by H. I. Defaz
“What happened then, Sidney?” Sarah asked respectfully.
Dr. Palmer's eyes returned to us, as his face creased in a regretful frown. “I did what most of us scientists do. I tampered with nature in order to save a life. I created a serum with neurotransmitter-blocking properties in order to stop the prefrontal cortex from sending inhibiting messages to the newly awakened cells, which tricked them into believing there was no longer full brain cognition, stopping them from inducing further damage to the prefrontal cortex.”
“Then what?” I prompted.
“Then, the secondary properties of the serum would locate the cells, and help them fire up when exposed to a controlled dose of radiation.” He drank again. “Patient Number Three volunteered for this procedure. He was a very strong man, yet the procedure proved punitive to his brain. He slipped into a coma that lasted for three days. I was beginning to think I'd lost him. But when he woke up, with full motor and cognitive response, and with no remaining intracranial pressure, I thought I've done the impossible.” A proud smile suddenly lit his face. “But the real surprise occurred two days after the procedure, when he tried to reach for his TV remote control—and the remote just flew straight to his hand. I mean, we were expecting an increase in cognition, yes. A new ability to play music, perhaps, or to sketch paintings or be able to resolve complex algorithms. Never in a million years would I have expected telekinesis.” He chuckled and shook his head.
“The facts of his new condition reached the Department of Defense. And they, of course, insisted that I continue with my research. My project was fully funded and transferred to Ketchikan, Alaska. I believe they felt more comfortable with the isolation. That's when I came looking for Sarah. I knew I needed someone I could trust. I've known her since she was just a little girl; her father and I were like brothers. And when he died, I promised I'd take care of her… like my own daughter.” He met Sarah's eyes and gave her a lovable smile. She responded in the same way. “Besides, she's the most dedicated student I have ever had the honor to teach. That's why I'm so terribly sorry I have dragged her into this.” Dr. Palmer's lowered his head, staring at his desktop.
“You didn't know, Sidney.” Sarah tried to comfort him.
“Wait a second!” I snapped. “Did you say Department of Defense?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that explains a lot,” Yvette noted. “How they found us. How they knew so much about us. And the military personnel that have been after us.”
“And the reason we can't go to the police.” Sarah reminded us.
“What happened to your patient, Doctor?” Yvette asked.
“He was transferred to R.C. Labs… where he was later destroyed.”
“What? Why?” Yvette asked in shock.
“He became aggressive, violent. The more he used his abilities, the more he got lost in his rage—which eventually made him too dangerous to be kept alive.”
“So they put him down like a rabid dog.” I took a deep breath, and finally got to the point that had brought me to him. “The change. What triggers it?”
“After this... unfortunate incident, I went back to the drawing board, thinking I'd made a mistake, and that the serum was creating this so-called side effect. But after a thorough analysis and more than a dozen procedures, we came to the conclusion that it wasn't the serum itself. The newly awakened cells weren't responsible for the abilities acquired by the subjects. They were merely conductors used to obtain the energy needed for all these preset abilities to work.”
“Preset?”
“Yes,” he said swiftly. “It seems that a countless number of paranormal abilities are buried inside the subconscious mind; however, they're useless without the appropriate energy to make them work. These freak cells, as Sarah has so eloquently put it, were disabled by nature or… by some higher power,” —he frowned in disbelief— “to deny us access to such energy.”
He paused and studied our astonished faces, then said abruptly, “You seem like an educated man, Victor. What's your field of study?”
“Physics,” I said. “And mathematics.”
“Then you just might be able to understand this better than anyone else. Do you remember the First Law of Thermodynamics?”
“Of course,” I said taken aback. “Energy can neither be created nor destroyed. It can, however, change its form.” The words flowed as easy as reciting my ABCs.
“Very good. Now, if this is true, then, we have an unlimited supply of energy all around us, just waiting to be transformed into whatever type of energy we need. Solar energy, kinetic energy, potential energy, possibly even zero-point energy from the vacuum, if that proves out.”
“So what you're saying is that my brain is extracting energy from the atmosphere and using it to activate these abilities.” It was more a statement than a question.
“Well...from somewhere, possible the atmosphere, possibly the zero-point energy I just mentioned. But yes, that's basically it.”
