~~Disclaimer: The Centre and all characters, with the exception of Sarah, are not mine,
and I didn't come up with the idea for the Pretender, so I only take credit for the storyline
and the characters I have created.
Let Be There A Light
Part 1
By Tchabu
Raines led the young girl into a small room. It was dark, and there was a window on one
side. The girl immediately knew that, although she could see what happened in the room
the window opened up to, all the people on the other side would see was a large mirror.
As she crossed the tiny room, she saw two men in the room beyond. One of them she
knew right away; it was Sydney, one of the men who worked here at the Centre. The
other's back was turned to her, but the figure seemed somewhat familiar. The girl
searched her mind for who it could be, until Raines finally provided an answer to her
unspoken question.
"It's Jarod," he rasped in a flat, yet somehow triumphant, tone of voice. "You did it. You
helped us find him."
Just then, the man turned to face Sydney. She instantly recognized him.
This was the man she had spent so many hours simulating; this was the man Raines had
forced her to become time and time again. She looked at him curiously. Suddenly, his
eyes seemed to meet hers. She knew that he couldn't see her, but she could feel his
intense stare burning into her. His eyes were so different than anything else she had ever
seen. They were dark, angry and cold, but at the same time, she could see pain and
compassion mixed in them. She whirled around, her own eyes flashing with anger.
"This is Jarod? You told me he was a dangerous man, that he was a killer! You lied to
me. I've just helped to take his freedom away from him. You can't use him anymore." At
a quick motion from Raines, Sam and Willy grabbed the girl, who was still yelling at
Raines, and practically carried her back to her cell.
***
Jarod sat in his space, finally alone. He was handcuffed to a chair in the middle of the
room. It was late. Dark bags circled his eyes; he'd hardly slept for the last week, since
they had brought him in. He was still mentally raging at himself for being caught so
easily. After three years of giving the Centre the slip, they had simply come for him,
taking him out of the apartment he had been staying in.
The pretender's train of thought was broken very abruptly, as the vent in the ceiling was
removed and a young girl literally dropped, lightly as a cat, into his cell like space.
"The ceiling ones are always harder," she muttered, dusting her hands off on the dark
slacks they made her wear. Jarod only sat there, completely speechless and wondering
who this could be. She had long, wavy red hair, deep blue eyes, and was fairly tall. She
could have been thirteen or fourteen. "Don't worry," she said, in response to Jarod's
glance at the security cameras in the room. "They have been temporarily disabled."
"Who are you?" he asked, at last finding his voice.
"My name is Sarah. I am a pretender, too." She pulled a paper clip from her back pocket
and went around to the back of the chair. Straightening the bit of metal out, she began to
pick at the lock on the cuffs. "I'll try and get you out of these as soon as I can. They look
pretty uncomfortable."
"I'm Jarod."
"I know," she replied.
"How do you know me, and why are you here?" Jarod finally let his questions spill out.
"Got it!" The cuffs fell away, and Jarod rubbed his wrists. "Well, there aren't many
secrets they can keep secret here, and let's just say that I owe you, and leave it at that for
now."
"How?''
"There isn't much time. Somebody will be in here soon. Do you want to get out?"
Jarod could not believe his ears. "How do I know I can trust you?"
"Why else would I come in through the ventilation system?" Seeing the answer on his
face, she went on. "Good. Be ready tomorrow night, and I will be back. We have help."
He looked at her, and decided that she was really on his side.
"All right, I'll be ready."
"I have to go now. Would you mind giving me a little help?" He nodded, and silently
boosted her up into the hole in the ceiling. Sarah replaced the vent, climbed away, and
was gone.
***
The next night, at about the same time, Sarah was sitting on her hard mattress, going over
the plan in her mind. Everything seemed to be right, so she gathered up the few things
she thought of as her belongings: a sketchpad, an extra pair of slacks, and a turtleneck
that she knotted into a make-shift backpack. As she finished up, she heard a tapping, and
the vent, which was in the wall in her room, opened inwards. angelo's face showed
through, and he extended his arm down to her. With practiced ease, she took it, and
swung up into the opening. After one last glance into the closest thing to a home she had
known for ten years, she followed Angelo deeper into the Centre.
