Predominance (15 page)

“Yeah,” I muttered, still trying to get my bearings. I reached for my lighter. “I'll make the fire,” I said, trying to put the awkward moment behind us for good.

She turned back to me. “Great!” she responded with a smile, opting for the same resolution. “Why don't you start? And, uh... I'll go get some more water... for later.” And just like that, she disappeared into the woods. I couldn't blame her for wanting to be alone after what had happened. I would have done the same thing if she hadn't done it first.

The sun had begun to set by then, and I could see the last flashes of light disappearing behind the humongous firs that surrounded the clearing. The sounds of the night had also begun to reemerge. Nocturnal animals like crickets and owls were tuning up for their all-night concert. I gathered some dry moss and bark in order to kindle the wood Sarah had arranged earlier, and had the fire going by the time she returned.

“Cool lighter,” she said, with a more relaxed, refreshed disposition. “I didn't know you smoked.”

“I don't,” I replied. “It was my dad's.”

“May I?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said, handing it to her.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, “It's beautiful!” She gave it a thorough examination. “Is he waiting for you at home?”

“No. He, uh... he passed away a couple of years ago. It was one of the reasons I took a chance with the treatment...there was no one to go back to, no one to hurt if it didn't work.”  

“Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know.”

“It's okay.”

“How did he die?—No, wait. You don't have to tell me if you don't...”

“Cirrhosis,” I answered swiftly.

“I'm really sorry, Victor.”

“Yeah, me too.” I smiled sadly.

“Cirrhosis? Was he an
alco…? I mean, um…,” she trailed off, regretfully. “I'm sorry… I, uh…” She looked at the ground as she struggled to apologize again.

“It's okay.” I smiled, trying to put her at ease. “My mom, she... well, she left when I was six. And my Dad took it a little too hard, if you know what I mean. I remember him crying almost every night after she left. Until one night he brought home a big bottle of Scotch, and drank from it until he passed out. He began to do it more and more after that. I guess that was the only way he found to numb his pain, because he never cried again,” I finished, staring blankly at the fire.

“I'm sorry,” she repeated. She returned the lighter with a rueful look on her face. “I take it that you and your dad were really close, then?”

“Yeah.”

When Sarah noticed that my eyes wouldn't leave the fire, she decided to change the subject. “We should start planning how we're going to enter the Lab tomorrow. I doubt the escape chute's going to work twice.”

“Don't worry,” I answered confidently. “I know a way.”

Now it was my turn to change the subject. “You never told me how you know all this survival stuff. It can't all be from med school.”

“Camp,” she said quickly. Her answer was followed by a story about how her own father, who was a busy businessman and never had time for her, used to send her to summer camp every year after school ended. Our conversation continued for hours, consisting of stories that switched from sad to happy and back. She told me about her love of science, and I told her about my addiction to numbers. Her secret fear of spiders was challenged by my embarrassing fear of heights. We even shared our knowledge of astronomy when we finally lay down on the grass to go to sleep.

The fire sizzled between us as we named constellations. It was refreshing to discover how easy it was to talk to each other once the weirdness and awkwardness was put aside. Finally, we both began to yawn—not from boredom, but from genuine exhaustion. It had been a long day, and as much as I wanted to keep our conversation going, we knew we should get some rest.

“Time for some shut-eye,” I suggested after she yawned for the second time.

She turned on her side and smiled, her head resting on her arm. “Okay,” she said, as I watched her eyes close across the fire.

I turned on my side too, feeling guilty for admiring her the way I did. But the truth was that beyond her beauty and behind those captivating green eyes, there was a brave and decent woman to whom I owed my life. “Good night, Sarah,” I whispered softly. “...Thank you.”

Testing the Ropes

THE APPALLING MEMORIES
of what happened in the Lab came back to me in the form of nightmares, which awakened me near dawn with a desperate gasp that ignited my hypersenses in a defensive stance. Fortunately, the morning dew had enhanced the earthy scent of the forest: the smells of fresh air, pine needles, wood smoke, oak moss, and grass formed a naturally relaxing mixture that soon eased my nerves, tipping me back toward normal. The calming sound of the river and the peaceful string of smoke rising from the near-extinguished campfire also helped to alleviate my high-strung senses.

Looking over the dying fire I saw Sarah, lying on the ground still asleep. God, she looked beautiful! After everything we'd gone through, she still looked like a model ready for a photo shoot. Watching her lying there so peacefully made me realize she was just another victim of this heinous conspiracy. She'd never deserved to be involved in any of this, and she sure as hell she didn't deserve to be here with me right now.

I knew exactly what I was walking into, and I realized what my chances were. And though my strong resolve kept fueling my hope for success, my mind wouldn't stop running the numbers over and over again. Our likelihood of success was slight.

I realized then that dragging another innocent life into the slaughterhouse was senseless and cruel. Sarah shouldn't come with me. But I also knew that it would be difficult to convince her otherwise, so I had to come up with the right words and the right reasons to send her away.

“Good morning,” she said, stretching fetchingly on the grass.

