Imitation (31 page)

He regards me very seriously and gives
his cheek stubble another long rub before answering. “I am certain
that we cannot free one without the other.”

His words wind through me, a vine
leaving seeds of hope planted along the way. I think of Ida and
Lonnie and for the first time since leaving, the ache in my chest
doesn’t feel terminal. Morton and I share a smile.

“
Can I show them around
now?” Anna asks.

“
Please do,” Morton says.
“I’ll catch up in a moment.”

I walk close beside Linc as we follow
Anna down a wide hallway with concrete walls. The air here is stale
and I try to imagine living cooped inside these damp walls every
single day.

“
I’m really glad you
stayed,” Anna says as we walk. “I was so afraid you’d leave after
Morton told you everything. Especially after what an ass Daniel was
to you. And Melanie trying to kill you. That must’ve
sucked.”

Sucked. Yes. “It was difficult,” I
say.

I wonder what she thought would be so
scary about Morton’s story. None of it seemed particularly daunting
or game-changing. If anything, I feel justified in my own desire to
be free. I don’t have time to ask. Up ahead, someone coughs and my
nerves jangle.

We pass through an archway and the
space opens around us. The walls on either side extend far enough I
can’t make out the graffitied words on either end from where I
stand in the center. Weak light filters in through grimy windows
two stories above my head. It is enough for me to see that we are
no longer alone—and far outnumbered.

My feet lurch to a stop even as Anna
continues into the room. Beside me, I hear Linc’s intake of breath.
It matches my own. Whatever number of Imitations I’d expected to
see, this is far greater.

The warehouse is full.

Many of them are in the
process of rolling up blankets that have been laid out on the
floor. One by one, they rise and stare, their faces a sea of
curiosity and wariness. I don’t have to see their markings to know
what they are. The soft expression on their faces, the void in
their eyes—absent of exposure to the world—tells me every single
one is an Imitation. In this moment, I cannot remember why I ever
doubted my purpose.
Freedom is the next
best thing to being human.

I become aware of how hard I’m
squeezing Linc’s hand.

“
It’s all right. Don’t be
afraid,” Linc murmurs.

“
I’m not afraid,” I tell
him honestly. “I’m home.”

*

Acknowledgements

The concept of
Imitation
was born from
wandering my local library, so, first, I must say thank you to
Princess Anne Library. I love the wandering and the smell of ideas
in the form of shelved books.

Massive thanks go to my very special group of
beta readers who gave me the feedback needed to plug holes and
bring these characters to life: Angeline, Adriane, Desiree, and
Christina, you guys rock!

To my editor, Jennifer Sommersby, you make me
frustrated in the best kind of way because you challenge me to
polish what I thought was already shiny. I’m a better writer for
it. Thank you—and don’t listen when I whine.

Thanks to Stephanie Mooney for putting
together such a stunning cover. It’s Ven, exactly.

I am forever impressed and awed by the
efforts of my street team, Heather’s Hotshots. You ladies go above
and beyond in your support of me, and I thank you. I’m pretty sure
some of you were pimps in another life. Just sayin’.

And lastly, to the real-life Crawford, words
cannot express my thanks for introducing me to motorcycles. It is a
piece of me I didn’t know I was missing. So are you.

About the
Author

Heather Hildenbrand
was born and raised in a small town in northern
Virginia where she was homeschooled through high school. She now
lives in coastal VA, a few miles from the Atlantic Ocean, with her
two adorable children. She works from home, part time, as a
property manager and when she's not furiously pounding at the
keyboard, or staring off into space whilst plotting a new story,
she's lying on the beach, soaking in those delicious, pre-cancerous
rays.

Heather loves Mexican food, hates
socks with sandals, and if her house was on fire, the one thing
she'd grab is her DVR player.

You can find out more about
her and her books at
www.heatherhildenbrand.blogspot.com

Or stalk her here:

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Newsletter

Heather is a co-founder of Accendo Press, a
publishing group she operates with fellow authors: Angeline Kace
and Jennifer Sommersby. Accendo (a-CH-endo), A Latin word, means
“to kindle, illuminate, inflame, or set fire.” This is something
Accendo strives to do inside a reader’s imagination with every
title released. For a complete list of titles and author bios,
visit
www.accendopress.com
.

To view all titles by this author,
click
here.

THE MODIFIED

By C.A. KUNZ

Copyright C.A.Kunz 2012

Chapter One

The Draft

“
Don’t worry, Little Bit.
I’ll be back before you know it.” Those were the last words my
brother said to me before he went off to war. I never heard his
voice again. Though it’s been almost two years since Dylan’s
passing, the pain I still feel makes it seem like it only happened
yesterday.

As I sit here looking around the large
stadium full of seventeen-year-olds, who like me are waiting to
become soldiers, I witness a mix of emotions. Some are scared, some
nervous, some even seem a little eager. I’m the latter. The war
we’re all being forced into is the one that took my older brother
from me, and now I’m being put into the same position he was in
when he turned seventeen.

Who knew our first encounter with a life
form outside Earth would cause an intergalactic war to break out?
We definitely weren’t prepared for it, that’s for sure. It has the
entire world scrambling to find anyone to fight for our unified
cause. No one knows exactly why the war even started in the first
place, but once it did, we lost a lot of soldiers. So Earth’s
government, the Allied Federation, decided it’d be a good idea to
implement a worldwide military draft for any able
seventeen-year-old.

Those damn Bringers have a lot to answer
for, and I plan to take the fight directly to them. Of course I’m
scared out of my mind, but I have to do this for my family. For our
survival. For my little brother, so he doesn’t have to make the
same sacrifice in three years.