Jarod, too, was ready to leave. They had let him stay out of the handcuffs, but he hadn't
left the space for over 36 hours now. He had spent his time since Sarah had visited
wondering how they would escape, and who would help them. When he heard the grating
pulled away from the opening, he expected a red head to poke though, but he was wrong.
Instead, he saw Angelo's grinning face. In silence he took the outstretched arm, and with
a small jump, was lifted out of the cell. Angelo lowered the grating back into place, and
the two men scrambled up the heating duct.
In the thick darkness, Jarod could just barely make out Angelo, motioning for him to
follow. With no idea where the girl was, Jarod followed, crawling through the ceilings
and walls of the huge building in total silence.
Left, right, and left again, they crawled for what Jarod judged to be about twenty minutes,
until they came to the huge chimneys of the Centre. Sarah waited there for them. She had
soot smudged on her nose and forehead, but didn't seem to notice. Jarod mouthed the
words "now what?" and she pointed upwards in reply. They were going to climb up the
chimneys!
Sarah quickly hugged Angelo, and Jarod whispered his thanks. As he disappeared, the
redheaded girl began to climb a small maintenance ladder, and Jarod followed her. The
rungs were slippery with smoke residue, but slowly and carefully, they continued to
climb, finally emerging into the bright moon- and star-light.
"How do we get down?" Jarod asked, leaning out over the immense drop.
"More climbing," Sarah replied. "There is another ladder down to the roof, and more over
on the west end of the building. After that, all we have to do is get past the Sweepers, and
then we are out of here!"
They began the descent, with Jarod going first this time, and worked much more quickly.
Soon, they were on the grounds. Jarod grabbed Sarah's hand, and, telling her to stay close
behind him, led her across the lawn. Ducking and weaving in and out of the shadows, the
escapees kept as quiet as possible. To both of their great satisfaction, they met nobody,
and quickly made it out onto the highway. Both breathed sighs of relief, and they began
walking, hoping to put as much space possible between themselves and the Centre.
***
Two days later, Jarod and Sarah were thousands of miles away from the Centre, and both
much better for it. Jarod had not yet gotten Sarah to tell him much about herself except to
explain what she had done while at the Centre.
"I was taken to the Centre when I was about five," she explained. "At first, I did all sorts
of sims, from what were supposedly rescue missions to research for chemists. Then,
when I was ten, I started to simulate you." At this statement Jarod looked only slightly
surprised. He had suspected that they had used another pretender to find him. "Mr. Raines
told me that you were a very dangerous man, and that you were a murderer. He also said
that you needed to be brought back to keep you from hurting somebody else. I believed
him." Here she dropped her eyes ashamedly, and would say no more.
***
Later that evening, when Sarah was already sleep, Jarod as getting ready for bed and
passed her room. He heard her crying in her sleep, and so went in to check on her. Her
face was drenched in sweat, and she tossed and turned restlessly, mumbling and crying
the entire time. Jarod shook her gently, trying to wake her.
"Wake up, Sarah, it's only a dream." At the touch of his hand, she sat bolt upright and let
out a short scream. When she saw that it was only Jarod, she began to stammer out an
apology.
"Oh, Jarod, I'm so sorry. I thought it was him, and I thought he was coming for me..." She
trailed off as Jarod put his arm around her.
"Will you tell me what you were dreaming about, Sarah?" he asked gently. She shook her
head, saying:
"I can't, because he'll kill you!"
"It was only a dream, Sarah, and I promise that nobody will hurt me if you tell me about
it. Now, will you please tell me what it was about?"
She took a deep breath. "When I was a baby, I was adopted. I don't remember my birth
parents, but my adoptive parents told me that they had loved me very much. I always
knew that I was adopted, and it never bothered me.
"I was probably three years old when a man came to the door in the middle of the night.
