Disclaimer: See chapter 1.
Author's Note: I'm sorry that I'm not posting very frequently. But in the last four weeks I have participated in three family birthdays (one of them my own), celebrated a twentieth wedding anniversary (again, my own), attended four graduation ceremonies and thrown a graduation party for my youngest. (This party was held in my home requiring much cleaning and cooking on my part.) Add to this the fact that I've recently been promoted at work and have had to transition out of one role and into another. Real life has been a tad hectic.
However, there has been an advantage to the delay on this story. When I started chapter one, the method of escape for our intrepid band was, admittedly, kind of lame. But, while cleaning and repainting my bathroom, this much better idea miraculously came to me.
That being said, I apologize for being so slow. But trust me when I say that this story is much better as a result. You just shouldn't rush the muse.
Burden of Truth Part6
By Phenyx
06/13/05
"It is nearly time," Jarod said with a sigh. He still sat on the floor with his wrists propped on his knees. His head leaned back against the wall as he stared at the ceiling.
"How can you tell?" Nicholas asked.
"I've been keeping track," Jarod answered.
Nicholas waited for the other man to continue. When no other information seemed forthcoming, Nicholas frowned. "Keeping track how?"
Jarod raised his head and blinked at Nicholas in confusion. "By tallying the seconds as they pass," Jarod replied as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"You've be counting the seconds for three hours?"
"Two hours and fifty-five minutes," Jarod corrected as he stood. He casually brushed off the seat of his pants and looked down at Nicholas expectantly. A moment later he added, "Fifty-six minutes."
Nicholas slowly rose to stand beside Jarod. "How can you do that?"
"How can you not?" Jarod tilted his head to one side in curiosity.
"Franken-rat is talented," Miss Parker drawled. "He can walk and chew bubblegum at the same time too."
"Yes," Jarod said with a smile. "I can."
"Multi-tasking is one of our boy's inherent skills," Miss Parker added.
"Tracking time and distance while I jog is a bit more difficult," Jarod continued with a jaunty grin. "Especially if I'm monitoring my heartbeat at the same time."
"You're kidding," Nicholas gasped.
Sydney spoke. "I assure you, Nicholas," he interrupted. "Jarod is more than capable of doing exactly what he claims."
"Because I'm smarter than the average bear," Jarod said calmly.
"What?" Miss Parker turned and glared at the pretender.
Jarod grinned. "I love the Cartoon Network," he said. "There's this bear and he loves picnic baskets. And his best friend is this little bear named…"
"Jarod!" Miss Parker's voice growled an icy warning.
"Boo-Boo," Jarod finished. His dark eyes twinkled mischievously.
"Someone's coming," Sydney informed them from his position near the door.
Jarod's playfulness vanished and the look on his face grew hard. As both Miss Parker and Sydney bristled defensively Jarod spared a quick glance at Nicholas. "If you see a chance to escape," Jarod commanded. "You take it. Don't wait for us. Don't look back, just run."
Nicholas nodded in understanding.
The door opened and the goon with the shotgun entered. Motioning with the barrel of the gun, he herded the four captives into one corner of the room. Behind him came Ravenhurst, armed with a pistol in one hand. Tucked into his leather belt was a long, fierce looking knife. The man Jarod had wounded earlier did not appear.
"Well, Jacob?" Ravenhurst said. "What is your decision? Which shall go first?"
Sydney shook his head. "I can't choose. I won't."
The wiry old man smiled coldly. "You only make it more difficult for them, Jacob. If you choose, I promise to make it quick," he said. "Force me to make the choice and I promise you, it will be long and painful."
"I can't." Sydney's voice wavered.
"Fine." Ravenhurst spoke in a level tone, with no sign of emotion. He raised his gun and pointed it at Miss Parker. "Ladies first."
"NO!" Jarod hollered. He dove forward just before the shot rang out. His body collided with Miss Parker's as he desperately tried to push her out of harm's way.
Of what happened next, Jarod wasn't quite sure. One moment he was twisting Miss Parker away from danger and in the next he was lying on the floor staring at the ceiling. He heard a gasp, realizing belatedly that the sound had come from him.
"Jarod!" Miss Parker cried.
"Oh," Jarod whispered, wide-eyed with surprise. Low on his right side, Jarod could feel a searing heat. It didn't hurt yet. Adrenaline was blocking any pain. Hot metal had pierced flesh low on Jarod's hip, just above his pelvic bone. As good a place as any to get shot, he supposed. No internal organs there. Jarod noticed with an odd detachment that the pocket of his jeans was filling with blood.
Miss Parker knelt at Jarod's side. "Idiot," she growled at him. "What were you trying to do?" With trembling fingers she pushed aside Jarod's jacket and lifted his t-shirt. The bullet hole in his jeans was barely visible against the black denim but Miss Parker could distinguish the dark moist stain as blood began to ooze forth.
Jarod wasn't wearing a belt. As Miss Parker quickly unfastened the button on his jeans, Jarod tried to stop her. "Wait," he tried to say. But the sound came out as a strangled croak. The zipper on his fly went down and Jarod found himself desperately trying to remember which pair of underwear he'd put on that morning.
Laughter bubbled from him as Jarod realized the ridiculousness of his predicament. He was lying on the floor, bleeding all over Miss Parker's twelve hundred dollar suit. Standing over him was a maniac with a gun who seemed bent on murder. And in spite of all that, Jarod was worried about whether he had chosen to wear briefs or boxers today.
As Miss Parker eased the denim away from his wound, Jarod lifted his head to check out the undergarment situation. He couldn't help it. It suddenly seemed to be of vital importance now that Miss Parker was privy to the information.
