Designed with a Destiny (16 page)

“Bernie, we can settle this once and for
all. You can decide for yourself how to interpret the experience,”
Ronan intercedes, challenging her to take my hand as he reaches for
my other one. She looks hesitantly at my outstretched arm, then at
Lawrence who nudges her towards me, and just as she’s about to make
contact, someone yells, “There they are—that’s her!” Seconds later
we’re surrounded by a group of men and police officers who have
their guns drawn pointed directly at us. Claire instantly jumps
from Ronan’s hand, landing in a crouched position by my side and
Ronan steps in front of us, shielding us in a protective gesture
that is automatic.

“Bernie Stoddard—I’m with the FBI, a plain
clothed officer shouts, holding up a silver badge, as he cautiously
approaches. “I need you and the kids to come with me.” Bernie
slowly raises her hands giving them the universal surrender sign
and inches away from us toward the officer closing in on her.

“What are the charges?” she demands,
maintaining her composure in spite of the impressive squad against
her.

“Lawrence, what do we do?” I whisper putting
the pressure on him to direct us on whether to run, fight, or
surrender.

“What does your gut tell you to do?” he
says, playing it back.

“Ronan?”

“We can’t let them take Bernie—we’ll never
see her again,” he says matter-of-factly. “They chose a public
place on purpose, knowing we wouldn’t use our telekinetic powers
here. Let’s try and stall them until the others get here—I’ve
already called for them.”

Alisha and Jason are the first to arrive and
she immediately connects mentally as I catch her eye scanning the
scene from across the large airport lobby.

“
Cat—distract them with a persuasion of
some sort,”
she orders, grabbing Jason’s hand and disappearing
in the crowd. Little does she know that I’m already working on
introducing the idea of severe stomach cramps to the FBI agent
who’s preparing to handcuff Bernie, but lose my focus as soon as
we’re approached by two more.

“Mr. and Mrs. Callahan, we need you along
with the girl to accompany us as well,” one of the men says not so
confidently, as he looks up at Ronan with eyes imploring him to
come cooperatively.

“Excuse me, but that’s my client and I would
like to know what legal charges have been filed,” Natalie hollers
finally arriving with the rest of the group who’s being blocked by
a perimeter of law enforcement, along with several hundred
spectators that they’ve conveniently allowed to witness the event,
preventing us, as Ronan suggested, from performing any radical
telekinetic maneuvers. She pushes past two uniformed officers, who
judging by the way they stand fixated to the spot are being
restrained by an invisible force. So far, she looks like she has
every right to be there, marching right up to Bernie with all the
arrogance of a high-powered attorney, spewing legal rhetoric that
I’m certain even confuses Bernie.

Stomach cramps, diarrhea, severe
nausea
I focus my attention back on the FBI agent giving him a
sudden onset of a stomach virus that he’ll never forget, allowing
Ronan to skillfully stonewall the two trying to take us in to
custody. He breaks out in a light sweat and without warning
projectile vomits, turning his head just enough that the initial
ejection misses Natalie’s body however the splatter droplets coat
her expensive leather boots, and she wrinkles her nose in disgust.
Bernie comes to his aid, ordering for someone to call an ambulance
as he continues to heave chunks of food across the airport
floor.

“
Alisha, where are you?”
I have no
idea how far to take the flu thing without making it ridiculously
obvious, but figure while I’m waiting for Alisha to get back to me,
afflicting a few more officers won’t hurt—after all viruses are
extremely contagious.

“
All right everyone listen up,”
Alisha’s voice finally transmits telepathically.
“The smoke
detectors are going to go off in a few seconds. When the sprinkler
system is activated, there will be enough chaos for us to make a
break for it. I’m sure they know we came in by jet and they’ll
expect us to try and leave the same way, so we should have some
time to get the rental cars.”
True to her words the smoke
detector near the escalator sounds first, followed by a chain
reaction of several more and the overhead sprinkler systems are
activated. The commotion is enough to divert the attention from us,
and as spectators disperse to get to the doors, Ronan yells “Run,”
taking out the two officers before they even have a chance to draw
their weapons. I grab Claire’s hand and head for the door with
Lawrence right beside us, slowing down only long enough to grab
Bernie by the sleeve, and drag her along with us. With hundreds of
people running for the door, we are easily swept along, lost in the
sea of people exiting the building. It’s only when I hear shots
fired that I’m fully aware that Ronan isn’t with us, and a scream
lodges in my throat as I turn back around looking for his face that
usually towers above the crowd.

