Page 48 of Flight of the Omega

“That’s probably it,” she said, then got up to wash her instruments.

Jack peered out the window. “We’ll likely need to go get some more firewood,” he said.

“Good idea,” she said. “JP should take a hot bath.”

JP was trying to have a nap. Jack covered up the eggs with an extra blanket, listening to the wind. It sounded cold, and he shivered.

“You rest up,” he told JP before he and Amanda headed out into the snow-drenched world. It was almost up to their chests, and they had to battle for every step.

“We’re not gonna find much dry wood,” he told her.

They searched nonetheless, for some sticks and twigs, maybe the occasional branch that had plummeted into the snow. They hauled it all back and tucked it under a tarp near the house. “Probably won’t dry out until summer,” Jack mused.

“You two will have to leave here,” she said. “You can’t keep those eggs warm with no firewood. You’ll both freeze.”

“We’ll figure something out,” he told her, then stepped inside. “JP?”

JP was sitting in the nest, legs splayed. He was panting, almost hyperventilating. “Don’t think I’m done,” he gasped, then cried out.

“What in the world!” Jack cried. “Doctor!”

Dr. Vogel poked her head in. “JP, can you shift?”

He shook his head. He had one hand on his belly, pushing. “I think there’s an egg,” he groaned, then started to cry. “It hurts. It hurts so much.”

Dr. Vogel grumbled, but she kicked off her boots and rushed to the omega’s side. She grabbed a pair of gloves and a flashlight.

“Well,” she huffed, “I’ll be. Thereisanother egg.”

“That makes eight,” Jack blurted.

“Thanks, I couldn’t count,” JP snapped.

“Hang on a second,” Dr. Vogel said, and Jack had to look away. JP squawked. “It’s twisted sideways—that’s what’s making it hard to pass.”

JP sobbed raggedly. “Stop pushing,” Dr. Vogel scolded.

“I can’t,” JP whined.

“You can so—stop. You’re making it worse. Here. Let me get it turned.”

Even after the egg was turned, it was still tough to deliver, if JP’s moaning and groaning was anything to go by. He didn’t deliver it until the early afternoon.

“Well, no wonder,” Dr. Vogel said after she’d taken her measurements. “This one’s a big one—almost five pounds, JP.”

“Fuck” was JP’s response to that. He curled up and tried to sleep. Jack minded the eggs, and Dr. Vogel tended the fire.

“You feel like having anything to eat?” Jack asked JP when it was getting close to dinnertime. The sun was setting, and the shadows were getting long.

“No.” JP sounded miserable.

“Can you shift?” Amanda asked him.

JP paused for a second or two, like he was thinking about it. Then he shook his head. “Nope. Still can’t shift.”

She frowned. Jack gave her a worried look. “Maybe you just need to recover strength,” she suggested.

“Maybe.” JP didn’t sound convinced.

Around ten o’clock, they all agreed something was up with JP; he couldn’t shift, he didn’t have an appetite, and his pains were back, worse than ever. He sweated and panted and moaned until about one in the morning, when he delivered a ninth egg into Dr. Vogel’s waiting hands.

He slept then, and Jack looked over their collection of eggs—nine bright blue eggs, all of them slightly different sizes. Jack felt a bit sorry for JP.

JP slept through the night, but he woke up in pain in the morning. He moaned and groaned some more, and just before ten in the morning, he delivered a tenth egg—the biggest of the lot, almost five and a half pounds.

“You think you’re done this time?” Jack asked, tucking the egg in with the others. “Ten’s overkill, I think.”

JP grumbled a bit, then turned over and went to sleep.