by H. I. Defaz
My feet slid back a couple of inches over the smooth marble, an obvious display that what I was trying to move was far heavier than my meager 160 pounds. My push was followed by a loud metal groan that made me open my eyes. I watched as the extremely fine gap between the two doors began to widen, as the squealing metal bent inwardly towards the isolation ward. Sarah's face lit up with amazement as she saw the case-hardened steel stretch like putty right before her eyes. The gap between the doors was now molded into two triangular openings above and below the middle lock.
My mental strain soon became physical, and my whole body began to shake. My legs weakened and bent, as if trying to bring me down to my knees. But I held my ground. I'll admit that was ready to give up when, suddenly, the locking mechanism burst apart with a loud spang, and fragments of its metal parts flew down the corridor beyond as the heavy doors slammed wide open against the interior walls. I was sure the guards would come running given all the noise, but apparently they were all still outside searching the grounds.
I collapsed on my hands and knees, losing connection with my surroundings, completely drained of the energy that had fueled my powers. For a second, I thought I'd lose consciousness. Sarah came to my aid, her arms around my shoulders. “Victor, you okay?”
“Yeah.” My jaw quivered. “I… I think so.”
“Can you walk?”
“Yes.” I pushed myself back to my feet and entered the ward. Sarah followed, casting one final awed glace at the bent doors as we passed them.
The hallway was long and narrow, with about a dozen doors on each side. I tried to concentrate on the insides of those rooms, but it was useless; my hypersenses were completely shot. I couldn't sense anything beyond my own feeble breathing and shaking jaw. A process of elimination was our only option, so we decided to open every door in the ward. Sarah took the right side and I took the left. Door after door, room after room, we found nothing. My hopes were wearing thin when I stumbled upon a locked door. “Sarah!” I whisper-shouted. “This one is locked!”
Sarah rushed over, realizing my weak condition, and decided to take matters into her own hands. With a speed that challenged my ability to follow, she faced the wooden door and threw a perfectly executed sidekick that broke the lock. The door flew open and smashed against the wall. I found myself staring at her like an idiot, a quizzical look on my face.
“What?” she muttered, meeting my eyes.
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “Please get to the other doors.”
I entered the dark room while Sarah kept opening doors, feeling for the light switch until I found it and flipped it on. The light revealed a male patient. He was strapped down to an operating table, a strange veil covering his eyes. Seeing him so still gave me a very bad feeling. The image of poor Billie was still fresh in my mind, haunting me...yet I knew I couldn't turn away. I had to find out who it was and whether he was still alive. So I walked to the bed and took a closer look.
The restraints around his wrists and ankles were similar to the ones used in psychiatric hospitals: thick brown leather cuffs. I released the straps on his arms, which left behind angry red welts, and a shiver crept down my spine as I removed the strange veil from his face. I recognized the man on the spot—Damian.
His face was relaxed; too relaxed to be alive, I thought. I brought my ear close to his nose to check his breathing. A very faint hiss and tickle of breath reached my ear, and I saw his chest move slightly with the same rhythm. “Sarah!” I called out, remembering her medical training, and waited.
A sudden and forceful pressure on my arm made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Shit!” I hissed under my breath as my heart sank into my stomach. “Damian?” I said, trying to escape his grip. His eyes were still closed. “Damian?!” I said again. His head jerked backwards and his mouth opened, letting out a long, desperate gasp, as if he'd just broken the surface of a mental pool where he'd been submerged for far too long. “Damian? Can you hear me?” His eyes rolled into the back of his head. “Sarah!” I called out again. “I need your help!”
Sarah ran inside the room as Damian began to shake violently. “He's having a seizure. Let him go. Don't hold him.”
“I'm not!” I explained. “He's got my arm!”
Sarah helped me loosened his grip.
The seizure ceased as quickly as it began. Sarah had me release his legs restraints, then asked me to help her roll Damian on his side. There we watched his breathing return to normal. “The seizure lasted less than thirty seconds,” Sarah said confidently. “He'll be fine.”
