Page 17 of Shared Omega

And what about Dog? He jumped as well, but I think his chute didn’t open properly. Did he survive? Assuming he did make it, how will I ever find him in all this wilderness?

And even if I do find him, how the hell will we get back to civilization?

I take a deep breath, calming my frazzled nerves so I can properly take stock of the situation.

I’m not completely helpless here. I have my sidearm—a lightweight .40-caliber polymer frame pistol with ten rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber. In addition to that, there’s the combat knife tucked in the concealed sheath stitched into my boot.

It would have been better if I had a chance to grab a rifle before jumping, but it’s too late to worry about that now.

As for the cords of my tangled parachute, they are holding steady for now, but if those limbs overhead break or my chute’s canopy tears, I have a thirty foot fall below me. I need to act fast. I need to get out of this harness so I can climb down to safety.

As I glance down at my dangling body, I freeze.

My black protective body suit is torn, ripped by the sharp tree branches as I crashed into the forest. The upper part of the right sleeve is gashed open, and the material covering my legs is slashed with many holes as well, revealing my bare skin beneath.

I don’t even have my helmet. I wasn’t wearing it inside the dropship. Nobody was.

“Oh no,” I whisper.

My pulse quickens, and a ball of panic rises in my chest. I am exposed to the contamination of the Quarantine Zone. In fact, I have been ever since Donovitch opened the hatch of the ship.

It’s only a matter of time before I turn into a slobbering, mindless beta.

I’m fucked. I’m well and truly fucked.

That mysterious chirping sound rises and falls like strange music throughout the forest again.

It takes me a moment to realize the source. Bugs. Cicadas, I think they are called. It’s a weird sound, but kind of nice.

Shit, the only bugs we have back in the city are cockroaches, and those disgusting things don’t sing.

Doesn’t matter, since I’ll never see the city again. Not now.

I tilt my head back, letting the light breeze flow over my short hair. and I relax into the gently swinging harness as the peaceful music of the night fills my ears.

I want this to be the last thing I remember before I lose my mind to the beta mutation.

The mutation, however, doesn’t come.

With each passing minute that I remain alive and clear-headed, a sense of hope and relief grows inside me—a hope that I am somehow immune to the contamination of the Zone.

This is soon replaced by another terrifying thought.

What if I’m not immune? What if I already have mutated?

What if I’m an omega?

Oh God, that must be it. There’s no other explanation.

I’m an omega now.

A new sound echoes through the forest, so distant and imperceptible, that at first I think it is only a trick of my stressed-out brain. But a moment later it comes again, closer and louder, and my blood chills at the sound.

It is a low, moaning howl, not quite human, but not entirely bestial either.

The cicadas leave off their singing. The silence is ominous.

My first instinct is to go for my rifle, but I remember I don’t have one. It was left behind on the ship when I bailed out.