Designed with a Destiny (26 page)

“Ditto,” he responds coldly, his eyes
narrowing. Ronan’s arm tightens around me—providing me with the
only solid reminder of love in this room, and my body goes limp
against him.

“What about Claire—do you hate her too?” I
bring myself to ask. Surely whatever’s caused him to turn against
me isn’t meant for her too. His face softens at the mention of her
name offering me a glimmer of hope that he’s retained some
allegiance to our family.

“How’s she…” he starts to ask before a loud
knock on the door interrupts us. Kennedy jumps up, but can’t
maneuver around us in the small room to get to the door, and it’s
Ronan that reaches over to open it, just as someone hollers, “Open
up McCullough—it’s Gabe.”

“Hello Gabe,” Ronan murmurs, surprising
their guest with our unexpected presence.

“Where’s Chord?” he stutters, nervously
trying to peer around the two of us.

“He’s tied up right now with family
business—can I help you with something?” Ronan asks, taking the
initiative to get rid of him, which infuriates Kennedy more than it
does Chord.

“No he’s not tied up,” she says through
clenched teeth, trying to physically shove Ronan out of the way.
When he doesn’t budge an inch, she raises her hand in an attempt to
move him with telekinetic energy and this time, I easily thwart her
efforts by simply touching her arm, sending a current of energy
waves straight to the source. Without mind-altering drugs in my
system, she’s no match for the power of a vibrational rate
exceeding hers tenfold. I meet her gaze, and smile—actually seeing
fear in her eyes makes me feel better already. Chord saunters over,
pulling a wad of bills out of his pocket.

“Here you go man,” he simply says dangling
it over Ronan’s shoulder for Gabe, who hesitantly takes the money,
replacing it with a small baggie containing a handful of white
pills. It’s as if everything from that point on happens in slow
motion—I’m on a road of denial which has a hundred intersections of
different possibilities explaining his actions, but in the end it
leads to a cliff. When he takes a pill and places it between his
two front teeth, mocking us with a wicked grin before swallowing
it—I drive right off the edge.

Vomit—stomach pain, stomach
cramps—vomit—severe nausea—vomit
. My thoughts are precise and
powerful, aimed directly at my brother. He clutches his stomach
almost immediately, and drops to the floor on his knees.

“Oh God,” he murmurs, making an effort to
crawl to the bathroom. I show no mercy when he collapses at my
feet, and calmly step out of the way when he vomits on the floor.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and tries to stand up,
only to be overcome with another wave that hits him twice as hard.
Moaning, he doubles over in pain, and rolls on to his side, not
even bothering to move his head out of the way when he pukes again,
and then again. At the moment, he’s a complete hostage to the
severe intestinal symptoms being inflicted on him, and I have no
intention of stopping anytime soon.

“Do you want to be next?” Ronan murmurs,
stopping Kennedy with a serious threat when she makes a move toward
me to intervene. Something in his tone must convince her that we
can, and she obediently sits on the chair and draws her knees to
her chest, burying her head in them and covering her ears with her
hands to block Chords moans.

***

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I lie next to
Chord on the bed, a few hours after I’ve ended my invisible assault
that left him limp, lying in his own barf. Ronan helped me clean
him up and get him on the bed, where I’ve been watching him sleep,
holding his hand while introducing a stream of loving white energy
particles. His hair is moist with perspiration but his face is
peaceful and when his eyes flutter open, there’s something other
than hatred staring back at me. We stare at each other for the
longest time before I speak. “I buried you once and it just about
destroyed Claire and me. I won’t lose you again—not to something as
lame as drugs,” I say, trying to justify my actions.

“You have the same abilities as Kennedy?”
His voice is hoarse from vomiting bile. I nod, wondering what
torturous experiments she performed on him that he would compare
the two of us. “How do you do it?” he asks, searching my face with
serious dark eyes that are identical to mine.

“We’re Designers. Mom and dad had us
genetically engineered and one of the synthetic DNA strands that
was used on us activates subconscious pathways. It all has to do
with the ability to manipulate energy particles—quantum
physics.”