“Morning.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I lied. “I was just running the numbers on my chances of getting out of there alive.” She studied me. “They're good!” I lied again. “But I'm going to need someone on the outside. Someone I can trust. And that's why I need you to stay behind.”

She sat up hastily and gave me a sharp look. “We both need the map,” I continued. “I need it to get to the bridge and you need it to get out of these woods. So we don't have any choice but to hike together to the bridge. After that we'll part ways.” I talked fast and stiffly, trying to leave no room for discussion. “I want you to go back to Ketchikan and check into the Black Bear, a small inn I saw on the harbor on my way in. And I want you to wait for me there, all right?”

I got to my feet before she could answer. “But…” she uttered, confused, and stopped.

I kicked some dirt over our campfire and offered my hand for Sarah to help her get up. “Let's go.”

We resumed our journey to the bridge, a two-hour hike during which neither of us said another word. I guess we were too busy juggling our own thoughts. But interaction resumed the moment we arrived at the edge of the bridge—where we stopped and stared in amazed disappointment.

The so-called bridge was a century-old mosaic of broken wooden boards and dry ropes, which stretched a hundred feet above the river, connecting two steep cliffs that made the Empire State Building look like a two-story house—at least to my acrophobic eyes. “You're kidding me, right?” I protested. “There is no way in hell you can call this a bridge!”

“Well, according to the map, this is the only way back,” she reminded me. “I don't think you have much of a choice here.”

I leaned out over the edge to check our landing site in the event of a collapse, and a burst of fear knocked on my chest when I saw the jagged boulders lying across the river. They almost seemed like they'd been purposely positioned under the decaying bridge, like a booby trap waiting for the first boob who attempted to cross it.

“Crap!” I exclaimed nervously, realizing that I'd made a grave mistake in looking down into the gorge. “Just my luck!”

I took a deep breath and decided to put my fears aside and deal with what had to be done. And I'm not talking about just crossing the bridge, but something I found it much harder to do. It was time to say good-bye to Sarah...and I didn't know how.

I stepped away from the bridge and turned to Sarah, who was apparently waiting for me to say something. I stood there in front of her, tongue-tied and at a loss for words—just admiring those hypnotizing eyes, which I was certain I'd never see again. Her look turned quizzical again, derailing me completely from my already confused thoughts. “What?” she demanded, sounding annoyed.

“Nothing,” I said, realizing I should move this along. I was just about to express my gratitude for everything she'd done for me, when suddenly—

“Then let's go!” she snapped, jumping on the first deck-board of the bridge in one swift and sneaky move, leaving me standing behind like an idiot. “I thought we were in a hurry?” she called over her shoulder. 

“What do you think you're doing?” I demanded. “I told you, you're not coming with me, Sarah!”

“The hell I'm not. This may be my only chance to get some evidence against R.C. Labs. Besides, you don't know your way around the Lab as well as I do. Without me, it'd take you longer to find her. And you know better than anyone that time can make all the difference here. And don't forget—you still need someone to keep you calm.”

“Keep me calm? Are you serious? I've never met anybody who can get a rise out of me as easily as you can, Sarah! I'm telling you for the last time, I do not need your help, okay?”

“Yes, you do!”

“You're not coming!”

“Yes I am!”

“You're going to get yourself killed!”

“I don't care!”

“Argh!” I growled, kicking at the gravel. “Are you always this stubborn?!”

She glared at me over her shoulder and said, “You have no idea.”

We scowled at each other for a long moment, until the intensity in her eyes made me realize that arguing with her was completely useless. I sighed in defeat and looked away finally, letting her know her obstinacy had triumphed over mine. 

“Now,” she said smugly. “Are you going to calm down and cross this bridge with me or not?”

Refusing to allow her to gloat, I just exhaled heavily while I walked to the edge of the bridge and stood right behind her. A soft breeze blew strong then enough to flutter her long red curls over my face, which I have to admit somehow dampened my escalating belligerence. Sarah peeped over her shoulder, realizing what the mischievous wind had wrought, and apologized, twisting her hair into a ponytail that she tossed over her shoulder. And though her hair was out of my face, her scent still lingered like a teasing drug, once again igniting my hypersenses.

My grip tightened around the ropes and my jaw tightened as I tried to ignore the rush of sensation and emotion her accident had triggered. Up until that point I wasn't sure which, if any, of these new feelings I should trust. For now, I decided not to trust anything I felt—including the attraction I'd begun to feel towards Sarah.

“So, how should we handle this?” I asked, trying to refocus on the task at hand. “One at a time?”

“Hmmm…” Sarah mused, looking down. “I'll go first. You just stay here.”

“But…” And just like that, she begun to walk over the creaking deck-boards, sliding her tight grip over the ropes with each careful step. I just stood there breathless as I watched her reach the shallow catenary arc of the bridge. Then, as my heart seemed to rise to the back of my throat, Sarah began to purposely wobble the bridge, pulling on the ropes and stomping on the boards. A shiver shook my body when the wobble sent a vibration to the end of the rope I was holding. “What the hell are you doing?!” I shouted.

“Relax!” she shouted back. “I'm just testing its strength.”