“Stay with Lawrence and Bernie!” I yell to
Claire, shoving her in their direction. Using energy to move bodies
out of my way, I forge a trail back to the airport entrance, just
as fire engines and trucks begin arriving creating even more panic
among the travelers.

“
Ronan”
I scream his name mentally
then vocally, fighting a growing panic when he doesn’t answer. The
minute I step back into the lobby I know why. I catch a glimpse of
Ronan thrashing on the floor, clutching his right thigh. He's lying
on the floor with officers and paramedics surrounding him.

“
Cat, stay away—Claire needs you,”
he
manages to communicate now as he catches a glimpse of me through
the legs of the officer preparing to handcuff him.

“At least we got one of them,” I hear an
officer callously say, and something inside me snaps. With
hurricane force, the invisible wave of energy I let loose topples
everyone around Ronan like bowling pins and their bodies slide
across the wet floor taking out those who happen to be in their
way. Out of the corner of my eye, I see an officer draw his weapon
but before he has a chance to use it, his body is catapulted
through the air by someone other than me. It’s only then that I
realize Claire is by my side and a few words not normally spoken
around her, inadvertently roll off my tongue.

“Get out of here, Claire!” I shout, keeping
everyone pinned to the floor with my shield of energy. Ignoring me,
she raises her hand in the direction of the stairs and an armed man
falls over the rail, still clutching his automatic weapon. In that
moment, I realize she’s no longer my baby sister—she’s a warrior
not to be messed with and she proves it for a third time when she
body slams two more agents against each other with such force that
they are knocked out cold. Ronan’s moans echo in the otherwise
eerily quiet airport, and I run toward him, trusting Claire to
watch my back. Before I am able to reach him, from out of nowhere
Brandon and Austin swoop in, each grabbing him under an arm and
dragging him toward us.

“
Cars out front,”
Brandon says as
they pass by with Ronan, leaving a trail of blood. Claire and I
slowly back up, keeping everyone incapacitated until we reach the
door, then we take off running, piling in behind them into the back
seat of a minivan driven by Zane Harrington.

***

“It’s my fault—I never should have insisted
on stopping in Colorado Springs,” Ronan finally admits, confessing
regret when I tell him we’re taking him to a walk-in medical clinic
that happens to be in close proximity to Zane’s fathers offices.
Alisha thinks the clinic will be closed on weekends, and she and
Jason are hoping to remove the bullet lodged in his right thigh
themselves, eliminating the need to take him to an emergency
center. Claire and I have successfully stopped the bleeding and
controlled the pain, but without some sort of surgical
intervention, the bullet will remain in his leg causing loss of
function and possibly long term problems.

“We’re all alive—that’s all that matters,” I
remind him, leaning over to kiss him on the lips causing Claire to
say, “Ewe,” and climb over the top of him to get in the back seat
with Austin and Brandon who are keeping watch for trailing
cars.

“Thank god you fly better than you drive,”
Natalie mutters to Zane, reacting to a sudden lane change he makes
that causes the driver behind us to swerve out of the way. The two
have been at each other’s throat since leaving the airport and I’m
about to tell them both to be quiet when she says, “Alisha says
that we’re to take the number eleven exit in three-quarters of a
mile, so you may want to start making your way over now instead of
waiting to the last minute—hint, hint.” Zane responds to Natalie’s
criticism by doing the exact opposite of what she suggests, staying
in the far left lane until the last possible moment, than diving
across three lanes of traffic weaving around other vehicles with
the skill of a racecar driver to make the 11 off ramp. Ronan and I
look at each other, picking up on the little eleven detail that
seems to escape everyone else’s attention as Natalie rattles off a
list of charges that could be used against him for his immature and
reckless behavior. Coincidence or synchronicity?