He shot my adopted mother in the head, and stabbed my father. Then he told me that if I
ever told anybody what had happened, he would make what happened to them look like
fun. He left, and I didn't see him again for a long time.
"As my adoptive father lay there dying, he told me to be a good girl. He gave me this
key," she showed Jarod a small key that hung from a chain on her neck, "and said that it
opened a box in a bank in Iowa, and to never forget the address, and never let anybody
take it from me. Any time somebody tried to take it at the Centre, I screamed and kicked
at them, so they let me have it.
"I lived in foster homes for the next two years, and then they took me to the Centre."
Jarod looked thoughtful. "You said that you didn't see the murderer for a long time. Do
you know who he is?" She nodded slowly.
"Mr. Lyle, from the Centre."
He had to struggle to keep his face calm as the anger and hatred that always hovered in
his mind threatened to surface in his expression. Ever since Lyle had killed Kyle, there
had been nothing but hatred and contempt for him. Now, however, he knew he had to be
soothing and strong for the girl who was looking at him with complete trust written on
her own face. He smiled gently and patted her on the back reassuringly.
"Thank you," he said. "Lyle will never know that you told me." He paused. "Can you go
back to sleep now?"
"Yes." Sarah flashed the first smile she ever gave him as she crawled back under the
blankets and switched off the light.
***
"Where are we going?" Sarah asked. The two pretenders were rolling down a highway in
the small car Jarod had bought that morning. For a while, she had been content to just
watch the scenery go by and to take in all of the colors her previous life had been so
devoid of, but now she had finally let her curiosity get the better of her. Keeping his eyes
on the road, Jarod answered her.
"To Iowa."
"Really?" She was absolutely incredulous.
"Really." He smiled. "Do you remember the bank's address and the box number?"
"I've never forgotten. 4130 East Highland Drive, Willow Ridge, Iowa, box number 209,"
she recited without hesitation.
"Good. We'll be there in about three hours."
***
Willow Ridge was a good-sized town, judging from the sign that loudly proclaimed
"Population 15,729." First they rented a pair of adjoining hotel rooms for the night, and
then they pulled up to the small bank. Jarod parked the car, and then grinned
encouragingly at the younger pretender. She seemed nervous.
"Do you want me to go in with you?" he asked. After a moment's consideration, she
replied.
"No, if you don't mind, I think I should do this alone."
"I understand. I'll wait here."
Without another word, Sarah swung the door open and walked up to the building,
clutching the tiny key. Jarod sat in the car, waiting, for a good twenty minutes, when she
finally came out, holding a large manilla envelope to herself. Sliding back into the
passenger seat, she read the name, her name, that was written in beautiful handwriting on
the front.
"Do you want to open it now?"
"No, I think I would rather wait until we get back to the hotel," she said, thinking of what
the envelope could contain. She knew that it would tell her something about herself,
something she desperately needed to know. Hoping that it would tell her who her birth
parents were, she held the package until they arrived at the hotel. She immediately
disappeared into her room, wanting to be alone.
Closing the door behind her, she sat down on the bed and looked once again at the fine
script on the envelope. Then, ever so gently, she opened the flap and slid the contents out
onto the bed. Inside were another envelope, letter sized this time, and a delicate pendant,
perfectly matched to her chain. As she inspected it, she saw that it was a cross,
masterfully engraved with the Twenty-Third Psalm, which was the only piece of
Scripture she knew. Sarah picked up the letter, opened it, and unfolded the enclosed piece
of paper. A small photograph of three people, a man and woman holding a small baby
with a tuft of red hair, came with the letter, which she read. She paused, and then read it
twice more, letting the truth of it sink in.
Suddenly, she stood and walked out to where Jarod was on the Internet, working on a site
with a picture of the same woman who was holding the baby she knew to be herself.
Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but no sound would come, and so she wordlessly
handed the letter and photo to Jarod. He took them, with a questioning expression. After
studying the photo for long while, he read the letter, and re-read it, just as Sarah had
done, the question changing to interest, then a stunned expression finally taking over his
features.
