Chapter Eight
Disclaimer: I am broke! Thankyou, that's all I wanted to say.
Two minutes and forty-five seconds.
Jarod had done time in a bomb disposal unit once. But it had been a few years ago. He was out of practice. And with his spinning head and shaking hands, the wires seemed to defy him. He just hoped he had got it right. Adjusting his face he shook his head 'I can't do this,' he mumbled quietly, then sat back on his heels and said it again, louder 'I can't do this.'
Lyle, who had been anxiously hovering just behind him nearly choked. 'What do you mean that you can't do this? We are all dead if you don't. You're a pretender aren't you?' He turned to the team of sweepers who were standing very nervously at the door. 'Get her out of her' he demanded, indicating the prone form of Miss Parker. The dark suited group was only to happy to oblige, carefully picking up the woman they all feared and rushing her into the waiting car outside. None came back in.
Lyle turned back to Jarod who was sitting and staring blankly at the ever- ticking numbers. 'Jarod, if you stop this bomb, I promise that when we take you back to the Centre, you will be treated well.'
This elicited a response. Jarod snorted dryly and stood, wobbling slightly. 'We have just over two minutes to get at least a mile from here.'
'We won't make it. Just stop the bomb.' Lyle demanded desperately.
Jarod just shook his head slowly and didn't move.
With a growl of anger and frustration Lyle sank to his knees on the dusty floor. He scanned the bomb quickly. There were so many wires. 'Which one?' he asked. There was no reply. He turned. There was no one behind him. Jarod was gone. 'Jarod!' He screamed. He felt a desperation settle on him. 'Come on, I can do this,' he whispered to himself, looking again at the multitude of colourful wires.
He looked again at the timer. It said one minute exactly. Lyle began to sweat. Images of past wrongs began to flash before his eyes. He forced them away. They wouldn't help him. He glanced at the timer again and swallowed hard. The numbers were racing. Thirty seconds.
Closing his eyes he began to pray to a god that he had never believed in. Suddenly the numbers said fifteen seconds. Taking a deep breath he grasped the red wire. It was always the red wire. He yanked. It came out with a spark. The numbers kept ticking. Eight . . .
He ran his hands through his hair.
Seven . . .
He searched for another wire.
Six . . .
He fixed his hand around it.
Five . . .
With the desperation of a dying man, he pulled.
Four . . .
He began to frantically rip at the wires.
Three . . .
He tried to rip the block of explosives away from the bomb, but the wires remained firmly attached to it.
Two . . .
With a sigh of defeat and resignation, he lay back on the floor and closed his eyes.
One.
With every muscle tensed and sweat trickling down his forehead, Lyle counted to three. Then ten. The silence roared.
He carefully opened his eyes, fully expecting a blast any second. The numbers had stopped at zero. Jarod had disarmed the bomb and run, leaving Lyle here to make sure he didn't give chase.
Suddenly the adrenaline from his near death experience turned into anger. Lyle jogged toward the doors, reaching for his gun as he did so. He hand groped at the empty holster for a few moments until he realised that Jarod had pick pocketed his gun.
Lyle thumped the wall next to the big double doors. He would kill the bugger when he got his hands on him. Then a slow smile spread across his face like an oil slick. A plan was forming to get him back for good.
*****************************
Jarod staggered into the motel room and collapsed on the bed. He passed out almost immediately. He half woke a few times and he pulled his shoes off the second time before sinking deeper into unconsciousness. He had run all night and until midday the next day, finally managing to check into a tiny roadside motel before collapsing. His injuries sapped his strength. Those weren't the worst of his problems though. The thought that they had Miss Parker resounded through his head again and again, invading his dreams and making him sick to the stomach.
When he finally came all the way awake it was twelve hours later. He opened his eyes and just stared at the cigarette smoke stained ceiling, feeling too sick at heart to do anything else. He hadn't eaten for over two days but he wasn't hungry. They had Miss Parker. It was all he could think about.
Eventually he hauled himself off the bed, awaking in the process all the injuries he had collected over the past week. He mustered all his strength and limped over to the small in-room kitchen area to find something to eat. He would need to eat if he was going to rescue her.
As he sat on the bed and munched slowly on one of the chocolate bars from the mini bar he considered all his options. It was possible that they hadn't realised that she had changed sides. It was possible that she had convinced them that she hadn't crossed them. It was possible.
The other, more likely, options battered at his mind though and he knew he had to consider them if he wanted to form a feasible plan. The other options were that they were holding Miss Parker against her will, maybe to use her as bait. Or even that they had run out of uses for her.
Jarod felt his emotions fading. His thoughts became more objective as he slipped into the mindset that would allow him to plan and carry out what he needed to do.
He finished the chocolate bar and lay back slowly, thinking hard, trying to anticipate the enemy.
