Predominance (24 page)

I shut my eyes tightly, forcing my heart to shut up, so I could let my analytical mind tell me the right thing to do in order to keep my Yvee and everyone else safe from the monster I might soon be. Then I thought that if Roger had seen my future, he might have seen Yvette's as well. So, I turned around to ask him... but my question was lost in the terror of what I saw next.

“Roger?” I gasped, watching him pull a gun from underneath the cover on his lap. A .32 Colt pistol that he had somehow liberated from Denali's gun cabinet, to be precise. “What are you doing?”

“I'm sorry, Victor. I just can't let it happen.”

The blood drained from my face. “Why don't you just calm down and give me the gun, all right? Nothing bad is going to happen. I promise.”

He laughed bitterly. “You should stop making promises you can't fulfill, Victor. It'll only bring you more pain.”

“You can trust me, Roger. I haven't backed out on a promise yet. Ever.”

“You haven't seen what I've seen! The horror, the suffering… the pain… And my knowing it only makes things worse. You see, they get ahold of me, Victor, and they use what I know to decide who lives and who dies. I can't let that happen, Victor.” He whispered again, “I can't let that happen,” bringing the pistol to his temple.

“Roger!” I pleaded desperately. “Please don't do this. I can help you!”

Tears ran down his cheeks now. “There's no help for us once we cross over to the dark side. You'll soon see that for yourself… goodbye, Victor.”

“Roger, NOOO!” The spark in my brain ignited and I reached out for him—too late. Even my powers can't outrace a bullet that exits the chamber faster than the speed of sound.

I jerked at the dull crack of the gunshot, as if I were the one shot, and it left a ringing in my ears that blocked all sound from my surroundings. Fortunately, my eyes closed reflexively when he shot himself, so I didn't have to see the worst of it. A bloodstain spread over the fabric of the couch as I watched Roger's head dangle over his shoulder, and his big body keel over onto its side. I stood there in shock, trembling before the horrifying scene. I couldn't move, speak, or hear. Damian, who was the first to enter the room, had to push me out of the way to get to Roger's body. He leaned over the big man and checked his pulse, just to confirm that Roger was gone...although the ruin that had been his head should been enough for that.

I could see Damian's lips moving as he shook me by the shoulders, as if asking me for answers. But I heard nothing; the ringing in my ears continued to deafen me. Then I felt the touch of Yvette, which sparked my senses again. This shook me out of my deafness as if out of a nightmare.

“Victor?” I finally heard her voice, as if from a mile away. “What happened?”

“He…. he killed himself,” I answered past a knot in my throat.

“Why?” Sarah asked, horrified.

I took a minute to answer. “He was clairvoyant. He chose not to be a part of what he saw in his visions. “

“And what was that?” Damian asked.

I sighed. “A horrific future that he's taken to his grave.” I paused and walked toward Denali's bedroom. “I guess we're all just going to have to wait and see what it was… what it'll be.”

After telling everybody that I needed some time alone, I stepped into Denali's bedroom. I stopped and leaned forward over the dresser, looking blankly into the mirror. After a few minutes I began to scrutinize my own face, trying to find the monster behind my eyes. But soon my appearance derailed my intentions and got me to thinking. If we were to escape this godforsaken place, we needed to attract as little attention as possible. A man in rags, covered in blood, just wasn't going to do. I was the only one in our group who still looked like I'd just walked out of a slaughterhouse.

I decided to strip out of my tatters and bandages and jump into the shower. Strangely, the cut on my brow had healed almost completely, yet I chose not to even question why. As I saw the murky water running down the drain, I thought of all the blood that had been shed in vain. A sudden burst of anger caused me to drive my fist through the shower wall, carving a hole into the white fiberglass, which in return cut my knuckles in several places. I saw my bright new blood run down and spiral into the drain with the clear water.

