Escape
For two days I have had nothing to do. I can't remember ever having had this much free time. There's plenty to read, though, and I bury myself in those books whose contents I haven't already memorized.
The third day I awake and assume that Dr. Morris will return, and the routine with him. Instead, there is nothing. 'What is it this time, a train derailing?' I think bitterly to myself.
Then midway through the day Miss Parker enters. My heart jumps into my throat as I consider that my flippant thought earlier might actually be correct. Then I take in the fact that she's not upset, and relax a bit. I notice, though, that she looks tired and uncomfortable--it's rare to see Miss Parker not at ease.
"Jarod," she starts, then stops. She shakes her head. "I have no idea where to start to explain this, so just come with me." This is strange. I know Miss Parker is high on the chain of power, though, and that means I don't really have a choice in the matter even if I wanted one.
I stand and follow her out the door. Out the door--the door with no guards outside. That's something I can't remember EVER seeing. I look back to Miss Parker. As we get in the elevator, I finally speak. "What's going on?"
"Things are changing, Jarod. For the better." She looks at me to see how I take this. In reality I don't "take" it at all; I just let it hang in the air, examining it, trying to understand what it means.
Then the elevator opens. In front of us is a big open area, but crowded with people. Not Centre people. Then, beyond them, I see glass doors that lead... outside. My eyes widen, and Miss Parker smiles: it's been a while since I've seen a pure smile on her face and it makes me smile too. She grabs my hand and drags me through the crowd; on seeing us a path opens to let us through.
When we are outside, all thoughts vanish as I take in the living, vibrant world around me. I can smell salt, from the water nearby, and a smell I just can't identify: maybe the wind or the smell of freshly cut grass. I can feel myself smiling, stretching and threatening to split my face. When I look back to Miss Parker, she has a brilliant smile on her face. As my eyes meet hers, though, my mind comes back to earth.
"What--" She holds out her hand to silence me, then takes my hand again and leads me to a knoll where we can sit. I take in the huge building that has been my home for as long as I can remember.
Parker sighs. I look over and see that the smile has vanished. She looks up at me, and she looks upset, scared and vulnerable. "I know you're never going to be able to forgive me, but... I owe you the truth, especially after all this time."
I open my mouth to ask what she could have done for which I wouldn't forgive her, but she silences me and continues. "Let's see... I'll start with now, because that's the easiest part. You never, ever have to re-enter that building. You're finally free of the Centre."
I can hardly take this in. I'm... free? At the moment I can't really put in concrete terms what that signifies. She sees my bewilderment and gives a half-laugh. "You don't remember, but I can tell you that some of your favorite things will be ice cream and waking me at two in the morning," she hesitates, her voice uncertain, "if you're still talking to me." I've given up trying to respond--I'm just listening and trying to make some sense out of what she is saying.
She is about to go on when we spot one of the many men in suits (but not standard Centre issue) walking toward us. He flashes a badge as he gets close. "FBI. You're Jarod, right?"
I nod slowly, a little nervous--what is this all about?
The man smiles. "Don't worry, sir, we just want to ask you a few questions." Is my face really that readable? If so, then now he can see my surprise at being addressed formally; no one has ever called me "sir" before.
Now Miss Parker jumps in. "This isn't a good time," she says firmly, staring at the FBI man intently.
"It's okay," I say easily. "Let him ask the questions, so he can get on with his job."
I'm sure that Parker is going to protest, but at the last moment she deflates, muttering something under her breath that I can't quite make out.
"Okay," he begins in a friendly tone, ignoring Parker. "Your friend here has already told us the basics, we just want to get some information from your point of view." He pauses and I nod in understanding. "What's the first thing you remember?"
I shake my head with a frown. "Just... the Centre. I have a few vague memories of meeting Sydney."
"Sydney was your... caretaker, yes?" I nod, trying to hold back tears. This wasn't really what I wanted to think about. "Okay, we'll have some more questions about your time in the Centre, but we'll give you some time to adjust first." I'm about to make a comment about the number of questions when to my surprise, he continues. "Can you tell me what it was that finally led you to escape, after--"
"No!" Miss Parker interrupts angrily.
I don't see what the problem is; he's clearly got me confused with someone else. "I never escaped... this is the first time I've been out of the Centre." I'm wondering now who DID escape from the Centre--and why they expected to find that person here.
Miss Parker is trying to get the officer away now, but he ignores her, giving me a confused look. "You mean other than the five years--" At that Miss Parker physically tries to pull him away. He stumbles, then pulls his arm out of Parker's grasp--or tries. Raising his voice, he demands, "What is the meaning of this?!" His question is loud enough that several men closer to the building turn around to look. She removes her hands from his arm. She and I speak at the same time.
"You must have me confused with someone else."
"Can you PLEASE come over here and--" She interrupts herself as he begins to speak.