Then he found his voice. "You're my sister?"
She nodded.
and I didn't come up with the idea for the Pretender, so I only take credit for the storyline
and the characters I have created.
Let Be There A Light
Part 1
By Tchabu
Raines led the young girl into a small room. It was dark, and there was a window on one
side. The girl immediately knew that, although she could see what happened in the room
the window opened up to, all the people on the other side would see was a large mirror.
As she crossed the tiny room, she saw two men in the room beyond. One of them she
knew right away; it was Sydney, one of the men who worked here at the Centre. The
other's back was turned to her, but the figure seemed somewhat familiar. The girl
searched her mind for who it could be, until Raines finally provided an answer to her
unspoken question.
"It's Jarod," he rasped in a flat, yet somehow triumphant, tone of voice. "You did it. You
helped us find him."
Just then, the man turned to face Sydney. She instantly recognized him.
This was the man she had spent so many hours simulating; this was the man Raines had
forced her to become time and time again. She looked at him curiously. Suddenly, his
eyes seemed to meet hers. She knew that he couldn't see her, but she could feel his
intense stare burning into her. His eyes were so different than anything else she had ever
seen. They were dark, angry and cold, but at the same time, she could see pain and
compassion mixed in them. She whirled around, her own eyes flashing with anger.
"This is Jarod? You told me he was a dangerous man, that he was a killer! You lied to
me. I've just helped to take his freedom away from him. You can't use him anymore." At
a quick motion from Raines, Sam and Willy grabbed the girl, who was still yelling at
Raines, and practically carried her back to her cell.
***
Jarod sat in his space, finally alone. He was handcuffed to a chair in the middle of the
room. It was late. Dark bags circled his eyes; he'd hardly slept for the last week, since
they had brought him in. He was still mentally raging at himself for being caught so
easily. After three years of giving the Centre the slip, they had simply come for him,
taking him out of the apartment he had been staying in.
The pretender's train of thought was broken very abruptly, as the vent in the ceiling was
removed and a young girl literally dropped, lightly as a cat, into his cell like space.
"The ceiling ones are always harder," she muttered, dusting her hands off on the dark
slacks they made her wear. Jarod only sat there, completely speechless and wondering
who this could be. She had long, wavy red hair, deep blue eyes, and was fairly tall. She
could have been thirteen or fourteen. "Don't worry," she said, in response to Jarod's
glance at the security cameras in the room. "They have been temporarily disabled."
"Who are you?" he asked, at last finding his voice.
"My name is Sarah. I am a pretender, too." She pulled a paper clip from her back pocket
and went around to the back of the chair. Straightening the bit of metal out, she began to
pick at the lock on the cuffs. "I'll try and get you out of these as soon as I can. They look
pretty uncomfortable."
"I'm Jarod."
"I know," she replied.
"How do you know me, and why are you here?" Jarod finally let his questions spill out.
"Got it!" The cuffs fell away, and Jarod rubbed his wrists. "Well, there aren't many
secrets they can keep secret here, and let's just say that I owe you, and leave it at that for
now."
"How?''
"There isn't much time. Somebody will be in here soon. Do you want to get out?"
Jarod could not believe his ears. "How do I know I can trust you?"
"Why else would I come in through the ventilation system?" Seeing the answer on his
face, she went on. "Good. Be ready tomorrow night, and I will be back. We have help."
He looked at her, and decided that she was really on his side.
"All right, I'll be ready."
"I have to go now. Would you mind giving me a little help?" He nodded, and silently
boosted her up into the hole in the ceiling. Sarah replaced the vent, climbed away, and
was gone.
***
The next night, at about the same time, Sarah was sitting on her hard mattress, going over
the plan in her mind. Everything seemed to be right, so she gathered up the few things
she thought of as her belongings: a sketchpad, an extra pair of slacks, and a turtleneck
that she knotted into a make-shift backpack. As she finished up, she heard a tapping, and
the vent, which was in the wall in her room, opened inwards. angelo's face showed
through, and he extended his arm down to her. With practiced ease, she took it, and
swung up into the opening. After one last glance into the closest thing to a home she had
known for ten years, she followed Angelo deeper into the Centre.
