Escape: Omega Book 1 (Omega: Earth's Hero) (15 page)

At least in here, he could see his watch. It was a few minutes after five. He guessed it was five in the morning. It’d been just around eleven when he left his house, and he didn’t think more than six or seven hours had elapsed. But his father would be up before now and realize he was gone. His father, a teacher, worked two jobs--the one at the school and the one at home on the ranch. The livestock needed constant attention, and there was always work to be done. While school was out, life on the ranch didn’t give the Reddick family the luxury of a break. Darrin was a large contributor to the homestead operation and put in a good couple of hours with his dad before breakfast. Within minutes, George Reddick would search the house high and low for Darrin. Perhaps he would assume that he’d got a head start on the day and was out at the barn. Even if that were the case, within half an hour, Darrin’s absence would be discovered, and his mother and father would grow sick with worry.

Before he could consider his parents’ distress in further detail, the door opened and a big bear of a soldier stepped in. It was the man that had stopped everyone from shooting him. After pulling Darrin from the truck, he’d handed him off to another man that practically dragged him to this room. Darrin figured he pretty much owed his life to the man.

There was a table and two chairs in the room. Darrin occupied one, the man took the other. They sat across from each other.

When the man took a seat, he let out a heavy sigh. His eyes were pale blue, like arctic ice, but bloodshot, and his face was visibly pale. He wore a hat, but Darrin could see that underneath his short hair was gray, much grayer than his eyebrows would suggest.

“Well, kid,” the man said, “seems like we’re in this together. You might as well tell me who you are.”

Darrin had no experience in dealing with the authorities. He didn’t even know enough about the military to recognize the rank insignia on the man’s uniform. He did know he was probably an officer, as all the other men listened to him. “I don’t think I should say anything, sir.”

Darrin hoped that wouldn’t anger the old soldier, that hadn’t been his intent. Fortunately, it didn’t seem to. The man was tired--wore plumb out, Darrin thought.

“Son, I’m not real good at dealing with children. I’m not going to pretend to be. But I have the notion that if you were smart enough to find us… to find that object out there… in the badlands, and sneak aboard a U.S. Army vehicle and enter a secure installation, then you’re also intelligent enough to know that what you’ve seen is beyond top secret. It’s the most classified thing any of us in this building will ever have knowledge of.

“But I’m not quite sure how to proceed with you. If you were a couple years older, we could just throw you into prison and throw away the key.”

Darrin opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find his voice.

The man waved the attempt away. “But I don’t think it’ll come to that.” He settled back in his seat, his weight straining the chair. “My name is Garrett. Captain Garrett Fallow. What’s yours?”

Darrin didn’t answer.

“Come on, kid. Work with me. I’ve had one hell of a day. And it doesn’t look like it’s going to end any time soon.”

“Darrin.” His voice was meek and mild. But withholding his name didn’t seem like the smartest thing in the world. They would find out as much as they wanted soon enough. They had ways to do that; he knew that much. He could cooperate or he could not. In the end, they would do as they wanted, but Darrin dared to hope that if he did at least try to work with them, they would show their appreciation by going easy on him. It wasn’t much of a chance, realistically, but it was the best he had.

“Good to meet you, Darrin,” Fallow said. “I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“When can I go home?” It was all Darrin could think to say.

Fallow hesitated. “I can’t really say. Not just yet. I suspect some of the big brass will want to speak with you, decide the best course of action. I will tell you that we will, within the next couple of hours, notify your parents that we have you in our custody and that you’re in good shape.”

“Thanks to you.”

The barest trace of a smile graced the captain’s haggard face.

Before another word could be exchanged, gunfire broke across the silent morning, slicing the dreamlike quality for Darrin--because that’s what his intelligent, but fragile young mind had to think of all this: a dream. Fallow was on his feet, gun in hand, and running through the door.

