Designed with a Destiny (5 page)

“Over here,” I holler again, hearing the
strain in my voice just as I did his. I start to retrace my steps,
relying solely on my sketchy recollection of my route, and trying
hard not to think about what might happen if I don’t find him. When
I see a faint light in the distance and hear his voice, my knees
almost buckle with relief.

“Zane, I’m right here,” I say breathlessly,
touching him on the shoulder. He whips around and I’m momentarily
blinded by the headlamp he’s wearing on his forehead.

“You crazy idiot. Why didn’t you wait for
me? Do you have any idea how easy it is to get lost in here? How
the hell you managed to get this far without a light is pure dumb
luck,” he seethes, grabbing me by the arm. The outburst catches me
off guard, and in a flash of anger, I respond to him with equal
charm.

“Listen here, asshole—don’t you dare call me
an idiot. It’s your fault for not keeping up. You know, you’re in
the same boat as me now, and I’m pretty sure you need me way more
than I need you,” I snap, jerking my arm out of his grasp. We stare
hard at each other, and all at once his face relaxes.

“Believe me, Cataryn, you need me now more
than ever,” he says in a much softer tone. He staggers back against
the wall, and I can see a bead of sweat trickle down his pale
forehead, his breathing unusually heavy. He lowers his chin to his
chest, and that’s when I catch a glimpse of his blood soaked jacket
and I gasp out loud.

“He shot you? What kind of monster tries to
kill their own son?” I ask dumbfounded, as I tug at the sleeve of
his jacket. He moans and holds on to the wall of crumbling earth
for support while at the same time allowing me to peel the clothing
off his injured arm.

“You have no idea the level of violence
we’re capable of?” he replies, incriminating himself with the
others.

“Is that gas going to kill them?” I ask,
wondering if he’s the bigger monster of the two.

“No, it’s a neuromuscular agent that will
disable them, but the effects are temporary,” he answers with
believable sincerity. Both of us are silent as I remove the last
bit of clothing.

With the whole arm painted red with blood,
it’s impossible to see the actual injury site, so I gently run my
hand up his arm until I feel a definitive temperature change in his
skin, and he confirms with a loud groan when I press my hand firmly
over the area. This would be the moment of truth. Healing him now,
would be a dead giveaway as to who or what I was, but to do nothing
might mean death for both of us. Closing my eyes I breathe in
deeply like I’ve seen Claire do in the past and conjure images of
Ronan, Claire and the rest of my family in attempt to raise my
vibrational frequency. Once I feel the change inside, I release the
energy targeting all of it down my arm, and releasing it through my
hands to the area of his wound. The sensation startles him and he
tries to jerk his arm away.

“Hold still. Don’t move,” I order, keeping
my hands locked to his arm. I release wave after wave of energy
until the area I’m clinging to is the same temperature as the rest
of his arm, and only then do I open my eyes and meet his gaze. I
can’t be sure if it’s reverence or fear I see in them, but I hope
it’s the latter.

“Only the Golden GEM is supposed to have
healing abilities,” he says quietly, swallowing hard. “What other
gifts do you possess?”

“I can take your life with a single
thought,” I say in a matter-of-fact tone, for no other reason than
to make him think that there has been a shift in power. He watches
me carefully as I rub my hands over my jeans in an attempt to
remove his blood from them.

“Then why don’t you? In fact, I’m quite
curious to know why you bothered saving me even now?” he challenges
with a smirk on his face.

I recoil at the thought and prepare to give
him a verbal blast of my reality, but instead blurt out something
with an entirely different feeling behind it. “I miss my family so
much that it hurts. If I have to save your sorry ass another
thousand times, I will do it just to see my mom, dad, and brother
once again,” I say, blinking back tears that I have no way of
hiding with his headlamp shining brightly down on my face. “You
have nothing to lose by releasing our parents, Zane. Your father
will never forgive or trust you after what you did back there. Give
us our parents back and we’ll forget about everything else you’ve
done to us. Please,” I beg. He stares down at me for the longest
time then smiles giving me a sense of hope I hadn’t had until
now.