Jarod, too, was ready to leave. They had let him stay out of the handcuffs, but he hadn't
left the space for over 36 hours now. He had spent his time since Sarah had visited
wondering how they would escape, and who would help them. When he heard the grating
pulled away from the opening, he expected a red head to poke though, but he was wrong.
Instead, he saw Angelo's grinning face. In silence he took the outstretched arm, and with
a small jump, was lifted out of the cell. Angelo lowered the grating back into place, and
the two men scrambled up the heating duct.
In the thick darkness, Jarod could just barely make out Angelo, motioning for him to
follow. With no idea where the girl was, Jarod followed, crawling through the ceilings
and walls of the huge building in total silence.
Left, right, and left again, they crawled for what Jarod judged to be about twenty minutes,
until they came to the huge chimneys of the Centre. Sarah waited there for them. She had
soot smudged on her nose and forehead, but didn't seem to notice. Jarod mouthed the
words "now what?" and she pointed upwards in reply. They were going to climb up the
chimneys!
Sarah quickly hugged Angelo, and Jarod whispered his thanks. As he disappeared, the
redheaded girl began to climb a small maintenance ladder, and Jarod followed her. The
rungs were slippery with smoke residue, but slowly and carefully, they continued to
climb, finally emerging into the bright moon- and star-light.
"How do we get down?" Jarod asked, leaning out over the immense drop.
"More climbing," Sarah replied. "There is another ladder down to the roof, and more over
on the west end of the building. After that, all we have to do is get past the Sweepers, and
then we are out of here!"
They began the descent, with Jarod going first this time, and worked much more quickly.
Soon, they were on the grounds. Jarod grabbed Sarah's hand, and, telling her to stay close
behind him, led her across the lawn. Ducking and weaving in and out of the shadows, the
escapees kept as quiet as possible. To both of their great satisfaction, they met nobody,
and quickly made it out onto the highway. Both breathed sighs of relief, and they began
walking, hoping to put as much space possible between themselves and the Centre.
***
Two days later, Jarod and Sarah were thousands of miles away from the Centre, and both
much better for it. Jarod had not yet gotten Sarah to tell him much about herself except to
explain what she had done while at the Centre.
"I was taken to the Centre when I was about five," she explained. "At first, I did all sorts
of sims, from what were supposedly rescue missions to research for chemists. Then,
when I was ten, I started to simulate you." At this statement Jarod looked only slightly
surprised. He had suspected that they had used another pretender to find him. "Mr. Raines
told me that you were a very dangerous man, and that you were a murderer. He also said
that you needed to be brought back to keep you from hurting somebody else. I believed
him." Here she dropped her eyes ashamedly, and would say no more.
***
Later that evening, when Sarah was already sleep, Jarod as getting ready for bed and
passed her room. He heard her crying in her sleep, and so went in to check on her. Her
face was drenched in sweat, and she tossed and turned restlessly, mumbling and crying
the entire time. Jarod shook her gently, trying to wake her.
"Wake up, Sarah, it's only a dream." At the touch of his hand, she sat bolt upright and let
out a short scream. When she saw that it was only Jarod, she began to stammer out an
apology.
"Oh, Jarod, I'm so sorry. I thought it was him, and I thought he was coming for me..." She
trailed off as Jarod put his arm around her.
"Will you tell me what you were dreaming about, Sarah?" he asked gently. She shook her
head, saying:
"I can't, because he'll kill you!"
"It was only a dream, Sarah, and I promise that nobody will hurt me if you tell me about
it. Now, will you please tell me what it was about?"
She took a deep breath. "When I was a baby, I was adopted. I don't remember my birth
parents, but my adoptive parents told me that they had loved me very much. I always
knew that I was adopted, and it never bothered me.
"I was probably three years old when a man came to the door in the middle of the night.