“As fascinating as it sounds, sir, that still doesn't explain why Damian changed into a monster before he died. Or why my own anger is getting harder to control.”
“No, it doesn't.” Dr. Ivanova stepped in. “But in order for you to understand why a change occurs in the first place, you need to understand more about the energy that you are tapping into.”
“Indeed,” Dr. Palmer agreed. “Dr. Ivanova was actually the one who discovered the reason for the change, and she's been working with me in finding a way to avert it. You'll want to listen carefully to what she has to say. Please, Lena, go ahead.”
She sat slightly on the edge of the desk and crossed her arms. “Would you mind reciting another physics law for us?” she asked politely.
“Sure.” My brows knitted in confusion again.
“Newton's Third Law, please.”
I exhaled heavily. “For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
“Yes, indeed.” Dr. Ivanova's smile didn't reach her eyes. “Now, we have reason to believe that this volatile energy we've been talking about has an opposite counterpart—a dark energy responsible for the change in some patients after the procedure.” Sarah, Yvette, and I were hanging on her every word. “We are just beginning to understand that there is a conflict between the newly awakened cells and the prefrontal cortex. As you have just learned, the activated cells draw this energy pervading our surroundings, whatever its source, directly into the brain. They do not discriminate between the types. But we have come to realize that the prefrontal cortex does. This part of the brain chooses which of these two energies is absorbed.”
“How?” I asked.
“Through the emotions in play at the time,” she replied.
I sighed, trying to register all this new information. “Okay, that makes sense. Walker has his ideas about the two types of energy, and we've already figured out that it was anger that was triggering these evil thoughts that have been threatening to overcome my volition. That's why I've been trying to control my impulses.”
“And you've done an incredible job, Victor,” Dr. Palmer assured me. “So far, you've been the only one with a will strong enough to delay the change this far.”
“Delay?” I prompted. “What are you saying?” Dr. Palmer and Dr. Ivanova exchanged uneasy glances. “Is there a cure?” I demanded.
“Well,” Dr. Ivanova began, “there is. And there isn't.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I said angrily.
“Victor!” Sarah scolded me.
“It's quite all right, Sarah,” Dr. Palmer said soothingly. “I completely understand his reaction.” He turned to meet my glare. “Victor, you have to understand that we still don't fully comprehend the nature of these two forms of energy. However, we do have some good news… Lena?” He signaled for Dr. Ivanova to proceed.
“I have designed a new serum protocol that can inhibit the absorption of this dark energy into your brain—which, according to my calculations, should stop the change from occurring
.” Her words alleviated my tension, if only for a second. “Your new abilities, however, could still be triggered by what we choose to call white energy. That, Victor, is the good news.”
“So, by implication, there's bad news as well?”
Dr. Ivanova took her time answering. Just as I was about to demand what she meant, she replied, “The bad news is that every time you used this dark energy to stimulate your abilities before, you poisoned your brain with it, making it susceptible to the change—predisposed, almost. And my new protocol can only inhibit the subconscious absorption of this dark energy, not its conscience absorption.”
“I'm sorry, I don't follow.” I shook my head in confusion. “What are you saying?”
Dr. Palmer took over then. “What Lena's trying to say is that if you concentrate hard enough, and if you're angry enough, you can still call upon the change voluntarily.”
“Why in the world would I do that?” I countered in disbelief.
“In our last study,” Dr. Ivanova continued her explanation, “we discovered that this dark energy is addictive, and its psychological and physical dependence more than triples that of heroin or crack cocaine. We also discovered that, for reasons still unknown, this dark energy can also increase the power of your abilities exponentially. You can see the problem here, I think.” She paused and met my eyes expectantly. “This dark energy not only makes you dependent on its use, but it poisons your prefrontal cortex, altering your cognitive behavior, personality expression, decision-making, and even your social behavior. And since this cognitive distortion works with extreme negative thoughts, it can easily turn you into a psychopath.”
“I understand the facts,” I conceded. “What I still don't understand is why you'd think I would willingly choose that?”
Dr. Ivanova scrutinized my face. “Because you have had a taste of it,” she said quietly. “And you will want more.”
Chapter Sixteen
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, n
ot 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.”