Page 18 of Omega Untamed
When the car stopped, I saw only trees and the deeper darknesses within the forest. The sky was slate now, but the sun still missing.
“Get out,” Stone ordered. To who? All of us?
“No.” Bast finally spoke.
“What?” Stone turned to look at him, leaning hard into me. I shut my eyes.
“I’ll do it.” Bast shifted beside me.
“Fuck. I don’t give a shit. You wanna? I’ll just sit back and have my morning smoke.”
“Yes. I want to.”
Bast got out, then helped me out behind him. He left me standing, leaning, actually, against the back of the car as he opened the trunk. He brought out a brand new package of plastic sheeting. And a shovel.
When he closed the trunk, he looked at me with emotionless, black eyes. “You’re not going to give me trouble, all right?”
I burst into tears.
He ignored me, and grabbed my arm with his free hand, and steered me under the trees. There was no path, just lots of wild foliage and weeds underfoot. The birds had been singing in the pre-sunrise, but they stopped as our footfalls crashed against leaves and branches.
Barefoot, I tripped a lot, nearly falling, but Bast held me up. We walked away from the car for about ten minutes. Then he stopped.
We were in a sort of clearing near some tall, thick-trunked pines. Bast looked around, sniffing the air, which was fresh and clean, the sharp pine fragrance reminding me of childhood when I was very young, when I still had my Omega father. Old winter holidays I’d never see again flashed back to me.
“Sit,” Bast ordered.
I glanced about. All was dirt, dead leaves, and weeds. “Where?” The word stumbled from my mouth. I was still crying.
He pointed to a tree. I sat at the base and looked up at him.
He stood in the clearing, a black silhouette, his head tilted back and did not make a move for a long time. Finally, without looking at me, he reached within his long coat and behind, at belt level, and his hand reappeared with a gun. I didn’t know anything about guns. All I knew was it looked menacing.
I gasped, clutching both hands hard to my chest now.
Then the strangest thing happened. Still looking upward, Bast raised his gun-hand up and up. Toward the tree. The sky. I heard a click. Then two cracks.Bang. Bang.
My body jerked twice.
Bast lowered his hand and put his gun back in his hidden holster. Next, still not sparing one glance my way, he began to dig.
For a long time I watched as he made a hole big enough for a human being. Sweat began to shine on his face. His coat was smudged with dirt and dust.
When he was done, he set the shovel aside and opened the package with the large sheet of plastic. He placed it in the grave, then began to cover it with dirt.
What the fuck?
He was making it look like he’d done the work. Did everything but shoot me.
When he was done, he leaned against the shovel and finally his eyes met mine. Cold. Unreadable.
“Stay here,” he said. “I know you don’t have any food or water but I’ll be back. I’ll try not to take more than a few hours. If I don’t return, you’re going to have to find your own way from here.”
My breaths heaved. “What? You’re—you’re not going to kill me?”
“I know it will be hard, but you can walk. Hopefully, it won’t come to that. I’ll be back.”
“B—but I don’t even know where I am.” I was still processing that this was happening. That what I was perceiving was true. Bast was not going to shoot me. Bast was saving my life.
