Predominance

by H. I. Defaz

  Who are these people? I asked myself. And far more important, what could they possibly want with me? Then a shocking realization threw me completely: the insignia wore by these men was the same one on Sarah's jacket. I was just about to ask her when…

  “There they are!” the shout of one of the soldiers alerted the others. “Get them!”

  “Run, Victor!” Sarah shouted, and bolted for the deep woods.

  I followed Sarah as fast as I could through the dense undergrowth of the forest. I was in no danger of losing her; her accelerated heartbeat was like a homing beacon inside my head, showing me the way to follow. But her heartbeat wasn't the only thing I could sense. The brigade of soldiers was getting closer, and I could hear safeties clicking off and their weapons being readied to be fired. I ran faster, trying to catch up with Sarah; she was heading towards what appeared to be an open field. But as we all know, appearances could be deceiving—as we were about to find out.

  When I finally caught up with her, she stopped so abruptly that I bumped into her. Unfortunately for us, the open field turned out to be the edge of a tall cliff that plunged into a furious river—apparently the same one I'd sensed earlier. Sarah stumbled dangerously close to the edge, but my quick reflex made me catch her by the elbow and spin her around, just in time to save her from a dangerous fall.

  “Thanks!” she gasped.

  “Don't mention it,” I replied nonchalantly, as if thirty men armed with deadly weapons weren't a few hundred yards behind, determined to kill us both.

  I stepped in closer and peeked carefully over the edge of the cliff, just to confirm the breathtaking distance to the river below. I flinched at the sight. Its foaming white waters stretched as far as the eye could see in either direction, and its roaring current flowed dangerously fast. There were snags of broken tree trunks and branches clinging to the walls of the gorge, graphically displaying just how high the river could rise in rainy weather. But for me, none of that was as bloodcurdling as the height on which we were standing. It was enough to make my brain shrivel inside my skull.

  “We have to jump, Victor,” Sarah prompted.

  I looked at her like she'd just stepped out of a flying saucer. “Are you out of your mind? It's at least a hundred feet!”

  “We have to jump!” she insisted.

  “Forget it! I won't!”

  “Why? Can't you swim?” she demanded.

  “No, it's not that. It's just that, that I…” I trailed off, nervously.

  “What? It's just what?”

  “I have acrophobia, okay?” I shouted, embarrassed, staring the ground.

  Her eyebrows knitted in confusion as she asked, “You have what?”

  “Fear of heights, all right? I have a fear of heights!”

  She sighed apologetically, putting her hand on my chest. “Well, I'm sorry, Victor.”

  “You don't have to say that. You didn't know.”

  She gave me a dubious look, and leaned closer. “That's not why I'm apologizing, dumbass,” she whispered, and I caught an unexpected sparkle of humor in her eyes just before she gave me a hard and unexpected shove. The next thing I knew I was in the air, my heart stuck in my throat.

  Sarah had pushed me off the cliff. I couldn't believe it. Now I was falling straight into the waters of the violent river. I saw her jump right after me, just before I shut my eyes in terror.

  When it comes to heights, I'm not exactly the epitome of toughness. I've had this horrible fear of heights for as long as I can remember—the kind of fear that can freeze you with a panic attack. Dr. White used to tell me that this was no more than an irrational fear caused by a traumatic experience that I must have had in the past.

  And though I never remembered anything of the sort, I used to have recurring nightmares about falling. Dr. White considered them interesting, because in the dreams, I was the one who'd purposely jump into an endless abyss. But then again, dreams are dreams, and they all pass in time. What I knew would never pass was the horrendous experience of having been pushed, purposely, off a cliff by this strange woman, no matter how gorgeous she was.

  This was definitely going to leave a psychological mark.

  Even as I fell, waving my arms like a deranged monkey and possibly even screaming like a little girl (though I would never admit it even under torture if it were true, which it isn't), I felt my senses expanding and my body adjusting itself as I fell, heading for the least disturbed and hopefully deepest patch of water. This flail caused me to veer to the left a little, and I found that if I turned my body at this angle, I could move forward a foot or two. Without thinking I reached out and grabbed Sarah's arm, pulling her with me to the (relatively) safe spot I'd calculated, automatically compensating for the increased mass, and wind resistance.

  I don't remember what was worse: the pain of hitting the water, or the fact that it was so damned cold. The moment I plunged into the river, I felt as if I were being stabbed by thousands of needles simultaneously. The impact shock caused me to lose my grip on Sarah. Once underwater, my survival instincts took over and I began to kick and pull, trying to propel myself back to the surface. But the strong current seemed determined to keep me down; and for a moment there, I really thought I was going to drown. But my senses were still expanded, and it was easy, almost instinctive, for me to avoid the rocks and find the surface.

  My perseverance paid off, and I was able to break the surface with a sharp and desperate gasp. I tried to swim ashore, but my attempts proved useless. Once again, the current was too strong and was now dragging me along like a loose twig. Finally, something caught my eye downriver, giving me my only hope for survival: A huge broken log had fallen into the river, and its far end was still rooted to the shore. It didn't take a genius to see that this was my only way out, so I waited for the right moment before I surged up and clung to it, like a tick.

  Pulling myself up, I turned frantically in all directions, looking for Sarah. My gaze swept the turbulent waters until I finally got a glimpse of her, at least thirty feet away from me, struggling to stay afloat.

  “Victor!” she cried. “Help!—Hel…” her words were literally drowned as she went under.

  “Sarah!” I called desperately, reaching in her direction. “Try to swim to me! Come on! You can do it!”

  Stroke after stroke, Sarah strove against the current, but the river resisted her efforts and dragged her even farther away. “Victor!” she called hopelessly as her weary limbs finally gave up on her, leaving her at the mercy of the current.

  “Sarah!” I shouted frantically, watching her get carried away.

  In the next minute, I lost sight of her completely. But wait—my senses leaped out to rove my surroundings again, and suddenly I began to sense her body in the same way I had before. My hearing and other probing senses, some I couldn't define, took note of her cooling skin, her contracting muscle tissue, her delicate skeleton, her drumming heart. They were all linked, somehow, to my over-perceptive mind; it was almost as if I could touch her.

  So I tried.

  I kept reaching out, clutching at this enigmatic connection, my hand shaking and my heart racing. I couldn't understand what was happening to me, and yet I felt compelled to trust it. An inexplicable breeze began to swirl inside my head, or so it seemed, as if my brain were breathing on its own for the very first time. What I can only describe as a combination of ice and peppermint began to open every pore inside my head, taking me into a deep state of euphoria. Even as the breeze freshened inside my mind, I could see that the air around me was sparkling like a firefly convention. Air and water molecules ionized by the energy flow, a part of me noted dryly, only to have the rest of me demand: What energy flow? What the hell are you talking about?

  Forget about it. Intoxicated, compelled not to trust my eyes anymore, I let go of my conscience self and slowly closed them, surrendering to the overwhelming feeling of power. I focused again on the energy that connected my mind with Sarah's body, and began to draw it back into my h
ead. As strange as it sounds, I knew exactly what I was doing... I just couldn't understand why or how. It was as if my mind were reacting to a primitive instinct I never knew I had, as if I were only doing something I was always capable of—that I was always meant to do.

  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.”