Omega Virus (Book 2): Revisited (2 page)

              “But sir it’s my daughter’s birthday,” Damian says in protest.

              “Its ok dad,” Hope says with a forced smile, “go, save the human race. I’ll be in my room.”

              “But Hope, what about your dinner?” Penelope calls out.

              “I’m not hungry,” she calls out as she walks out of the room.

              “Want me to check on her?” Fanny asks after a moment of silence.

              “Please,” Penelope replies with a sigh, “you seem to be the only one she’ll listen to.”

              Fanny smiles as she gets up out of her seat. She backs away out the door and back through the crowd of people. She catches a glimpse of Hope quickly making her way up the stairs quickly. Fanny pushes her way through the crowd before finally making it to the stairs. She walks down the hallway and knocks lightly on Hope’s door.

              “Go away,” Hope calls.

              “It’s me, Fanny.”

              “I don’t want to talk,” Hope calls back.

              “Are you sure? You seemed pretty upset downstairs,” Fanny asks.

              Silence comes from the room before the door slowly creeks open, Hope’s puffy red eyes peering through the crack. “I’m fine.”

              “You’re lying,” Fanny says. A sly grin on her face as she pushes the door open, “talk to me. Is it because of your father? Because if it is…”

              “It’s not him,” Hope says interrupting her friend.

              “Then what is it?” Fanny interrogates.

              “It’s everything Ok!” Hope yells. “I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life. And everyone keeps pressuring me, telling me that being born was an honor. Well, I didn’t ask for this ‘honor’.”

              Fanny pushes her way into Hope’s room and closes the door behind her. “I get that. I really do. I can see the pressure they keep placing on you. It can’t be healthy.”

              “I know and now I have to figure out what I want to do for the rest of my life or I’ll be exiled from the island,” Hope exclaims as she drops to her bed. “How did you decide that you wanted to be a teacher?”

              “I don’t know honestly. I mean when I got here there was only about four or five of us that were underage. Actually I was one of the youngest, me and Lucas,” Fanny says, her face losing all expression and color.

              “You’ve never talked about Lucas before,” Hope says sitting up, “is he cute?”

              “Yeah he was. Actually I started seeing a lot of him and we got close. But one day he got really sick. I still remember visiting him that last time. He was in bed and he took my hand and told me he loved me. He even gave me this.” Fanny pulls a necklace out of her pocket and shows it to Hope. “He said it was the last thing he had from his mother and he wanted me to have it. He died later that night. I never stop thinking of him.”

              “I’m so sorry,” Hope says handing the necklace back, “but what does that have to do with being a teacher?”

              “After Lucas’ death I felt a void, like part of me was missing. So I started looking for ways to ease that pain. Eventually I started to stay late with Mr. Rains, the man who was my teacher. He let me help him, plan classes and be his aide. Eventually I found that helped ease the pain I felt from losing Lucas. That’s what I wanted. It’s what I needed.” Fanny squeezes the necklace tightly in her hand.

              “So teaching was like a passion that you needed,” Hope examines.

              “Everything in life is passion that you need. If you never find that passion then what’s the point in anything?” Fanny says with a smile, putting the necklace back in her pocket. “So tell me what your passion is.”

              Hope blushes slightly, “It’s kind of weird.”

              “If it means something to you then it can never be weird.”

              “Well I like to write,” Hope responds getting up from her bed and walking over to her desk, grabbing her pink notebook and handing it over to Fanny. She flips through the pages, skimming through the words. “This is amazing. Have you told your parents about this?”

              “No they wouldn’t care,” Hope says taking the book back.

              “Your father never told you?” Fanny asks with amazement.

              “Told me what?”

              “He liked to write too. He kept a journal of our journey. It’s in the library,” Fanny explains. “He even told me once that before the world ended, he wrote in his free time. That it was his passion.”

              “I never knew that,” Hope says with a sad look on her face, “I guess he never thought it was important enough to tell me.”

              “Actually,” Damian says from the doorway, “After you were born I never thought that writing was important.”

              “Dad!”

              “Sorry for listening in, but I was worried about you,” Damian says. “Hope, you have to know that I love you. And I’m sorry if I ever pressured you, or kept you out of my life. I didn’t do it on purpose. I guess after spending a year of your life trying to survive, it’s hard to open up. I guess I never noticed how much you act like me.”

              “I don’t know what I want to do with my life,” Hope blurts out.

              “I see,” he says pulling out the desk chair, “but writing is a passion for you?”

              “Yes,” Hope nods.

              “Then do that,” Damian says, “express that to Joshua.”

              “But what good is writing?” Hope asks.

              “Writing is good for everyone involved. For the writer it’s a means for escape, a way to express ones deepest desires. For the reader it’s a chance to let go, to visit a world that one could never imagine,” Damian smiles.

              “Now that’s passion,” Fanny says.

              “That’s all it takes to make it in this world,” Damian says getting back to his feet. “I hope I was able to help.”

