Omega (The 11th Percent Book 7) - T.H. Morris

Omega (The 11th Percent Book 7) by T.H. Morris

Book excerpt

Night Reunions

Glenn Hansen had been chronically homeless for more years than even he could count by now. He had, for the past several months, found refuge on a park bench off Wallace Avenue. He loved it there. The park itself was open from dawn until half past eight at night. During that time, his unsightly, disheveled appearance was problematic for the joggers, walkers, photographers, and whoever else dared to intrude on his own personal kingdom. And this was indeed his kingdom. The trees were his palace. The public bathroom was his relaxing chambers. And the central bench had the dual role of his bed and throne.

He tolerated the spectators and tourists at his palace during these hours, though. Because he barely saw them. The daytime was when he went to “work”. If he exhibited enough cleverness and was careful, most days brought about some form of success or pleasure. Sometimes people were especially stingy, and his routine had to be sharp as a knife and done to perfection. Other days, charity was like the tide; he just had to find the right place and time and wait for it to come in. He would bring back the spoils of every victory each evening, when his “kingdom” was quiet, and his throne waited. He could get a good night’s sleep, and look forward to the next morning, which always brought about new challenges.

And this night was no different.

In his travels, Glenn had rummaged a pair of pants, scrounged enough scraps for a nice couple meals, and had even guilt-tripped a couple into sparing him ten dollars. Luck was in his favor like that sometimes.

He returned to the park pretty late that night; the watch he’d scrounged months ago never kept good time. If he had to guess, it was probably a quarter to nine in the evening. His kingdom was his own once more.

He was truly thankful that the other vagrants didn’t hang out here. They avoided the place like the plague because the occasional police officer would come around every so often to enforce closing time. They were imbeciles. The cops were easy enough to elude. One just couldn’t be stupid enough to come into the park by the front entrance. The woods around the park weren’t deep, but they were dense enough to avoid lazy police officers whose sweeps were only halfhearted at best.

He had just emerged from his route through the woods, having cunningly hidden his new stash of goods in a secret location. His mound of cardboard that served as his pillow was under his arm, and he was already putting his mind towards the next day’s adventures as he neared his central bench—

And discovered that it was already occupied.

A thin trickle of fury ran through his body. What in hell was this shit? He’d picked this place for the lack of after-hours company. Now someone was on his bench.

This had been a good day. He had had fun.

And now it was marred by the presence of this trespasser.

He approached them, trying to keep his annoyance at bay. All he had to do was get close enough. This time of night, a questionable figure such as himself was bound to scare off anybody.

He was ten feet away. The person hadn’t moved. Five feet, the same. Three feet … this just had to be the moment when they would get up and hurry off.

But it still didn’t happen. The person hadn’t even flinched.

“Ahem.”

Silence.

Now Glenn was pissed off. This bastard needed to go! He needed to sleep! There was a busy day ahead!

“Um, this park is closed,” he said clearly, adding just a bit of gruffness to his tone, which he hoped would aid in scaring the person off already.

But, to his surprise, the occupant still hadn’t moved. They did, however, speak for the first time.

“If that is the case, then why are you here?”

Glenn’s droopy eyes widened. It was a woman! What was she doing out here alone at this time of night? “Uh, little lady, you have no business here at this hour,” he said, just a little alarmed. “You are very lucky right now—for all you knew, I could have been some miscreant predator—”

“At this point, I don’t give a shit,” murmured the woman. “I couldn’t give less of one if I tried.”

There was sadness in the woman’s voice. Glenn rolled his eyes. He did not need this right now. He had to sleep! He wasn’t interested in what was wrong with her. Either she‘d been wronged, had a falling out with parents, experienced a job loss, or had gotten knocked up. He hadn’t had a job himself since he didn’t even know when, and he wasn’t crying.

But if it meant that he could get her off his bench so that he could sleep …

“What’s bothering you?” he questioned reluctantly.

“There was a death,” answered the woman in a miserable tone.

Glenn deflated. Oh. This lady had experienced somebody dying, and she must have been particularly bad off to brave a dark park after hours. That could have been why she was on the bench in the first place. She’d probably wound up here after aimless wandering and decided to rest her weary feet.

Now he actually felt a little ruffled. A little uncomfortable.

He had half a mind to give her his newly acquired ten dollars.

Half a mind.

“Who?” he decided to ask. “Who died?”

The woman mumbled, but it was too low for Glenn to hear.

“Sorry?”

The woman muttered something again, but it was still barely audible. Glenn had to move in closer, so that he was mere inches away from the depressed woman.

“You’re gonna have to forgive me, lady, but I still didn’t hear you. Now, who died?”

The woman finally lifted her head to face him. “I said, you.”

So quickly that it could have been imagined, she slit a razor blade across his throat.

Glenn cried out, feeling his eyes bulge as he instantly grabbed his neck. It almost seemed as though he thought that by covering the wound, he could keep his life and blood within. But the woman rose swiftly to her feet, grabbed the back of his neck to prevent him from collapsing too soon, and shoved a small bottle near the deep laceration she’d made. She made a noise of derision as he gurgled and choked.

“Will you fuckin’ die already?” she demanded as Glenn kept up his struggle, though it was much feebler by this point. “I don’t have all night!”

With a final anguished gasp, Glenn struggled no more.

The woman continued to collect his blood in the bottle for a little while longer, until the amount was substantial. Then she shoved the limp body away from herself.

She gave the area around the deadfall a quick scan. Satisfied that her actions hadn’t had an audience, she turned and began to walk down the path that led away from the bench. After fifteen deliberate steps, she abruptly turned left and began walking in the grass. Ten steps later, she turned right. If someone had seen her, they might have thought that she did this every single day. But that wasn’t the case.

Before today, this woman hadn’t ever been in this park.

All the while she walked, she’d been casting off the drab, flat, dark clothing that made up her disguise, revealing her true outfit of a burgundy halter top and skin-tight black jeans. A nonchalant, lazy yank at the wig on her head, and the listless brown hair gave way to long, strawberry blonde locks.

There was no more character now. The woman was once again her true self.

She stopped at a seemingly insignificant spot of land, tapped her throat with two fingers, and uttered, “Per mortem, vitam.”

Suddenly, the previously near-empty park was much more active. People stepped out of thin air, holding twigs in their hands, and in other locations, crows bulleted down from the night sky, shapeshifting in the air and landing on their feet with grace that illustrated they’d done it hundreds of times before.

Even though all this activity occurred all around the woman, she barely paid attention to any of it. She seemed quite bored as she lit a Camel cigarette.

One of the figures who’d just mutated from avian form approached her, moving at a curious saunter.

“This is the place?” He didn’t even bother to hide his skepticism.

The woman drew from her cigarette. “Yes.”

The man raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. “In a very public park?”

“Where would you rather it be, Sam?” the woman demanded. “In the middle of Neiman Marcus?”

There were a few snickers, but Sam’s eyes narrowed.