“The prospect of full clemency is very
generous of you, but I’m afraid I can’t honor your request right
now,” he says, sending my heart plummeting to the pit of my
stomach. “I told you before that this is way bigger than me, Cat.
The crowd you saw back in that room answers to a much more
powerful, ruthless leadership and…”

“Zane, I stopped listening after the word
can’t. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home to my husband and
sister,” I say, cutting him off mid-sentence, turning to leave. The
letdown of his refusal to help, leaves me emotionally bankrupt, and
I immediately lose interest in trying to raise his color screening.
It doesn’t matter what higher purpose Lawrence feels I was called
to do, I’m done spending time with Zane Harrington. The sooner I
can get away from him, the better.

“Cat, I can’t let you go back to Ronan and
Claire,” he says quietly, grabbing my arm.

“Excuse me? Don’t tell me you’re going to
try and stop me,” I respond, almost wishing he would give me an
excuse to hurt him.

“The only way off this island is by plane or
boat, and while you may be gifted with elite Designer skills, I’m
sure it won’t help you getting a Learjet off the ground or
navigating a thirty-five foot yacht through the water,” he says a
little too smugly.

“We’re on an island? Where?” I demand,
thinking of the various possibilities.

“I’m not going to tell you. The last thing I
need is for the rest of the Designers to show up here. Now let’s
get going—it takes a while to get through this maze.” He starts to
lead the way out, stopping ten feet away when he realizes I’m not
following behind him. His headlamp light barely reaches me, and I
notice him squinting trying to see me in the dark. “I said we have
to go, Cat. The chemical agent will be wearing off of my father and
his men in about fifteen minutes, and then we’re going to have a
murderous pack of wolves on our trail,” he says impatiently.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me
where I am. I want to know how far I am from home. Did you take me
out of the country?” For all I knew he could’ve taken me to the
other side of the world.

“Suit yourself,” he says walking away,
calling my bluff. “It’s hard enough finding the way out with a
light—it’s nearly impossible without, but I’ll be generous and at
least give you directions. Keep your hand on the wall and at each
intersection, you’ll feel a change in the texture. Take three
rights, three lefts, four rights, and a final left to get to the
exit.” He turns and smiles, bowing deeply over his right hand
pressed across his abdomen, before disappearing around the
corner.

“Wait a minute!” I shout, running after him.
“I just saved your life. Doesn’t that count for something?” I grab
his arm and he slowly turns around, purposefully tilting his head
so that the headlamp is shining directly in my face once again.
When I turn away under the glare, he grabs my chin with his hand
and forces me to look back at him. “As I just did yours. Now we’re
even—right?”

“No Zane—we’re not even close to being
even,” I reply, snatching the headlamp from his head and tossing it
on the ground, before he has a chance to comprehend what I’m about
to do. “Not even close,” I repeat, stomping hard on the light,
relishing the sound of breaking glass and his bloodcurdling scream
as all light is snuffed from the underground dungeon.

Like a blind man he swings his arms around
in front of him, trying desperately to find me as I dodge out of
the way. “Cat, where are you? Why did you do that? I wasn’t kidding
when I said it’s nearly impossible to find your way in the pitch
dark,” he moans with despair. I watch him for a moment, then slowly
back away.

“Well the funny thing about that is I can
see just fine, and shouldn’t have any problem finding my way out.
Keep your hand on the wall and you should be fine, too,” I holler,
taking off in a sprint. I can hear the fear in his voice, as he
begs me to come back, and it’s not until I make my second left hand
turn, that his screams fade completely.

Dr. Emerick silences Alisha with a simple
hand signal as Elizabeth unleashes a flood of tears on his
shoulders that were induced the second she recognized him.
In-between sobs and hiccups, she manages one or two words that
serve to fill in some the gaps of confusion for the rest of us. Dr.
Emerick was a colleague of Dr. Kappel’s in the Designer Baby
business, and knew about all of us. Judging by the parental way in
which he comforts Elizabeth, he was involved with the family as
more than just a business partner.