He shakes his head. "No, you're the only Jarod we have, and it says right here: escaped for five years, recaptured--" I can't hear the rest over Miss Parker's scream.
"STOP IT AND LISTEN TO ME!!" Both of us look to her, along with quite a few other officers; one of them begins to walk in our direction to make sure everything is okay. "Thank you," Parker continues. "I was trying to tell you, this is NOT the right time for this. If you'll come over here--"
I can't wait any more. "Parker, do you know what he's talking about?" My head is spinning. Escaped for five years? Why would that be written next to my name?
Parker looks over at me, impatient. "Just a minute, Jarod." Back to the FBI officer. "Now if you'll just--"
"Is something wrong here?"
"Yes!" cry the officer and I.
"No!" is Parker's exasperated response. Then we all try to explain--at once, of course.
"This woman is--"
"--come over here--"
"--and no one will tell me--"
"ENOUGH!" The man yells, and after a moment we finally quiet. I almost laugh at the expression of pure bewilderment on his face. He looks to the officer.
"I'm just trying to ask Jarod here a few questions, but this woman will not leave--"
"I've just been trying to tell him--" The newcomer gives her a glare and she quiets reluctantly.
"As I was trying to say, Jarod doesn't have any problem with being interviewed but Miss Parker continues to interrupt." The restraint that Parker is exercising is really fairly impressive, for her.
Now the officer looks to me. "I don't mind being interviewed," I answer the unspoken question. Then I turn to her. "You know what he's talking about!"
Parker looks to the officer for persmission to speak. He nods. "I would like to talk to Jarod alone, and for his sake I don't think this is a good time for questioning." She looks to the man who was questioning me. "If you'd like to know why, I'll be happy to tell you, if we can just walk a little distance away..."
"What don't you want me to know??" I ask desperately. My brain is working on the question--maybe she thinks I'll be upset if I found out someone else escaped? Or--there aren't a lot of other options. There's one that keeps pestering me in the back of my head. Maybe I did escape? But five years! Even if I was much younger I couldn't have forgotten five years! 'Maybe you forgot it to protect yourself,' my mind answers. But--I just can't accept that.
The two officers are looking to her for answers also. She shakes her head. "Can we have some privacy please?" She looks more upset than I would have expected.
"I don't see what the problem is with having us here, ma'am," one of the officers replies reasonably.
She snaps. Even I don't see it coming. "HE DOESN'T REMEMBER, OKAY? He doesn't remember!" And then I saw her collapse in tears--something I hadn't seen since she was a young girl.
For two days I have had nothing to do. I can't remember ever having had this much free time. There's plenty to read, though, and I bury myself in those books whose contents I haven't already memorized.
The third day I awake and assume that Dr. Morris will return, and the routine with him. Instead, there is nothing. 'What is it this time, a train derailing?' I think bitterly to myself.
Then midway through the day Miss Parker enters. My heart jumps into my throat as I consider that my flippant thought earlier might actually be correct. Then I take in the fact that she's not upset, and relax a bit. I notice, though, that she looks tired and uncomfortable--it's rare to see Miss Parker not at ease.
"Jarod," she starts, then stops. She shakes her head. "I have no idea where to start to explain this, so just come with me." This is strange. I know Miss Parker is high on the chain of power, though, and that means I don't really have a choice in the matter even if I wanted one.
I stand and follow her out the door. Out the door--the door with no guards outside. That's something I can't remember EVER seeing. I look back to Miss Parker. As we get in the elevator, I finally speak. "What's going on?"
"Things are changing, Jarod. For the better." She looks at me to see how I take this. In reality I don't "take" it at all; I just let it hang in the air, examining it, trying to understand what it means.
Then the elevator opens. In front of us is a big open area, but crowded with people. Not Centre people. Then, beyond them, I see glass doors that lead... outside. My eyes widen, and Miss Parker smiles: it's been a while since I've seen a pure smile on her face and it makes me smile too. She grabs my hand and drags me through the crowd; on seeing us a path opens to let us through.
When we are outside, all thoughts vanish as I take in the living, vibrant world around me. I can smell salt, from the water nearby, and a smell I just can't identify: maybe the wind or the smell of freshly cut grass. I can feel myself smiling, stretching and threatening to split my face. When I look back to Miss Parker, she has a brilliant smile on her face. As my eyes meet hers, though, my mind comes back to earth.
"What--" She holds out her hand to silence me, then takes my hand again and leads me to a knoll where we can sit. I take in the huge building that has been my home for as long as I can remember.
Parker sighs. I look over and see that the smile has vanished. She looks up at me, and she looks upset, scared and vulnerable. "I know you're never going to be able to forgive me, but... I owe you the truth, especially after all this time."
I open my mouth to ask what she could have done for which I wouldn't forgive her, but she silences me and continues. "Let's see... I'll start with now, because that's the easiest part. You never, ever have to re-enter that building. You're finally free of the Centre."
