Predominance (37 page)

“It takes ten minutes to complete the disarming sequence. Now, after I press this little button on my detonator, a countdown will start on both explosives—a ten-minute timer on Ginger here, and a seventeen-minute timer on the boat where your little princess awaits. I'll explain the time difference in just a minute... Although perhaps you understand now the reason for the stopwatch I gave you. Anyway, here's the good part. I'm going to take the elevator down, and I'm going to disable it as soon as I reach the lobby. Once I do that, I'll start the timer on both explosives—”

“Damian, please!” I begged.

His face turned to stone then, his eyes piercing me with a smoldering glare. “I'd pay more attention if I were you, Victor. These are probably the last minutes you have to run your precious numbers.” He took a deep breath and continued. “If you choose to save your Ginger here, all you need to do is enter the sequence I just gave you into the bomb. The timer will stop and she'll be saved. Unfortunately, that'll leave you with only seven minutes left to reach the boat, which I'm afraid won't be enough. You would have to watch your little princess burn in hell from here.” He smiled. “Now, if you choose the little princess over Ginger, you'll need to go down seventeen flights
of stairs and run 0.8 miles to get to the boat and get her out. I've taken the liberty of making some calculations of my own, hence the precise timing on the explosives. You see, it takes about ten minutes to reach the lobby, even if you run down the stairs, and about five minutes to run 0.8 miles in a crowded street—which would leave you with exactly two minutes left to get her out. Then again, if you do that… Well, you'll see some pretty amazing fireworks going off here.”

He laughed. “Anyway, it's going to take me about two minutes to reach the lobby and press this little red button. So I guess that's how long you have to run your numbers, Victor… Or perhaps to say goodbye.” He twisted a sardonic smile as he got to his feet. “I suppose you wish I had killed you now. But like I said… that would be too quick. Too easy. I want you to suffer every single day for whatever decision you choose to make today.”

He raised his hand again and, with nothing but a tap, bashed my head against the crushed metal, leaving me dazed but conscious enough to watch him leave. “Goodbye, Victor.” He turned away and strutted towards the elevator. “We're even now.”

I struggled back to my feet and tried to follow him, but he was gone. Moving quickly, I strapped the stopwatch to my wrist and staggered over to Sarah, with seventeen minutes set on the timer. Swiftly, I pulled the gag off her and tried to remove the chains. But they were secured with a huge lock that imprisoned her arms behind her back—which scrapped my first idea of giving her the sequence code to disarm her bomb while I ran to help Yvette. I looked at the bomb's timer, but it was still on zero, which meant Damian hadn't reached the lobby yet.

“What are you doing?!” Sarah yelped. “Go! Save Yvette. You still have time!”

“I am NOT leaving you here to die, Sarah! So shut up and help me think!” My gaze scrambled over everything: the bomb, the chains, even the position of her hands, while my brain revved like the engine of a racecar. I closed my eyes tightly and ran the numbers in my head. Every scenario, however, gave me the same answer, the same outcome. I just didn't have enough time to save them both.

As I searched for options, a memory popped into mind: the huge metal door I'd wrenched open when I rescued Yvette and the others from R.C. Labs. I remembered how the weight of the door had pushed me back when I used my telekinesis powers to blow it off its hinges. Then it hit me! If I were to use my telekinesis to push against an immovable surface, the force would create enough pressure to push me away—it would make me bounce, even! I'd have to push with all of my energy at exactly at the right time. And although it took me a minute to analyze the variables, I knew I was right—at least in theory. And even if I weren't, it was a risk I was prepared to take. Dying seemed only right if I was to lose the people I loved... But at least I had to try.

I damn sure wasn't going down without a fight.

The loud beep on Sarah's timer made me open my eyes and press the button on the stopwatch on my wrist. The countdown was running, and there was nothing that could stop it now. I got up on my feet and took a few of steps away from Sarah. I'm sure she thought I was leaving—yet that didn't stop her from encouraging me to do so. “You're doing the right thing, Victor,” she said, her eyes filled with tears. “Go! Save her.” I turned around to implement the plan I had devised. But Sarah, who thought I was leaving, stopped me for one final goodbye: “Victor!” she called, her voice breaking. “I love you.”