~*~

They stowed the boy not in the actual hangar itself, but in the neighboring building. So when Fallow emerged from the room with Darrin, he still had a distance to traverse before reaching the hangar. He had no idea what was happening, but by god he was going to find out. Already the sound of gunfire was wild, erratic. For the life of him, Fallow couldn’t imagine what they were shooting at. The alien had been dead; the craft hadn’t so much as beeped at them.

Fallow kicked the door in, his pistol held in both hands, his arms extended.

The ship looked as if it had been untouched. It was still sealed up tight as it had been since they’d taken the third dead alien from within its belly. The commotion seemed focused on the transport that carried the extra-terrestrial cadavers. All the men were faced that way, guns drawn, most firing a volley of bullets.

What exactly they fired at caused Fallow to shudder despite the adrenaline flowing through his exhausted body: an alien up on its feet, though barely.

Besides the one that Fallow had seen back at the crater, the one he’d tried to pull to safety, there were three others. Quick examinations had revealed them dead, as there were no heartbeats, no breathing. If they lived by some other, foreign means, the soldiers, of course, had no way to check for them. Apparently the cursory inspection had proved faulty, as this single visitor seemed to be very much alive.

At least six-and-a-half feet tall, the figure was slim, but possessed very long arms and legs. The suit he wore matched the others: a striking blue with chrome ornamentation. His boots were chrome, as well as the belt he wore around his waist. There was some type of insignia on his uniform but to Fallow they looked like strange, almost incomprehensible symbols. He had no hair on his head and his eyes, just slightly larger than a man’s were… well, they were glowing a blue brighter than that of the uniform.

And the bullets were not even harming him, not even reaching him. He had one hand extended, the fingers splayed out in the direction of the onslaught. The bullets stopped midair, as if hitting an invisible barrier only inches from that slender hand. Their kinetic energy drained from that same barrier, then tinkled harmlessly to the floor. As a matter of fact, the alien did not even seem all too concerned with the high-velocity projectiles zooming toward him. He kept walking. He limped perceptibly, however, as he did so.

Fallow realized that, while still alive, the alien was hurt, perhaps mortally. Not one to waste ammunition, he slid his pistol back into its holster. Apparently, his men had the same idea, as thankfully the gunfire petered off.

The alien continued walking, though he listed from side to side. Fallow saw he was headed for the hangar door. The alien saw Fallow and somehow figured him as the man in charge. He nodded slightly toward the hangar door, almost pleading. Fallow understood the request, but could not honor it.

He could think of no way to stop this powerful being, but that did not mean he would aid the escape.

“We have to stop him, Captain.” It was one of Fallows’ NCOs, Burke. He was at his side now, a rifle in his hand, but pointed skyward.

“And just how do you propose we do that, Staff Sergeant?” He was tired, and his mush of a brain could no longer adequately process the things he was seeing.

“I… don’t know, sir,” Burke answered.

“Exactly.”

Only mere meters from the hangar door, the alien dropped his hand, the one providing the protective wall against the bullets. No one fired. Now that they collectively realized the visitor meant them no harm, they saw no need in continuing a foolish act.

The alien struck out with his other hand in a movement closely resembling a palm strike. While still several long paces from the door, the metal-roll down shot off its railings, the screech of tearing metal loud. The door caught the wind and flew, flipping end over end for the longest of seconds. Then it crashed back down like a tin can on the sidewalk, bouncing as its momentum was absorbed by the tarmac outside.

The alien stepped out into the brightening dawn.

Slowly, in a most childlike way, the soldiers, keeping a safe distance, followed him out.

Just beyond the hangar, the alien stopped, placed a hand on his side, as if suffering a runner’s stitch. He seemed to be sucking in the cool desert morning air. For a second there was no movement, either from the soldiers or the alien. The hangar and the few support buildings were at the outermost perimeter of the White Sands base, and while the big brass was en route, it seemed that, locally, no one had been alerted by the gunshots. If the barrage of weapon play had been noticed, the klaxons would be going crazy and platoons of men would be descending upon them.

The alien, apparently having found some form of relief, straightened back up, looked back over his shoulder at Fallow. Their eyes locked for just a moment.