“When you say we’re Designers—do you mean me
too?” he asks, looking surprised. His question leaves me somewhat
perplexed. I thought Kennedy would have told him at least the
basics.

“According to Lawrence—he genetically
modified all of us, including Claire. But you and I have a special
synthetic DNA strand that becomes activated later—under the
influence of certain hormones,” I hint without coming right out and
saying sexually charged hormones. The last thing I want to do is
encourage my brother to hop in the sack with someone—especially
Kennedy Malcom—just to rev up hormones that will open pathways to
higher consciousness, and gifted abilities.

“Who’s Lawrence?”

His question leads me in to the long story
of why he was kidnapped, along with other Designer family members
and myself. I tell him about the Harrington’s and about being held
hostage in the bunkers with Sophia, and how Lawrence our DNA
engineer, contacted me telepathically. Ronan interjects some of the
details about meeting the other Designer’s which seems to pique
Kennedy’s interest as much as anything.

“I’m able to communicate telepathically with
Kennedy,” he admits, glancing over at her across the room. ”I’m not
quite sure how we even found each other. It was after I had been
given drugs by Harrington’s men, that I started hearing her
voice.”

“Wait—what drugs?” I interrupt.

“The first time, I think it was LSD, and
then after that they started offering me ecstasy pills. They said
it would make it easier to be in the bunker, but I knew even then
that it was nothing more than an attempt to get information from
me. I swear I didn’t want to take them, but once I realized that I
could only communicate with Kennedy while under the influence, I
told myself I had to have them. I told myself I would quit just as
soon as she helped me escape,” he says with the first hint of
regret.

“Dude, take it from me, drugs and alcohol
change frequency vibrations and color screenings. You and Kennedy
are at risk of permanently forfeiting all of your Designer powers
if you continue using. I know firsthand because I went on a
drinking binge when I thought Cat was dead, and lost my ability to
communicate with the others,” Ronan speaks up, sharing the preachy
role so I don’t have to get this reunion started with a big sister—
by a few minutes— lecture. Chord sits up, and slowly turns to face
him, regarding him as if for the first time, and I hold my breath
fearing a defensive reaction. I sigh with relief when he smiles
broadly, and reaches across the bed in an outgoing gesture that’s
so much more typical of my brother. Ronan grips his outstretched
hand, as Chord says, “So my sister really married you, huh? Mom and
dad are going to freak, but I admit—it’s nice to have a brother in
the family—welcome.” The pleased look on Ronan’s face is priceless,
and I’m almost certain he lets out a sigh of relief as well.

“Ahem—so what happens now?” Kennedy asks
quietly, starting to light up another cigarette, which Ronan
reaches over and snaps in two between his fingers.

“You can’t smoke if you’re coming with
us—they stink,” he says bluntly. It’s his way of inviting her to
come along, but I have my own conditions.

“Kennedy, your color screening is a
reflection of your thoughts. Every single one of us can see energy
fields—there’s no way to hide a mind full of darkness. We’ll help
you get back to what you were designed to be, but it’s up to you to
stay there. If you use your powers for the wrong reasons, you’ll
end up right back where you are now—gray.” I hold my hand out in a
final offer to restore her spiritual connection, and she slides
next to us on the bed, eagerly taking my hand in hers.

“Can I get your help?” I smile sweetly at
Ronan and he joins in the circle, rolling his eyes, and muttering a
smart comment to Kennedy and Chord about how I’m always looking for
excuses to hold his hand.

***

Chord goes ballistic when he sees Zane
waiting in the coffee shop with Natalie and Kennedy’s uncle. I
sometimes forget that Zane Harrington was once the enemy, but
quickly am reminded when I'm forced to protect him from Chord's
retaliation. Since I promised Ronan that after finding Chord, I
wouldn’t intervene by altering people’s emotions, I do my best to
use good old-fashioned reasoning skills to persuade Chord to give
him a second chance.

“He’s changed Chord. You’ll know it too when
I teach you how to see energy fields. Just give it a few
days—please?” Neither Chord nor Natalie are yet successful in
detecting energy fields, a key factor in understanding the
principles of higher vibrational states. His jaw tightens and he
stares stubbornly at the floor, finally looking up and giving Zane
one last dirty look before saying, “Okay. Let’s just get out of
here—I want to see Claire.” As usual, Ronan is quietly watching
from a distance, arms folded across his chest, appearing aloof to
the casual observer, but when I smile and give him a thumbs up, he
grins with approval.