“What?! NO!” I bawled. “Don't test it, just cross it!”

“It's okay!” she yelled. “It seems strong enough to hold us both!”

“It seems strong enough? What the hell does that mean?”

“Just get on the damn bridge, Victor!”

“It seems strong enough,” I muttered to myself, stepping onto the decrepit bridge. “Not the best line to inspire confidence.”

Sarah was a good fifty feet ahead of me now, following the upward slope of the bridge as I struggled with my odd cocktail of emotions. My familiar fear of heights only intensified the awareness that Sarah's scent had already ignited in me; and unfortunately, this only worsened my fear of absorbing more of that “dark energy” into the newly-awakened region of my brain.

I stopped for a second and closed my eyes, trying to control my breathing, hoping that if I calmed myself down long enough, I'd be able to get rid of this worry. But my pause had the opposite effect. I stood there feeling my mind connecting to my surroundings, like creeping ivy branching out through the air, clinging to everything it touched. My heart begun to pound out of my chest when my mind reached the surface of the rocky river, somehow measuring the deadly distance between the bridge and the steep boulders below. Two hundred and seventeen feet, three point two three seven inches.

My eyes opened to the overwhelming compulsion to look down again. My jaw clenched, my hands tightened around the ropes in a grip that almost cut off my circulation as my eyes adjusted and readjusted to the terrifying height. My entire body went into complete paralysis, like a frightened cat stuck in a tree. Sarah, just twenty feet shy of reaching the other side, looked over her shoulder and realized the problem. “Come on, Victor!” she yelled. “You can do it!”

But even with Sarah's encouragement, I found myself struggling to move. My thoughts, meanwhile, were rattling along at an incredible speed. I was having trouble understanding all the images that began to overlap inside my head. All the things my mind was connected to had begun to flash before my eyes, making it very difficult to maintain coordination. I shuffled forward until I was about ten feet out.

I raised my head and fought to keep my eyes opened and fixed on Sarah as dozens of images intruded into my visual field: rocks, trees, water, Sarah, the bridge—all at the same time, dazing me. Wait! Suddenly the image of the bridge overcame the others, becoming clearer and more detailed with every flash. I tried to concentrate harder in order to understand what I was seeing. The strongest images belonged to the near anchor of the bridge, where the ropes had begun to stretch and give. It took a split second for the rest of my senses to join my vision, allowing me to perceive the ongoing event.

I could almost taste the dry, dusty surface of the overstrained ropes, which had begun slowly and irrevocably to tear, and hear the tiny crackles as individual fibers parted. My eyes widened abruptly as I realized the implications situation. “Sarah!” I hollered. “Go! Get to other side! Now!”

“What?” Sarah yelled back, unable to understand my warning, which had been drowned by distance and wind.

I cupped my hands around my mouth and tried again with everything I had. “THE ROPES ARE BREAKING! GO!!!”

This time my words didn't just reach Sarah, they startled her into action. She spun around and began to move as fast as the wobbling bridge allowed. I, on the other hand, knew that being at the middle of the bridge wasn't in my favor. The sound of the parting fibers grew stronger and faster in my head. Then one final image flashed inside my head, allowing me to see the snapping of the ropes just seconds before it would actually happen—giving me the chance to warn Sarah, who was now just a few feet away from the opposite edge of the cliff.

“SARAH!—HURRY!” I shouted, weaving my arms around the ropes on both sides, trying to ready myself for the inevitable. Sarah threw a quick glance over her shoulder that gave me the chance to shout out one final instruction: “JUMP!” Bending her knees then, she launched herself towards the edge of the cliff—just as the ropes on my side broke in one violently final snap.

An awful sensation of falling clutched my stomach after the sudden break. The air rushing upwards against my body reminded me of my deadly trajectory, right toward the sharp boulders below. I closed my eyes tightly as my body plummeted downward along with the remnants of the bridge, my heart beating as fast as a hummingbird's, waiting for the inevitable impact. Thankfully, the ropes I'd lashed around my arms were still attached to the anchor at Sarah's end, which changed the trajectory of my fall.

I began to swing towards the other side of the river, narrowly missing the killer boulders below. My eyes opened just in time to realize I was now heading straight for the rocky face of the cliff, which didn't look too inviting either. I closed my eyes again and cringed, waiting for the painful impact, and felt my mind throw up some kind of final desperate shield against the cliff. It lasted only a few milliseconds, and then collapsed as I struck.

I felt the deck boards break against my shoulder. The collision was such that it made me lose my grip on the ropes; fortunately, one of them ropes remained twisted around my arm, leaving me hanging by one overstressed limb.

It took me a couple of seconds to realize I wasn't dead. “Oh, boy!” I groaned softly, opening my eyes to the unappealing situation. 

I heard Sarah's yell from above. “Victor? Victor!”

I looked up and I saw her leaning far over the edge, looking for me. Her hands, which were clutching the edge, knocked some dirt and gravel loose; naturally, it went into my eyes. “Stay away from the edge!” I shouted, sputtering and rubbing my eyes with the back of my free wrist.  

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “Are you all right?”