Omega 8 Arrival

by Jon Peters

Omega 8: Arrival

Reba and I arrived on the island, code named Omega 8, with ten marines, our research gear, an armored jeep and a safe. We’d boarded a V-22 Osprey from the aircraft carrier USS Truman, located in an undisclosed area in the Southern Atlantic Ocean. The Osprey dropped us down on the beach, the jungle too thick and wild for a landing, blasting sand in all directions.

“This certainly isn’t the Autumnal avenue I was hoping for,” Reba said as the Osprey lifted off again, flying low over the sea and fading into the distance.

“What the hell is an Autumnal avenue?” I asked, watching as the marines set up our basecamp closer toward the jungle.

“No idea,” Reba said before barking orders at the marines to be careful with our supplies. Her long hair was fire in the sun, and her blue eyes sparkled with the adventure awaiting us. The marines unloaded the safe out of the jeep at her instruction and placed it securely under a blue rain tarp.

“We need to watch that safe carefully. It’s got our lives locked up in there,” Reba said with a hint of worry and frustration.

“You think those drugs will work?” I asked, rubbing sand out of my eyes. I looked around. Vast, deep, forbidden jungle surrounded us. The final, unexplored country.

The satellite images the military had briefed us on were stunning. A wild place, never touched by man, and with creatures as tall as trees and as strange looking as anything out of a science fiction book.

“They work on elephants. But I can’t be positive. Let’s just hope they don’t like the taste of people,” Reba smiled up at me, her white t-shirt already soaked through with sweat from the late morning sun.

God damn I love this woman. Our wedding would have to wait until we got back but it would be worth it. I grinned back at her, hugged her tightly. After two years of research, we’d finally made it to Omega 8.

“Sorry about the wedding,” I said. Neither of us had spoken about it since it was called off just twenty-four hours earlier. Duty had called.

“We’ll reschedule. How did Tana take the news?” Reba asked, frowning. She’d hated keeping secrets from her best friend. They’d known each other since the fifth grade. They were now twenty-eight years old and still inseparable.

“She took it well. I think she was more concerned with Uncle Doug seeing her naked in the dressing room.”

“Oh please, she probably loved it. She always was a tramp.” Reba left the conversation to check on the safe. She didn’t trust anyone, including these marines, to guard it.

“Oh shit!” Reba’s voice echoed through the trees a moment later.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as I ran up to the base camp. Reba was next to the open safe. My heart skipped.

“It was unlocked. The sedatives are gone.” Reba gave me a grave look, her face scrunched up in worry and fear.


And it wasn’t even lunch time.