“
Bravo, Mrs. Callahan—you did it without
cheating,”
he teases, clearly pleased that I kept my
promise.

“Cat, will you please show my uncle what you
shared with Chord and me?” Kennedy approaches me, asking for the
third time since leaving the room upstairs, although this time with
her uncle at her side. He looks at me skeptically but appeases his
niece with a cordial affirmation that he is “indeed interested in
experiencing the same sort of enlightenment that she’s so
enthusiastically told him about.”

Her response to the rise in her color
screening the second time around is much more pronounced than the
first time, and I’m fully convinced that she understands the
implications behind the changes she’s experiencing—she’s actually a
different person altogether. Now wearing blue jeans and a
sweatshirt with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looks more
like a bubbly cheerleader than someone involved with military
operations. I smile at her eagerness to embrace the Designer’s
mission—even to the point of fondly referring to us as family in
front of her uncle. As much as I was hoping to get on the road and
back to the others, I’m obligated to honor her request and suggest
a more private, energetically rich location. The forested park
nearby is the perfect place for the new converts to practice seeing
energy fields, while allowing the rest of us to replenish our own
through nature breathing.

“We could all use some fresh air—can we go
outdoors—to the Cheyenne Mountain State Park?” I ask. Maxwell
Malcom hesitates and instead of questioning why, I unthinkingly
project an agreeable response on him out of habit.

The late afternoon Colorado sun is blinding
in contrast to the dull fluorescent lighting of the nuclear bunker,
and only the Malcoms are prepared with dark reflective sunglasses
that they put on even before leaving the bunker. Cat’s idea to move
outside was enthusiastically received by all of us except the
Colonel who reluctantly agreed and now glances around uneasily as
we follow him to the parking lot containing a fleet of mostly
military sports utility vehicles. He insists on driving us to the
north entrance to pick up the vehicle we borrowed from Kenneth
William, even though it’s less than a mile down the road. After
being cramped up in small rooms all day, I could use a fifteen-mile
run, but at this point I’m agreeable to just about anything. I feel
a deep sense of gratification watching Cat and Chord ahead of me,
walking arm in arm, quietly sharing their experiences over the past
year. She’s telling him about Claire becoming mute and how they
ended up in Montana with their Uncle Karl, whom Chord has as much
hatred for as Cat and Claire. He and Kennedy are the first
Designers I’ve met to have needed our help in raising their color
screening, but now that we did, the changes in them are
profound—more so than anyone else we’ve influenced. Even now, two
hours later, Kennedy squeals, “I’m free!” throwing her arms up in
the air as she twirls around her uncle who’s still unsure of what
exactly she means by, “I’m as light as a feather.” The white aura
of particles surrounding her is about the only guarantee we have
that the changes are real, otherwise I would call her out as a
fraud with her over-the-top antics.

Chord’s response on the other hand, is polar
opposite of hers. He appears at peace, free of the demons that
controlled his life a few hours ago. Rather than becoming fanatical
over the changes however, he becomes quiet—reflective and
observant—similar to Cat and Claire’s personalities. His long, dark
hair, still wet after a shower is tied back at the nape of his
neck, making his resemblance to Cat more obvious. Every once in a
while when my name is dropped in their conversation, he glances
over his shoulder at me, and I wonder if he’s really pleased with
gaining a new brother-in-law or just being polite for Cat’s
sake.

“Hey look,” Kennedy stops us to point out a
herd of elk feeding among the scrub oaks in the distance. Her uncle
isn’t the least interested and keeps walking, but the rest of us
feel obligated to listen as she rattles off some stories about the
same herd that comes back year after year. Watching the animals
brings back memories of Burke Harold for me. We used to chase deer
herds just for the hell of it back in Montana, competing to see who
could tag the most by slapping them on the back. Cat comes up and
slips her hand in mine, unknowingly easing a moment of sadness the
memory brings.