Omega Pathogen: The Beginning Read Online Free

few hours, they load magazines for Jim’s and his son’s pistols, revolvers, rifles, and 12-gauge shotguns. Joining Arzu in the living room, they see that the scenes on the TV are only growing worse. From outside, they can hear several individual emergency vehicle sirens overlapping each other. Some come closer before fading, and others sound further away, getting closer and then fading away.
    “Arzu, I think it may be a good idea if you and the boys go upstairs, and try to get some rest.” “ What about you?” “ I’ll stay down here with some coffee and keep an eye out. You know, watch TV and make sure we stay safe.” “ I’m fine, Dad,” Jeremy says, looking to his father. “Yeah, I’m good too,” Chris agrees. “ I know you guys are, and I know it’s going to be hard to sleep, but this is only getting worse, and will keep going that way for a while. We need to be smart about this. We can’t all stay awake, and all sleep at the same time.” “You’re right,” Arzu says, and rises from the sofa to embrace Jim. She then gives Jeremy and Chris hugs as well and ascends the stairs.
    “ Alright, you two go up, and get some rest too.” “Really, we’re fine,” Chris says, with Jeremy nodding in agreement. “ Think, guys. I’m going to need rest too, and you guys need to keep things safe and be able to wake me if something happens.” In an unspoken sign of agreement, both sons hug their father and begin to ascend the stairs.
    “Hey,” Jim stage-whispers. Both look down from the stairs at him. “ You guys got your guns?” “ Yes, sir,” they reply. “Love you guys.” “ Love you too, Dad.”
    Jim settles down on the sofa with his AR-15 on his lap, and Glock 9mm in his old drop-down holster on his right leg. He begins running scenarios for defending and evacuating his home through his head. The weight of the situation is heavy. He’s been in stressful situations before. He’s had to defend others before while working as a police officer, and then working security in Iraq. Those people weren’t his family.  
     
    Man-made Demons
     
    Thirty Years Earlier
    The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics 1974
     
    Lying awake in his bunk, staring up at the ceiling, he hears the sounds of running growing louder. He raises his head slightly, and to the left, to view the clock on the nightstand: 03:26 . He left word that he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances, even if the bunker they’re in catches fire, the only exception being if the latest of the numerous test subjects recovered instead of succumbing to fever, intracranial edema, and lapsed into coma and death like all the rest.
    He should feel excited. His staff wouldn’t dare to disobey him. However, the years he’s spent on this project, the constant failure after thinking they had finally worked out a solution, only to be dealt another setback, requiring more alterations to the viruses they’ve been tampering with . . .
    The seemingly eternal length of time being stuck in the far northeast of Soviet Siberia, in this cold, damp underground complex, has left him melancholy and ill tempered. He is all too aware that he and his staff are prisoners, just like the criminals they use for their experiments.
    He feels that this place is his hell; slowly rotting in this grey and musty hole in the earth the State calls Site 7. He has no doubt this is where he’ll die. This will be his tomb. “ Doctor Kosktov!” he hears, as he squeezes his eyes shut, and wishes the man at his door would go away and let him slip into his vodka-induced slumber. But no, the pounding on the steel door to his quarters begins suddenly and in rapid succession.
    “Doctor, please come quickly,” he hears between the poundings at his door. “It’s open. Come in.” Still, the pounding on the door continues, along with his name being called. “I said come in, damn you!” he yells. Finally, the pounding at the door stops. The subordinate fumbles with the