Designed to Love (23 page)

"Hey, do you think this is any easier for
me? I cared about Burke too," Alisha snaps back, her eyes filling
with tears. Jason places his hand on her arm and whispers something
in her ear. Closing her eyes, she moves her lips silently,
instituting her newly learned technique, which apparently is quite
effective because both she and Brandon immediately relax.

"Brandon, I was considering another person
before this. Burke's death just made me realize that we need to be
as powerful as possible from now on. I have already contacted
Natalie Nesbeth and her brother Austin, and they are interested in
joining the group. Does anyone object?" she asks out of courtesy,
looking pleased when we all mumble, "No."

"Right, so now that we know for sure that
Cat wasn't in the airplane, it's easier to accept that somehow she
is behind the telepathic messages. The question is where is she and
how do we find her?"

"We start by finding the place that both
Claire and I have remotely visited. I think it holds a clue to
where we can find her," I say decisively.

"How about we just try to connect with her?"
Elizabeth asks.

"I've tried already and I get no response,"
I reply impatiently, thinking she should know this already.

"Yeah, but you haven't tried with the
combined energy of the group. Maybe wherever she is requires a
stronger mental force. She could be on the other side of the world
for all we know."

I feel my chest tightens at the thought.
"You may be right Liz. Let's give it a shot."

***

It's probably easiest for me to hold an
image of Cat in my mind. I can recall even the most miniscule
details: the flutter of her eyelids right before she falls asleep,
her scent, the scar on her left shin from falling off a pogo stick
when she was eight. I send these thought impulses directly to
Claire, using my full concentrated effort. I can't see energy
fields like she can, but more and more I am able to feel them, and
right now it's as if Claire is super charged, her frequency revved
up by our input. She sits motionlessly with the four of us
surrounding her in a semicircle. The moments pass by painfully for
me, but I know better than to pressure her. Finally, she sends a
telepathic message out to Cat that sounds like a lost child,
looking for a parent. We all hold our breath waiting for a response
and when we get none, the acid in my stomach starts to creep up my
throat.

"Cat, please answer us.
I need you so much,"
I plead silently.

We spend almost two hours sending out
telepathic messages to Cat, over and over again, and the most
response we get is a surge in our own electrical charge that is
felt like a wave of heat passing through our brain. The fact that
it's felt by all of us is significant enough, that I don't leave
the session feeling completely defeated.

***

It's been three days since the shooting and
in spite of being the week of a major holiday, Bernie was able to
pull enough strings to get a contractor out to replace the carpet
in the great room. He didn't say much about the large blood stains
to our face, but commented to his laborers when he thought we
couldn't hear. I didn't blame him. I would be suspicious if I
walked into a house with boarded up windows and blood stains all
over the carpet too.

Alisha filled me in with what she knew about
the situation between Michael and Liz. It was hard to see him walk
out the door, and even harder to hear Elizabeth crying at
night.

"Something has changed with him, and I'm not
sure what, but Claire says his color is changing—at times he's
barely orange," Alisha says sadly.

I wondered if he had started drinking, or
doing drugs, but keep the thought to myself.

"I've worked with him for a long time, and I
hate to distrust him, but Claire has caught him a few times out in
the barn talking on the phone."

"To who? What was he saying?"

"Claire wouldn't volunteer any information
and I didn't think it was right to ask her to spy on him," she
says.

"What about Elizabeth?"

Alisha shakes her head. "Not a word about
it."

Something about the whole thing makes me
feel funny inside, like I am being poked by an invisible finger to
dig a little deeper into the situation. However, like most things
these days, I push it to a growing pile on the back burner of my
brain and focus on my number one priority—finding Cat.

CAT

Sophia is none the wiser when I claim a
sudden onset of the stomach flu, and she doesn't bother me when I
stay in bed for the rest of the day. I am mentally and physically
drained and lie curled up in a ball with the covers over my head.
In an attempt to console myself, I try my best to rationalize the
vision of the sniper as some sort of psychosis, but in my heart, I
know the event occurred. I have no idea who the sniper's target
was, and can only pray that somehow the others heard my warning in
time. A sniper's aim is precise and could easily find a target
through the large bank of windows facing the forest.
Maybe the intent was to kill all of them,
eliminating the Designer group all at once
, I think,
sending chills down my spine. My stomach twists in response to the
thought and I draw my knees closer to my chest, stifling my moan
with a mouth full of blankets.

***

"Maybe some fresh air will do you good,"
Sophia says, coaxing me out of my catatonic state. She leads me
outside and sits beside me on the bench, eventually pulling out her
iPod and earpiece when I refuse to engage in small talk. I am too
despondent to react when the pins and needle sensation ignites
around my entire head. Instead of fighting or fearing the
experience, I take a deep breath and allow it to consume my
attention. This time, I am more prepared when I hear the voice of
Lawrence.

"Cat, I am here to help.
There is no time to explain everything, so listen
carefully."

"Are you a ghost or a
spirit?"
I ask hesitantly.

"No, I am not a ghost. I
am a scientist; a physicist and geneticist to be precise. I was a
colleague of Dr. Kappel's. I know about the Designers and I know
about you. Are you ready to hear what I have to say?"

Sophia stirs next to me and my connection
with him is momentarily interrupted.

"How are you able to
communicate with me telepathically?"

"I've studied the law of
energy and brainwaves for years and got lucky in figuring out your
frequency. There's no time to go into detail right now. I am only
able to connect with you when you are out of the bunker, and I have
a lot to teach you. Dr. Kappel designed you with a purpose in mind.
He..."

"Whoa. Dr. Kappel
didn't design me. I'm not the Designer; my sister is,"
I
correct him.

He is silent for a moment, and when he
finally replies, I sense he's choosing his words carefully.

