Predominance (4 page)

The air chilled as I pulled heat from it to power my efforts, and frost crackled across my eyebrows and hair. Shivering, I became aware of some sourceless form of energy welling up in the air around me; curious, I tapped it and it siphoned into me. As I grabbed Sarah with a spectral hand, her weight and the current wanted to pull me forward; and for a split second I felt an intense pain in my head, as if the counterforce were trying to yank my brain out of my skull. Instinctively, I used some of the energy I'd tapped to leverage me—and my brain— again the mass of the Earth, and to hold me tight to the log, like a limpet clings to a rock. I also found an opening to an amazingly deep well of power within myself, and forced it wide open.

As I opened my eyes again, I felt the energy from all these sources channeling through my hand, braided together in perfect harmony, reaching from Sarah's body to the source of it all, my beleaguered mind. Then, like a lifebuoy popping up from underwater, her head broke the surface and began to cut a path against the relentless current. I couldn't believe my eyes, but Sarah was being hauled out of the river by an invisible line connected to...well, to me.

When I finally got ahold of her physically, I let go of the energy rope, and what was left snapped back to its sources. I stood there for a long moment, astounded: I'd pulled her at least thirty feet across the water, with absolutely no physical contact and absolutely no idea of how I'd done it. Once I had her in my arms, I carried her to shore, navigating with ease along the slippery log, and laid her on the ground. After checking her pulse and breathing, I began to administer CPR. Thankfully, after just a few rescue breaths, she began to cough up water—more than a mouthful, but less than I thought she'd swallowed in the two long minutes she'd been under.

My heart resumed beating the moment I saw those emerald greens pop open again. I felt as if I'd just rescued the only human being besides myself in a desolate world. “Are you okay?” I asked, gently brushing the wet hair out of her face.

Her eyes narrowed and wandered around the clearing as she considered for a long moment. A mixture of confusion and daze knitted her brows. “…Yeah,” she nodded, finally. “What happened?” Her teeth chattered.

“You don't know? R-R-Really?” I asked in dismay—my jaw was quivering, too—”B-because I was really hoping you could tell m-m-me.”

She jerked upward then, as if just awakened from a bad dream. With her eyes alert now, she met my stare and reached out to touch my wet shirt. Her concern became evident. “Quick!” she commanded. “Take off your clothes!”

“What?!” I asked, dumbfounded as I watched her strip off her wet jacket. “W-w-what are you doing?”

“We've entered the first stage of hypothermia, Victor,” she said, and I realized for the first time that her lips were blue. “Ou-our hearts might fail if we don't warm up soon. —Come on!” she insisted, deftly helping me out of my wet shirt. “Now close your eyes!”

“What?”

“Close your eyes!”

Sheesh, what a temper! For a second I thought she'd punch me in the face if I didn't comply, so, I shut my eyes and waited for her next command. The next thing I felt was her cold, bare skin pressed firmly against my chest. Goosebumps covered my entire body as her icy palms slid up over my shoulder blades. Her limp curls brushed the side of my face as she resumed chattering her teeth next to my ear. The whole thing was awkward enough to snap me out of my euphoric trance and to disconnect my mind completely from my surroundings—just when I wouldn't have minded being hyper-perceptive.

I felt dazed and uncoordinated, and Sarah's aggressive attitude wasn't helping the situation at all. I'd never felt more awkward in my entire life, not to mention embarrassed. I mean, I knew exactly what she was trying to accomplish—I'm not stupid. But the fact remained that Sarah was a very attractive woman—crazy, but attractive. And having her half-naked against my chest, well… It made me feel a little… nervous, to say the least.  

“W-w-what do I do now?” I asked like an idiot.

“You shut up and don't move! It shouldn't take longer than a few minutes before our combined body heat brings our core temperatures back to normal.” She paused. “Why aren't you hugging me?”

“You said don't move.”

“Jeez, Victor! Of all the times to listen to me! You want me to freeze? Put your hands around me! And you can open your eyes now. Good God, you're acting like you've never hugged a woman before.”

“Never like this! And would you mind cutting me some freaking slack here? I think you owe me that much, dammit! I still have no idea who you are, and you just pushed me over a cliff into a freaking river!”

“Oh! Um, well, I'm sorry. It's just that this is as...uncomfortable for me as it is for you.”

“Somehow I find that hard to believe,” I countered. “You seem in absolute control here. How do you know all this survival stuff, anyway? Are you some sort kind of polar lifeguard or something?”

“I'm a second year med-student.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… Now, can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Never like this? Really?”

“Seriously? That's your question? You know that that's not what I meant! Sheesh! So much for cutting me some slack.”

“I'm...I'm sorry,” she apologized between chuckles.

“Well, I'm glad I can amuse you in the middle of a life-and-death situation!”

My scornful tone just made her laugh even louder...and I have to admit she finally forced a few chuckles out of me, too. Then I heard a stick snap upstream and went perfectly still as my senses rushed out to encompass the surrounding mile or so in all directions. It was much farther than I'd ever perceived before, but by now it almost seemed routine.

I was expecting to feel the armed men on their way to kill us, but it turned out to be some kind of furry predator akin to a weasel or ferret chasing a field mouse into some brush. Probing for the presence of the armed men, I could detect no one. Had they just given up when they reached the river, or were they scouting the banks beyond the range of my senses?

Then my hyper-perception snapped off, like someone had flipped a switch, and I was back in my body. Sarah was still giggling, and I was starting to experience an embarrassing physiological reaction that I couldn't do anything about at this time. “When you're done making fun of me, do you think maybe we should consider an alternative method of heating?” I said. “Those men are gone.”

“A fire would be good,” she agreed. “Let's just give it a few more minutes and then we'll break, okay? Oh! And don't forget to—”

“Close my eyes,” I finished for her. “Yeah, don't worry. I won't peek.”

