Chapter Three
Miles
I went over and over the speeches, even though the words weren’t unfamiliar to me. Anyone who had paid any attention to the Omega Guidance Commission knew these words. Duty, honor. But still, I had to be word-perfect. Nothing less would be acceptable to Father.
No one but Father had come to see me. Ben had tried to visit again after dinner but I heard someone shoo him away. I supposed it was only fair. Other Omegas weren’t given time with their families, they were expected to report to the Intake Center as soon as they saw their active mark. My reprieve was a gift and even though I was impatient to get things moving, I was glad of one more night in my own bed.
Sleeping was almost out of the question, between the heat and my excitement. But I did drift off, eventually.
I woke to a knock on my door and Fred’s voice telling me to get ready. I showered, shaved, and made one last valiant effort to tame my hair. But, as always, it resisted. When I returned to my bedroom, there were clothes already laid out for me. Had Mother done that, or Fred?
A knock on the door as I dressed turned out to be Fred, breakfast tray in hand.
“You should eat a few bites,” he urged me. “It’ll help with the nerves.”
I wasn’t sure anything would help with the butterflies currently whipping up a storm in my stomach. I ate a few bites of toast as I went back over the speeches. Then Fred did a practice run with me.
“Perfect,” he said with a smile. “Your father will be proud.”
I very much hoped so.
My goodbye to my family was shorter than I’d have liked. They were all lined up by the door, and I managed a quick hug and a few words to each of my siblings. My mother was last, her eyes ringed with red. It gave me pause. I’d never seen her cry.
This wasn’t a time for sadness, this was a time for celebration. I tried to tell her that, but she flung her arms around me, holding me close. The smell of her perfume hung in the air around us. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d hugged me, she hadn’t since I was little. Young men didn’t hug. But I guess this wasn’t an everyday occasion.
As she pulled away, she whispered in my ear. “I’m sorry I was never brave enough to tell you the truth.”
Before I could reply, Fred’s hand was on my arm, guiding me away. Looking back over my shoulder, I stared at my mother, trying to make sense of her words as she watched after me, her eyes bright with tears. And then we were at the threshold. Fred paused for a moment, turning me toward him and giving me a critical once over, straightening my tie and neatening my shirt and jacket. There was one last despairing glance at my hair but we both knew tackling it was useless.
“You look every bit the part,” he said with a smile and led me onward. I didn’t get the chance to reply, to tell him I wasn’t playing a part. This was who I was.
The cameras weren’t what I expected; the bright flashes, the loud clicks, the voices calling my name. Fred stayed at my elbow, issuing instructions as I followed my father to stand outside our house. I’d never seen so many people crowded around our driveway. The smell of freshly cut grass distracted me. My father’s words went right over my head and then Fred was ushering me to stand next to him.
I said my piece, my voice sounding odd to my own ears. The words pride and duty sang as they slipped from my tongue but the sentences seemed meaningless, the words strung together. There was no time to dwell on it as Fred practically pushed me into the back of a waiting car. He sat next to me, my Father sitting in the front passenger seat. Father spent the whole journey on his phone, never once turning to speak to me.
Fred spoke once or twice but seemed content to let there be silence. I watched out the window as the city went by. It would be my last time seeing it like this. My childhood home, the place I’d lived all my life. And now I was moving on.
There was another crowd of cameras at our destination. As we climbed out of the car, more voices called to me, more questions were thrown in our direction. I was calm enough now to hear them. Only they weren’t directed at me, but at my father.
“General, have you any response to the Omega Right’s Watch reports of excessive fatalities amongst the latest generation of recruits? Is it true that it exceeds fifty percent?”
I turned my head, trying to identify the speaker, but Fred pushed me onward. There was a lot of misinformation spread about Omegas. They’d brought harsh laws in to deal with it but people still seemed determined to peddle lies and falsehoods.
