Dealings with Angels
Chapter Two
Disclaimer: Saya tidak membuat 'the Pretender,' dan juga tidak mempunyai banyak uang. What's that you say? In english? Don't be fussy.
fanny: your simple review was very heartening, thankyou.
sg1niner: the words 'the good stuff' had me bouncing off the wall for an hour. If you can do that to a writer, than you can be a masterwriter. Thankyou for your praise about that, and about my JMP spin. I hope this doesn't dissapoint.
nyt: In answer to your questiion; 'not really.' They both know, deep down, exactly their feelings for each other. The fun part is making them admit it. It's assumed that she knows he'll be there for her because... well, because he will.
mariel4000: Yey indeed.
Gemini-M: thankyou for your praise, and for your eternal support. I'm never sure whether I've got these diffucult characters right, and your support is comforting.
Jarod pounded down the street, adrenaline pumping, the sounds of pursuit behind him making him itch to accelerate. He firmly restrained himself. This time they had to catch him. They had to, for Parker. So he didn't duck through a pre-planned maze of alleys and backstreets that would be guaranteed to lose them. He didn't use the extra burst of speed that he knew he had in him. There would be no last minute saves this time. He knew that. But it scared him so badly, the thought of going back to that dark place. So he thought of Parker, and managed to keep his running feet at a slower pace, remembered to take the turn into the dead end alley, remembered to try all the doors, which he had personally pre-locked before he turned to face his captors.
It was just Sam, Broots, Sydney and Parker who blocked the mouth of the alley. Jarod's heart was racing, and not just from the run. Both Parker and Sam had guns trained on him. He slowly raised his hands. Not a word was said.
Parker covered Sam while he edged forward to handcuff Jarod. For the look of the thing Jarod made an attempt to snatch Sam's gun, but the beefy sweeper put an elbow in his stomach then smacked him over the head with the butt of the pistol. Slightly winded Jarod straightened and allowed himself to be handcuffed. 'Guess you're coming home then lab rat' gloated Parker. Only Jarod heard the part of her voice that held nervousness. He didn't reply, just hung his head and allowed himself to be pushed forward by Sam.
The procession walked out onto the street, Broots leading the way to the car, Jarod flanked by Parker and Sydney, Sam walking behind with his gun discreetly trained on the pretender. 'Please Sydney' whispered Jarod, going through all the motions. 'Shut up PEZ head' ordered Parker sharply. Sydney gave him a remorse filled look. Jarod felt a stab of guilt. They had not let the old scientist in on their plan out of necessity. Sydney would suffer much with worry for his protégé before it was completed.
Jarod decided not to put up a fight as Sam ushered him into the black Centre car, mostly because his head was still hurting from the last time. The handcuffs were reattached to the car door then Sam shut it and went to get in the driver's seat. Parker sat in the passenger seat in the front. Thankfully Sydney and Broots took a different car.
It seemed all too short a time before they were back in Delaware, back in the building that Jarod hated more than all others. From then on however, time dragged. Dark rooms, dark corridors, pain, sudden bright lights, more darkness… His only comfort was that Miss Parker was nowhere in sight, but he needed to give her a few days head start. So he endured. Cold, concrete, bad food, conformity, pain, fear, grey…
oo00OO00oo
Jarod stumbled into the room, nearly falling with the force with which he had been shoved. Leaning against the cinder-block wall, gasping, he spat out a mixture of blood and small chips of tooth. 'I am so blowing this joint' he muttered. He estimated that enough time had passed, although after having been beaten into unconsciousness the second time, he had lost count slightly.
When he had been dumped in here, the guard sweeper had been away getting coffee- the slow release sedatives Jarod had fed him several days before were presumably the reason. His escort sweepers, as was typical of a proper bureaucracy, worked under a different superior. Therefore it was not up to them to make sure the cell stayed guarded. The light flickered slightly and the security cameras one by one let out little hisses of system failure as the power surges overcame them. It was time for the pretender to spring into action.
Thankfully, he had fallen against the wall he needed. Running his fingers up and down the brickwork, he found one brick around which all the mortar had been removed. Wrestling it out of the wall, a small secret alcove was revealed. Inside; a cleaner's jumpsuit. Not the scary, hiding bodies type of cleaner- the type of cleaners whose presence anywhere in a building was never questioned, because you don't question the person who is emptying your rubbish bin. Slowly he pulled the clothes on, then with great difficulty, he stuffed the torn and bloody jeans- the only item of clothing he had left- back in the hole. With even greater difficulty, he managed to get the brick back into the wall.
Grunting with pain and moving very carefully, he wavered over to the security panel on the inside of his cell door. Hissing a bit as he punched in the code- had to be at least two broken fingers there- Jarod prayed that his system hack had not set off a security alert that would have resulted in all the codes being changed. But no, there was the beep and click of a correct code. Now came the hard bit. Trying to suppress his grimace, the pretender stood up straight, put a look of subservient, detached purpose on his face, opened the door and shuffled out into the corridor, keeping his eyes on his feet as appropriate to someone whose position ranked somewhere below the prisoners of the Centre.
He headed straight for the cleaner's lift up to ground level, and greeted the daylight through the windows with immense relief. Then it was a simple matter of negotiating the plain corridors out to one of the back entrances. There was a brief pause as one of his supposed co-workers who was outside having a smoke in his break struck up a platitude-filled conversation. Trying not to appear too eager to leave, Jarod waited until the other man's break ended, then made a beeline to the car park. He picked a car at random and headed straight for it without pausing, in orderto maintain the illusion that it was his car. Normally the pretender had some scruples against stealing, but frankly he was in too much pain to care.
The next couple of days were a mix of confusing his trail as much as possible and trying to recuperate. He checked into a doctor to get his broken wrist and fingers put in plaster and spent a lot of time sleeping. In about a week his injuries were fading, and were nothing more than an annoyance. He stepped up the trail confusing into high gear. For some obscure reason, Jarod wanted nothing Centre related near him for a long time. Well… actually, there was one thing.
oo00OO00oo
'What?'
'Enjoying freedom?'
'It has it's perks. You?'
'I have spent more enjoyable weeks than the past one.'
'Life can't all go your way.'
'True enough. I'll let you know how the new pursuit team compares.' Jarod went to go hang up, but was stopped by an abrupt 'wait!'
'Yes Miss Parker?' he asked
'Does this mean the three am phone calls can stop?'
The only reply she got was an evil chuckle and a click as he hung up.
The End.