“Damian?” I said to him. His eyes fluttered rapidly before they finally opened.
“Victor?” he said feebly. “G-g-get me out of here!”
“Don't worry,” I said, looking him in the eyes. “I will.”
I turned to Sarah and asked her to keep an eye on him while I checked the rest of the rooms. “Meet me at the end of the corridor,” I told her, and bolted out of the room.
As I ran down the corridor, I began to feel better—physically, at least. My head was no longer spinning and my body felt as if it were running on pure adrenaline. Suddenly, a spark in my head pointed me in the right direction; good, I was able to sense things again. And this feeling was by far the strongest of all. I sensed what I can only describe as the missing part of my own heart, a chaotic feeling of happiness and desperation that guided me to another locked door. I launched myself like a bull at a muleta and broke the door down.
This room was different than the one I'd found Damian in: well lit, with machines beeping and chiming around another capsule bed. The glass shield was foggy—just like Billie's—which made my heart pound. A small clipboard at the foot of the capsule read: Montgomery.
My feelings were confirmed.
Quickly, I yanked the opening lever and stepped back, hoping for the best but expecting the worse. The shield unlocked with a loud thud and began to slide open. I let the fumes disperse before I dared to look inside. When I did, I couldn't suppress my tears—she was there. Her eyes were closed and her sable hair was twisted on one side over her shoulder, as beautiful as only she could be. The pink tone in her cheeks gave me a clear indication that she was still alive.
The condition of her mind, however, was yet to be revealed. I could only hope for the best.
“Yvette,” I whispered, gliding my knuckles down the curve of her cheek, admiring her perfect bone structure. The pain disappeared then—the chaos in my mind gone. The emptiness I'd felt in my chest was filled by this simple touch. I realized then that she was all I would ever need… to survive, to live, to stay.
“Victor?” she moaned. The sound of her voice allowed me to breathe a sigh of relief. “What happened?” she asked, opening her eyes. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye, “Nothing, now.” Stroking her head, I leaned over and kissed her. Her lips were the ultimate nourishment for my famished soul.
“Ahem!” Sarah cleared her throat at the threshold behind me. “I hate to interrupt, but we're in a bit of a situation here. We need to go. Now!”
“Victor?” Yvette shot me a quizzical look. “What's going on? What's happened to you?”
Sarah interjected before I could utter a word. “I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but we just don't have time for this right now. Victor.” She turned to me. “I found three more patients, and they seem to be okay. But we have to get a move on if we want to get them out in one piece.”
“All right,” I agreed.
Yvette scowled at me, as if pressing for an explanation. “Who is she?”
“Oh, I'm sorry. Yvette, this is Sarah. Sarah, Yvette.”
“Hi,” they said simultaneously, with the same bleak tone.
“Are you going to tell me what's going on?” Yvette asked, confused, while Sarah glared, in a hurry to move on.
“Look,” I began, taking off my jacket, “I promise I'll tell you everything as soon as we're safe. But ri
ght now I need you to trust me—can you do that?”
She didn't hesitate. “Of course.”
“All right then. Put this on.” I helped her into my jacket. “Can you walk?”
“I think so.”
“Then let's get out of here.”
We followed Sarah to the end of the corridor, where three more sickly-looking people waited with Damian. Behind them, a metal door read Emergency Exit. Damian seemed collected now, disturbingly calm. Next to him stood a blonde woman. She couldn't have been much older than Damian was, yet she had one of those maternal looks that inspire trust and respect. To her right, a huge black man stood, way past six foot tall, with a physique that resembled a bodybuilder's but the eyes of a man who wouldn't hurt a fly. Standing next to him was the third guy, whose ethnic roots must have been very close to mine. We shared the same height, body type, and even the same black, feathered hair. Had I ever been an actor, this guy would've been my perfect double.
They were all different, yet they all had something in common; they were all staring at the same person in the search of hope and answers. Me.