The pain, along with the act itself, reminded me to keep calm. The frequency of these outbursts, as well as the intensity of them, was an obvious sign that I was running out of time. The more I felt this dark energy growing inside me, the more difficult it became to reject it. The truth was, my anger
was the only thing soothing my pain now—or at least, that's how this dark energy was making me feel. Yet the thought of losing Yvette kept me from choosing this seductive escape.

Quickly, I drenched my head under the gushing hot water and tried to regain complete control of my feelings. But something was wrong. Fighting my anger wasn't easy, but it was doable. Pain, on the other hand, proved to be a different proposition. I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. Steam engulfed the entire bathroom. I wrapped a towel around my waist and panted distressfully over the sink, fighting a smothering sensation of hurt and anger that I was finding difficult to shake. The mirror was too clouded to show my reflection, so I wiped my hand over it to clear the fog. An electrifying shiver stroked my spine when I saw the reflection of my own eyes.

The unnatural gray that had tainted my eyes at Damian's cabin had returned, along with the same evil expression that screamed out for hate and revenge. I could've sworn I even saw a disturbing smile jeering at me from the mirror. The shock forced me to shut my eyes tightly as I staggered backwards against the wall. By the time I'd built the courage to open my eyes again, the steam had covered the mirror with another coating of fog, which I frantically began to wipe way. I never thought I'd be so happy to see the stupid expression of my good old self again.

Did I imagine it? I wondered. Maybe it was just another trick of my rapidly evolving dark side, trying to make me lose my grip on reality. I couldn't know for sure. But whatever it was, it was growing stronger, and becoming more difficult to control.

I stepped into the bedroom, trying to shake the frightful experience. The change of temperature in the room helped me to do that. It was cold—freezing! I couldn't understand how this place could have hot water but no heating system. It must have been at least thirty-five degrees outside, and all we had for warmth was an old fireplace in the living room. I threw another towel over my shoulders and began to look around the room, searching for something fresh to change into.

The closet door in the room caught my attention; it contained a laundry basket overflowing with clean, unfolded laundry. Digging through it, I found a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, which I slipped into right away. A nice jacket and a pair of boots that I found at the back of the closet complemented my new outfit—I guess I was lucky that everything fit as if it had been meant for me. The jacket was a brown leather bomber; the label read Trapper Alaska, and it had one of those removable faux-fur collars that reminded me of those black-and-white war movies I used to watch with my father when I was a kid. The initials D.J. had been laser-engraved on the front of the jacket. It took me two seconds to realize what they stood for: Denali Johnson, of course.

Then there were the boots: Durango. Brown leather, rubber soles, with harnesses around the ankles. I have to admit, it felt great to look decent again. After combing my damp bicolor hair, I decided to go back and rejoin the others, who had taken it upon themselves to bury Roger's body in the backyard next to Denali's.

“Hey!” Yvette came to me with a smile and hugged me. “You look great,” she said, running her fingers through my silvery patch of hair again. “I'm beginning to like this. It's definitely you.”

I looked into her innocent eyes and I couldn't help feeling guilty for keeping the truth from her all this time. I was just trying to protect her, but my time was running out and she deserved to know the truth. So I steeled myself and decided to finally reveal my secret. “Yvee,” I began. “There's something I need to tell you—”

“It's all right,” she said swiftly. “You don't have to. I know.”

“How…” I trailed off, confused. But then my eyes flew to Sarah—Damian stood silently behind her, studying our every move like a hawk.

“I'm sorry,” Sarah said. “I thought you were never going to tell her—and like I said before, she deserves to know.”

“So much for doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“I'm not a doctor, and you're not my patient. If it makes you feel better, there's a reason why I decided to reveal your condition. While you guys went to Damian's cabin, I managed to contact my mentor in Sitka. He's finally resurfaced, and says he's fine. He told me he's willing to try to find a way to help you and Damian, though he said no promises. I'm confident he can find a way to reverse the change.” She smiled hopefully. “Your guys are going to be all right.”

A sigh escaped my lips and, once again, I was dumbstruck. I guess I was having trouble believing the good news. My eyes slid back to Yvette, who was caressing my cheek with the palm of her hand. “It's all right, baby,” she comforted me. “You're going to be okay.”

