Predominance

by H. I. Defaz

  Meanwhile, Damian and I were to drive Denali's sedan to the restaurant and wait for his wife to arrive. But Damian insisted on going to the cabin, too—and he wouldn't have it any other way. He maintained that he could hide in the truck bed while Denali delivered the message. He said that he would know if anything was wrong just by gauging her reaction. I personally thought that he just wanted to see her, which I felt was an unnecessary risk. But then again, who was I to judge? I'd just hiked a rainforest for three days with absolutely no provisions, just to break into a highly guarded facility and dodge bullets on my way out, all so I could rescue the woman I loved.

  Eventually Damian won the argument, and we agreed to hide in the truck bed while the note was delivered. Yes—we. I told Damian that I'd hide there with him in case he needed my help. And despite the fact that he was acting oddly hostile towards everybody, I had never turned my back on a promise. Dad had always taught me that a man's word is his bond, and I wasn't going to betray his teachings—or his memory, for that matter. My decision to go on this trip wasn't well received by Yvette, who sat in the middle of the living room, listening to us argue.

  “What?” Yvette jumped up from the sofa when I proposed this. “Why? Why do you have to go?”

  I quickly pulled her aside to talk to her—although I don't know why I did that, as the living room was a fifteen by fifteen box without much privacy. Nonetheless, I tried to keep my voice down. “I have to go, Yvee. I promised Damian I would. I'm sorry, but I can't back out on my word.”

  Yvette's blue eyes turned as angry as they could be, and for a moment I thought they were going to pop out of their sockets. “Then I'm going with you!” she said angrily. Everyone in the room heard her.

  “I don't think that's a good idea,” Sarah said from behind me—a comment that only fed Yvette's anger.

  Yvette looked slowly around my shoulder and met Sarah's stare. “I couldn't care less what you think, Sarah.” She enunciated her name slowly and defiantly. Sarah's eyes widened; then she shook her head, got up from the sofa, and left for the kitchen—but not without throwing a nasty scowl at Yvette on her way through.

  Yvette swung her angry eyes back at me and continued. “I just got you back, Victor.” Her angry tone was now edging toward sadness. “I don't want to lose you again.” Her words registered in my brain as a dreadful possibility, and suddenly I began to have an uneasy feeling about the whole thing. Damian saw the conflict in my eyes.

  “Victor,” he said quickly, “We don't have time for this!”

  Looking around my shoulder, Yvette turned angry again, scowling at Damian; she seemed ready to counter his comment with a snide response. But something else happened: she suddenly swayed back and forth, as if about to lose her balance. She shook her head and shut her eyes tightly, fighting against an obvious wave of weakness. “Yvette?” I blurted, “Are you all right?”

  She took hold of my arms and opened her eyes. She looked confused, disoriented. “Victor?” Her voice sounded frightened.

  I fastened my hands around her arms, trying to stabilize her, but her limp body collapsed in my arms. I quickly carried her over to the love seat and called for help. Sarah came running from the kitchen as I knelt on the floor next to the sofa. I brushed the hair away from Yvette's face and waited for her to react, but nothing happened. She was completely out. Sarah knelt next to me on the floor and checked Yvette's vitals. “What happened?” she asked softly.

  “I don't know. We were talking, and the next minute she collapsed.”

  “Her pulse is strong,” Sarah said, pressing her thumb on Yvette's wrist. Then she held an eyelid wide open. “Her pupillary response is normal, and so is her breathing.” She cursed in dismay and turned to meet my stare. “She's fallen into the same comatose state as Roger.”

  “What will happen to her?” I asked, suddenly feeling disheartened.

  “I don't know. It's hard to tell. The reaction from the serum varies from patient to patient. It also depends on the amount of radiation used, and the specific area of the brain targeted. And I know nothing of her particular procedure—or Roger's, for that matter.” Sarah got up from the floor and looked at me with rueful eyes. “But if I had to theorize, I'd say this is the result of a completely different procedure than the one you and Damian went though. Dr. Walker might have been experimenting on different groups of dormant cells with them. The side effects are unpredictable.”