The vacant parking spaces in the back of the
Urgent Care building are secluded from the street, offering a low
risk environment for the 13 of us to inconspicuously pile out of
the minivans. Just as Alisha predicts, the clinic is closed for the
day, and with minimal telekinetic effort, the backdoor is unlocked
and the security alarm disarmed, allowing us entry into the
building.

“Lidocaine, betadine, syringe, needle,
forceps and scalpel,” Alisha calls out, and the rest of us go on a
scavenger hunt for the objects while she and Jason prepare Ronan
for what normally would only be done in a hospital operating room.
Of course that isn’t an option for us—a full service hospital is
exactly where the Feds would expect us to take Ronan with his type
of injury. No one knows if the men at the airport were really from
the FBI but one thing's for sure—they weren’t messing around, and
they’d be out looking for us.

“We’re going to have to do this under local
anesthesia—should be relatively simple as long as I don’t hit any
major vessels,” Alisha mumbles and once again I look to Claire,
relying on her to help me should the need arise. She nods in
understanding without me even having to ask, and quietly takes her
place on the other side of the gurney. In just two short months
she’s matured significantly, my assumed death and Ronan’s desertion
being the final straws in stealing the last of her childlike
innocence. In some ways I long for her to act out in defiance like
she did before I left, giving us some keepsake of normalcy.
Instead, she’s on an accelerated path to adulthood, just like the
rest of us were—genetically guaranteed.

“Do you guys need any help in here?” Liz
asks peeking her head in the already crowded exam room. She still
looks a little pale from the residual effects of her illness, but
less ghostly than she did twenty-four hours ago. If anything, the
airport incident has done her some good—there’s a spark of
excitement in her eyes that was missing before. Her personality is
such that she derives pleasure from helping others so I don’t feel
guilty asking her to find us some water. Watching Alisha dig around
in Ronan’s leg to find the bullet has suddenly left my mouth bone
dry, and I turn my attention to something far more pleasant—his
exquisite face, that is remarkably peaceful as he rests with his
eyes closed in complete confidence of our ability to take care of
him.

“Got it!” Alisha finally announces after
what seems like forever. She holds up her forceps clamping a bloody
object, waving it triumphantly in front of our faces and Jason
congratulates her for not nicking a major vessel. Ronan opens one
eye to get a glimpse of it.

I see a smile spread across his face. “Well
done Ali—bill me later okay?” he says giving her a thumbs-up.

“Yeah—you can’t afford me Callahan,” she
teases, reaching for the suture set in Jason’s hand.

“Uh-uh—I’ll suture. I’m better at it,” he
says, holding it out of her reach.

“No way—suturing is the best part. Besides
you’re too slow,” she responds, standing on her tip toes to snatch
it from him.

“I’m slow but I make a perfect suture line,
and we don’t want pretty boy here to have a scar on his thigh now
do we?” The two going at it suddenly reminds me of how my parents
used to be when they were around, always playfully competing
against each other, creating entertainment during times of
chaos.

“Fine,” he says, handing her the suture
pack. “I’m going to wash this sucker up and make a Christmas
ornament out of it—what do you say Claire—should we hang a bullet
on the tree next year?” She nods her head vigorously and follows
him to the sink to get a better look.

“You just do that, and I’ll get this sucker
sutured up so we can get the hell out of here,” she happily
mutters, bending over Ronan’s leg again. Claire is not the only one
to have dramatically changed. The transformation in Alisha is just
as noticeable—definitely more sensitive, and not so intense—perhaps
we would be good friends someday.

***

The clinic is dark and quiet when I leave
the exam room to search for a restroom, and I assume that everyone
else has gone outside to keep watch while waiting for us. Without
enhanced hearing I never would have heard the whispered voices
coming from a room at the end of the hall, but recognizing one as
Zane’s, I’m immediately suspicious and inclined to spy. As far as
I’m concerned, there is no one within our group that has the type
of relationship with him that would justify a secret meeting—at
least so I think.