Predominance (30 page)

***

An annoying buzz went off next to my ear, snatching me away from the first deep and undisturbed sleep I'd had in ages. I opened my eyes a slit, looked through my eyelashes, and noticed the glow of the alarm clock on top of the nightstand. The big, green digital numbers read 4:00 am. What a lousy time to set the alarm for!

As I tried to stretch, cursing the room's previous tenant, I realized Yvette was still cuddling under my left arm, with our entwined fingers firmly pressed against her chest—a sweet entanglement I wished I never had to break. Curiosity made me throw a quick look over to the adjacent bed, where I was hoping to find Sarah. But she wasn't there. There was no water running in the bathroom either, nor lights on over the coffee table.

An irrational anxiety filled me, a fear that something might have happened to her—so I closed my eyes and commanded my hypersenses to find her. My mind began to scan the place, starting with the melodic sound of Yvette's heartbeat. Beyond our room I sensed another couple next door, sleeping. I sensed the wind whirling outside the building too. I saw cars, lights, newspapers being blown by the wind in the parking lot. Soon I reached the front desk, and there she was, her heartbeat pounding as strong as always. I detected neither anguish nor anxiety in her breathing. It was fair to assume that no danger was present. She was merely checking out… what a relief!

A confused scowl startled me when I returned to myself and opened my eyes. Yvette had awakened and she had been studying me, apparently, since I'd begun my mental scan. The incriminating glare she was giving me now made her magnificent eyes almost glow in the half-lit room. “What are you doing?” she asked accusingly, as the annoying buzzing suddenly stopped—

“Nothing!” I lied unwittingly. Her question had caught me off guard.

She let go of my hand and scrutinized my face. “You promised you'd never lie to me, remember?” she reminded me, sitting up straight. Her eyes were almost sad now. “Don't start now, especially knowing I can feel what you feel with one touch.”

“I'm sorry,” I said quickly. “It's just that I don't want to freak you out with the things I can do now.” I paused, watching her brows knit into another scowl, as if letting me know my apology wasn't going to compensate for the answer she was expecting. “Okay,” I began, letting out a defeated sigh. “When I concentrate hard enough, my mind can connect with the things in my surroundings. That's how I can use my telekinesis. But it can also help me locate nearby objects or even people that are not in my visual field. So when I woke up and I—”

“When you didn't see Sarah, you scanned the whole place, looking for her,” she interjected with an unexpected tone of understanding in her voice.

“Yes,” I confessed. “I needed to make sure she was okay.” Yvette's glare had disappeared, as if she'd felt the sincerity in my voice. “She's okay, by the way,” I added. “She's just checking us out of the motel.”

She sighed, as if embarrassed. “I'm sorry,” she apologized. “I just, uh… I can't see specifics, you know? I can only feel things when I touch you… your fears, your worries… your love.” Her voice hardened. “But just now I felt your yearning for her.” She sniffed and shook her head. “And, I don't know, I guess I got a little jealous,” she admitted, embarrassed, looking down at her fidgeting fingers.

I held her face in my hands, as if admiring a porcelain doll, and lowered my head to her eye level. Looking into her eyes, I landed a soft kiss on her lips and said, “How can you be jealous of anybody when you can feel how much I love you?” My lips barely parted from hers as I uttered the words. “I mean, you can literally feel it, can't you?”

She chuckled. “Yes,” she answered quickly. “I guess I'm just scared.”

“Of what?” I asked.

The earnest tone of her voice was as overwhelming as the wistful look in her eyes. “Of losing you,” she whispered.

I held her firmly in my arms and matched her wistful eyes with the solemnity of mine, allowing my whole heart to show in every word that followed. “Yvee,” I began. “Finding you… Finding that little girl I fell in love with as a boy, and see her transformed into a beautiful woman who has stolen my heart and soul as a man, can't be coincidence. It can only be fate. Loving you has given meaning to my life. And feeling your love has given me the absolute desire to live it.” I paused, watching as her eyes dampened with tears. “I guess what I'm trying to say is that you couldn't lose me if you tried.”