He shot my adopted mother in the head, and stabbed my father. Then he told me that if I
ever told anybody what had happened, he would make what happened to them look like
fun. He left, and I didn't see him again for a long time.
"As my adoptive father lay there dying, he told me to be a good girl. He gave me this
key," she showed Jarod a small key that hung from a chain on her neck, "and said that it
opened a box in a bank in Iowa, and to never forget the address, and never let anybody
take it from me. Any time somebody tried to take it at the Centre, I screamed and kicked
at them, so they let me have it.
"I lived in foster homes for the next two years, and then they took me to the Centre."
Jarod looked thoughtful. "You said that you didn't see the murderer for a long time. Do
you know who he is?" She nodded slowly.
"Mr. Lyle, from the Centre."
He had to struggle to keep his face calm as the anger and hatred that always hovered in
his mind threatened to surface in his expression. Ever since Lyle had killed Kyle, there
had been nothing but hatred and contempt for him. Now, however, he knew he had to be
soothing and strong for the girl who was looking at him with complete trust written on
her own face. He smiled gently and patted her on the back reassuringly.
"Thank you," he said. "Lyle will never know that you told me." He paused. "Can you go
back to sleep now?"
"Yes." Sarah flashed the first smile she ever gave him as she crawled back under the
blankets and switched off the light.
***
"Where are we going?" Sarah asked. The two pretenders were rolling down a highway in
the small car Jarod had bought that morning. For a while, she had been content to just
watch the scenery go by and to take in all of the colors her previous life had been so
devoid of, but now she had finally let her curiosity get the better of her. Keeping his eyes
on the road, Jarod answered her.
"To Iowa."
"Really?" She was absolutely incredulous.
"Really." He smiled. "Do you remember the bank's address and the box number?"
"I've never forgotten. 4130 East Highland Drive, Willow Ridge, Iowa, box number 209,"
she recited without hesitation.
"Good. We'll be there in about three hours."
***
Willow Ridge was a good-sized town, judging from the sign that loudly proclaimed
"Population 15,729." First they rented a pair of adjoining hotel rooms for the night, and
then they pulled up to the small bank. Jarod parked the car, and then grinned
encouragingly at the younger pretender. She seemed nervous.
"Do you want me to go in with you?" he asked. After a moment's consideration, she
replied.
"No, if you don't mind, I think I should do this alone."
"I understand. I'll wait here."
Without another word, Sarah swung the door open and walked up to the building,
clutching the tiny key. Jarod sat in the car, waiting, for a good twenty minutes, when she
finally came out, holding a large manilla envelope to herself. Sliding back into the
passenger seat, she read the name, her name, that was written in beautiful handwriting on
the front.
"Do you want to open it now?"
"No, I think I would rather wait until we get back to the hotel," she said, thinking of what
the envelope could contain. She knew that it would tell her something about herself,
something she desperately needed to know. Hoping that it would tell her who her birth
parents were, she held the package until they arrived at the hotel. She immediately
disappeared into her room, wanting to be alone.
Closing the door behind her, she sat down on the bed and looked once again at the fine
script on the envelope. Then, ever so gently, she opened the flap and slid the contents out
onto the bed. Inside were another envelope, letter sized this time, and a delicate pendant,
perfectly matched to her chain. As she inspected it, she saw that it was a cross,
masterfully engraved with the Twenty-Third Psalm, which was the only piece of
Scripture she knew. Sarah picked up the letter, opened it, and unfolded the enclosed piece
of paper. A small photograph of three people, a man and woman holding a small baby
with a tuft of red hair, came with the letter, which she read. She paused, and then read it
twice more, letting the truth of it sink in.
Suddenly, she stood and walked out to where Jarod was on the Internet, working on a site
with a picture of the same woman who was holding the baby she knew to be herself.
Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but no sound would come, and so she wordlessly
handed the letter and photo to Jarod. He took them, with a questioning expression. After
studying the photo for long while, he read the letter, and re-read it, just as Sarah had
done, the question changing to interest, then a stunned expression finally taking over his
features.
Then he found his voice. "You're my sister?"
She nodded.