Designed with a Destiny (4 page)

“Austin, take Dr. Emerick,” I order, nudging
the old man in his direction, before sprinting across the yard and
launching myself over the ten steps, landing on the top of the
deck, two feet from where she stands.

“Ali, what’s wrong?” I say, grabbing her by
the shoulders, my heart thudding in my chest. She sniffles and
looks over at Jason who steps forward placing a hand across my
back.

“Ronan, Elizabeth is sick—very sick. We are
not a hundred percent sure, but it’s looking like she may have
contracted the virus targeting the Designers. She woke up early
this morning and was unable to move her legs.”

His words stop me dead in my tracks and I
feel as if the wind’s been knocked out of me. Michael had said that
the symptoms were neurological in nature, starting with behavior
changes that progressed towards paralysis, respiratory and cardiac
collapse. He also said that the symptoms could progress towards
death in as little as a few hours.

“That’s impossible, we were vaccinated!” I
say, looking desperately at Alisha, for a more practical
explanation.

“She wasn’t,” she mumbles and for the first
time looks directly in my eyes. “She refused…remember?” Her eyes
tear up and she turns to go inside. Memories of us in the hotel
room, lining up to take the vaccination flash through my mind.
Elizabeth was adamant in her refusal, always suspicious of anyone
working for the government.

“Alright, well now Claire is here and she’ll
heal her. Ali, she’s going to be okay,” I say, grabbing her arm and
reeling her around. “Claire is here. If she can heal a broken jaw
and gunshot wound, then she can heal Liz,” I insist.

“Ronan, this is different from an acute
injury. A virus isn’t localized to a single area. It involves
multiple organs and cells throughout the body. She doesn’t stand a
chance unless we get her to a hospital. Bernie is flying in with a
team to transport her to a medical facility.”

“She’s agreed to this?” I ask doubting she
ever would.

“She doesn’t have a choice, Ronan. If the
paralysis extends to her torso, she won’t be able to breathe on her
own—she’ll need to be put on a ventilator,” she snaps.

“You could’ve waited until we were back
before calling Bernie. Elizabeth deserves to have Claire try before
you go shipping her across the country with people she doesn’t
trust,” I counter, trying to subdue the rising anger which I
suspect is being shifted from Alisha to me.

“How dare you question my decisions after
taking off in the middle of the night, putting every single person
involved in this mess at risk, including your own parents and CAT!”
she screams, her chest heaving heavily as she dares me with her
eyes to dispute her. I can’t own to the idea that my actions have
put them in harm’s way, especially Cat, but I can’t dispute it
either, so in complete frustration I push past her, and head inside
to find Elizabeth.

***

“Liz—it’s Ronan,” I whisper, swallowing
hard, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Michael had said that
symptoms can progress quickly but seeing her now compared to
twenty-four hours ago throws me for a loop. Her face is pale and
clammy, her long blonde hair limp and clinging to the side of her
cheeks. Her eyes flicker open briefly but it takes several more
attempts before she manages to keep them open long enough to focus
on my face.

“Ronan, you’re back. Is Cat with you?” she
whispers hoarsely, looking around the room.

“No we didn’t find her, but we’ve got some
good leads. How are you feeling?” I ask, quickly changing the
subject. “Ali said something about you not being able to move your
legs?” I glance down at her feet hoping to see her prove Alisha
wrong with a victorious recovery.

“I’m just a little weak—I’ll feel fine
tomorrow,” she says apologetically, not producing even the
slightest movement of her lower extremities. She uses her arms in
an attempt to sit up in bed but the movement is clumsy and after a
few seconds of struggling to remain upright, she slumps back into
the pillows, breathing heavily, her eyelids fluttering closed.

“
Claire, please get up here now!”
I
call telepathically, trying to mask the rising panic in my voice.
Within moments, she’s standing beside me, the smile on her face
slowly dissipating as she takes in the situation, and realizes
right away that something is dreadfully wrong. When her eyes meet
mine, I can see the fear mirroring my own.

“
She wasn’t vaccinated against the
Designer virus. Do you think you can heal her?”
I ask, keeping
the dialogue between just the two of us.

