicago is coming into view. Chicago is Illinois’s most popular city, where they’re supposed to train for Separation like we do in Desert Hills. It’s really shocking they’ve had a takeover. Chicago is pretty reckless; they shoot first—no questions, now or later. So for something unfamiliar to beam down on their territory and overthrow their Creations, we’re likely to have our hands full.

  “Glad to be home, Marc and Sean?” Jord asks.

  “Depends on what home is doing.” Sean answers. “From up here, yes, it feels good to see my city.”

  “But down there, maybe not,” Marc follows.

  “Then let’s get down there and take it back,” Jord booms, reeling excitement in us all.

  “Yeah!” we roar.

  Guns are loaded, rounds in the chambers. Ready. The sound of it makes my mouth water, and my leg jumps with violent ambition.

  “There is no plan or specific coordination for this. Out of the plane, shoot if it looks dead, doesn’t respond in a manner we are familiar with, or attacks you—” Jord stops. “No,” he continues after a thought, “shoot everything in sight but each other and those with us here. You will recognize them by the color-filled eyes the injections gave us. The citizens of this city have been informed to either evacuate or stay indoors, somewhere they will be undiscovered.”

  “You should be used to that.” I throw a glance in Marc and Sean’s direction. “Yep,” Sean says. “No chatter, just shooting.”

  Marc winks at me.

  I adjust in my seat, and I nudge Luke. “Don’t stop until we’re out.”

  “Don’t drop.”

  “Don’t doubt.”

  “I got you.” He lifts his arm vertically with his fist facing the ceiling.

  I do the same with mine, saying, “I got you.” Our arms align before we bump the back of our fists together. We follow, bumping the sides of them. We never go into a battle, or race, without the reassurance we are in this together, and we’ll cover each other.

  The plane prepares to land. The sun’s slowly waking the city as it beams over buildings and scattered trees.

  My body feels compressed as the wheels meet the runway. My lungs shake in my chest, and my ears clog. I work my jaw in an attempt to get my ears to pop. I lean against the window, remembering the airport as being clean and intact. The view now is of broken fuselage and cracked glass. Of aircrafts that have crashed-landed possibly after takeoff and others flown through buildings. Shattered windows scar the buildings like jagged cavities. The open land behind us is gone. It’s just devastation. This was unexpected.

  We crowd around the door, Luke and I second in line after Jord and Seits. They open the door, and we are ready.

  Guns are drawn, and our pre-pumped adrenaline is flowing.

  But, as we get off the plane, nothing attacks us. It’s as silent as the grave.

  We step out, taking precaution, each of us thrown off by the lack of half-dead Creations we were warned would be attacking us. No one speaks as we exit from the plane and prowl the grounds of the airport. We carry backpacks holding extra mags, ammunition, and grenades filled with the same pink kind of liquid as the bullets. They are said to be able to annihilate groups of those things at once.

  “Why is it so quiet?” I ask.

  I go ignored.

  We make it to the front of the airport, and Jord says, “I’m not sure why it is this quiet.” Empty cars sit in the loading and unloading lanes. “We were supposed to have people waiting for us here, to take us downtown. That’s where the biggest problem is. Or so we thought.”

  A can scraping across the street grabs my attention. It spins in place until it settles.

  Cringing, shoulders high near his ears, Sean humbly says, “Sorry. That was my bad.”

  I swallow my response, seeing a black-suited Creation, dusty from earth or ash. His red eyes lock on mine.

  I aim my gun and fire.

  It jumps out of the way of the bullet. Like it saw the bullet coming toward him, it literally dodged out of the way just in time, lightning fast.

  It charges like it k
nows I’m trying to kill it and is destined to interfere. I shoot again, a clear head shot this time.

  The impact of the gunshot knocks his head back and him off his feet. He hits the ground, neutralized.

  There are running footsteps plowing in our direction like large drops of rain pounding on a rooftop. There might be too many for the eight of us to handle. As if everyone realizes the same thing, we run in search of some type of covering or blockage.

  “Bus,” Jord shouts, darting to the right, as many of the living-dead Creations and humans emerge from around the corners of the airport, charging in our direction.

  We break out, sprinting for the black bus parked crooked in the furthest lane from the building. The creatures are covering ground much faster than those we encountered back home. Their growls and heavy breaths are like rumbles of thunder, the shuffling of their clothes like angry wind.

  We pile into the bus, Jord taking over as driver, ignoring the blood smeared over the driver’s seat and steering wheel where someone died. Thankfully, the keys are in it. We pull off, Jord handling the steering wheel as though he’s at the helm of a ship as he dodges parked cars. The creatures crowd the back of the bus, leaving no breathing room for the bus’s exhaust. Two of them latch onto the back door and rip it off.

  One of them boards, body disproportionate, eyes bloodshot red with blood-red irises to match. It smells of gasoline and decomposition. Luke fires, and it flies backward, through the hole where the door was.

  “Pick up speed! Put some distance between us and them,” Seits yells to Jord.

  The bus doesn’t pick up speed although the engine revs. I take a seat, pressing my knees onto the seat and chest to its back. My sight is pinned on the opening, and I find my targets. I fire, back-to-back headshots, hitting twelve before my clip empties. When one falls, the many behind it fill in, their fallen comrade forgotten.

  Lowering my empty gun, I mumble to myself, “What are they?” They just keep coming, never tiring from the run, likely racing at eighty miles per hour. They just push forward as fast as the bus, trampling the dropped bodies.