Omega: the Sequel

Chapter Eighteen

Hey guys…hoo boy sorry it’s been so long. I haven’t felt like writing Omega in like three years, I’m so sorry. Luckily I think I’m back on track and it’s Easter break starting Wednesday whoop! So loads of time (I hope). Now that track’s started and stuff it’s hard cuz five miles a day tends to tire you out, but yeah. So thank you for being patient with me, I know it’s difficult because my mother tells me it is all the time, but yeah – Happy Palm Sunday! If that’s technically a happy day…eh well Easter in a week yay I would say hallelujah except you can’t in Lent oops so yeah sorry I’m babbling again I’ll stop. Please – enjoy! And fan/comment/vote please it means so much to me, really!!!

Gracias!! <3 vb123321

Chapter Eighteen

♥         Astrid       ♥

I was glad to be out of the safe house, even though I tried not to show it. During the car ride, I fingered a small slip of paper that I found tucked into the lining of the wallet of the intruder. The others hadn’t seen it yet – I had palmed it when inspecting the wallet – and I was trying to figure out a way to tell them. I was a little surprised it was even in the wallet at all, considering the guy was a spy and everything.

It looked like it was some sort of identification card, without a name or picture, but it sported a barcode, which surprised me again. Barcodes are not difficult to tamper with to be used for other, unwanted purposes. Other than that, it was blank, except for a light watermark imprinted into it: Ω. My knowledge of Ancient Greek was limited, but I was intelligent enough to know that it was an omega, the last letter of the alphabet.

I didn’t know what it meant, and I also didn’t know why I was holding it back from Josh and Charlie, except maybe that I had a hunch it had something to do with Pierre’s agency. But why did that affect anything? It wasn’t like Pierre and I were ever going to be anything. Maybe it was just because I needed to know just what he was part of and why he had lied.

Closing my fist around the card carefully, I slipped it into my sleeve and tried to think about something else.

We found a cheap extended-visit hotel in another part of the city, far enough away from the safe house that it felt relatively secure, but still in the more middle-class area. Josh was unhappy about it, mainly because I forbid him from telling Wulf where we went until we were sure the agent hadn’t been from Delta.

“How are we ever going to know?” he demanded, but complied anyway.

Joel had been surprisingly quiet as we drove to the apartment, checked into it, and entered our room. I had expected him to complain about how he wouldn’t be able to play basketball with Josh now, but he didn’t, which only served to make me feel guiltier. Making a mental note to try and do something for the kid as soon as possible, I threw my backpack down in a corner of the bedroom. It was a three-roomed arrangement: one bedroom connected to a tiny kitchen and living area that had a couch.

“All right.” I looked at the three of them; all were watching me rather morosely. “Oh, come on, it’s not that much smaller than the other one. And it’s better than a shack in Siberia, don’t you think?” And as they rolled their eyes, “Okay, now – sleeping arrangements, seeing as it’s nine o’clock and almost past Joel’s bedtime.”