This was twice in the same night Fallow had experienced the stare of a visitor from beyond his own world. It humbled him, to say the least. Not knowing if the being could understand language, Fallow simply nodded, giving his approval to continue. There was nowhere to go. The base was vast and he looked to be injured severely. He would drop soon enough, in search for his freedom. Fallows’ men would collect him and return him to the hangar for disposition.

It was a cold and ghastly thing, but it’s what would be demanded. For the moment, Fallow saw no harm in allowing the being to continue, and only fallacy in attempting to stop him.

A morning sun broke over the horizon. Red sunlight bathed the world.

The alien seemed to appreciate the captain’s nod. Perhaps he understood, perhaps not.

Turning his gaze up to the sky, the alien placed his hands at his sides, drew a deep breath, and launched into the air.

“Holy sh—”

“Would you look at that?”

From everywhere came such observations, except from Fallow. His breath caught in his chest and the hairs on the back of his neck bristled. He watched as the alien flew higher and higher with a speed incredible to behold. When finally out of sight, Fallow simply said, “Now that’s something to see.”

~*~

Darrin had been frightened at the sound of the gunfire, but soon enough, it stopped, and he remained immobile in the room as long as he could. He got up and went to the door. It would probably make Captain Fallow all kinds of angry to leave this room, but the way he figured, he was in so much trouble now, what would a little more hurt? Besides--this could be his only chance to sneak away. The only chance his captors would be so preoccupied that they would not notice him slink away into the early morning. He had no idea how he would get home, but as long as he was out of military custody, he could figure out things as best he could.

Slowly, gingerly, he pushed the door open. It had slammed shut when Fallow ran through; Darrin only hoped it didn’t have an automatic lock. It didn’t. The chilled air of morning caressed him, ruffled his hair as he left the room, and entered the outside world.

And he stopped in his tracks. He saw the tall, thin alien form. Saw the soldiers forming a crescent around him just at the hangar door. Darrin took everything in. The uniform. The physique. Even the strange chrome boots and belt.  

Then he saw the most remarkable thing. Even more miraculous than the UFO. He saw the alien man take flight, zooming up into the morning sky like a true Fourth of July rocket.

For all his short life he had been convinced miracles did happen, that there were things still beyond human understanding, that there were forces that defy comprehension.

Twice in the very same night, finally, his dreams had proven true, despite the world’s testimony against them.

Tonight, this morning, he’d witnessed a true first encounter. And he was not alone. These other men, even Garrett Fallow, had witnessed the stupendous events, just as he. Their entire world had changed in the space of mere hours. Once a man’s understanding of the ways of the universe changed, Darrin knew there was no going back.

Darrin’s life changed that moment. He would seek out the source of that change for all his remaining days. From first encounter to whatever came next, Darrin--a simple ten-year-old farm boy that loved the stars in the evening sky--had found his calling, and he would embrace it to the fullest.

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Author’s Note

This little story you hold in your hands has been quite a while in the making. Omega’s journey started several years ago and has had many incarnations since its beginning. Starting as a novel, a podcast, a comic series, and now, finally, a novella serial. Based on the pulps and Saturday afternoon matinees of the ‘50’s, I finally decided this type of science fiction adventure would be served best in a short, serialized, inexpensive format. Able to be read in several long sittings versus the longer commitment a novel demands, I thought the freshness of the story would be kept alive quite a bit better.

I truly hope I have done this story justice, and while the continuing adventures of Omega and his supporters will revolve around his emerging superpowers, his unique weaknesses, and his coming to terms in dealing with his singularity, this first installment was important to set the groundwork and help explain his origin.

If you’re a comic book fan, or a superhero fan in particular, you’ll understand origin stories are necessary, but not always the best part of the tale. It was the toughest part for me to write, but thankfully, the muse did not abandon me to my own devices. Hopefully, I’ve done well enough to keep you hooked until the next installment,
Rogue
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Until then, my friend, keep your eyes to the stars, ‘cos you just never know what you may see…

Keith Latch