TBC . . . (as if it wouldn't be)
Disclaimer: I am broke! Thankyou, that's all I wanted to say.
Two minutes and forty-five seconds.
Jarod had done time in a bomb disposal unit once. But it had been a few years ago. He was out of practice. And with his spinning head and shaking hands, the wires seemed to defy him. He just hoped he had got it right. Adjusting his face he shook his head 'I can't do this,' he mumbled quietly, then sat back on his heels and said it again, louder 'I can't do this.'
Lyle, who had been anxiously hovering just behind him nearly choked. 'What do you mean that you can't do this? We are all dead if you don't. You're a pretender aren't you?' He turned to the team of sweepers who were standing very nervously at the door. 'Get her out of her' he demanded, indicating the prone form of Miss Parker. The dark suited group was only to happy to oblige, carefully picking up the woman they all feared and rushing her into the waiting car outside. None came back in.
Lyle turned back to Jarod who was sitting and staring blankly at the ever- ticking numbers. 'Jarod, if you stop this bomb, I promise that when we take you back to the Centre, you will be treated well.'
This elicited a response. Jarod snorted dryly and stood, wobbling slightly. 'We have just over two minutes to get at least a mile from here.'
'We won't make it. Just stop the bomb.' Lyle demanded desperately.
Jarod just shook his head slowly and didn't move.
With a growl of anger and frustration Lyle sank to his knees on the dusty floor. He scanned the bomb quickly. There were so many wires. 'Which one?' he asked. There was no reply. He turned. There was no one behind him. Jarod was gone. 'Jarod!' He screamed. He felt a desperation settle on him. 'Come on, I can do this,' he whispered to himself, looking again at the multitude of colourful wires.
He looked again at the timer. It said one minute exactly. Lyle began to sweat. Images of past wrongs began to flash before his eyes. He forced them away. They wouldn't help him. He glanced at the timer again and swallowed hard. The numbers were racing. Thirty seconds.
Closing his eyes he began to pray to a god that he had never believed in. Suddenly the numbers said fifteen seconds. Taking a deep breath he grasped the red wire. It was always the red wire. He yanked. It came out with a spark. The numbers kept ticking. Eight . . .
He ran his hands through his hair.
Seven . . .
He searched for another wire.
Six . . .
He fixed his hand around it.
Five . . .
With the desperation of a dying man, he pulled.
Four . . .
He began to frantically rip at the wires.
Three . . .
He tried to rip the block of explosives away from the bomb, but the wires remained firmly attached to it.
Two . . .
With a sigh of defeat and resignation, he lay back on the floor and closed his eyes.
One.
With every muscle tensed and sweat trickling down his forehead, Lyle counted to three. Then ten. The silence roared.
He carefully opened his eyes, fully expecting a blast any second. The numbers had stopped at zero. Jarod had disarmed the bomb and run, leaving Lyle here to make sure he didn't give chase.
Suddenly the adrenaline from his near death experience turned into anger. Lyle jogged toward the doors, reaching for his gun as he did so. He hand groped at the empty holster for a few moments until he realised that Jarod had pick pocketed his gun.
Lyle thumped the wall next to the big double doors. He would kill the bugger when he got his hands on him. Then a slow smile spread across his face like an oil slick. A plan was forming to get him back for good.
*****************************
Jarod staggered into the motel room and collapsed on the bed. He passed out almost immediately. He half woke a few times and he pulled his shoes off the second time before sinking deeper into unconsciousness. He had run all night and until midday the next day, finally managing to check into a tiny roadside motel before collapsing. His injuries sapped his strength. Those weren't the worst of his problems though. The thought that they had Miss Parker resounded through his head again and again, invading his dreams and making him sick to the stomach.
When he finally came all the way awake it was twelve hours later. He opened his eyes and just stared at the cigarette smoke stained ceiling, feeling too sick at heart to do anything else. He hadn't eaten for over two days but he wasn't hungry. They had Miss Parker. It was all he could think about.
Eventually he hauled himself off the bed, awaking in the process all the injuries he had collected over the past week. He mustered all his strength and limped over to the small in-room kitchen area to find something to eat. He would need to eat if he was going to rescue her.
As he sat on the bed and munched slowly on one of the chocolate bars from the mini bar he considered all his options. It was possible that they hadn't realised that she had changed sides. It was possible that she had convinced them that she hadn't crossed them. It was possible.
The other, more likely, options battered at his mind though and he knew he had to consider them if he wanted to form a feasible plan. The other options were that they were holding Miss Parker against her will, maybe to use her as bait. Or even that they had run out of uses for her.
Jarod felt his emotions fading. His thoughts became more objective as he slipped into the mindset that would allow him to plan and carry out what he needed to do.
He finished the chocolate bar and lay back slowly, thinking hard, trying to anticipate the enemy.
TBC . . . (as if it wouldn't be)