  My mind pointed in thousand different directions at that moment. I didn't know what to do, think, or feel; I just wanted so badly for this nightmare to be over. I felt like I couldn't solve a problem without having another one bash me over the head—it was pure mayhem. “What about Laura?” I asked, taking advantage of the fact that she had stepped out of the living room.

  Sarah rubbed her forehead and lowered her voice. “She seems to be okay… for now. Still, the timing doesn't add up with her. I doubt her procedure was the same as Yvette and Roger's.”

  “What can we do?” My voice was dispirited now.

  “Like I said, we have no choice but to wait.”

  “Well, I guess she did manage to make you stay after all,” Damian burst out angrily.

  “You're an asshole!” Sarah shouted, fed up with Damian's attitude.

  I, on the other hand, ignored him, knowing how fast my anger could escalate if I didn't control it. I just stayed by Yvette and ran my fingers through her hair.

  “Look,” Damian began again, his voice remorseful now. “I'm sorry. I really am. But I can't wait another minute. My wife needs me too. And I know that if anybody could understand that it's you, Victor.” He interpreted my silence as my reply and sighed. “All right, then. Let's go, Denali.”

  “Wait!” I snapped and got back to my feet. “I'm coming with you!” I kissed Yvette on the forehead and turned to Sarah, who was scowling at me.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “The right thing,” I answered firmly. “And please, don't!” I stopped her before she could utter a word, knowing exactly what she'd try to do. She frowned, as if angry at the fact that I'd anticipated her thoughts. “I need you to stay here, Sarah. Take care of them. Please, take care of—”

  “Don't worry,” she interjected. “I'll look after her… I promise.” She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me.

  “Thank you, Sarah.”

  “Promise me you'll be careful,” she whispered in my ear before she kissed me on the cheek.

  “I will,” I promised. “I'll be back.”

  ***

  The day, which had started beautifully with my reunion with Yvette, had turned once again bitter and uncertain. Yvette was now in a comatose state similar to Roger's, and we had absolutely no idea why. Damian, on the other hand, was frightening me more by the minute. I wasn't sure if his odd behavior was triggered solely by his fretfulness over getting his wife back, or if the change was already spreading through him, like an unstoppable cancer. What if this dark energy was infecting his volition progressively, rather than in one single snap of anger, as I was dreading would happen to me? What if Damian was already changing in front of my eyes?

  These questions rambled inside my mind as I thought of my own fate, and about what the right thing to do would be if we couldn't stop our change. I mean, if the desire to do evil was the only power that would drive us after the change, then our supernatural abilities would become a major threat to society—a hazard that would need to be contained, even destroyed. Maybe Dr. Walker was right: we would simply be too dangerous to be allowed to live. Maybe I should start thinking about a back-up plan, I thought... something I should do in case the change became inevitable.

  All these questions bombarded my brain, just like the heavy rain that blasted the plastic cover that concealed us in the back of the truck. A little sliding window in the back of the cabin kept us in contact with Denali, who despite my suggestions was driving with a couple of rifles on the passenger's seat. Damian's idea, of course, obediently followed by Denal
i. I couldn't help but be curious about that.

  After closing the sliding window that separated us from the cabin, I finally asked Damian what the deal was between the two of them. He had to explain a little more about himself in order for me to understand Denali's new disposition. That's when I learned that Damian was a renowned and wealthy lawyer in California. His firm was one of the top ten in the country, and he just happened to be their most recently appointed partner. “Did you know that Denali's engaged to be married?” Damian asked. “And that his fiancée wants a dream wedding?”

  “Yes,” I answered, trying to follow his explanation.

  “Well,” he continued, “Let's just say that my wedding gift will cover that and more.”

  “I see.” My tone was ironic. Everything made sense now; I just hoped poor Denali wouldn't get stiffed in this deal. It was nothing personal toward Damian, it's just that I've never trusted lawyers, especially the ones with a lot of money. There's a reason why they have so much, and it's not because they're generous.

