Disclaimer: I own this like I own Microsoft. (And for those of you who aren't aware, a RICH powerful force named Bill Gates owns Microsoft, not the POOR and (mostly) humble writer ShadowElfBard.)
Rating: I'm beginning to wonder if I shouldn't just stop saying this—it's getting really, really old. But, just for one more roll around, here it is, this story's rating (drum roll, please!)…. PG-13!!! made-up audience cheers in background
Summary: It all begins with a single step…
Feedback: I'm getting very lonely in my ripe old age of fifteen, and I have only these electronic commentaries to keep me company.
Quote:
"I regret not having a nicotine patch the size of a doormat."
--- Miss Parker
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxShadowElfBardxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
X
2:18 pm, Sunday
Kashmir, India
Local Village
X
The dirt roads were teeming with people. It seemed like millions were crowding the walkways, all hustling and bustling as though every one of them had someplace to be. Women were out carrying food, tending to their children, or washing clothing. Men were riding in wagons off to work, bringing home goods from town, and laughing at the children that ran around playing. The area was full of life, and everyone obviously worked hard to keep it that way.
"I had no idea how many of them there were," Arthur said. "It's remarkable."
"It is," Jarod agreed, "and this is just a village. Think of how many there might be in the city."
"I'd rather not," Astrea suddenly piped up, growling briefly and wrinkling her small nose. "They reek of sweat and dirt."
"You caught that too?" Miss Parker said snidely, inwardly feeling overdressed and out of place.
Don had been able to find a landing spot in this remote area, and they had been very lucky in doing so. Jarod knew very well that all foreign aircrafts flying over or landing in this country were to be scheduled ahead of time, and that visitors were to obtain visas at the Indian embassy. Those arriving without visas were subject to immediate deportation. What this all boiled down to was that if they had tried to land in a more…'populated' area of India, their plane would have been spotted and their little quest would have been over before it had even begun.
"So, where to now?" Miss Parker asked, aware that more than a few people were looking at them in curiosity.
"I'm not entirely sure," Jarod responded. "I know that Kashmir is where Lyle was scheduled to arrive, but beyond that I don't know."
"What are we to do, then?" Arthur questioned.
Jarod thought for a moment, and then muttered, "When in doubt, ask for directions."
Before anyone could think to question this strange sentiment, Jarod had walked off towards a well-dressed woman carrying a basket of fruits.
He approached her and spoke in what one would perceive as kind, soft voice, pointing towards the sky once or twice. The woman (who had nearly jumped out of her skin when he'd first spoken to her) seemed not to hear what he was saying. She kept shaking her head 'no' and her wide eyes were darting from left to right, as though looking for someone to save her. Finally, a younger but well muscled young man stepped in front of her and began moving towards Jarod threateningly, speaking in a harsh tongue and forcefully shoving the pretender back. Jarod, quickly reassessing the situation, held his hands up in front of him in a surrender-like gesture and quickly backed off.
When he had rejoined the group, Parker sneered at him. "What happened, Jarod? Were you trying to hit on her?"
He shook his head. "I don't understand it. Why wouldn't she talk to me?"
Astrea barked out a harsh laugh. "And you call yourself a pretender."
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean is that you approached a Hindu woman of a high caste. You, a white male. To them you are just as low as the outcastes in rank, meaning that you are not worth speaking to. Add that to the fact that you are a man, and it's no wonder why that young woman was so eager to get away."
Jarod sighed. "I had forgotten how complex the Hindu religion is, and its popularity in India. Well, I guess I'll just have to find an outcaste or non-Hindu."
"Good luck with that last one," Astrea sneered in that strange, cruel new voice.
It took nearly half an hour of searching, and though Jarod received quite a few glares and insults along the way, he finally found an older man who would talk to him. He asked if the man had seen anything unusual over the last day or so, and if any planes had flown over the village. After a few moments of thought, the man smiled and told him that while he had not noticed anything he'd call unusual, he had seen a plane fly over yesterday. The man pointed in the direction that the aircraft had been heading, and Jarod thanked him profusely before going to tell the others.
They all discussed it (except Astrea, who merely interjected with snide comments or insulting gestures) and agreed that the man's information was the only lead they had. There was nothing more they could do than to try and follow it.