“Thanks.”

“Don't mention it.”

We huddled for a few more awkward minutes before we broke apart. I have to admit that I was feeling a lot better, and so was she. The pink had returned to her lips and our skin was practically dry. I closed my eyes as I promised, while Sarah ran behind some bushes to get dressed. Then I began to look around the clearing for enough twigs and branches to start the fire Sarah had suggested, which was now more necessary than ever. The setting sun had already begun to set behind the colossal mountain, and nightfall was almost upon us. We hadn't much time.

Seeing the sun setting so fast made me wonder about the time. I'd either lost track of it, or we'd had only a few hours of sunlight the entire day. There were only a few explanations for this. But I was tired of speculating. I'd been patient enough with Sarah so far in my quest to get her to tell me what was happening. The only answer I'd gotten from her so far, besides her name, was that for some reason I was suffering from temporary amnesia—and that I should be remembering everything soon. But how soon was soon? I needed answers, and I needed them immediately.

So I decided to put my gentlemanliness aside and start pressing for the truth.

“Sarah?” I called, dropping the firewood on the ground.

“Yeah?” she yelled from behind the bushes.

“Can you come out, please? I need to talk to you.” My voice was less than pleasant now.

“How are you going to start the fire?” she asked.

“Never mind that!” I called impatiently, though her question did trigger an instinctive response that made me reach into my pocket. “Can you just please come out?” I insisted. But my request was ignored for the second time. I was just about to call her again, with a much firmer tone, when the contents of my own pocket derailed me completely.

It was a small item: a vintage silver lighter with slashes, to be exact. I wasn't surprised I had it with me, even in this chaos. It was a gift from my father. He gave it to me the night before he died, and
I'd been carrying it with me ever since, just like he did when he was alive. It was one of his most precious possessions. He told me he got it in the U.K. when he was very young. And though he never smoked, he wouldn't be parted from it, not even for a second. He never told me the whole story, but I think it had something to do with my mother, with how they met.

For me it held a different significance—as the symbol of an exchange made, if you will. Because that night I gave him something, too: my word. My father was never a pretentious man, but he did take great pride in being as good as his word. And as for me, being my father's son, I'd learned to be just as good as he was. Thus, my father knew very well that I'd never break a promise—if he got me to say the words, of course. And that night he did…

“You know, son, it's only at the final juncture that you come to appreciate things in a way you never did before. I know I have. All the things you thought mattered wither upon the things that really do, and you're left with nothing but your victories and failures. No more, no less. Because at the end, what's really important is not what you had, but what you did; what you've succeeded and failed at. That's what you really take with you.”

I looked at my father, confused, not knowing what to say to this. But he went on, oblivious to my confusion: “Knowing this frightened me,” he said quietly, “because I thought my failures would outrank my victories, in spite of all my efforts. But now I know I was wrong. Because when I look at you and I see the man you've become, I know I've succeeded far beyond my wildest dreams. You're my pride and joy, Victor. You're the reason why I'm no longer afraid; the reason why I can finally let go with no regrets…

“But before I go, I want you to promise me something. I need you to promise me that no matter what the damned doctors say, you'll never give up. I want you to fight to get better, you understand? You have to live, Victor. You're destined for something greater than you can possibly imagine. I've known it ever since the moment you were born; ever since the very first time I held you in my arms. That's why I need you to promise me, son. Please.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, my voice a dry husk in my throat.

“Say the words, Victor.”

“I promise you, Dad… I promise to find a way to get better, a way to live.”

“I love you, Son.”

The glare from the sunset shone warmly over the smooth surface of the lighter and wavered into my eyes, snapping me out of the memory. It's always been hard not to get caught up in that last memory of my father, whenever I stumble upon it. It's my most precious, most painful memory of all.

I flipped my father's lighter open and started the fire, putting my memories aside. Although important to me, they were of no relevance to my present situation. Instead I called up Sarah, again, and tried to focus on remembering the past forty-eight hours of my life.

“Wow!” Sarah exclaimed, getting out of the bushes, wearing nothing but her underwear. She was using her blouse to dry her hair. “Now, that's a good bonfire. How did you—”

“Look,” I interjected. “Why don't you just cut the crap and tell me what the hell's going on here?”

“Oh!” she realized. “You still don't remember, huh?”

My narrowed glare gave her a clue of my snide yet unspoken response.

“I'm sorry,” she apologized wearily. “It's just that most subjects regain their memories within the first 24 hours.”

“Subjects?”

She sat on a log next to the fire, shaking her head as if regretting what she was about to tell me. “Look, Victor… Maybe it's best to wait and see how—”

“Wait?!” I snapped angrily, lunging in her direction. An uncontrollable burst of anger compelled me to grab her by the elbow and yank her back to her feet. “I'm not waiting another Goddamn minute! You're going to tell me what's going on—and you're going to tell me right now!”

Her eyes were filled with fear as she beheld the glare of this unexpected savage, a glare that soon began to burn my own eyes. “Please, Victor,” she pleaded, “You're hurting me!” I looked down and realized that my grip was cutting off the circulation in her arm. “Victor! Let me go!”

My own actions shocked me to my core; I couldn't believe what I was doing. I had never assaulted anybody in my life, let alone a woman. I couldn't understand it. But it was as if I were possessed by my anger—like I was no longer the person that I had always been, but someone, or something, else. The feeling was terrifying. I released her abruptly, stepped back, and began to apologize lavishly. At first, I thought she'd run the moment I let go of her—and I wouldn't have blamed her if she had—but she didn't. On the contrary, she stayed and tried to comfort me, which I found extremely odd, given that she'd been the one hurt by my tantrum.