Without wasting another second, I spun my body fiercely towards the chains that held her, the palms of my hands wide open, aiming at the lock. A connection immediately linked my mind to the metal, which began to strain at the shaking of my hands. It only took seconds for the lock to burst into pieces and the chains to drop to the ground. Sarah was free, but still in danger. With the bomb now in my hands I commanded Sarah to run. But she adamantly refused, staying right at my side. With no time to argue I asked her to take cover while I focused on the explosive in my hands. I closed my eyes and began to levitate the bomb in front of me, lifting it higher and higher into the
blue sky, until an enormous explosion threw me almost unconscious to the ground, my ears ringing, and my skin burning. But still alive.

“Victor!” Sarah's voice emerged from the piercing ringing in my ears. “Are you all right?” She ran to my aid and helped me off the ground. 

Looking up into the sky, I saw a huge cloud of slowly dispersing fire and black smoke. My head was spinning as if it had been hit with a baseball bat. But then I forced my eyes to look upon the stopwatch on my wrist, where I saw ten minutes left on the timer. The bastard had set it to go off earlier than he'd told me, hoping to ensure my failure.

Ten minutes wasn't enough time to take the stairs, but then I knew that wasn't going to be my way down.

Sarah helped back on my feet, oblivious of the second part of my desperate plan. I stroked her head lovingly and turned away before she had a chance to stop me. “What are you doing?” she demanded, watching me gather momentum as I hurried towards the end of the roof.

“If I can concentrate hard enough on the asphalt, I can push against it! I can repel it from me. It'll cushion the impact, and it'll make me bounce off the ground,” I explained as I trotted, uncoordinated, towards the ledge.

“Are you out of your mind?” But it was too late to stop me. “Victor!” Sarah's anguished call was the last thing I heard before I plunged into the abyss.

It's amazing, all the things you get to contemplate when you know you're about to die. Possibilities: that's what I thought about the most. I thought of the choices I'd never get to make, the mistakes I'd never get to mend. But most of all, I thought of Yvette, and the life I'd never get to live with her. As the asphalt rushed up at me, I realized that I had failed to include one variable in my crazy equation: that of my own fear, which had frozen me into a falling statue. Recognizing my failure, I closed my eyes and readied myself for the end. But then my father's voice began to rumble inside my head, reminding me that the jump I had just taken was none other than the leap of faith he'd always talked about. “Now, you can be skeptical about this, and reject it. Or you can take a leap of faith—and embrace it.”

I had taken the leap… so now it was time for me to embrace it.

As my body rocketed downward, I steeled myself and aimed my hands at the ground. I instantly felt the connection I needed to stop the fall. But it wasn't enough: I had picked up too much speed and was now too close to the ground. So I pushed toward the fast-approaching Earth with everything I had, giving it one final, powerful shove just a few feet away from my deadly end. The invisible barrier I had created between me and the solid asphalt burst like a giant bubble, flinging me away from the ground and into the huge windows of the hotel lobby in one fast, violent blow. All I heard next was the roaring downpour of the shattering glass as I pierced the windows like a thrown stone, still wrapped in a weak version of the field that had saved me from pancake-hood. People must have believed that another bomb had gone off right outside the door, because they began to scream hysterically and run all over the place. “It's a terrorist attack!” I heard someone shout.

I forced myself to regain full consciousness, like a dazed boxer on his last count. But the world kept spinning around me, a merry-go-round on steroids. People kept shouting and screaming frantically…

“Did he just fall off the roof?”

“He bounced!”

“Is he okay?”

“Oh, my God! Is he alive?”

“Someone call 911!”

One of the bystanders knelt right next me and said, “Relax, buddy. You shouldn't move.”