She threw her arms around my neck then and pressed her lips firmly against mine, sparking that mixture of tenderness and passion that only she could incite in me.

The sound of the door closing made us break apart. Apparently my connection with Yvette was powerful enough to monopolize all of my enhanced senses, which had allowed Sarah to sneak past my special radar and enter the room undetected. “Oops, sorry!” she said. “I didn't mean to interrupt… I thought you guys were asleep.” Her reaction was sincere and almost nonchalant. “Anyway, I just checked us out, and I arranged for a cab to pick us up in an hour to take us to the airfield. So we'd better get ready.” Her gaze slid over to Yvette. “I can help you get dressed…fix your hair maybe?”

Yvette smiled sincerely, as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “Sure! That'll be great. Thank you.”

Sarah helped her with her crutches and walked with her to the bathroom. I sighed with relief, feeling like everything was finally falling into place.

***

When the cab finally arrived I was ready, just waiting for the girls to come out of the bathroom. I stood by the door, wearing the boots and jacket I had inherit from Denali over a brand-new T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. After letting the girls know the cab was there, I went ahead and loaded our stuff into the trunk and waited for them outside.

My jaw dropped when they walked out of the room. They had both fixed their hair and put on makeup; for a moment I thought I was looking at two models ready for a photo-shoot. And though they were wearing similar outfits, it was remarkable to see what a distinct and unique look each of them could display.

The contrast of Yvette's milky-white skin with her jet-black hair made her chiseled face stand out from the long and perfectly straight tresses that framed it. Sarah's naturally dark red curls, on the other hand, seemed almost alive, bouncing with every movement she made. But what dazzled me the most was how they had both enhanced what I'm sure they knew were their most striking features, which in both cases I can only compare with precious jewels: their emerald and sapphire eyes. Even the cab driver couldn't keep a quick “Wow!” from escaping his lips.

I opened the back door of the cab and complimented them both. I guess I thought a general compliment, as opposed to an individual one, would keep me from inciting jealousy between them. After all, they were finally getting along, and I wasn't going to be the one to tarnish their new friendship.

Once at Ketchikan Harbor, I caught sight of the single-engine floatplane that waited for us. Our destination: Juneau, where we were to meet Sarah's mentor, Dr. Sidney Palmer, the father of the R.C.-1000 serum and perhaps the only man on the planet who knew how to stop its horrific side effects—or so we hoped.

We were soon in the air, and after an hour of soaring over the impressive Alaskan landscape we finally began our landing in Juneau. The majestic mountains on the horizon not only caught my eye, but forced me to subdue my fear of heights and look out the window. The peaks were cloaked with forests of green fir trees, which shaped this natural work of art with an imperfect beauty. The summits appeared to reach the undisturbed sky, touching its overwhelming blue, while the mirror-like bay below reflected the exact twin of the exquisite scenery in its still waters, creating a greater view that was impossible to grasp with a single glance.

We docked in the harbor, near the Merchant's Wharf Mall in downtown Juneau. A woman on the dock seemed to be awaiting our arrival. She wore an elegant pantsuit and glasses. Her brown, medium-length hair fluttered in the wind as the plane engine began to whine down. She was very attractive, probably in her late twenties or early thirties, yet her light brown eyes revealed a wisdom you usually saw only in older people.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Yelena Ivanova,” she introduced herself, with a handshake for each of us. “Welcome to Juneau.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor. I'm Victor Bellator. And these lovely ladies are Yvette Montgomery and Sarah Grey.”

Dr. Ivanova nodded and turned back to me. “Dr. Palmer is very excited to meet you all. If you will please follow me, I will take you to him.”

We grabbed our bags and followed her to her car. Calmly, Dr. Ivanova drove to the outskirts of town, where Dr. Palmer's hidden cabin was located. She was a careful and precise driver, and kept her eyes strictly on the road as she explained to us that this cabin/laboratory wasn't marked on any map, and that it was imperative that we keep its location a secret. We all agreed to do so, of course.