  Before long, Denali slid the window open and warned us we were getting close. Damian and I stuck our heads underneath the plastic cover and got ready.

  By the time we arrived at Damian's cabin, the rain had stopped, leaving behind nothing but a steady dripping and the sound of the wind rustling the giant firs surrounding the place. Denali eased to a stop at the right side of the house and waited. The place was similar to Denali's, only twenty years newer and with no adjacent water of any type. Naturally, Damian wanted to jump out of the truck as soon as we parked, but I convinced him not to. We needed to stick to the plan if we wanted to have a prayer of coming out of this alive.

  After a while, Denali got out of the truck wearing his dad's overalls, which also had a very visible logo that read Johnson & Sons. A perfect disguise, if you ask me. But then again, our plan wasn't based purely on diversion, but also on strategy and timing—and we didn't have much of neither. I only had a few variables running in my head, and they didn't look very good.

  Denali walked cautiously to the front door. The eerie near-silence made me nervous. I tried to focus my senses on my surroundings, hoping to trigger that special radar I'd used before, but I could see nothing—not because I didn't sense any imminent danger, but because something was blocking me. Somehow, Damian was radiating a strong energy that was keeping me from making full use of my powers. I could only assume that this was the dark energy Sarah had told me about, trying to keep my brain from absorbing the energy that had sparked my powers before—but why, I could only speculate.

  Denali stood on the porch, sweat dripping from his forehead. His eyes scanned the area just before he reached the door. He was trying to keep it together, but it was obvious he was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. In the past few days, the poor guy had turned from limo driver to human smuggler to spy. I couldn't help feeling guilty for putting him through all of this—he was a really good man.

  Denali finally knocked on the door and waited. After a few seconds with no response he knocked again, but nothing. Suddenly, my mind overcame Damian's jamming and began to branch out and scan the deceptively calm forest. “Wait,” I whispered. “Something's not right.” My words alarmed Damian, making him want to jump out of the truck again. “Wait!” I insisted, taking hold of his arm. “Can't you feel it?” He shook his head; I guess his troubled mind couldn't focus on anything beyond his wife. Yet the truth of the matter was that I couldn't sense her anywhere near the cabin.

  “Tell me!” Damian demanded.

  “Your wife isn't in the cabin.” I explained quickly.

  Damian's forehead creased with a mixture of anger and confusion. A cloudy image flashed into my head then, making me flinch. At first I couldn't distinguish what it was; it took me several attempts before I could completely unveil it. When I did, I saw Captain Black leading an assault squad through the woods. Some of them were already aiming their weapons at the cabin, ready to open fire at the first sight of their target. I didn't need to see any more to understand we had just walked into an ambush. “It's a trap,” I snapped. “We have to pull back before it's too late!”

  “NO!” Damian countered. “If my wife's not here, they must know where she is!”

  “And what the hell are you going to do? Ask them politely?”

  “We can take them, Victor.” His voice hardened. “You and me. Together!”

  “No!” I objected, understanding all too well the consequences of using our abilities in a state of anger. “It's too risky! If we lose control, we'll lose ourselves. Besides, I didn't come here to start a war I can't win, Damian!”

  “You've seen what we can do with this power!” Damian insisted, looking right into my eyes. That's when I first noticed that his eyes seemed to have changed color. They were now a light brown that, at first glance, seemed to be the result of the refraction of the sunlight through the plastic cover that concealed us. “What makes you think that we can't win?” he added confidently.

  “The fact that I'm not willing to kill anybody, Damian.” I waited to see his reaction. “Are you?”

  His eyes dropped as he let out an apparent sigh of despair. For a second I thought that I'd gotten through to him... But when his gaze slid back to mine I realized that his sigh of despair carried a painful yet unyielding decision. “Then I'm afraid this is where we part company, my friend.”

