Predominance (25 page)

Unfortunately, I was incapable of enjoying anything at the moment. I was beyond distraught. I couldn't focus or reason anymore... And yet, I couldn't stop thinking about what was going to happen that night. I needed some time alone to reflect on the conflicting ideas that were muddling up my mind, so I thought I'd stay on the porch for a little while and try to reorganize my thoughts.

I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to connect with my surroundings. It was an amazing feeling, having even partial control over this extraordinary power. This ethereal connection with nature was incredibly comforting. The trees, the calm waters of the pond, the air, even the sound of the crickets among the undergrowth were somehow soothing to my tumultuous mind.

I was finally beginning to feel better when the sudden presence of a strange and almost negative energy rattled my concentration.

“Hey,” Damian called from behind me. “You all right?”

“Yeah.” My tone was cold. “What's up?”

“Everyone will be ready in about thirty minutes,” he said, uncharacteristically friendly. “The girls are just packing some necessities for the trip.”

“Yeah, well… I'll be ready.”

“Listen,” he began. “I know we haven't seen eye-to-eye since we met. But I want you to know, that doesn't mean I don't appreciate what you're doing.” He walked toward the newel post I was leaning against. “I guess what I'm trying to say is, um…” he trailed off, but managed to continue: “I'm sorry.” He turned to me and offered his hand for a shake.

I stared at his hand for a moment before I met his shockingly sincere haze and sighed, letting go of my defensive attitude towards him. I pushed myself off the post and shook his hand firmly. “Apology accepted.”

“Great!” he said, with a big smile on his face. “So…” he stretched, resting his arms on the porch railing, his eyes peering into the dark night, “How bad do you think it's going to get?”

“Bad.” My tone was ominous.

“Come on!” He slapped my arm in a cheerful manner. “We have to have optimism and faith, right?”

I chuckled sardonically. “You don't understand,” I said. “You're talking to the ultimate geek. Optimism and faith don't fit into any of the equations in my head. When I see a problem, I run the numbers and opt for the variable with the highest probability.”

“Ouch!” he jeered. “That sounds cold. Did you run the numbers when you stormed into the Lab, looking for Yvette?” He sounded just like a trial lawyer then, trying to turn my words against me. He was good indeed.

“No,” I confessed. “I didn't have anything to lose then.”

He turned to me, leaning on his side, his elbow against the rail. “But all that changed the moment you found her, didn't it?” His eyes scrutinized my reaction, making me feel like I was sitting on the witness stand. I turned my eyes to the night sky, ignoring his rhetorical question, knowing that my face reflected the answer. “Yeah,” he said, turning to the night again, “maybe one day I'll be able to run the numbers, too.” He turned around and walked away, stopping right at the door. “But not tonight,” he added, turning his eyes back to me. “Not as long as she needs me.”

“I know,” I admitted. “That's why I'm still here. Because I know how irrational love can make us. In my case, it was worth every dumb decision I made.” I shared a hopeful smile with him. “We're going to get her back, Damian.” My tone turned serious again. “I promised.”

He nodded, a wistful smile on his face. “You're a good man, Victor. It's a pity our paths crossed here and not under more favorable circumstances. You're someone I'd be proud to call my friend.”

I smiled. “Likewise.”

Coming back to Denali's cabin was no longer part of the plan, so we packed as many provisions as we possibly could. Sarah brought some canned food, water, and medical supplies, while Yvette packed the camping gear she'd found in the cabin's garret. Damian, on the other hand—despite my firm disapproval—insisted on bringing as many guns as he could. In the spirit of keeping the peace, I let him bring them. After all, if everything went according to plan, we'd be in and out of that place long before anyone needed to discharge a firearm.

“Victor!” Sarah called. “We're ready.”

I took a final look at Denali's place, swallowing the Gordian knot my guilt had created in my throat, and said, “Thank you, Denali.” Then I slung my backpack over my shoulder and turned around. I jumped into the truck bed with Damian, letting Laura and Yvette ride in the front with Sarah, who we had picked as our designated getaway driver. I tapped on the window and gave her a good-to-go signal. She shifted into gear and took off.

None of us had the strength to look back.

Our first stop was the ferry terminal, where we dropped off Laura. Strangely, she had been the only one who had survived the procedure without any adverse side effects. And not only that, but her original condition seemed to have been cured as well. Perhaps we saved her just in time, which gave me an incredible feeling of accomplishment. At least one of us was going to make it out of this damned place alive and well.

