Predominance (12 page)

“I'm tired, Dad,” I said, my voice breaking. “I'm so tired.”

“Don't give up, son.”

“Why not?”

“Because you promised.”

The faint voice disappeared.

“Dad? Dad!” My own voice echoed in the darkness.

I realized then, dream or not, that this wasn't the way my father would've wanted me to go. Not without a fight. Not without giving it everything I had. I wasn't going to give up. Not then. Not ever. I let out a resilient growl and, like a bird fighting out of an oil spill, I hauled myself out of the abyss, pushing forward towards the lights.

Soon, I found myself standing in front of a giant wall made of hundreds of rather strange windows...or at least, they looked like windows to me. They weren't made of glass, though, but rather some sort of clear liquid, which was held in abeyance despite the laws of gravity. Behind every pane, there was a pulsating light, its rhythm resembling that of a heartbeat. Yet not all of them were the same. Some were white, with just a hint of blue, which gave them the appearance of diamonds shining through water. Others were red, with the same emphasis of rubies over black silk. There were as many white ones as there were reds ones. The white lights, however, seemed to be free to escape their windows as they pleased, emanating spectacular eruptions of light. The red ones, on the other hand, seemed trapped inside their windows—confined, like lifetime prisoners whose punishment was to see others go free at will.

I felt compelled to smash those windows and free the red lights from their imprisonment. But the white lights grew brighter, stronger, flashing faster with every step I took, as if warning me not to get any closer. I paid no attention. The red light was calling me now. I felt seduced by its magical glow, which led me to the biggest and brightest one of all. I stood right in front of it, close enough to touch it. I ran my fingers though its liquid pane, producing ripples like you would in a puddle of water. The red light glowed brighter as I immersed my hand in the crystal liquid, as if pleased by my admiration.

Once inside, I clenched my hand into a fist, trying to get ahold of the light. My eyes gazed into its ruby heart, while the white lights flashed brighter and faster—as if making a last, desperate attempt to stop me.

Adamant in my decision, I pulled my fist out of the window, breaking the liquid seal that imprisoned the red light, which in a chain reaction began to erupt from every window. Every eruption spewed a sudden and spectacular explosion of ruby light, each of which crashed over me like an ocean wave—over and over again.

The empowered sensation I felt with every pass of the light was intoxicating. “More!” I shouted. “I want more!” The eruptions then began to increase violently, producing a thunder-like sound which resembled the rapid fire of a machine gun. But the feeling didn't last long. Soon I began to feel that, with every passing light, a hole was being ripped right through my chest—as if this red light was now trying to break in, infecting the very essence of me.

Maybe that was why it had been imprisoned in the first place.

I tried to scream, but my voice was drowned in the uproar of light. The intensity of the violent event finally blinded me, sending me back into darkness.

***

I found myself in a state between consciousness and unconsciousness, as if I were trying to wake up from a bad dream. I heard voices; a man and a woman arguing. I was completely confused and disoriented. I felt groggy, and my eyelids were so heavy I felt that I'd never be able to open my eyes. But I tried anyway. The attempt was feeble, but enough to make me realize I was still inside the capsule. I tried again, hoping to catch a glimpse of the people arguing. When I finally wrenched open my eyes, the white lab coat gave away the identity of the man: Dr. Walker. The woman, however, was a stranger.

I tried to regain full consciousness, but all I could capture were bits and pieces of the ongoing argument…

“I won't let you do this! These are people we're talking about here!” the stranger shouted.

“This is my project, my research, and my decision, not yours!” Dr. Walker countered.

“I'm not going to be part of this, Doctor.”

“Well, since I'm still the project leader, and chief of this facility, you can consider yourself dismissed!”

“You unethical bastard! I hope you rot in Hell!”

That was the last thing I heard before losing consciousness again.

I couldn't tell how much time had elapsed between that conversation and the next time I opened my eyes. But I was enormously confused, especially by the way I was being awakened.

I heard the voice of the unknown woman again. “Victor! Come on, wake up!” I opened my eyes as she shook me by the shoulders. She then leaned over me and, with great haste, stripped all the wires and electrodes from my head. “Come on, Victor. We have to get out of here.”

“W-w-who are you?” I asked, feeble and disconcerted.

“My name is Sarah Grey, and you've been scheduled for dissection. I need to get you out of here.”

“I-I-I don't… understand... Dr. Walker…”

“Dr. Walker is insane!” she cried, outraged. “He lures brain injury patients to this awful place to conduct unsanctioned experiments on them!”

“What?” I mumbled, confused, as she helped me up from the capsule.

“Here!” She handed me my bag from underneath it. 

“How long… How long have I been under?” I asked clumsily, battling to put my shirt on. 

“Almost three days,” she replied, helping me button up.

“I'm not… I'm not feeling well,” I maundered, the whole room spinning around me. My vision became spotty then; and before I knew it, I was on my knees, emptying my stomach onto the floor.

“Come on, Victor,” Sarah whispered, pulling me up from the floor. She helped me back to the edge of the bed next to the capsule as I tried to pull myself together. As soon as my vision cleared from the retching, I jumped inside my pants and I put on my shoes, spurred on by the urgency in her voice—but by then it was too late.

“All right, sweetheart, that's enough.” I immediately recognized the drawl of the obnoxious Head of Security as he entered the room, tapping his baton against the palm of his hand. Five more guards stood behind him.

“Listen,” Sarah said, “I know you think you're doing your job. But you've no idea what's going on in here. You have to let us go.”

“I'm sorry, Ms. Grey. But I've been instructed to take you into custody, and to take this… freak to the surgical unit.” He beckoned to one of the guards to proceed with the orders.

“Please!” Sarah pleaded, “Just let us go.”

