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Of course, he doesn’t answer. He just grabs the box and shoves it in his pack.
Even though I hate the feeling, I hope we end up having to take the suppressants. Because that means the Omega stayed alive long enough for us to need them.
Otherwise, our mission isn’t ending with any happy reunions. But I know better than most that sometimes all you can hope for is closure.
TWO
—
B R O O K L Y N
I plunge my fingers into the creek bed. The icy water shocks my system, making me shudder. If I wasn’t feeling awake before, I definitely am now.
The weather will get balmy soon. If I work up enough of a sweat, I might even take a swim in the place where the creek turns into a small pool later. If I’m really lucky, maybe it’ll get sunny. Nothing feels better after a swim than lying out on the warm rocks, letting my body dry under the sun’s rays. Those bright afternoons are rare enough that when they happen, I let myself just be. Just enjoy the feeling of the heat against my skin.
If I use my imagination, I can almost pretend it’s the gentle touch of a friend. I can almost pretend I’m not alone.
But not right now. Right now the skies are gray, and I have work to do.
Flicking the water off my fingers, I grab a handful of cold, heavy mud from the banks. I smear it across my torso, causing me to shiver and pay special attention to my neck. Before the mud can dry, I pat on some pine needles and bits of old leaves until I’m covered with a turtleneck woven from the fabrics of the forest.
The mud serves a double purpose. It helps me camouflage into the tapestry of the park so I can track hikers, and it disguises my scent.
I’ve been out here too long without any suppressants or scent-blocking soap. Even without an approaching or active heat, I know my pheromones must be strong enough to alert even the weakest of Alphas who come downwind of me. Even though I didn’t present before mom died, I think she always knew I would be an Omega, like her.
It’s why I have to be smart. I only track Beta hikers, and I don’t get close to them until I’m damn sure I have their designation right.
I pull on the forest green bucket hat I snatched from a hiker a few months back and start on the trail. This close to my shelter, I can walk upright instead of creeping and hiding behind trees, like I usually do. I still try to keep my footsteps as quiet as possible. Clomping through the forest scares away the birds, and I like to hear them chirp and chatter to each other while I work.
As I pass the familiar landmarks—the giant fallen maple tree, the moss-covered boulder that looks like a man with a big nose—I press my hand against them in silent greeting and gratitude.
This forest is my home, and as far as I’m concerned, my only family, too.
Another quarter mile and my territory ends. Now, I have to be careful. I skulk from tree to tree. Alert. Watching. I pause as a couple of squirrels dash through the underbrush, but I listen, and figure they’re not running from anything. Just playing.
As I get close to one of the trails, I spot a huckleberry bush. It’s still June, if I’m counting right on the calendar I stole off a camper back in the fall. Huckleberries shouldn’t be ripe until July. Seems I’ve gotten lucky.
I find the darkest purple berries, picking them to put in the pouch I carry at my waist, but just enough to snack on. I’ll revisit the bush in a few days for more.
Finally, the worn footpath comes into view. It’s a remote one; I won’t see crowds of hikers, even on a nice summer day. The hikers who come through here will be trying to conquer something more challenging than a walk that can be done in a pair of good sandals.
Experienced hikers are good. They carry better gear, heartier snacks. If I’m lucky, a well-stocked first aid kid. I used the last of my aspirin when I had a fever a few weeks ago. I thought it was a heat coming on, but the universe still gives out tiny mercies, it seems. I’ve only had one out here since…
Since he…
I barely survived that heat out here in the wilderness. I thought I was dying. If it weren’t for the tea mom taught me how to make from scavenged herbs and tree barks—if it weren’t for the icy water of the stream—I might not have made it.
Checking out the trees near the path, I finally find one that suits my needs. It’s easy to climb, which means it’ll be easy to flee if I scent an Alpha. A breeze hits me when I climb to the wide branch, comfortable enough to sit on for a few hours. Good. The path of the wind will carry any Alpha pheromones my way.
After positioning myself so I’m blocked from the path’s view by a nearby fir, I settle down to enjoy my berries and wait.
The first berry is perfect, tart and juicy. The flavor explodes on my tongue, and I groan with happiness.
I’m lucky today. Which is appropriate. Because I’m pretty sure it’s my birthday.
There is no mountain of gifts here for me, but the Alphas who would’ve given them aren’t here, either, and that’s a gift all on its own.
My hand instinctively goes to the mark on my neck. The mark that gets fainter every day, but that still vibrates with the terrible truth; my stepbrother is still alive. And if I can feel him, then I know he can still feel me, too.