Funny, I thought. Just a few weeks ago, my biggest responsibility was to remember to take the trash out on time. Now I felt somehow responsible for the survival of seven people, including myself. It was enough to give anyone an anxiety attack.
“Is this our exit?” I asked Sarah.
“Yes,” she said uneasily, watching a monitor above the door. “This door leads to the meadow. And to the Town Car.”
I raised my eyes to the monitor, and discovered what had troubled Sarah. The monitor showed the other side of the exit door, where three armed guards stood with their itchy trigger fingers ready to fulfill Captain Black's orders. Apparently someone had discovered the ruins of the ward door. Though oblivious to our presence on the other side of the exit door, they certainly expected someone to try to come out this way—and seemed eager for that to happen.
“What are we going to do?” the blonde woman said in despair.
“We find another way,” Damian suggested.
“There isn't one,” I countered, running the numbers in my head. “Okay, listen up. We're going to have to work together if we want to make it out of here alive, you understand?” Everybody nodded. “All right, then. I'm going to need you three,” I pointed at the men, “to each handle one of them guards while the girls run to the car. Once in the car,” I turned to the girls, “I'll need you to pull in and pick us up, all right?”
The men exchanged confused looks and pondered for a second.
“Are we all good to go?” I asked.
“Wait!” my stunt double snapped. “What are you going to do?”
I took a deep breath and said, “I'm going to open the door and disarm the guards for you.”
Silence followed my words.
I stood in front of the door, with all their eyes on me, and lifted my open palms. I closed my eyes and concentrated as my senses roved outward, feeling my mind connecting to the objects I needed to move. The door and the guards' weapons were the only things in my mind now. I knew that in order for this to work, it needed to happen in one abrupt move. Anything less than that would alert the guards and ruin our element of surprise. And though the truth was that I was dealing with something beyond my own comprehension, there was something strangely familiar about it—something that compelled me to believe I could do it.
After establishing a solid connection with the objects that I wanted to manipulate, I began to concentrate on that invisible force field that linked me to them. I could feel the energy draining into me from the atmosphere as my hands were pushed back towards my chest, and the force field became bigger, stronger. Again, the mental strain became physical, and my arms and legs began to quiver. I opened my eyes with the strong determination to succeed, and launched my hands forward in one violent thrust.
The metal door exploded out of its frame and landed at the far end of the meadow, but not before striking the guards in its path, wreaking havoc on their fragile bodies.
“GO!” Sarah shouted to rest of the group, who'd frozen in astonishment after witnessing the incredible spectacle. I collapsed to my knees, drained and exhausted, while Damian and the other two men went after the now-disarmed guards.
“Victor!” Yvette ran to my aid as an alarm buzzed stridently throughout the mansion. It wasn't until I heard her voice that I realized Sarah had also stayed behind. She was kneeling in front of me with a concerned look on her face.
“How are you? Can you get up and go on?” she asked fretfully.
Panting, I raised my eyes and scowled at them. “What the hell are you still doing here? Go! Get the car!”
“I'm not leaving without you,” Yvette countered with a strong grip on my arm.
“Victor?” Sarah seemed to be asking me what to do.
“Go,” I repeated, meeting Sarah's gaze. “Get the others. We don't have much time.”
“All right,” she conceded, turning her eyes to Yvette. “You got him?”
“Yeah,” she said, exchanging looks with Sarah, who then turned and darted out the doorless exit.
Yvette helped me back to my feet and walked me out into the cold night, where Damian and the other two guys had overpowered the three injured guards. But our problems were far from over. Surely the alarm, triggered by the loss of the emergency door, had alerted the rest of the squad. It was just a matter of time before they caught up with us now. I gathered in the rest of the group and was asking them to stick together when I looked up and saw a pair of headlights headed our way.
It was the Town Car. Sarah had done it—we were one step closer to leaving this horrible place! But my premature celebration of victory was thwarted when a sudden spark in my head alerted me of the danger also coming our way. A jeep filled with paramilitary forces was cornering around the building, and they knew exactly where we were now. Sarah stopped right in front of us at the same time the loaded jeep stopped at a safe confrontational distance, both autos facing each other. A brilliant searchlight from the jeep pinned us before we could move any farther.