“Why the rush, sweetheart?” The security head said suggestively. “I'm sure we're going to have fun together in the detention room.” He rubbed his baton against Sarah's arm in an obscene manner.

“You stupid pig!” Sarah retorted, smacking the guard on the face. A ring on her finger was sharp enough to trace a long cut along his face.

The infuriated guard dabbed at his wound, and without warning slapped Sarah across the face with such force that she spun around and collapsed to the floor.

“You son of a bitch!” I yelled, with an anger I'd never felt before, and a surging energy flushed through me. I knew then that something was wrong.

“Shut the hell up, freak!” The hateful guard shouted, striking me on the ribs with his baton. I doubled over in pain, feeling an inexplicable urge to harm them all.

It was then that something clouded my judgment and began take control of my will.

Sarah trembled on the floor, surrounded by the guards. Her wide eyes flickered in fear as one of them pointed a gun at her head, while the loathsome Head of Security hit me again with his baton. The guards laughed as I writhed on the floor, folded up in pain.

“All right, Dick,” one of the guards said to the HOS. “Let's wrap this up, man.”

“Yeah!” he answered, all jacked up. “You two take Ms. Grey to my office. I still need to debrief her.” He smiled savagely; and although the eyes of the other guards met in disapproval, they seemed to be compelled to follow his orders.

“Let's go, Ms. Grey. On your feet.” the guard holding the gun to her head commanded.

“No.” I muttered softly, still gasping for air.

“You just don't know when to quit, do you?” The HOS said disgustingly, raising his baton to strike me again.

Suddenly I felt fire rise in my eyes; a shock of electricity ran through my entire body, and my right hand rose as the guard swung his striking blow. Only this time, the baton stopped just before it hit me, inches away from my raised hand. The confused guard fought the unmovable baton as I began to rise. The rest of the guards stood with their mouths open, stunned, as they watch the baton freeze in midair. I stood up in front of the guard, tilting my head side to side and glaring murderously.

It didn't take long for HOS, as well as the rest of the guards, to realize that I was the cause of this unnatural event. One of the guards, standing in the back, shouted in Spanish, “
Es el Diablo!” and bolted out of the lab, while the others took frightened steps backward, the one still restraining Sarah.

“Let her go!” a deep raspy growl commanded the guard holding Sarah, and it took a second for me to realize the voice had come from me. The guard's panicking eyes turned to his boss, confused and hesitant, as if asking him what to do. My focus then returned to the HOS, whose eyes seemed to defy my wishes. “Let her go!” I repeated, this time addressing him. But his response was a swift move toward his sidearm.

In a quick, effortless move, I switched hands in perfect synchrony. My right hand dropped to the side, letting go of the baton. Once released from my invisible grip, it dropped abruptly to the ground. My left hand rose to chest level, palm open, in front of the guard. His entire body jolted then as my hand locked into position, leaving his hand just centimeters from his holster. I demanded once again, the raspy growl that had taken over my voice sounding even angrier than before. “Let her go!”

The HOS gasped as my hand rose higher and higher, bringing his body along with it, until the dangling tips of his shoes barely touched the floor. I could feel the energies surging inside my body readjusting to protect my fragile brain, keeping his 200-pound bulk from crushing my gray matter to jelly.

The sudden halt in my raising hand made his entire body jolt again, like the body of a puppet being suddenly jerked up by its own strings, leaving him completely frozen. His face reflected excruciating pain, as if the entire weight of his body were being lifted by the feeble strength of his own innards. Maybe it was. Nonetheless, his obstinacy found him the strength to give one last order to the rest of the guards: “S-s-shoot, shoot them both!”

The sound of guns cocking followed his order—as did a sudden and abnormal change in my perception. My senses were incredibly well-tuned, and time crawled in what I can only describe as extreme slow motion. It was like being inside a three-dimensional picture in which everyone moved lethargically, with me having a slight advantage in speed and reaction time.

I turned my burning eyes to the guard restraining Sarah, who was now holding her in front of his body, like a human shield. Coward. His confused and terrified eyes locked with mine, while he pointed his Glock 9mm at Sarah's head, his trigger finger straight alongside the gun-frame.

I raised my free hand toward him as fast as this slow motion trance allowed me to, while still keeping hold of the HOS with the other. The remaining guards began to lift their rifles in my direction, as the guard holding Sarah reacted with a nervous jolt. I could see his finger now curling slowly into position over the trigger. Sarah's body cringed in fear, her eyes closing tightly on the dreadful thought of dying.

The event had suddenly turned into a desperate race against time, in which the lives of everyone in the room depended on who reached the trigger first. The guards pointing at me were just inches away from acquiring the perfect shooting position, while the finger of the guard holding Sarah had already began to pull the trigger.

My much faster hand, however, reached its desired position before anyone else, taking an invisible grip on the gun that pointed Sarah's head. I swung my hand fast and violently then, not only ending the slow motion trance but snatching the gun out of the guard's hand, sending it thirty feet across the room. The now-defenseless man cowered behind Sarah, his eyes fixed on the exit door for a long moment; then, throwing Sarah in my direction, he bolted for the exit, leaving his frightened peers behind.

I gestured in her direction, urging her to step behind me; trembling in fear, she did so, while I turned back to the HOS and the other guards left in the room. The mobile guards quickly snapped out of it, and tried to re-aim at us and shoot. But another swing of my hand was enough to snatch the rifles out of their hands, disarming them—and not just in the sense of being weaponless. All courage left them as they exchanged horrified glances, before they decided to run like the other two.

But their intentions were crushed the second they tried. I raised my hand again, making their bodies jolt into paralysis, just as I had with their HOS—who was now spitting blood and begging for mercy.   

I heard the dreadful growl coming out of my mouth again, this time saying, “Die! Die!” as the four guards frozen under my control screamed in terrible pain.