              Damian runs his hand across her head before leaning in and giving it a kiss. Hope grabs his hand and rubs it across her face.

              “Sir,” Stan calls out from the hallway, “they’re waiting for you in the tower.”

              “Leave,” Damian says.

              “B…b…but sir,” Stan stutters.

              “I am with my daughter,” Damian yells, “the others will do fine without me.”

              “No,” Hope says tugging on his arm, “go with him. I’m better now, I promise.”

              “Are you sure?” Damian asks still unsure.

              “Yeah,” Hope smiles, “besides, I’ve got a lot to think about.”

Chapter 2

              The tower is slightly drafty. The three windows inside are all open letting in the sea breeze. In the middle of the room sits four separate desks, each one with a radio on it. Wires hang from the radios and out through the ceiling. The others sit around, each one in front of the radios.

              “Any contact yet?” Damian asks.

              “No, nothing but static. Just like there was years ago,” Connor gripes.

              “We’ll give it another hour,” Joshua says tuning one of the radios.

              “I don’t see why,” Connor says tossing the microphone onto the desk, “we have to accept the fact that everyone else is dead.”

              “We must keep up hope,” Joshua says continuing to turn the knobs tenderly.

              “And then what?” Connor starts, getting angrier as he speaks. “Then we send people back to the main land? Take a chance that we could lose even more lives?”

              “Look Connor,” Joshua starts, “you have every right to be cautious…”

              “You’re damn right I do,” Connor spits, holding up the stump of an arm he has left, “unless you forgot, I lost my arm going on one of your… human scavenger hunts.”

              “They are not scavenger hunts, they are a necessary part of human survival,” Joshua says knocking his chair back.

              “Then maybe next time you should be the one putting your life on the line,” Connor says.

              Joshua’s lips quiver at the thought. Everyone in the room can clearly tell that Connor has struck a nerve.

              “Hello? Hello?” a voice calls through the static.

              The tension that filled the tower has seemed to spill out the windows as the small group gathers around the radio.

              “Hello? Can you hear me?” Damian says picking up the microphone.

              “Hello?” the voice calls back, “This is Lieutenant Tori Graves, former USA marines.” The voice fades out again, the static getting louder.

              “Lieutenant come in,” Damian says slamming his hand on top of the radio, “I’m losing you.”

              “I can barely hear you,” She calls again, “you’re breaking up.”

              “Lieutenant, this is Joshua Rigor, leader of the resistance,” he says taking the microphone from Damian’s hand, “what is your location?”

              “I’m in a small bunker under Ellington Field in Houston, Texas,” the voice calls out. “Please help. I have a dozen people down here with me and we are running out of supplies…”

              Joshua sits back, his hands pursed together as he leans them next to his face, his thumbs gently caressing either side of his nose.

              “You can’t honestly be considering this,” Natalie says, her back leaning against the wall.

              “Of course I am,” Joshua says getting to his feet. “They are humans in need of our help.”

              “If we send people out there, they will die,” Connor argues.

              “If we don’t, then they will,” Joshua confronts.

              “But these people are our own. We’ve been like a family,” Natalie reminds.

              “We are not a family,” Joshua says gritting his teeth, “we are a society. And sometimes we have to make tough decisions. Decisions that might sound foolish, or even send some of our own to die. But sometimes it’s what needs to be done because it’s for the good of mankind.”

              “What do you think?” Natalie asks turning to Damian, “You’ve been awfully quiet during all this.”

              Damian looks down at the floor, his eyes rising to the radio before advancing to his friends. “This isn’t an easy choice. All I know is I’d be dead right now if Connor, Kennedy and Penelope hadn’t found me.”

              “Yes, but we found you by accident,” Connor growls, “we didn’t go out of our way, risking our neck for you.”

              “No,” Damian says, “but I remember us going out of our way for Natalie.”

              “And two hundred people died that day,” Connor reminds.

              “But I was grateful for the chance to survive,” Natalie says.

              “Those people deserve the same chance,” Damian persuades.

              “Fine,” Connor says, “but the lives of our own are on your heads.”

              Connor storms out of the tower slamming the door so hard that the sturdy structure shakes slightly. The other three glance at each other before Natalie walks out, chasing after her distraught husband.

              “You made the right choice,” Joshua says to Damian as he stairs blankly at the door.

              “I don’t know about that,” Damian says with a sigh.

              Slowly he makes his way out the tower door, turning before exiting completely. He watches as Joshua goes back to work fiddling with the radio dials. He shakes his head and makes his way down the stairs. He finds Connor and Natalie standing at the bottom, fighting. He can’t make out the words but he can see each of their limbs flailing wildly. 

              “How’d it go?” Penelope asks behind him, startling him a bit.

              “We made contact with survivors,” Damian answers turning and facing her, “we are sending a group to rescue them soon.”

              “Actually I was talking about Hope,” Penelope smirks.

              “Oh, sorry,” Damian sighs before going back to watching his friends fight.