“Move,” she murmurs authoritatively, nudging
me off the bed, and taking my place next to Elizabeth. She gingerly
places her hand on Liz’s leg, her touch so light that Elizabeth
doesn’t even open her eyes. I hold my breath, watching as she
inhales deeply and begins moving her hands slowly down the right
leg, pausing over her feet, than repeating the process on the left
leg, and continuing up to the abdomen and chest where she stops,
and cocks her head to one side, studying the area with a perplexed
look.

“Well hello Squirt—I’m glad you’re home,”
Elizabeth says, waking up to find Claire at her bedside. “Did Ali
ground you until eternity for leaving?” she asks. Claire smiles in
response and carefully lays her head on Elizabeth’s chest, looking
up at me with large brown eyes full of confusion.

“No, Ali didn’t ground her for leaving,”
Alisha announces irritably, and we all look up to find her and
Jason standing in the doorway. “But I’m tempted to—I just don’t
think it would be fair considering that it was Ronan who put her up
to it,” she accuses. I start to argue the claim, then think better
of it, keeping my mouth shut in a silent admission of guilt.

“Elizabeth, how are you feeling? Can you
wiggle your toes?” Jason asks, moving to the bedside. Before she
has a chance to answer, he says, “Squeeze my fingers,” and holds
two fingers from both hands out in front of her. She slowly obeys,
wrapping her hands around his two fingers. He looks over at Alisha
and gives a slight nod of his head, and she silently comes up next
to him, extending her two fingers out in the same manner.

“C’mon Liz, you can squeeze harder than
that. Squeeze. Squeeze. Squeeze,” she commands in a soft, low
voice. Elizabeth grips her fingers tightly for a few seconds then
her arms fall limply by her side.

“Liz, you’re getting weaker. You need to be
transported to a medical facility. I’ve contacted Bernie and she’s
on her way to get you,” Alisha says bluntly and in a way that I’ve
come to understand isn’t meant to be calloused, however often is
interpreted as such. Liz’s eyes go wide with fear, but before she
has a chance to say anything, Alisha turns to me and says, “I don’t
know who the two strangers are that you brought back with you, but
I would like them out of this house before Bernie comes. There’s no
way to explain their existence, without telling her
everything.”

I acknowledge her with nothing more than a
slight nod of my head. Sophia and Dr. Emerick could be hidden in
the guest house easy enough and in my opinion were the least of our
concerns.

“Alisha NO!” Liz moans, looking to me with
pleading eyes. A single tear spills over her lower lid and slowly
trickles down her cheek. I’m relieved when Jason speaks up;
reassuring her in a calm soothing voice that she’ll be in good
hands, Bernie will make sure of it.

“
Claire, can you try one more time?”
I ask in desperation. I hate putting pressure on her in this way,
but having experienced her healing energy first hand, I’m convinced
she has the ability to clear the virus from Liz just as easily.

“
Ronan, I don’t know why, but I think
she’s blocking me,”
she replies catching me off guard with the
claim.

“
Blocking you—in what way?”
I ask,
trying not to sound doubtful. Her brows furrow and she sighs
deeply, taking several seconds to formulate a response. She still
has her head resting on Liz’s chest when she says,
“I can feel
my energy trapped right here beneath my head.”

“
Okay, we can work with Liz to unblock
it,”
I reply with relief. It seemed like a problem that could
easily be fixed and I’m about to explain the situation to Elizabeth
when the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs causes all of us
to turn expectantly towards the door. Alisha makes an audible low
growling sound displaying her displeasure when Austin comes in
carrying Dr. Emerick.

“Now’s probably not a good time, can you
please take doctor…” I start to say before Alisha jumps all over
him.

“Sorry, he insists on seeing Elizabeth,”
Austin interrupts, shrugging his shoulders innocently, as he sets
the frail doctor on his feet. All at once, I remember Dr. Emerick
saying that he was Dr. Kappel’s colleague and I hold my breath as
he slowly approaches the bed, his eyes fixated on Elizabeth, who
watches him wearily.

“Elizabeth Marie Kappel,” he whispers. “The
last time I saw you, you were graduating from high school. Now look
at you all grown up and more beautiful than ever.” The recognition
comes slowly but when it does, she gasps out loud.