Laura was nervous, but happy to finally be leaving. Sarah gave her a few last-minute instructions, along with some money she could use to get home. Yvette gave her a tight hug and wished her well. “Take care,” she said, still sitting in the cab of the truck.

“You too, sweetheart,” Laura whispered maternally, and got out of the truck. She walked toward the terminal, looking back and waving over her shoulder every two seconds. But then she stopped and pondered for the longest moment, her eyes to the ground. She looked up as if with a sudden insight and turned, calling my name.

I jumped out of the truck bed and ran to her. “What's wrong?” I asked, watching her smile for the first time.

“You get to see her again!” she blurted.

“What?”

“You don't need to be sad,” she said, holding my hands, her eyes filled with hope. “You get to see her again,” she repeated, as if convinced of her own words. “Don't let your sadness turn you into something you're not.”

“I-I don't understand,” I muttered.

She leaned toward me and whispered in my ear, “You even get to see her dance.” She quickly moved away, letting go of my hands, smiled, and ran towards the terminal. “Remember,” she called over her shoulder, “Don't be sad!”

I returned to the truck, staring blankly into space, trying to find some meaning to Laura's words. But I found myself musing to no avail. “What did she say?” Damian asked as I jumped back into the truck.

“Beats me,” I muttered, sitting on the bare truck bed, pondering on whether Laura had really survived the procedure without any consequences—or if she'd been the smartest one of all, keeping her new talents a secret. And if so, to whom was she referring? Yvee, or someone else?

I guess I'll find out, I told myself.

Tragedy at the Warehouse

THE ROAD AHEAD
was as dark as the ominous future that had awaited us at R.C. Labs. But in our own ways, we all seemed determined to do our best to achieve what we believed to be our last mission against the man we'd once thought was our last chance for survival. I reiterated to Damian that my goal was to get his wife out of there by using the element of surprise—via wits rather than force. I reminded him that the success of this operation depended on our ability to maintain cool heads, no matter what happened.

I understood that this was easier said than done, but the last thing we needed at this point was another bloodbath like the one at Damian's cabin. Damian didn't argue with me, but he didn't agree to anything either. He just sat there in silence, leaning against the cab with his arms wrapped around his knees. Eventually I realized that he wasn't even paying any attention to me; he was listening to a conversation taking place in the cab.

I'd been so busy with my own thoughts that I'd forgotten completely about Yvette and Sarah being alone together in the cab... and they were apparently having a very engaging conversation. Sitting with my back against the tailgate didn't allow me to hear anything. Damian, on the other hand, seemed amused by their repartee. At one point, he even pressed his ear against the sliding glass to try for clearer reception.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked him, annoyed.

“Shhh!” he hissed, finger to lip. His brows puckered in surprise then, as if he'd just heard something of great interest. “Wow!” he exclaimed, finally leaning away from the glass. “You just missed a very interesting chat.”

I narrowed my eyes in disapproval, giving him nothing but silence. “What?” he demanded; an annoying grin on his face. “Aren't you going to ask me what I heard?”

My silence continued. “Oh! I see,” he realized, letting out a sarcastic snort. “A goody-goody Boy Scout like you probably thinks eavesdropping is an evil thing, right?”

I smiled at his taunt. “Information from third parties can often be… misleading,” I said, feeling it was my turn to taunt. “Even a sleazy shyster like you should know that.”

He broke into laughter. “You really don't like lawyers, do you?”

“Nobody likes lawyers, Damian. Let's just say that I've seen how you guys take advantage of easily misconstrued information in order to manipulate the system—without even caring what's right or wrong.” I flashed him a sarcastic smile.

“Right…” he drawled, a wry tone in his voice, “The good ol' debate about what's right and wrong.” He mused for a long second. “It's useless, you know?”

“What is?” I asked, intrigued.

“Trying to separate the two,” he said.

“Not in my book.”

He chuckled, a mixture of sadness and irony on his face. “You'd be surprised to see how easy it is to vindicate a wrongdoing when you know it could save someone you love, Victor. And if it does… then how can that be wrong?”

I sat quietly as he elucidated his own justification of evil. “Motivation and purpose,” he declared. “They both cling to our own personal viewpoints, which in turn determines what's right and what's wrong… what's good and evil.” He smiled at me, as if he'd just won a debate. And although I know I could have argued this radical conclusion, instead I found myself pondering its disturbing logic.

“So,” he said, returning to our previous conversation, “Do you want me to tell you what I heard or not?”

