Created (Book 1 of the Created) Read Online Free Page B

loosely from her cap. A mask
covered her face. What small amount of features that was visible appeared to be
attractive.
    When
she looked up, I was instantly caught off guard. Her eyes were entirely bright
sunflower yellow with a hint of orange around the outer recesses. The corneas
and the irises were not visible but entirely gone. The yellow coloring was
solid making the eyes seem to be a single solid piece until the eyes met her
dark flesh. If the eyes had been dark, they would have appeared lifeless like a
doll except there was no reflection.
    The
eyes didn't scare me, not at first, as I believed it was the drugs phasing out
of my system an after affect I told myself.
    Minutes
passed as the nurse with the yellow eyes prepped me for surgery. I never
allowed her from my sight, watching her every move. She was gentle and precise.
    Her
hands were clad in gloves, but her fingers were delicate in approach setting up
my IV. She inadvertently brushed against my arm with hers as she slid the
needle into my arm and connected me to a dark liquid. She did not start the
drip. The skin of her arm was cold and smooth, no warmth, lifeless where it
touched mine. The sensation shook me to my soul.
    I
avoided her gaze as her eyes passed over my body as she would periodically
check my vitals and restraints. Intently, I followed her movements as she took
measurements of my temperature and pulse, writing the information on a chart
which hung from the foot of my bed. It wasn't until she shined a small
flashlight in my eyes to check for movement that I was confronted with the eyes
again. Inches from my face, I could not help to notice the eyes.
    The
drugs were mostly gone so there was no longer an excuse. I was unnerved to say
the least. Pulling my head to a side to avoid staring into her face resulted in
her forcibly turning my head by grabbing my face across the cheekbones with her
thumb and forefinger. She squeezed with enough pressure to get my full
attention as she straightened my head.
    I
exclaimed tersely, "That hurt!"
    I am
not sure she cared. The woman did not react or apologize. The nurse continued
in a professional, thorough manner.
    It was
her eyes that were bothering me. I attempted closing mine then reopening. Nothing. The yellow eyes did not go away. Concluding it was
the lights and my freshly opened, but addled eyes playing tricks, I blinked
rapidly hoping it would clear. Nope. Finally, I tried to dismiss the coloring
to my own delirium, the drugs, contacts, or all three. The nurse never blinked.
She never ever blinked.
    Hell,
I wasn't sure if she was alive because best I could tell with any certainty was
that she wasn't breathing. There was no rise and fall of her chest, no moment
of her nostrils or of the mask. She never adjusted or seemed agitated by
anything. She worked; a perfect employee.
    Eventually,
she completed her tasks, leaving to attend to another tray of medical equipment
located near a bay of thick glassed windows and a heavy, riveted door of
brushed steel.
    Preoccupied
with yellow eye, my new nickname for this unknown woman, I had failed to notice
the entire surgical team was standing side by side with eyes closed and heads
bowed as in prayer. The call to attention was located in front of a bank of
rather complicated looking machinery.
    Curious
to see if my personal nurse was the only person with yellow eyes, I waited for
a member of the staff to show his or her eyes, but none did.
    Soon
yellow eye was done busying herself with the items before her. Job completed,
she joined the collective, assuming an identical posture at the end of the line
furthest from the bed: head bowed, arms to her side, eyes closed.
    Lying
back down on the cold metallic bed, I saw the soldiers above me stop pacing the
catwalks. Most of the men were running into predetermined positions, the
pounding of their boots belaying the urgency at which they moved. Confused, I
lay taking in my room.
    The
facility was oversized and too complex for a