Predominance (32 page)

Not a Goodbye

IN A SHOCKING
confession, Dr. Palmer then admitted the real reason why he had allowed us to come to him. His intentions had never been to help us, but rather to meet the latest “abomination,” as he put it, created by R.C. Labs. He left decorum far behind when he said that word, and I bristled at the implied insult.

But who was I to judge him? I myself was disgusted by the whole thing. All I could do was sit there and listen while he explained his total contempt for Dr. Walker and R.C. Labs. They had taken his idea of helping people and turned it into a Machiavellian plan to weaponize his patients' new powers, without considering the consequences of their actions. The reason that he'd left R.C. Labs—besides their unethical procedures and their lack of respect for human life—was because he'd finally realized that what they were dealing with was beyond the realm of science. He said, and I quote: “It frightened me.” Then he concluded his thoughts with the most horrifying confession of all: the ultimate reason he had brought R.C. Labs' latest abomination to his lab was to kill it.

To kill me.

Our eyes met as he choked out these words, and although my reaction should have been different, I remained calm. I had my new abilities to thank for that. The truth was that I didn't sense any danger from either him or Ivanova; on the contrary, I felt safer than I had in days. Yvette, on the other hand, tightened her grip on my hand, interlocking her fingers tightly with mine. Her head pressed firmly against my shoulder as she glared steadily at Dr. Palmer.

I leaned my head over hers and waited patiently for his next move.

He just stared at us for the longest time, until Sarah sprang from her seat, frowning. His eyes met Sarah's glare and then slid back to us. “Lena?” he called upon Dr. Ivanova.

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Ready the lab for immediate administration of the blocking protocol.” A warm smile suddenly lit up his face. “I'd like to have our patient up and running as soon as possible.”

“Of course, Doctor.” Dr. Ivanova gave us a wholehearted smile before exiting the office.

Yvette could no longer suppress her tears, and began crying silently against my shoulder. Sarah, seemingly fighting a similar reaction, patted my back and gave me her beautiful dimpled smile.

Dr. Palmer got up from his chair and headed toward the door. Yvette got up grabbed him by the arms before he'd reach the threshold. “Thank you,” she whispered. Her eyes were wide and glazed with tears, but I think it was the sincerity in them that nearly overwhelmed Dr. Palmer.

Dr. Palmer took Yvette's hand, his lips pressed into a line, and gave her a paternal pat on the shoulder. He reminded me of my Dad when he did that. “It's been a distinct pleasure meeting you both,” he said in an unsteady voice. “I'm sure you'll be the ones to go the distance.” He turned his eyes back to me. “Victor? I'll see you in the lab.” He smiled once more and exited the office.

After an emotional moment with the girls, I finally found the strength to get up from my chair and head for the Lab. Sarah and Yvette held hands as they watched me go. 

***

By the time I reached the lab, Dr. Palmer was ready, Ivanova standing next to him. Both wore long white coats and surgical masks, and there was a gurney just a few feet away from them, set at a forty-five degree inclination. Dr. Palmer asked me to lie down while they secured my wrists and ankles to the rails around the edges. Once I was locked down, Dr. Ivanova inserted an I.V. line in my arm, while Palmer loaded an injection gun with the blocking protocol. “This may knock you out for quite a while,” he warned.

“Don't worry, doctor. I'm getting used to that.”

I felt the warm serum enter my vein almost as soon as Dr. Palmer punctured the injection port of the I.V. line. Dr. Ivanova kept smiling at me as she placed electrodes on my chest. Seconds later, I was able to both hear and see my heartbeat, spiking on a monitor next to the bed. “You have to relax.” Dr. Ivanova said firmly, pressing a button that began to move the bed into a horizontal position.

I stared at the ceiling with my heart filled with hopes and my head filled with fears. Soon, I began to experience drowsiness, and the room began to spin. The voices of my doctors became just a dull echo in my head. But I did, somehow, make out Palmer's last words before my consciousness faded: “Good luck, Victor.”