As I stare into the eyes of Mr. Harrington,
the man waiting for me to confess the truth about the psychokinetic
events caught on video, I recall one of the few times I ever lied
to my parents. I was about 11 years old and found an injured baby
bird in our yard and desperately wanted to save it. When my parents
asked me what I was doing with a syringe, I snuck from their
medical bag, I told them I needed it for a school project. Over the
course of two days, I watched the little bird become weaker and
weaker in spite of my attempts to feed it by grinding up worms to
push through the syringe into its open mouth. I wanted to ask for
my parent’s help, but feared they would make me set it free, a
certain death sentence for the helpless bird. Now as Mr. Harrington
stares coldly down at me from the podium, I am faced with a similar
dilemma of deciding which option holds the most promise for the
innocent people at his mercy. The longer I can keep my growing
abilities a secret, the greater chance I have of gaining the trust
of Zane, and finding the location of our parents. On the other
hand, if I reveal to them right now that I’m the Golden GEM and
prove it with a few impressive demonstrations, they may negotiate
letting our parents go in exchange for my loyalty. My intuition
tells me to go with the first option, so I carefully formulate a
response that I hope will satisfy the tyrant.

“It’s Ronan. He found me, and was just
trying to comfort me by letting me know that he was there with
me—that’s all,” I say, trying to steady my quivering voice. I can
tell by the smirk on his face that he doesn’t believe me, so I try
a different tactic. “Wait, you don’t think I have the same powers
as the Designers do you?” I ask incredulously, throwing in a
chuckle to accentuate my disbelief. For the briefest second, he
looks uncertain then he glances in the direction of his men, gives
a slight nod and says, “If that is the case, then I’m sure you
won’t mind if we run a few tests on you.” The words barely leave
his lips before Zane jumps up from his seat, looking at his father
with pure contempt.

“NO—WE HAD A DEAL!” he hollers. “You’re not
taking her off this island,” Zane says through clenched teeth.

Mr. Harrington narrows his gaze at Zane.
“Son," he says in an icy voice that lacks endearment, "You don’t
give the orders around here—I do.” Senior turns to his men, “Get
the girl and let’s go.” I watch Zane reach in his pocket and pull
out a small black disk, before I know what's happening he's
pressing down firmly in the center of it, while simultaneously
knocking me to the concrete floor. Within a matter of seconds,
Zane’s father and his men start coughing.

“There’s a mask under your chair—put it on
and push the button on the side,” Zane orders, covering my nose
with a cloth, and I look up to see a light mist flowing from the
ceiling vents. He doesn’t need to explain a thing when I see Mr.
Harrington and his men stagger to keep their balance. I do exactly
as I’m told. “It’ll give you up to seven minutes of oxygen if you
don’t hyperventilate.”

“You son-of-a-bitch. Stop him,” Mr.
Harrington chokes, frantically trying to cover his nose and mouth
while his men stumble towards us.

“Run!” Zane’s muffled voice commands, and my
body leaps in to action, racing for the exit door, just as a
deafening blast shakes the room. I don’t stop to consider the
source—once I’m out the door, I run for my life.

***

“Cat, wait up,” I hear Zane calling from a
distance, his voice muffled and strained. I was so focused on
getting away that I hadn’t even realized he wasn’t behind me until
I tripped and fell head first in a mound of dirt. “It’s an
underground tunnel,” I say out loud, feeling the earth of the wall
I’m leaning against, crumble beneath my fingertips. I can see well
enough around me to not run into anything, but hadn’t noticed the
transition from drywall to dirt. My tongue and teeth are coated
with it, and the more I try to wipe it away, the more dirt ends up
in my mouth. Finally, I give up and rest my head against the damp
earth, closing my eyes, and trying to make sense of the events.
Whatever happened back there was definitely pre-planned and for the
first time, I consider the possibility that Zane is on my side.
When I hear him call a second time, I clear my throat, stand up,
and shout, “Zane, I’m over here!” listening to the sound of my
voice echo back to me repeatedly. I can’t imagine what’s taking him
so long until I vaguely recall coming to at least five
intersections. It’s only then that the panic really sets in. It
would be just like the eccentric millionaire to create an
underground maze of tunnels, leading to god only knows where, and
the route I took is sort of a blur to me now.