A man stood on the porch watching as we parked at the end of the driveway. He was slightly overweight and not much taller than me. The deep lines that creased his face reflected more than half a century of life, just as his doleful eyes reflected the intelligence and wisdom that one can only collect by perseverance and sacrifice. “Sidney!” Sarah called excitedly, leaping out of the car. She ran toward him, taking the stairs to the porch two at a time, and hugged him like a daughter would hug her beloved father.

Meanwhile, I helped Yvette out of the car and walked with her and Dr. Ivanova to the porch. Sarah made the introductions. “Sidney, this is Victor Bellator, and this is Yvette Montgomery—the last two survivors of the latest R.C.-1000 procedure. Guys, this is my mentor and friend Dr. Sidney Palmer.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you. Dr. Palmer,” I said, my hand extended for a handshake. “Sarah has nothing but the best to say about you.”

He shook my hand. “Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Victor… Yvette.” He turned to her and shook her hand too. “Why don't we all go inside? We have a lot to talk about.”

We spent the next three hours in the good doctor's office, talking in detail about what had happened to bring us there: My accident, Yvette's, our meeting with Dr. Walker, the procedure, my new abilities, what had happened to Damian and his wife, Dr. Walker's interest on Yvette, and even my inner-mind episode with my evil counterpart.

Dr. Palmer sat at his desk and listened patiently to every word we had to say. I was awed at how well he was taking the whole thing. Very little surprised him. After getting him up to speed, it was my turn to ask questions; I wanted to know the truth of it all. “First, I need to know why, Doctor? Why me? Why Yvette?”

Dr. Palmer interlocked his fingers over his desk and let out a heavy sigh before he began. “You and the others were carefully selected by Dr. Walker himself. Through R.C. Labs, he's gained access to medical records throughout the country, so that he can select ideal candidates for the R.C.-1000 procedure. Requirements were narrowed to patients with TBI—an unknown source of intracranial pressure—and most of all, plausible deniability of involvement—patients without strong community or family attachments.”

“In other words,” Dr. Ivanova added, “people no one would miss if they were never seen again.”

“How did our particular condition fit in all this?” Yvette asked.

Dr. Palmer explained, “Some studies have shown that some patients with TBI have developed prodigious abilities after sustaining their injuries, such as enhanced sensory perception or photographic memories. Unfortunately, in the majority of these cases, the patients' higher cognitive functions were compromised by the same injuries, creating severe mental disabilities.”

“Savant syndrome.” My understanding of the subject escaped my lips in a near-whisper.

“Precisely!” Dr. Palmer smiled, seemingly pleased to have an educated audience—though compared to him, was little more than a layman. “I have to admit,” he continued, “that I did become somewhat obsessed by the idea of finding the source of these hidden abilities in the brain, which compelled me to research every single case I could find. Then I realized I was on the wrong track; I was analyzing old data. So I began a new protocol of correlational research between patients with savant syndrome and recent victims of TBI. I discovered that three of the patients I was studying had suffered with a similar—if not the same—type of injury. And I'm talking about the same external force, type of impact, trauma, even location in the brain.” He stopped abruptly and got up from his chair, seemingly troubled by his own confession. He walked towards a liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink.

“What happened to them?” My voice held a sense of urgency.

He walked back to his chair and sighed. “The first patient died a week after his accident. The second became permanently disabled, losing control of his motor and cognitive functions. He did, however, gain the inexplicable capability of predicting the weather—with extreme accuracy, I might add. At first, we thought that it was a coincidence, until he foresaw the exact time and location of a lighting strike. That really caught our attention.” A rueful sigh escaped his lips. “Unfortunately, he used his own predictive abilities to end his life.”

An awful silence followed his words as Dr. Palmer sipped his drink. 

“What happened to the third patient?” Yvette asked.