There was a small stage set up at the entrance to the Intake Center. Father was already there and I stood by his right hand, listening as he gave another speech. The words were familiar, an echoing of my own. It wasn’t the words that surprised me, it was his actions at the end, his arm going around my shoulders, a fatherly gesture he’d never done before. The touch of his arm was gone in a moment and then it was my turn to speak. My speech was as heartfelt as I could make it, given they were borrowed words. No, not borrowed; scripted, prescribed. Not my words, but my father’s and the Centers. I felt a little aggrieved at that. Wouldn’t it have been truer for me to speak my own words? But then it was done, another rush of camera flashes blinding me, and I was led inside.
A woman in a skirt suit approached, taking my arm and leading me over to the side of the entrance hall. There wasn’t a lot to see. The windows were tinted so that those outside couldn’t see in and I couldn’t see out. Were the cameras all still there?
We reached a door, and she pressed her card to it before punching in a code.
“Go ahead in. You’ll find a uniform in there. Get changed.”
Uniform? You weren’t issued with a uniform until after processing. Why were they giving me one now?
I changed quickly, knowing it was impolite to keep people waiting. Father wouldn’t like it. And he was still standing out there.
The woman was waiting outside the door when I emerged. She fixed a few things, my collar, the way I had the shirt tucked into the pants.
“It’s a good fit,” she concluded and led me over to where a small crowd of people stood. There was another camera, facing a scene that was oddly familiar to me. We had almost reached it before I placed it. It was the background of the Intake Center’s brochure, with its pictures of smiling Omegas and their Alpha teams.
There was a group of young Alphas in uniform milling about looking bored. I stared at them, eager to glean what I could. Were they to be my team? Had it been decided already? They looked handsome in their uniforms, all smart and neat.
The woman ushered me into a seat and the photographer began issuing instructions, a choreographed movement of people into positions followed by the click-click of his camera. He did it again and again, always with me in the same place but different Alphas next to me. Sometimes, they’d stand beside me. Other times, just behind me, their hands on my shoulders.
In between shots I glanced at them, tried to catch their eye. But they acted like I wasn’t there, as if I was just another prop like the chair or the guns they were handed now and then, rifles slung over their shoulders, handguns in holsters around their waists.
They took away the chair, leaving me standing, and started the whole rigmarole all over again. I don’t know at what point it started to feel wrong, only that it did. The instructions were never aimed at me. If they wanted me to move, they said it to the person nearest me who moved me into position. Even when there were two Alphas either side of me, their arms over my shoulders, there was still no acknowledgment of my presence. It left me with a strangely cold feeling and I shivered. That got the attention of the Alpha on my left, who glanced at me, looking me up and down, before turning away again. What did it all mean?
“Okay, thank you, officers, you can return to your duty posts now,” the woman called and the Alphas filtered away.
Of course. These weren’t my Alphas. My Alphas were probably in training or in preparation for meeting me. They’d have pulled those officers doing non-essential duties for something as trivial as a photo shoot. And it was probably impolite to pay too much attention to an Omega who wasn’t attached to your team.
I was handed a sheet of paper with my speech on it.
“We’ll need you to say the words again, into the camera this time,” the woman said, pointing to a video camera that had been set up to my left. I didn’t need to so much as glance at the paper, the words felt like they’d been burnt onto my soul. My tongue felt leaden as I recited them, the words tasting ashen and sounding less meaningful with every repetition. It took five goes before they were happy.
“That’s it,” the woman called. “Thank you, everybody, we have everything we need. Take the Omega down to processing.”
I turned to look for my father and Fred, to say goodbye. But they were deep in conversation and already halfway across the room to the door.
“Father,” I called. He didn’t turn, and I felt a hand at my elbow.
“Come with us,” a guard said.
“I just want to-”
“Now, Omega. We won’t ask again.”
His grip on my elbow became more forceful and I turned with him, walking deeper into the hall. I glanced back, once, but my father was already at the door, disappearing out into the daylight.