I smiled. “Well, let me ask you this… Is it something that I'll be able to find out for myself if you don't tell me?”

A mischievous smile curved his lips as and nodded his head. “Yeah, probably.”

“Then I'd rather wait.”

“Suit yourself,” he chuckled, leaning back against the cab.

We both remained quiet for the rest of the ride.

***

Sarah's plan consisted of using an unpaved road she knew connected the Lab's warehouse to one of the main highways. The road had never been finished, so it lacked surveillance and security. No cameras or guards would learn of our presence once we'd reached it. It was the perfect infiltration point, as well as the perfect getaway. Once inside, Damian would approach the entrance to the warehouse, where a single camera was used to check the outside of the overhead door. There, he would deliberately give away his presence, which we hoped would bring Dr. Walker out to negotiate, giving his keen desire to acquire Yvette.

There were two strategic points in our plan: a utility shed between the warehouse and the road, where Sarah would have the truck running and ready to go, and a lamppost thirty feet away from the overhead door—the only source of light in that part of the facility. Yvette was to wait behind the shed for Damian's signal. Once his wife was sent out for the trade, he would call Yvette, who would walk towards the warehouse to complete the swap. When the moment was right, I was to smash the light on that lamppost using my telekinesis, leaving the meadow in darkness, which we hoped would cause enough commotion for us to move in closer. Sarah then would drive the truck to the 'swap spot' and have everyone jump into the truck bed before bolting for our exit.

If you think this was a crazy plan… you're right. It was.

It got darker as we approached the unfinished road, with no more markers or lights guiding our way. We heard nothing but the crunch of the gravel being compressed by the tires of our truck. Sarah drove as quickly as she could with the headlights turned off, while Damian readied two guns to take with him. One was a loaded .38 Smith & Wesson Special, which he tucked behind his back. The other was a Glock 9mm, which for some reason he unloaded completely. He even checked the chamber twice just to make sure it was empty. Both weapons were concealed by the mid-length jacket he was wearing. I was just about to ask him about the unloaded gun when Yvette slid the rear window wide open. “Get ready, guys. We're almost there.”

“I'm ready,” Damian assured us, stone-faced. He zipped up his jacket, and got ready to jump out. I too readied myself, giving Yvette a quick nod. I felt like my heart was about to jump out of chest, but I tried to project a steady serenity. After all, I was the one asking everybody to keep a cool head.

Sarah pulled over to the edge of the road, amid some trees. We were now about 300 feet away from the warehouse entrance—and yet we seemed completely invisible to them. Every element in the surroundings was playing an essential role in creating the perfect camouflage. The full trees shrouded us, and our black truck merged perfectly with the dense darkness of the night. The lamp I was supposed to burst with my telekinesis illuminated the portion of the meadow where we were planning to fake the swap; and just as we expected, there wasn't a guard in sight. The coast was clear for Damian to make his surprise entrance. Not knowing how Damian had reached the warehouse without tripping all the alarms in the place was going to be our first jab to their senses.

I jumped out of the truck and shook Damian's hand. “Good luck,” I said quietly.

“You too.” His brows knitted in a heartfelt expression as he put his free hand firmly on my shoulder. Words seemed to come hard for him. “Victor...” he began with some difficulty.

“Hey,” I stopped him. “Tell me over a beer when this is all over, all right?” I tapped him on the shoulder and smiled.

He did the same, then turned and walked swiftly into the meadow.

Yvette quickly took his place in front of me to wish me luck. Her eyes seemed relaxed, as if she had nothing to worry about. My eyes, I'm sure, were expressing the complete opposite. But a soft touch of our hands was enough to erase any doubts about what we felt at that moment. The same strange shock of energy that had allowed us to share our feelings before struck us again when we felt each other's touch.

Yvette's beautiful blue eyes opened even wider, as if she'd just been shocked by my doubts about this crazy stunt. I held her hands up in front of me and smiled, trying—unsuccessfully—to hide my fears. “Don't worry,” I said. “This will work. And everything will be just…” My voice betrayed my lack of confidence at the end.

“Shhh,” she stopped me, pressing her finger against my lips. “You don't need to pretend with me, Victor. I know what you're feeling.” She shook her head and laughed. The expression on her face held a mixture of amazement and confusion that—somehow—seemed to make her happy. “I don't know how,” she said, tightening her grip on my hands. “But I can feel you… And it's okay to be scared. I am too.” Her voice seemed to become more profound with every word that followed. “You don't need to feel responsible for what happened to Denali, or for what may happen tonight. You've done nothing but care. And that's what matters, Victor. I'm sure your Dad would be very proud… I know I am.” Her beautiful lips sealed her heartfelt speech with the most captivating smile I've ever seen.