“
Are you okay, Kenley?” I
hear Joey ask as he places his hand on my knee.

“
Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just
got this weird headache all of a sudden,” I reply, looking into his
beautiful hazel eyes that have a hint of worry in them. The rubber
band holding my long blonde hair up in a ponytail seems to be the
cause of my strain, so I take it out, and let my hair fall down
around my shoulders. “That feels much better.”

He flashes me a smile. “Good to hear.”

Joey and Dylan were close friends. No, I
take that back, he’s actually been more like a brother to us. Due
to a lack of a relationship with his parents, he spent many nights
over at our house to escape the craziness that was his home life.
Joey took Dylan’s death just as hard as I did, and we’ve grown much
closer because of it.

Joey’s never really cared about school, and
his focus has always been on joining the military. At the age of
twelve he shaved his bright red curly hair down to just a little
fuzz on his head, and has kept the style ever since. Of course his
father beat him for doing so, but Joey was always strong and never
changed himself to fit what others wanted him to be. I admire him
for that.

I, on the other hand, have spent the
majority of my life focused on preparing for my future. I was even
looking into colleges by the age of eleven. Getting good grades and
securing my way into a state university with a full-ride soccer
scholarship was at the top of my priority list. Joining the
military never even crossed my mind. I especially never thought I’d
be drafted into it, since I’m a girl and all. The United States has
implemented the draft several times before, but never on a scale
like this. I remember how I used to feel in school when we’d talk
about past drafts. I didn’t quite understand the need for them, but
now I do. I may not agree with the overall idea of forcing someone
to do something, but I’m ready. I’m ready to fight. Besides, it’s
not like we have a choice.

“
Hey, looks like they’re
going to start.” Joey’s voice wades its way into my
thoughts.

Since we’re sitting in the nosebleed section
of the stadium, we can barely make out the faces of the people on
the stage. We have to resort to staring at two giant screens that
frame either side of it. As a man dressed in a black-and-gold
Allied Federation uniform approaches the microphone, his face
appears on the screens. He seems cold and stoic.

“
Welcome to the state of
Maine’s Allied Federation draft.” He speaks in a rehearsed manner
without any emotion in his voice, causing me to shudder. “We
appreciate your cooperation during this tough time, and ask that
you be patient throughout the assignment process. We will be doing
this according to the color associated with your seating section.
Line up in front of the stage when your section is called. And
again, the Allied Federation thanks you.” The man finishes with a
salute. As his face leaves the screen, I look down at the ground
and see that our section is orange.

“
What’s your dad doing
here?” Joey’s excited tone causes me to jerk up and look at the
screens again.

“
I have no idea,” I reply
as Joey gives me a confused look.

“
He doesn’t look very
happy,” Joey comments as we both stare at his image.

“
No, he
doesn’t.”

My dad stands there looking a little more
ragged than usual, with his face covered in stubble. His hair is
longer than it was when I last saw him eight months ago. He came
home one day after work, packed a bag, and told us that he had
begun working on a top-secret project, and didn’t know how long
he’d be gone. The phone calls to the house have been sparse and
they only came in about once a month, if that. We all miss him
terribly, and though he looks worse for wear, I’m so happy to see
him. I wonder if he’s here because of his project.

My dad taps on the microphone before he
begins to speak. “H-hello everyone,” he stammers. “My name is Dr.
Wyatt Grayson, and I’m the head scientist for the Allied
Federation’s Research and Development division. I’m here to
announce the names of two special draftees who performed
exceptionally well in the preliminary evaluations.” He pauses and
looks bothered by something. He glances over his shoulder and his
body language changes. It almost seems like he’s trying to convince
someone to stop him from saying what he’s about to. Sighing, he
turns back to the microphone and opens up a piece of paper that
he’s holding in his hand. “So, without further delay, it’s my duty
to announce that…Joey Reilly and Kenley Grayson are the top two
Maine draftees. If you’d please stand and make your way to the
stage, we can continue with the assignments.” He stumbles back away
from the microphone and hurries off stage.

I turn to Joey and his face looks as shocked
as I feel. We’re both speechless.

“
Will Kenley Grayson and
Joey Reilly please report to the stage immediately?” another man in
a Federation uniform speaks into the microphone. His voice echoes
loudly throughout the quiet stadium.

We slowly rise from our seats and begin
making our way toward the stage. My feet feel like they’re encased
in concrete as every step seems to be heavier than the last. I can
feel everyone staring at us as we walk by. I look up at the large
screens on either side of the stage and there we are, large as
life, walking down the stadium stairs. Whispers begin flowing
through the crowd as we pass by them, row by row. My stomach sinks
and I stop dead in my tracks. I peer up at my face on the screen
again, which has been blown up to building size now, and freeze
framed on the left side screen, with Joey’s face on the right.

Joey takes my hand. “Come on, we’re going to
do this together, all right?”

I’m finally able to take my focus off the
screens and look at him. He stands there anxiously waiting for my
reply. I nod and let him lead me to the stage, which feels like it
takes an eternity to reach. The man standing at the microphone says
something, but it sounds muffled to me as my mind is trying to
process what’s happening.

Standing there on stage, I turn to look out
at the thousands in attendance. The bright lights shining in my
eyes make it hard to focus on anything.

“
Let’s have a round of
applause for the top two draftees from your state,” the man calls
out to the crowd. A subdued ovation follows, though I don’t really
expect anything more than that, given the nature of this whole
thing. It’s not something really worth celebrating.

“
Now, if you two would
follow these officers, they’ll escort you to the debriefing area.”
The man gestures to the two armed Federation guards standing off to
the side. They make an intimidating pair, each carrying the latest
version of plasma rifle, and wearing full helmets so we can’t see
their faces.