“What?” His words snapped me out of my daze, making me realize I was, indeed, still alive. But there was no time to celebrate; my race against time wasn't over yet. I grabbed my wrist and brought the stopwatch to my face, trying to focus my bleary eyes on the countdown I was trying so desperately to beat. Eight minutes and fifty-five-seconds were all I had left to get my Yvee off the boat now, and every second counted. The shards of glass covering my body fell like raindrops on the marble floor as I staggered back to my feet. Once oriented, I darted towards the pier, trying desperately to turn my painful limping into a run. But my seventeen-floor drop, along with my glass-shattering impact, had left me in sad shape. I was cut, bruised, and bleeding profusely. Something was stuck in my leg, too—probably a piece of glass. But that didn't stop me, and neither did the shouting from the security guards, who alternately yelled at me to stop and called for help. My hypersenses were back in order, and I heard one of them talking over his radio, giving my description and location to the LAPD.

I glanced at the stopwatch again, and saw less than five minutes left on the timer. I ignored the excruciating pain and ran faster towards the pier. My anguish and desperation were pushing my body to its limits, but I didn't care. Getting to Yvette was all it mattered. I had to get to that boat—even if it was only to die with her. Please, God! I prayed. If you're going to take her, don't you leave me behind! Tears of frustration began to run down my face. Please! I begged.

A rush of adrenaline hit me then, making me push forward as I reached the entrance for Shoreline Village. I was almost there; I could see the boat rocking gently at the dock. Yvette had raised the sailboat's ensign to full staff and she was waiting for me; I could feel it, and tried to send her a warning through our connection. I could hear the loud sirens of the police cruisers wailing behind me as I elbowed through the crowd.

“There he is!” someone shouted. I didn't turn around; I couldn't afford to waste a second. I looked down at the stopwatch again, just to see three minutes and thirty-two seconds left on the timer. My knees failed me then, and I collapsed on the ground, just thirty feet from the boat. I looked up, and there she was: my angel, my life, standing on the main deck smiling. Her beautiful black hair fluttered in the wind while her eyes scanned the clear, blue skies, as if looking for the perfect spot to give thanks above for the happiness she felt.

“Yvette!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, but my voice was drowned in the uproar of the crowd. “Yvette!” I shouted again, but to no avail.

Though she couldn't hear me, I knew she'd be okay. I knew I still had enough time to get her out. I just needed another minute to get close enough to warn her. Then she would jump out of the boat and we'd both take cover, which we could surely do in less than two minutes—and I still had three and a half left on the clock. I've made it! I said to myself. I've made it! I just need to get a little closer—just a little closer, and I'll be with the one I love again. So, I forced myself back on my feet and began to limp towards the boat again, with three minutes and twenty-six seconds left on the timer—minutes I was never meant to have.

Because once again, Damian had cheated me.

A powerful blast swatted me into the air, stripping from me heart, mind, and soul. A huge cloud of smoke and fire was all that was left of the pedestal where my angel had once stood. I hated my eyes for what they were making me see, so I refused to believe them. “No,” I denied with sentiment. “No, no, no, no…”

But soon my reason overcame my denial.   

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” A heart-rending bawl ripped from the deepest corners of my soul. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” And I continued, until my voice and lungs were forced to give up, “NOOOOO…”

I crawled towards the burning boat, consumed with an unfathomable pain, watching the fire spread beyond containment. The flames that engulfed what was left of the boat were too ferocious
to even think of the possibility of survival. Yet I kept crawling towards it with my face soaked in blood and tears, calling my angel's name.

Maybe I was already losing my mind, but I thought that if I got close enough I would be able to find her, and hold her, and tell her that everything was going to be all right. I thought that if I could just find her, I'd bury my face in her hair and entwine my fingers with hers, just as we used to… But my goddamn reason kicked in again, and I was forced to accept the truth.

My Yvee was gone… gone! And no force, power, or ability in the world was going to bring her back. I would never see her face again. I would never smell her hair, kiss her lips, or feel her touch. Her voice would never strike that chord in my heart again, the one she played every time she said I love you.