I suppressed my tears and pressed her hands firmly against my chest. “Can you feel past my fear?” I asked. “Can you?”

She closed her eyes and sighed, trying to indulge my unusual request. Her bee-stung lips curled again, this time with a victorious grin. “Yes!” she said. Her eyes opened, glazed with a coating of tears that didn't leave her eyes. “And I love you, too.” Her voice was almost breaking by then.  

“I won't let anything happen to you.” I said adamantly. “I promise.”

“Ahem!” Sarah cleared her throat behind us. “We better get into position,” she advised.

“Right,” Yvette answered quickly, throwing a glance over my shoulder. She turned back to me and ran her fingers through my hair and kissed me like only she knew how. My God! I exclaimed in my head. Is it really possible to love someone so much? Is it right? My heart literarily hurt at the thought of losing her. The truth was that loving her so much scared me. Yvette Montgomery had become my reason for existence—my reason to fight that evil growing inside of me. I knew that as long as I had her, my heart would never give up on goodness, on life, on her love.

We finally let go of each other with a reluctant look on our faces and turned away. Yvette walked cautiously towards another small shed in the middle of the meadow, while I went back to the truck where Sarah waited behind the wheel, her expression unreadable. I shut the door and watched Yvette hide behind the shed, her back against the wall. A familiar touch pulled my concentration away from her, if for only a few seconds. “Relax,” Sarah whispered, her hand over mine. “She'll be fine, Victor. She's stronger than you think.” Her comment somehow soothed my edginess.

“I know,” I replied, really meaning to say: Thank you. My tone made it sound like I had, and she nodded as if she understood. I turned my eyes back to Damian, who was taking his time walking through the meadow, as if picking his way through a minefield. Yvette was waiting for him, peeking out from behind the shed.

Suddenly, I realized I hadn't let go of Sarah's hand, and that we had unconsciously begun to fidgeting with each other’s fingers. I stopped, embarrassed, without letting go. For some reason, I
thought it would be rude for me to withdraw my hand first. Awkwardly enough, Sarah kept fiddling with my fingers, her eyes fixed straight ahead. “Sarah?” I called in a whisper, but she didn't react. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes suddenly blinked and her fingers stopped. She looked down at our hands and withdrew hers gently but quickly. “I'm sorry,” she said, her face tomato-red. “I guess I'm a lot more nervous than I thought.”

“Hey!” This time I reached for her hand, taking a firm hold on it. My eyes searched her emerald greens. “You don't have to be.” I chuckled softly. “I don't know how we wound up together in this mess, or why, but I'm honored that life has given me the opportunity to meet the bravest woman in the world.” She rolled her eyes, unconvinced. “Hey, you know I wouldn't dare hike another forest, or climb another mountain, without having you there to pull me back up, right?”

She burst out laughing. “We do make a great team, don't we?” she said, a fond glint in her eyes.

“Yes we do,” I agreed. And though I smiled, my voice was sincere.

She turned her eyes back to Damian, who was just a few steps away from the security camera's field of view. “All right, then!” she exclaimed, squeezing the truck's steering wheel tightly with both hands. “Let's do this! Are you ready to bust that lamp?”

“Yes, I am,” I assured her, igniting that spark that connected my mind with my surroundings. The ethereal ramification grew rapidly, reaching farther and farther, until it allowed me to feel every inch of the aluminum fixture that encased the tempered glass of the lonely lamppost in the meadow. The light that emanated from it had a warm color, a deep yellow hue that blanketed a small portion of the meadow, giving it an eerie, somber look—a perfect match for my current frame of mind. This light also exposed the overhead door that marked the entrance to the warehouse. Damian finally stopped fifty feet away from the door, close enough to be detected by the security camera. All part of the plan, of course.

“Walker!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “Walker!”

Security didn't take long to notice the unexpected trespasser. The big silver rollup door began to rise just a few moments after Damian let out his angry shouts. Two guards came out of the warehouse, pointing their rifles at Damian, who immediately raised his hands. The profound silence of the night, along with my amplified sense of hearing, allowed me to make out Damian's exchange with the guards. “How the hell did you get in here?” one of them demanded, approaching him cautiously.