Then, nothing.

***

I awoke in a cozy, comfortable bedroom. The surface beneath me was soft and fluffy, yet every muscle in my body hurt as if I'd been sleeping on a bed of sharp rocks. My head was spinning and my mouth bone-dry—yet my spirits had never been higher.

I was alive! And that was all that mattered to me at that moment.

As soon as the spinning in my head stopped, I tried to get my bearings. I sat up on the edge of the bed and tried to reorganize my thoughts and feelings. I remembered everything: R.C. Labs, Dr. Walker, Denali, Damian… And although I felt sadness about a great many things, none of them triggered the horrible thoughts and feelings I'd felt before. Hatred and revenge were no longer overwhelming desires; neither was the awful need to deliberately harm others. All of it was gone—erased from my mind. An uncontrollable mixture of tears and laughter soon took control over me, and I began to celebrate the triumphal recovery of my father's son. The good, forgiving man he'd once raised and was proud of was back, ready to reclaim his life.

In all my excitement, I also realized my arm splint was gone—and so were the bandages around my shoulder. My wound was almost healed, which made me wonder just how long I'd been out. The next thing I noticed was the I.V. line attached to my arm. I almost yanked it out when I tried to stand up. The line was connected to a half-empty bag of saline that had been hydrating my body.

At first I decided to wait for one of the good doctors to come in, but voices heard at a distance compelled me to jump out of the bed. After withdrawing the long plastic needle from my vein—clearly a stupid idea, as I had to quickly apply pressure to stop the bleeding I caused—I walked to the window and looked out. The most beautiful sunny day greeted me then. The sky was perfectly blue, not a cloud in sight. Majestic firs that spread as far as the eye could see surrounded a small meadow at the back of the cabin. That's where I found the sources of the two angelic voices I'd heard.

In a playful setting, Sarah was teaching Yvette how to fight. She was executing a 360° spinning kick, and Yvette was shadowing her movements. I was surprised to see my Yvee fully recovered and prancing around like that. Her beautifully sculpted body flowed effortlessly around the field as she spun over and over again, throwing her leg high into the air. Her version of the spinning kick seemed more like a choreographic ballet performance than a fighting strike, which was no surprise, given her background. Sarah's athletic body, on the other hand, made her kicks look like a sword cutting through the air.

The result would be a very dangerous hit indeed—yet it was indescribably sexy. They both made mistakes at one point or another, for which they pushed and taunted each other playfully. I laughed as I watched them kid around and laugh together, as if all our adversities were nothing but a horrible nightmare left in the past. My best friend in the world, and the love of my life—the only two people for whom I would and had put my life on the line—were now friends, happy and safe. I couldn't ask for more.

“Oh. You're up!” Dr. Ivanova chirped as she walked into the room. “You shouldn't have done that!” she chided, as she took hold of my arm and taped a piece of cotton gauze over my bleeding vein. I smiled at her and turned back to the window. She glanced outside. “Enjoying the view?”

“Yes, I am.” My eyes were fixed on my two fighting angels rather than on the scenery.

“How are you feeling?” she asked with a warm smile.

I slowly turned to her, returning the same earnest expression. “Never better!” I grinned. “Seriously, I feel better than I have in years. Maybe my whole life.”

“Very good!” After checking my vitals, Dr. Ivanova asked me to dress and prepare to come downstairs, where Dr. Palmer was waiting for me. Apparently, I had awoken right on schedule, and he was eager to follow up on his work.

“How long have I been out?” I asked.

“About three days.” Dr. Ivanova noticed my disconcertion as I reached for my shoulder. “Don't worry,” she said, “Dr. Palmer will explain everything soon.” She gave me another warm smile and closed the door behind her.

I did as she asked, and got ready to meet with my favorite doctor in the world. As I entered his lab, I found him sitting in front of a computer, tapping away at some kind of spreadsheet program, entering new data that had him frowning in concentration. He noticed my arrival as soon as I closed the door behind me. “Victor!” he called excited. “Come on in!”