"Where did he say this thing was flying off to again?" Miss Parker demanded.
Jarod looked at the map. "The most likely area would be the nature reserve farther up north. It's naturally a fenced off area, and secluded enough for the Centre to work unnoticed."
"But how?" Arthur asked. "Aren't reserves supposed to be… um…reserved?"
"True enough, but this is the Centre we're talking about. If they needed a place badly enough they could have used extortion, blackmail, bribery or any other number of tricks to gain access. Politicians can usually be bought off without anyone suspecting anything."
"But how will we get in?"
"We'll tackle the fences. A snip of a wire here, a bit of dirt dug out there, and we'll have a sizeable enough entrance."
"Well, we don't have all year to discuss this," Miss Parker pointed out, "so let's get on with it already."
X
X
3:26 pm, Sunday
Kashmir, India
Nature Reserve
Centre Base
X
Broots bit back a gasp as the base came into view. The place was huge. Seven feet high barbed wire fences, guard posts and armed sentry patrolling the borders. What in the world was the Centre doing here? It wasn't caring for India's wildlife- that much was obvious.
The Jeep slowed to a stop and their driver jumped out, running over to the other side to open the door for Raines. Willie jumped out and waved him off, making it clear that he was the only one who would be assisting the bald doctor. The driver shrugged and stood back politely.
The ride to the base had been a half-days journey, even at the speed they'd gone, and during that horrible trip the driver hadn't spoken a word. Broots wondered if the man didn't speak simply because he feared the Centre agents, or if he simply didn't know enough English. The latter was fairly unlikely, because the man seemed to have been able to speak well enough when he'd greeted them at the landing site.
As much as Broots was worried about what lay beyond the gates, his main concern was for Lia. She was just a little girl. He still didn't know why she was even here. He had already guessed that she wasn't a pretender, but beyond that he was (as was the norm) clueless.
Broots gulped silently when a heavy hand suddenly landed on his shoulder. He looked behind him, and there was Lyle, smiling in a way that froze the marrow in Broots' bones. Unable to look away, Broots also noticed the hidden hate in Lye's insanity ridden eyes.
"You should get moving," Lyle said quietly. "Wouldn't want to be late for your big day."
Broots nodded wordlessly and clambered out of the jeep, looking over at Lia with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
Past the gates was an immense, almost militaristic complex. There were scattered worker's huts, a few storage tents and two large concrete building, fenced off and guarded by armed riflemen. Raines spoke quietly to their former driver and the two seemed to reach a conclusion. The driver waved over two of the guards, and then pointed at Broots, speaking in a foreign tongue. Broots was grabbed roughly by the arms, and forcefully led away from the group. He managed to turn his head back just in time to see Lia's wide eyes and silent fear, and then the group was out of sight.
He was taken through the hustling camp into one of the fenced off buildings. The inside was modern and unmarred by the primitive jungle just outside its doors. Broots hoped that the people would be just as "clean", but in every pair of dark eyes that regarded him he saw only disinterest and cruelty.
Broots was truly alone.
They finally stopped at a large steel door and Broots was shoved into the large, nearly empty room. A Caucasian man stood and stepped around from his desk in the corner, abandoning what were perhaps the remnants of his lunch. He pushed up his thin glasses and regarded Broots with little more than vague interest.
"And who might you be?"
Too stunned to say anything, Broots only stared. The man furrowed his brows and sighed.
"Please, don't tell me that they've sent me another technician with his tongue cut out. I swear the Centre's methods can be so barbaric sometimes."
Hurriedly, Broots cleared his throat. "My, uh, my tongue's not cut out."
"Oh thank god," the man said with obvious relief. "I was afraid I was going to have to play 'name that tune' for the next hour. So, who are you?"
"Um, my name's Broots. I—"
"No, no, no." the man waved his hands, telling him to stop. "I am asking you what branch you were sent from. What is your work number? Who is your superior?"
"My superior?"
"Damn it all, I just want to know who the heck sent you."
"Oh. The uh, the Centre, I guess."
"Could you be more specific?"
"Dr. Raines, I think. I was, um, I was working under him last."
