Predominance (17 page)

“Oh, Billie,” I groaned.

Sarah came from behind me with a clean sheet and covered the mutilated body. “Did you know him?” she asked.

“I met him the day I arrived. He was the youngest one of our group. He was just a kid, Sarah…” My eyes closed tightly as my feelings began to edge toward anger again. “I'm sorry, Billie. I'm sorry we were too late.”

The thought of Yvette sharing Billie's fate transformed my anger into rage. My eyes began to burn as they had when I'd taken control of the guards during our escape. Sarah, recognizing the reaction, stepped back warily and looked at me with alarm. “Victor?” she called fearfully. “Don't—”

A soft thud made us turn our focus to the elevator, which seemed to be arriving again. “Crap!” Sarah growled. “They know we're here, Victor. We have to get out now!”

“No!” I snapped, feeling the dark force winning the game of mercy inside my head. “Let them come.”

The rising tide of power was like a drug, fueling my brain with the same euphoria I'd felt back on the river. The idea of letting it control me was intoxicating—so much so that I found myself no longer fighting it.

“Victor!” Sara said desperately, shaking me by the shoulders. “Look at me. Look at me! You can't let it win, Victor. Come back! Come back, Victor!”

Part of me wanted to listen, but the other—the much stronger part—wanted revenge. Wanted to make them pay for what they had done. “Run, Sarah,” I told her thickly. “You have to run. Get out...”

“NO!” she yelped as a euphoric trance began to chain my will into final submission. “Wake up!” Sarah commanded. “Wake up!”

Getting no response, Sarah decided to try a different type of persuasion: she grabbed my head firmly with both hands and mashed her lips against mine in a passionate kiss that snatched my concentration back from the powerful dark tide washing me away. Without its energy fueling me, my anger subsided and my volition returned. Finally released from its trance, I found myself completely subdued by Sarah's kiss.

When our lips finally parted I was out of breath, stunned, and confused—but still myself. Sarah let her hands glide down my face as she backed away, her eyes fixed on mine. Too stunned to ask what had happened, I stood there, dazed and dumbfounded.

“Are you back?” she asked in a shaky whisper. I could only nod in response. I was still trying to process the complexities that had just taken place, too baffled to speak. “Good!” she said sharply. “Now let's go.”

I nodded again and followed her as she dashed back to the ventilation shaft. I shook my head hard, trying to shake off the groggy feeling the experience had left in me; but the daze lingered like a sedative. Sarah climbed up onto one of the capsules to reach the duct. I followed her as fast as I could, but my movements were clumsy and uncoordinated. Still, I made it into the duct...and she didn't even have to pull me in this time. Once inside, we set the slotted panel back into place and waited for company to arrive.

The doors of the elevator slid open not 30 seconds later and footsteps clacked against the tiled floor, accompanied by voices.

“Check the controls. The doors were locked from the inside,” said a snappish voice—probably the new Head of Security, or the leader of Walker's little army.

“Yessir!”

A familiar voice addressed one of the guards. “What seems to be the problem?” Dr. Walker asked.

“We appear to have a glitch in the system, sir. First with the elevator and now with the lab's locking mechanism.”

“I see.” I heard a scuffing sound. “There's still blood visible between these tiles here, Black. I want your men back in here to clean it up after we're done.”

“Yessir. We'll scour it ASAP, sir.”

“We're not friggin' janitors,” I heard another voice mutter close by, and held my breath. I hadn't even heard the guy approach.

Through the slotted panel, I watched Dr. Walker approach Billie's open capsule. He stood silently in front of it, scrutinizing the sheet that covered the body of the poor kid. “Put the facility on full alert,” he said, disturbingly calm. “Glitches do not cover dead bodies.”

“Yessir!”  

After peeking under the sheet, Dr. Walker turned to address the entire squad, his voice no longer serene. “Now listen up, everyone! We all know who the intruder is. He's killed four of our guards already and should be considered extremely dangerous. So use caution. I want guards at every possible exit. He's not to leave the facility this time—understood?”