“Well, Doc, I'm not a scientist, but I'd say the protocol worked. I feel great!”

Dr. Palmer grinned at me happily, in a way that took ten years off his face. “Let's take a look, shall we?” He gestured for me to sit down, then taped a bunch of electrodes across my forehead, and asked me to relax. He went back to the computer, called up another program, and his fingers began racing over the keyboard.

“Doctor?” I asked. “I've been meaning to ask you about Yvette...” His eyes strayed from the monitor and met mine. “I know her procedure was different than mine, but I have no idea what it was. Will she have any side effects from it at all? I mean, Dr. Walker was absolutely adamant about getting her back. There has to be a reason.”

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the tip of his forefinger. “Well,” he said, “Yvette seems to be fine now. She does heal incredibly fast, I have to say. That's a positive side effect you both share. I ran a few tests on her while you were under, and they all came back normal otherwise. The coma-like state into which she fell was perfectly normal—you simply took her out of her capsule a little too early, a little too fast. In regards to Walker's adamancy about getting her back, well…” he trailed off, scratching his head. “He probably thought that because Yvette had survived the G-Protocol, she was going to…” He hesitated for the second time, and backpedaled. “Um, let's forget it. There's nothing to worry about.”

“Wait! G-protocol?” I asked, puzzled. But then I ran the numbers in my head. “You know the reason why he wants her, don't you?” I asked, almost accusingly.

He stopped typing and met my quizzical glare. “Yes. Yes, I do. When we studied the cluster of activated cells in our first groups of subjects, we realize that one particular group never fired—no matter the patient, serum, or radiation dose. Later, Walker discovered that these cells had the same characteristics as those of sensory neurons, which normally convert external stimuli into internal electrical impulses, allowing us to perceive the world around us. He theorized that if we could find a way to fire up these metasensory neurons, as he calls them, we would be able to perceive—or even communicate—with the source of it all.” He stopped speaking and went back to his keyboard.

“What do you believe?” I probed.

Dr. Palmer pondered that for a few seconds as he typed, then: “I believe that if there's a larger world beyond the one we're allowed to perceive by nature, then there's probably a powerful reason why we're not allowed to perceive it.”

“So, where does this…G-Protocol fit in all this?”

“Walker took my original design and created one that would target only those particular cells. He called it the G-Protocol—I suppose the G is short for ‘God.’ Unfortunately, every patient who underwent this new protocol died on the table. We couldn't figure out why. That's when I left.”

“And you believe that this G-protocol was used on Yvette?” I asked warily.

“Oh, I know it was,” he replied confidently. “One of the tests I performed found traces of the G-Protocol still lingering around those metasensory cells. I suspect it was used on poor Roger as well.”

“Was the G-Protocol able to awaken the Meta cells?”

Dr. Palmer frowned. “Well, as of now they show no unusual activity. For all we know, they may never fire.” His voice tuned into a more cheerful tone. “Look… the best we can do is stick to the facts: She survived the procedure, her intracranial pressure is gone, her ability to absorb this volatile energy you've tapped into was never triggered—which means she won't have to worry about developing any paranormal ability—and she's not suffering from any obvious side effects. For all we know, Yvette just might be the lucky one.”

“What about her ability to interpret my feelings with nothing but a touch?” I reminded him.

“She told me she can only do it with you,” he answered quickly. “For all we know, it could be your brain that's sending messages into hers. You're the one who needs to be on the lookout, Victor. Your brain is just discovering the things that it's capable of.”

“What about her leg?”

“You got me there.” He seemed almost embarrassed. “As I said, you both heal fast, and we can only speculate on how you do it. But then again, it's to your benefit.”

I thought about that as he resumed his typing, and decided there seemed to be no harm in it. “Well, we're done here!” he said cheerfully. “Everything looks great. Your subconscious receptors for dark energy seemed to be completely blocked,” he explained as he peeled the electrodes off my head. “There's only one more test we need to do. But I'd rather do it in a less confined place, if you don't mind.”