"Dr. Kappel genetically
modified you in a very special way, Cat. He used a method of
artificial gene synthesis to create synthetic DNA strands in your
neurons. He had a specific purpose for you."

"A specific purpose for
what...?"
I ask cautiously.

"Dr. Kappel theorized that
the cells that contain the artificial DNA, once activated, would
have a network-wide influence on your brain and a direct link
between the subconscious and conscious brain."

"Why?"

"The subconscious mind
holds the key to unlimited powers. Through the subconscious mind,
the energy of thought can be harnessed and used in a virtually
unlimited capacity,"
he says in a serious tone.

I couldn't readily discount such a claim, at
least not after watching Claire, and the other Designers change the
aerodynamics of a helicopter, and move large objects around. We
knew it was related to powers of the mind; we just didn't know
how.

"You still didn't
answer my question. What is my purpose in all of this?"
I press.

"When I show you how to
use this energy, you will have the power needed to not only
influence objects, but people as well. You will be the catalyst for
worldwide change."

I snicker out loud and Sophia glances at me
suspiciously.

"Worldwide change
huh...? Um, please don't think I'm being disrespectful, but a
comment like that, leads me to believe that one of us is a lunatic.
Besides, if you know so much about it, why aren't you going around
changing the world?"
I challenge him.

"Scientists question
everything and you should too. To answer your question, even after
twenty years of research and practice, I have only scratched the
surface in my ability to manage energy fields. Without that DNA
strand, I have to take the long way around. You, on the other hand,
get to take a shortcut, shaving off about a hundred years of
evolution in the process."

"Do the other Designers
have the same DNA strand, and can I communicate telepathically with
them?"
I probe, suddenly aware that he might be able to
tell me how to mentally connect with Ronan and Claire.

Before he has a chance to answer, Sophia
nudges me, interrupting our dialogue and his voice fades
immediately, leaving me feeling empty inside. She points to her
watch indicating that our time outside is up.

"Just a little longer...?" I plead. She
firmly shakes her head no, not bothering to remove her ear buds. It
was pointless to argue anyway. She obeys Mr. Z's rules to the
letter. Reluctantly, I follow her down into the bunker, temporarily
insulating me from the outside world and further communication with
Lawrence.

***

Morning couldn't come soon enough after my
restless, Ronan ridden, sleepless night. I had made up my mind that
if Lawrence could communicate with me telepathically then so could
Ronan and the others. I would demand that Lawrence tell me how and
couldn't get outside quick enough to contact him.

"Sophia, I really need some fresh air. Can
we please go out a little early this morning? I think I might be
getting another migraine," I ask trying not to raise any suspicion.
She doesn't look at me when she responds.

"No Cat. Mr. Z has ordered you to stay
inside," she says quietly.

"He what...?" I gasp, looking for some
indication that she is joking. I can see it in her eyes that she's
not.

"Sophia, he can't do this. I'll go crazy.
Please talk to him," I start to beg.

"I already tried. He is adamant that you
remain inside this morning."

"But why...? Did he say?"

She shakes her head no.

Suddenly I am filled with rage, and I march
out to the living room with a distressed Sophia following close
behind.

"Get him on the phone," I order, picking up
the phone receiver (that with the right set of numbers will connect
directly to only him), and holding it out to her.

"Cat, I can't. I am under strict orders to
call only in case of an emergency," she says pleadingly.

"This is an emergency. Get him on the
phone!" I say through clenched teeth.

When she doesn't budge, I set the receiver
down and calmly walk over to the stove, grabbing a kitchen towel
and holding it over the open flame.

"Call him now, or I will burn us alive in
this place."

Her eyes widen in horror as I light the
towel on fire.

"Sophia, call him now!" I scream, moving
towards her with the burning rag, which leaves a trail of smoke
floating towards the ceiling.

"Cat, are you crazy? Put it down," she
breathes, glancing around the apartment nervously.

I can feel the heat from the flame beginning
to warm my hand, and when it gets too hot, I toss it on the fabric
covered chair.

"Cat no!" Sophia yells, lunging for the
chair, which I easily block her from. She is no match against my
martial art skills, and I have her immobilized in one easy
maneuver, locking her hand behind her back, pinning her against the
counter. I consider giving up when she starts to choke on the smoke
coming off the chair, but just then the phone rings, stopping both
of us in our tracks. I race for the phone, and she rushes to
extinguish the smoldering fire in the seat of the chair.

Holy shit, what did I
just do?
I think to myself, panicking as I pick up the
phone.

"Hello," I answer in a quavering voice.

"Miss McCullough, now this kind of behavior
is very unbecoming for a lady. Wouldn't you agree?" the refined
British voice says with a hint of mockery and amusement. I had
pictured him being much older, so I am caught a little off guard by
the youthful sound of his voice.

"It's Mrs. Callahan," I correct him. "I
presume I am speaking to Mr. V?" I purposefully mispronounce his
initial in retaliation.

"Yes, this is Mr. Z," he says chuckling. "I
am sorry to hear that you are so upset with me. What can I do to
ease your distress Mrs. Call-a-han?" he says, emphasizing each
syllable in my last name.

"Let me go," I say coolly.

He laughs out loud. "All in good time,
Cataryn. You must remain patient. These sorts of things take time
to come together."

"What is it that you want from me?"

"It's not really what I want from you, Cat.
You're just an innocent but powerful pawn in this whole thing. Now,
your little sister and husband...this is an entirely different
story. They will do anything to prevent me from hurting you, won't
they?" he says almost matter-of-factly. My knees feel weak, and I
lean on the counter for support.

"In fact, it couldn't have worked out any
more perfect, having Ronan fall so hard for you. We have him
exactly where we want him," he says proudly.