  His words hit me like a truck. I knew what would follow, and the consequences of it all. But what rankled the most was knowing that there was nothing I could do to stop it. Still, realizing the repercussions his decision would have for all of us, I gave it one final try as Damian tossed the plastic cover to the side and readied himself to jump out. “Please,” I begged, taking hold of his arm. “Don't do this.”

  He glared at the hand that held him down and said, “If you're not with me, then you just another snag in my way.” His eyes cursed at me as he shook my hand off his arm.

  “Damian!” I called after him as he jumped out of the truck bed and ran to the cabin.

  Another sharp perception shocked my brain, allowing me to hear voices coming from the woods; yet my distress limited my ability to pinpoint their exact locations.

  “I've got a visual on one of them, sir.”

  “Bellator?”

  “No sir. The other one.”

  “Wait for me to arrive at the site. I'm on my way.”

  “No time, sir. I have a clean shot… I'm taking it.”

  “I said wait, goddamn it!”

  Though Captain Black seemed strangely opposed to opening fire, some of the soldiers aiming at the cabin had their own agendas—possibly retaliation for Damian's display of power back in the Lab, which I'm sure left some of them seriously injured, if not worse. Still, the advantage I had of knowing their next move gave me the opportunity to warn Damian and Denali before it was too late.

  “Get down!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

  Damian's reaction to my warning was far quicker than Denali's, yet they both hit the dirt before the first bullets reached their position. Fuming at having missed, the squad opened fire with everything they had. The peace of the forest was shattered by an incredible uproar of gunfire in which Damian was the main target and poor Denali had become, once again, the unfortunate collateral.

  The first round of bullets forced Damian to seek cover behind a huge stack of logs next to the cabin. Denali, on the other hand, dodging bullets, crawled and crept off the side of porch and headed back toward the truck. Knowing my presence would only worsen the situation, I kept my head down and away from their scopes. During a momentary lull, Denali was able to reach the truck, while Damian seemed to be cornered between the shed and the tall stack of wood. Meanwhile, I was trying desperately to scheme a way out of this mess—when another vision showed me the shooters advancing towards the cabin. Denali, still on the ground, opened the truck door, slid out one of his shotguns, and cocked it.

  “Denali,” I called and shook my head at him, knowing that shooting
back would only draw their fire. Denali saw me and stopped, nodding.

  “Shoot!” Damian's voice resurfaced from behind the stack of wood.

  “NO!” I countered, looking at Denali. His face was scared and confused.

  “We have a deal, damn it!” Damian insisted furiously. “Now, shoot!”

  Denali, seemingly scare of him, obeyed the foolish command, and began to shoot at the squad from behind the opened truck door. One of the approaching shooters returned fire, just as I had expected, blasting out the window above Denali's head. He ducked down behind the door, cringing; I could see his eyes bulging with fear as his trembling hands reloaded his weapon. “Shoot! Shoot!!” Damian kept pressing, his voice filled with rage.

  Denali cocked his shotgun and moved around the door to shoot. And though I could see the imminent danger in my head, there wasn't enough time for me to warn him, and the spark of my hypersenses hadn't awakened my ability to shield him. The shooter, who was a trained professional, had taken advantage and moved in closer while Denali reloaded the shotgun. He was now only twenty feet away and ready to shoot at his new target.

  The slow motion trance I'd experience before suddenly took control of my senses, putting me in the first row of a horrifying spectacle. Denali's eyes widened in surprise when he realized the close proximity of the shooter. I saw him trying to lift the barrel of his shotgun at the same time the shooter was pulling his trigger. The last desperate warning I tried to shout out to Denali was drowned in the blast of gunfire, and the slow motion trance only made the horrifying event even more painful to watch.

  The shooter opened fire before Denali could even aim his weapon. The next thing I saw was Denali being brutally riddled by the rapid fire of the Mac-10 the shooter held in his hands. Not even the slow motion trance allowed me to keep count of all the bullets that pierced his body. All I was able to see was the blood splattering from every wound inflicted, along with the expression of agony on Denali's face as he fell slowly to the ground.