I can hardly take this in. I'm... free? At the moment I can't really put in concrete terms what that signifies. She sees my bewilderment and gives a half-laugh. "You don't remember, but I can tell you that some of your favorite things will be ice cream and waking me at two in the morning," she hesitates, her voice uncertain, "if you're still talking to me." I've given up trying to respond--I'm just listening and trying to make some sense out of what she is saying.
She is about to go on when we spot one of the many men in suits (but not standard Centre issue) walking toward us. He flashes a badge as he gets close. "FBI. You're Jarod, right?"
I nod slowly, a little nervous--what is this all about?
The man smiles. "Don't worry, sir, we just want to ask you a few questions." Is my face really that readable? If so, then now he can see my surprise at being addressed formally; no one has ever called me "sir" before.
Now Miss Parker jumps in. "This isn't a good time," she says firmly, staring at the FBI man intently.
"It's okay," I say easily. "Let him ask the questions, so he can get on with his job."
I'm sure that Parker is going to protest, but at the last moment she deflates, muttering something under her breath that I can't quite make out.
"Okay," he begins in a friendly tone, ignoring Parker. "Your friend here has already told us the basics, we just want to get some information from your point of view." He pauses and I nod in understanding. "What's the first thing you remember?"
I shake my head with a frown. "Just... the Centre. I have a few vague memories of meeting Sydney."
"Sydney was your... caretaker, yes?" I nod, trying to hold back tears. This wasn't really what I wanted to think about. "Okay, we'll have some more questions about your time in the Centre, but we'll give you some time to adjust first." I'm about to make a comment about the number of questions when to my surprise, he continues. "Can you tell me what it was that finally led you to escape, after--"
"No!" Miss Parker interrupts angrily.
I don't see what the problem is; he's clearly got me confused with someone else. "I never escaped... this is the first time I've been out of the Centre." I'm wondering now who DID escape from the Centre--and why they expected to find that person here.
Miss Parker is trying to get the officer away now, but he ignores her, giving me a confused look. "You mean other than the five years--" At that Miss Parker physically tries to pull him away. He stumbles, then pulls his arm out of Parker's grasp--or tries. Raising his voice, he demands, "What is the meaning of this?!" His question is loud enough that several men closer to the building turn around to look. She removes her hands from his arm. She and I speak at the same time.
"You must have me confused with someone else."
"Can you PLEASE come over here and--" She interrupts herself as he begins to speak.
He shakes his head. "No, you're the only Jarod we have, and it says right here: escaped for five years, recaptured--" I can't hear the rest over Miss Parker's scream.
"STOP IT AND LISTEN TO ME!!" Both of us look to her, along with quite a few other officers; one of them begins to walk in our direction to make sure everything is okay. "Thank you," Parker continues. "I was trying to tell you, this is NOT the right time for this. If you'll come over here--"
I can't wait any more. "Parker, do you know what he's talking about?" My head is spinning. Escaped for five years? Why would that be written next to my name?
Parker looks over at me, impatient. "Just a minute, Jarod." Back to the FBI officer. "Now if you'll just--"
"Is something wrong here?"
"Yes!" cry the officer and I.
"No!" is Parker's exasperated response. Then we all try to explain--at once, of course.
"This woman is--"
"--come over here--"
"--and no one will tell me--"
"ENOUGH!" The man yells, and after a moment we finally quiet. I almost laugh at the expression of pure bewilderment on his face. He looks to the officer.
"I'm just trying to ask Jarod here a few questions, but this woman will not leave--"
"I've just been trying to tell him--" The newcomer gives her a glare and she quiets reluctantly.
"As I was trying to say, Jarod doesn't have any problem with being interviewed but Miss Parker continues to interrupt." The restraint that Parker is exercising is really fairly impressive, for her.
Now the officer looks to me. "I don't mind being interviewed," I answer the unspoken question. Then I turn to her. "You know what he's talking about!"
Parker looks to the officer for persmission to speak. He nods. "I would like to talk to Jarod alone, and for his sake I don't think this is a good time for questioning." She looks to the man who was questioning me. "If you'd like to know why, I'll be happy to tell you, if we can just walk a little distance away..."
"What don't you want me to know??" I ask desperately. My brain is working on the question--maybe she thinks I'll be upset if I found out someone else escaped? Or--there aren't a lot of other options. There's one that keeps pestering me in the back of my head. Maybe I did escape? But five years! Even if I was much younger I couldn't have forgotten five years! 'Maybe you forgot it to protect yourself,' my mind answers. But--I just can't accept that.
The two officers are looking to her for answers also. She shakes her head. "Can we have some privacy please?" She looks more upset than I would have expected.
"I don't see what the problem is with having us here, ma'am," one of the officers replies reasonably.
She snaps. Even I don't see it coming. "HE DOESN'T REMEMBER, OKAY? He doesn't remember!" And then I saw her collapse in tears--something I hadn't seen since she was a young girl.