“Yessir!” a conglomerate of voices answered as one.

“Now move!”

Rapid footsteps exited the lab, leaving Dr. Walker alone with the one squad member who'd stayed behind. With the physique of a badass marine, the middle-aged soldier looked pretty intimidating, yet his eyes resembled those of a concerned father. And though the ugly scar he hid behind his goatee screamed “beware,” his demeanor radiated righteousness and trustworthiness. “Dr. Walker?” he called.

“Yes, Captain Black?”

“I've dug up some information on Bellator,” he said, giving Walker a dubious look. “And I must say I'm a little confused.”

“How do you mean, Captain?” Dr. Walker's voice was polite.

“Well, let's see.” He pulled a file from under his arm. “Bellator, Victor: 23 years old, 5'7”, 160 pounds. Survivor of an automobile accident in which he suffered a major head injury three years ago. Diagnosed with an untreatable intracranial pressure. Suffers from headaches, sensitivity to light, and mood swings. Despite his condition, he continued his studies and graduated at the top of his class. His concentration was in physics and mathematics. He's been described by friends and colleagues as an upstanding, law-abiding citizen.” He stopped with a heavy sigh and closed the file. “Now forgive me, Doctor. But this doesn't sound like the profile of a dangerous killer.”

“I'm afraid I don't understand what you're asking me, Captain.”

“I'm trying to understand how a legally disabled kid, who's never picked a fight in his entire life, came to overpower and kill four armed men, each bigger than him.”

“I was under the impression you were sent here to assist me with the capture of a dangerous patient, Captain,” Walker said in a bleak tone, “not to start an investigation.”

“Look, Doctor, I don't know exactly what is it that you do here, and frankly I don't give a crap. But I'm responsible for the safety of my men. I need to know what I'm really going up against here.”

“All you need to know, Captain, is that Victor Bellator is mentally unstable and extremely dangerous. And if you're the one who happens to stumble upon him, I'd suggest you put two bullets in his head before he can lock his eyes on you.” They exchanged uneasy looks. “Now if you'll excuse me, Captain, I have patients to attend to.” Dr. Walker turned away from him and walked back towards the elevator.

“Just one last thing, Doctor.”

Walker turned around reluctantly. “Yes, Captain?”

“How can you be so sure this Bellator is the intruder we're looking for? I mean, he took four lives in order to escape this place. Why in the world would he come back?”

Dr. Walker smiled smugly. “Because love makes you do foolish things, Captain.”

The captain pondered that while Walker gave his back to him again.

“What about this Sarah Grey?” Captain Black called out.

Walker stopped again, but this time he didn't turn. “I wouldn't worry about her, Captain. She must be dead by now.” Walker finally left the room, leaving Captain Black alone in the lab, upset and confused.

After pondering Walker's words for a few minutes, a troubled look on his face, the Captain unclipped a walkie-talkie from his belt and brought it close to his mouth. He hesitated a moment before he spoke: “Attention, everyone. This is Captain Black. I've been ordered to use deadly force against the intruder.” He hesitated again. “Shoot to kill. Acknowledge. Over.”

“Copy that, Captain,” a staticky voice confirmed, followed by several others.

After Captain Black left the Lab, Sarah tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to follow her. I did so, crawling back to the elevator shaft with her. She was quiet along the way. I knew it was because of what had happened in the Lab, and I knew she wasn't going to be the one to bring it up. So despite my personal mortification, I decided to ask.

“Sarah?” I called in a whisper, trying not to make much more noise than we were already making inside the ventilation shaft.

“What?” she whispered back over her shoulder, her tone guarded.

“What happened back there?”

She stopped abruptly in front of me, making me bump into her feet. “I was hoping you wouldn't bring that up,” she said bitterly.