“Freeze!” a warning was shouted through a bullhorn. “Don't move! We have been authorized to use deadly force against you. Surrender now!”
Damian raised his hands and stepped forward, as if surrendering to the squad, his face hard as stone. “On my signal, run to the car,” he said in a low voice as he walked past me. Not knowing what his plan was, all I could do was take Yvette's hand and wait. “I surrender!” he yelled to the jeep.
“Stay where you are,” the soldier on the bullhorn commanded.
Damian looked at me over his shoulder and gave a quick nod. I tightened my grip on Yvette's hand and told her to get ready.
What happened next occurred in a matter of seconds.
“Now!” Damian shouted, as he clenched his surrendering hands into powerful fists. With this action, all the lights on the jeep exploded in perfect synchrony—even the headlights—leaving the soldiers stunned and confused in the darkness. I didn't stop to ask what had happened; I just ran as fast as I could to the car, the rest of the group following. I opened the back passenger door and shoved Yvette into the car, then held the door open as the rest of the guys got in too.
That's when my hypersenses expanded suddenly, allowing me to hear the words of one of the soldiers a hundred feet from us. “I've got a clear shot on Bellator, sir.”
“Take it.”
My mind ignited the same slow motion trance I'd experienced back in the lab during my first escape, and I was able to track the bullet the moment it was fired. I wish now that I'd erected a shield against it, but I hesitated when I realized its trajectory couldn't possibly hit me. At first, I thought the shooter had just missed his target... but too late, I realized I was wrong.
The shot wasn't going to miss. It was going to hit dead center, just as the trained sniper had intended when he pulled the trigger. The sniper, however, had fired at the wrong man: my stunt double, the man who had t
he misfortune of sharing my general build and features. The bullet slammed through his head before he could reach for the door. Blood, gray matter, and bone fragments splattered over the roof of the car. My slow-motion trance, which had made the event all the more painful to watch, ended as soon as his lifeless body hit the ground.
I was aghast. Another life wasted!
A hail of bullets reached out for us after that first deadly shot, producing the kind of uproar I'd heard only in war movies. This time I threw up a barrier that turned the bullets to dust as they struck; I could feel the impacts as they shattered themselves against it. I jumped into the passenger seat and shouted out to Sarah to punch it. She shoved her foot on the accelerator and turned the car around, leaving the jeep behind us. Some of the bullets managed to reach us as my shield weakened with distance, blowing out the rear window as we got away. The granulated glass showered down over Yvette, Damian and the two others in the back seat, and even Sarah and I got peppered with a few fragments. She cringed but kept racing towards the gate, which we knew would be closed and guarded.
Her eyes widened when she saw the assault team standing in front of the gate, which also began to shoot at us with everything they had. Tapping the energy pervading the atmosphere, I wrapped us in a 360° shield.
“I can't ram the gate with this car!” Sarah said frantically. “Victor?!”
I raised my hand and tried to link my mind to the gate, but it was too far away. Plus, I was too weak from my latest round of paranormal activity. It was all I could do to maintain the shield keeping us alive. We were doomed. “I can't!” I bawled in frustration.
Sarah began to decelerate.
“Don't stop,” Damian ordered, leaning forward between the front seats, his open palm aimed at the approaching gate. “Go faster!” he shouted to Sarah, who floored it at his command. As Damian's hand began to vibrate between us, we watched the soldiers tossed into the air like toys, one by one. With no more bullets flying our way, I dropped the shield, groaning with relief as Sarah maneuvered the car straight toward the iron gate and braced for impact. But the gate began to vibrate at the same rhythm as Damian's hand and, just feet away from collision, burst wide open. We darted through, and Damian swiftly turned and aimed his hand back toward the gate. It swung violently shut on the pursuing jeep. The impact made the driver lose control of the jeep, which swerved and tipped over off the road.