“I thought you left because you blamed me
for my father’s death,” Liz confesses, the memory and hurt clearly
portrayed on her face.

“I didn’t leave, Lizzy, I was taken,” he
says, softly.

“Who took you and why?” Alisha demands,
interrupting their intimate reunion. Dr. Emerick brushes his thumb
across Liz’s cheek, wiping the tears away and kisses the top of her
head before slowly turning his attention to Alisha. He’s unhurried
to address her questions, instead studying her with a sort of
entranced curiosity.

“Lawrence, this is Ali…” Elizabeth begins an
obligatory formal introduction of the two, giving Alisha a
disapproving look for the rude interruption.

“Yes, I know, dear Lizzy,” Lawrence says, as
he struggles to his feet. His legs wobble beneath his weight, and I
reflexively reach out to steady him as he approaches Alisha, his
hand already extended in greeting.

“Miss Salisbury—it’s a pleasure to see you
again,” he says, chuckling when her body stiffens defensively.

“Am I supposed to know you?” she asks,
hesitantly reaching to shake his hand.

“No, not really. You were under the age of
two the last time I saw you, but I would never forget a face like
yours. Your parents were very decisive about choosing your cosmetic
traits, and I remember that the sky-blue eyes didn’t sit well with
the rest of the family, especially your grandfather. If I recall,
he still wasn’t speaking to your parents two years after you were
born.” He smiles and shakes his head as if finding the notion of
eye color as a point of contention between family members
amusing.

“Yeah, I know. My grandfather took it as an
insult against the African American heritage and worried that
people would assume it was passed down from Caucasian blood
relatives. It took him quite a while to warm up to me, but
eventually I won him over,” Alisha says, looking down at her hand
sandwiched between the two of his, with a perplexed expression.
“I’m Alisha by the way. And you are Dr. Emerick?” she asks before
pulling it away.

“Please, call me Lawrence” he says, turning
to Jason and grasping his outstretched hand between the two of his
in the same informal way he did Alisha’s. “To answer your
questions; I was taken by the Harringtons, just like your family
members, albeit for very different reasons. I’ll explain everything
soon, however I can see there are more pressing matters to
address,” he says, nodding towards the bed.

Alisha looks warily in the direction of Liz,
then murmurs “Let’s go downstairs and talk,” abruptly turning and
leading the rest of us from the room, with the exception of Claire
who stays curled up next to Liz with the palm of her hand on the
center of her chest.

***

Lawrence listens intently as Alisha and
Jason relay the story about the virus that was developed in an
attempt to wipe out the Designer children population.

“How many kids were affected?” he asks
quietly.

“We don’t really know for sure, but there
have been at least eleven confirmed cases that I know of,” Jason
answers, and quickly adds, “I developed an effective vaccine, but
Elizabeth refused it. She distrusts anyone who has ties to our
government even though in my case those ties were severed once I
fully understood what was at stake.”

Dr. Emerick shakes his head sadly. “I’m
afraid her dad’s animosity and prejudice may have rubbed off on
her. At any rate, he had legitimate fears of the government doing
something like this and went to great efforts to design you with an
immune system capable of resisting a biological attack. What is the
nature of this particular virus?”

“It attacks the neurological system, causing
behavioral changes, paralysis and subsequently respiratory failure.
Our only hope now is to get her to a medical facility,” Alisha
says, ignoring me when I shake my head in disagreement. The two
lock eyes in silence and I shift uncomfortably waiting for him to
respond.

“You have all the healing power you need
right here in this house,” he says softly, and I breathe a sigh of
relief that he thinks so too.

“Please don’t.” Alisha raises a hand in
protest. “I’m really not in the mood to hear this right now.” She
buries her head in her hands and stares down at the table. When she
speaks again her voice cracks. “If Claire had the power to heal
Liz, she’d be walking down those stairs instead of being confined
to the bed. I’m not going to stand by and watch her take her final
breath. Jason thinks that he might be able to make an antidote with
the vaccine that could possibly halt the progression of the
disease. Bernie’s allowing him to go with them and use the medical
lab in Area 51. It’s the only hope we have of saving her life.”