I reached for her hand and kissed it, finally heaving a deep sigh of relief that I ended with an elated chuckle. “That's—that's great news,” I said, trying not to cry. “Thank you, Sarah.”

“Hey, I wouldn't be much of a heroine if I didn't help my sidekick get better, would I?”

That cracked me up. “So now I'm the sidekick, huh?”

“You always were, buddy.” She laughed with me and then met Yvette's stare. “Is it okay if I hug this gigantic pain in my ass?”

“By my guest,” Yvette conceded with a smile, and pushed me gently in Sarah's direction.

Sarah leaned the shovel she had in her hands against a wall and walked to me with a serious look on her face. Her arms wrapped around me tightly, as if she'd been wanting to do this for a long time. Her lips graced my ear when she whispered, “You deserve to be happy, Victor. And I won't leave until I see that through. I promise.” She let go of me and met my eyes candidly. “We're still in this together, right?”

I nodded, overcome with sentiment.

“Ahem!” Yvette cleared her throat and addressed me. “Victor, I want you to go with Sarah and meet this doctor in Sitka.” She paused ruefully. “And I want you to promise me you'll respect my decision.”

I let go of Sarah and turned to Yvette, confused. “What are you talking about? What decision?”

“I know about Damian's wife, and I won't allow anyone to get hurt on my account. I've promised Damian I'll do the swap, without any tricks. That way he can have his wife back. And I'm sure that once you get better, you'll come back for me again. Sarah has information that you guys can take to the police. I'll just hold on until they arrive. I can do it.”

“Are you crazy?” I asked, stunned. “Whose idea was this?” My eyes flew to Damian and Sarah.

“No one asked me to do this, Victor,” Yvette continued firmly. “I decided this on my own. I just can't stand to see anyone else get hurt. And I need you to please just respect my decision, all right?”

“No!” I barked. “And I don't care how much you'll hate me for it when I don't. I will never let you do this, not in a million years!”

“Victor?” Damian finally spoke.

“And you'd better stay the hell away from this, Damian,” I said defiantly.

He smirked challengingly. “I guess I always knew it would come to this.” He dropped the shovel in his hands and strode towards me, as if ready to engage, his eyes faintly glowing the same sulfuric yellow I'd seen back at his cabin.

My eyes began to burn too.

“Wait!” Sarah shouted, jumping between us. “I think I have an idea about how to use this swap to our advantage. Damian!” She turned to him. “We're going to get your wife out of there—and we're all going to help you, all right? But we have to work together, you understand? And Victor.” She turned to me. “I know you're not going to like this. But in order for this to work, Yvette needs to be involved.” She lowered her voice. “Victor, we can still beat this… together.”

Damian and I kept glaring at each other.

“I'm in!” Yvette snapped, making eye contact with Sarah, who smiled and nodded.

“Well, that's one,” Sarah said. “Damian?” she asked, turning to him.

“All right,” he said, backing off both literally and figuratively.

“Victor?” Sarah turned to me now.

I took a deep breath and sighed—reluctantly. “All right,” I said finally. “And what about Laura?”

“She's in pretty bad shape,” Sarah explained. “I spoke with her earlier, and we decided it's better for her to just go home. Besides, we're going to need someone on the mainland to tell people what happened here, in case none of us makes it. She's got my flash drive with all the information I extracted from Walker's personal files. She knows what to do with it if she doesn't hear from us within the next forty-eight hours.”

“All right, then,” I said grudgingly. “What's your plan?”

The night was upon us, although the clock only read fifteen minutes to six. Normal for this time of the year, Sarah had said. Ketchikan nights weren't that much longer than the days during the springtime, yet nightfall finds you a lot early than usual. The cold front that had swatted us for the last couple of days was finally giving us a break, allowing us to enjoy a more comfortable night. A little outdoor thermometer in the porch pointed its needle at the lower fifties. It was the perfect setting to just stand on the porch and enjoy that naturally purified air that can only be found in a place like this.