"Finally, we're getting somewhere." The man turned and went back to his desk, rustling through some papers before finally producing a clipboard and pen.
"Now then, are you a technician?"
"Yes. I work with computers."
The man rolled his eyes. "Well duh. You wouldn't be here if you didn't. Look, this is going to take a very long time if things keep going like this, so please try to make an attempt at answering intelligently."
"O-Okay."
"Now then, I'm going to assume that you have at least an outline of our objective so I'm going to skip all of that jargon and—"
"Uh…."
The man paused and looked up, despairing. "You don't even have an idea? Not even a notion?"
Broots smiled awkwardly with apologetic eyes.
The man held his forehead as though he felt a headache coming on, and let out a long sigh. "Very well. I'll debrief you on the basics once the others have returned from their lunch period."
"The others?"
"The other technicians." On a whim, the scientist smiled cruelly. "Your fellow inmates, if you prefer."
Broots looked at the man's grin, at the serpentine gleam in his eyes, and inwardly shuddered.
X
X
7:41pm, Sunday
Kashmir, India
Nature Reserve
X
"We should probably stop here for the night," Jarod called over
his shoulder, already setting down his pack.
Miss Parker came up behind him first, her face flushed and her hair tied back in a crude bun. Her only answer to the pretender's suggestion was a well-aimed glare, but she also lowered her pack and then moved over to sit on a rock. She crossed her arms and legs and turned her head to the river.
Jarod watched this and sighed.
Huffing and puffing like a much scrawnier version of the Big Bad Wolf came Arthur, his glasses askew and struggling to keep his thin body upright.
"Oh," he squeaked out, looking at his companions. "Are we taking a breather, then? Yes? Oh, jolly good."
He collapsed to the floor without further prompting.
Jarod laughed quietly and started unrolling his sleeping bag.
Snap.
The pretender's head shot up in the direction of the noise and he saw Astrea not even three feet away, her position feral and her eyes watching him with interest. Trying to appear nonchalant, trying to make her believe that he hadn't had his heart in his throat just two seconds ago, Jarod stood.
"We stopped."
"Yes," he affirmed. "We have."
She paced once or twice in an almost frustration and growled out, "Why?"
"They're tired. I am too. We have a long ways ahead of us and it will be easier to travel once we're refreshed. Here, take my sleeping bag. I'll sleep over by that tree and—"
Astrea snarled, and the sound was so primal, so purely animalistic that Jarod was stunned to silence. This was it; it was finally happening.
Astrea was going mad.
The girl paced to and fro again, unable to articulate what she felt. She shook her head, "No."
Jarod swallowed, a hollow sound that he was sure belayed his fear. "Look, there's no use traveling in the dark."
"Must keep moving."
"You can't fight them off alone," he said quietly.
Her head snapped towards him, her eyes catching his and holding them tightly. Despite this, Jarod kept going.
"They'll catch you if you go on alone," he said. "You need us, and we have to get some rest. You can wait one night for us to regain our strength. We can move at first dawn if you like, but not before."
She seemed to consider this, swirling the taste of the idea in her mouth like a fine wine. Finally, she nodded. "Dawn. You rest now, and we move at dawn."
Like a shadow she slipped off into the gathering darkness.
Jarod let out a breath, and sat in a crumpled heap, his eyes closed. What was happening? This wasn't the plan at all. Everything had gone wrong and he didn't know where to begin making it right.
"You know that we're going to have to watch her now, don't you?"
Jarod looked behind him. Miss Parker, still sitting by the river, watched him with cool eyes. "What?" he asked wearily.
"We're going to have to watch her. She's losing it."
"Yeah," he agreed softly, "I know."
There was quiet after that, and when the first light of morning woke him Jarod couldn't remember when it was he'd even fallen asleep.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Review Returns:
Artemis Rain: I'm glad you're enjoying it! Hope you liked this chapter!
Earthdrago: No, you weren't complaining too much. I have fallen behind (understatement of the CENTURY), but I'm trying. Shrugs Well, anyway, I'm glad you like the tension and thanks for the review!
Pretender Fanatic: Astrea probably should attack Parker. Grin It would be amusing. Thanks for the review, Fanatic! I always enjoy them!