“I'm sorry. I just want to—”

“Look,” she interrupted, “I've been thinking about my theory about anger being the main trigger for your loss of volition. And I figured that if I diverted your focus from your anger, it just might stop the change from happening, okay?”

“So naturally you thought of kissing me.”

She looked over her shoulder again. “Well, I thought that might get your attention.” Her penetrating eyes stared at me for the longest moment, and a faint smile curled her lips before she turned back to resume her crawling.

I shook my head in disbelief and continued to follow her until we finally reached the elevator shaft. From there, we climbed up a ladder to the first floor and entered the utility room. As she headed for the door, I asked, “Where are we going?”

“I think I know where your friend is,” she said, as she opened the door to peek outside. “There's an isolation unit on the east wing. That's where Walker keeps surviving patients for study. If she's still alive, that's the only place she'd be. Let's just hope we don't bump into any of those guards.” She released her breath in a long sigh and said over her shoulder, “Let's go.”

“Wait!” I pulled her back in. “I think it's time to put my gift to good use.”

“What are you talking about?”

“In the woods I was able to sense things from a long way off, especially animals. Maybe I can do the same here if I concentrate hard enough.”

“No,” she argued. “I've told you what could happen if you lose control. You almost did just a few minutes ago!”

“I know. But I'm calm now. And nothing bad can happen if I'm calm, right?”

“Theoretically, yes. But what if I'm wrong?”

“Then you know what to do.”

She blushed. “What if that doesn't work again?”

My eyes narrowed to slits. “I meant run, Sarah.”

“Oh.” 

“Now stand back.” I closed my eyes and focused my thoughts on the corridor outside the room. The spark in my head didn't take long to ignite. The invisible ramification that connected my brain with everything around me allowed me to smell, taste, hear, feel, and even mentally see my surroundings out to several hundred yards. The feeling was overwhelming, yet incredibly soothing at the same time. I felt no sense of rivalry within my mind, nor euphoria doping my brain; and yet, for some reason, I felt temped to taste it again. I ignored the feeling, focusing on the things I could sense around me. My mind traveled the empty corridors of the mansion, stopping at a huge metal door marked by a sign: Block-A. For some reason, my mind couldn't go pass that threshold. It did, however, reach outside the mansion, sensing the presence of guards swarming the perimeter.

“The halls are empty,” I told Sarah, opening my eyes. “All the guards are outside covering the exits.”

“Amazing,” Sarah whispered in awe. “You can actually see them?”

I nodded diffidently, not knowing how to explain the lights, colors, and shapes that my mind was able to interpret as objects, animals, and people. Noting the confounded look on my face, Sarah dropped the subject and readied herself to go out the door. “All right, then,” she said, peeking again from the threshold. “Let's go.”

Her red curls bounced as she moved along the hallway, graceful as a gazelle. I followed close behind her, though not nearly as gratefully. The polished marble floor of the hallway shone like a mirror, reflecting the lighting fixtures that hung above us, as well as the images of our own bodies. After cornering into another long corridor, I was able to see with my eyes the big metal door that I'd seen in my vision: a massive stainless steel double door that shone nearly as much as the perfect marble floors. A keypad on the wall beside it prompted for an access code.

Sarah quickly punched in some numbers and waited.

“Crap!” she grunted as a cutting beep denied her access. She sighed in frustration and tried again. But the same annoying beep followed the last digit she entered. “The master code isn't working. Walker must've disabled all security clearances after what happened in the lab. We can't get in.”

My first reaction was to punch the door, over and over again, while Sarah, her back against the wall, slid down to the floor in dismay. I actually dented the damned thing, but quickly realized I was hurting myself more than it. I pressed my forehead against the cold steel of the door, eyes clenched shut, feeling nothing but hopelessness. I tried to control my breathing, suppressing tears of frustration. Then I took a deep breath and tried to push myself off the door. But something odd happened: the palms of my hands stopped an inch away from touching the door, like a magnet will when driven toward another of the same polarity—yet magnetism wasn't a factor here.