"Lie back," Miss Parker snapped at him. She gently prodded the flesh around the injury. "It's not so bad," she said. "Small caliber." Tucking her fingertips in the waistband of his pants, Parker felt around Jarod's hip and eased her hand down the curve of his back.
Miss Parker's cool touch at the small of his back made Jarod catch his breath. The feathery softness caressed the upper swell of his right buttocks. 'Worth getting shot,' Jarod thought to himself as his eyelids fluttered closed.
"There's no exit wound," Miss Parker told him. "Jarod? Are you still with me?"
Jarod opened his eyes, reluctantly letting go of the sensation of Parker's touch. "Yeah," he replied.
Sydney, kneeling at Jarod's side opposite Miss Parker, passed her a square of white linen. The handkerchief was silk, made for style rather than for any utilitarian purpose. Miss Parker quickly folded it into a pad and pressed it against the bullet hole in Jarod's hip. Pressure against the wound seemed to re-awaken the nerve endings. Pain abruptly lanced through Jarod's body and he cried out before he could stop himself.
"Stop it," Miss Parker chided him. "You've had worse." Her voice lacked its usual venom. Her tone was almost soothing.
"Hurts," Jarod gasped.
"I know."
"Good," Ravenhurst said. "No arterial spurting. I'd hate to have our young man bleed to death. That wouldn't be any fun." As he spoke, the old man tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants and pulled out the knife. He admired the glint of light off the metal.
"Leave him alone," Miss Parker snarled. "It was me you were after."
"Don't fret, Princess," Ravenhurst chortled. "You'll get your turn."
Miss Parker tensed as if to spring at their tormentor. But Jarod sensed the change in her and grabbed her arm. They said nothing, yet Jarod managed to communicate with Miss Parker through a glance.
'Not yet,' Jarod's eyes spoke to her. It did not surprise him when Miss Parker seemed to understand his meaning.
"Back off," Ravenhurst demanded. Motioning to Sydney and Miss Parker, he gestured them toward the far corner. After a moment's hesitation and a nod from Jarod, they complied. The burly man with the shotgun kept his weapon trained on them.
Ravenhurst crouched on the floor beside Jarod. He gently ran the point of his knife along Jarod's jaw line, leaving only a scratch in the flesh. "Before we are through, you will beg me to kill you, Jarod," the old man purred. "And you will willingly choose which of them I'll do next."
"You don't know me," Jarod replied in a low, dangerous voice.
Ravenhurst smiled. "We are going to get to know each other very well, my boy. Very well indeed."
Without warning, Ravenhurst lifted the knife and stabbed Jarod through the right shoulder, impaling him to the floor. Jarod screamed, writhing in agony. The pain was excruciating.
"Stop it!" Sydney cried. The three horrified onlookers surged forward but the man with the shotgun quickly reminded them of his presence, using the steel barrel to shove them each back into the corner.
"Oh but Jacob," Ravenhurst said with a grin. "We've only just begun." With a vicious little laugh, Ravenhurst stood over Jarod. He placed one booted foot on the younger man's chest for leverage then yanked hard on the knife to pull it from Jarod's body.
"On the contrary," an icy voice spoke from the still open doorway. "I say you are finished."
Ravenhurst's attention was immediately drawn away from the victim at his feet. "Lyle," the old man hissed when he recognized the intruder. "You were supposed to wait outside."
"I'm not known for my patience," Lyle responded calmly. In his good hand he held a standard Centre issue 9mm. The pistol was pointed at Ravenhurst.
"We had a deal," Ravenhurst growled.
Lyle frowned and fury crept into his eyes. "The deal was that you could kill them!" Lyle yelled, gesturing at the three prisoners standing in the corner. "Jarod was supposed to be mine."
"I've altered our bargain," Ravenhurst said. "You can have the little one."
"I can't use the little one," Lyle replied. "Jarod is the only one of any value to me."
Ravenhurst stomped his foot. "But I've already started with this one!"
The tension in the room was like a live thing. Lyle held Ravenhurst at gunpoint while the old man glared at him. Ravenhurst hesitated for a moment, the knife in his hand dripping blood onto the floor, as he seemed to consider going for his own gun.
"Drop the piece." The man with the shotgun had turned to train his weapon on the new arrival. He warned, "Drop it, or I'll blast ya."
Lyle smiled as though the man had just complimented him on his tie. Without batting an eye, Lyle moved, pivoting away from Ravenhurst. Lyle was fast and his aim was very good. The offending henchman had a bullet in his brain before he'd even registered Lyle's motion. Ravenhurst took advantage of Lyle's momentary distraction to drop the knife to the floor and pull out his gun. The two men were facing one another, each pointing a pistol and glaring down the barrel of another.
"Jarod is coming with me," Lyle hissed.
Miss Parker stepped over the man Lyle had just shot and growled, "Jarod isn't going anywhere with you, Baby Brother. He is coming back to the Centre with me."
"NO!" Ravenhurst screamed. "They will all die. Child of his heart, you will die!" The old man whirled toward Jarod and pointed his gun at Jarod's chest, aiming for the heart.
There was a shot and Jarod flinched. But it was Ravenhurst who fell to the floor clutching his chest. Lyle had been faster, destroying the crazy old man who would have robbed Lyle of his prize.
With his good hand, Jarod clawed across the floor. He backed away from the dead man, but more importantly, he increased the distance between himself and Mr. Lyle. The two feet Jarod traversed before reaching the far wall seemed like miles. Panting with exertion, Jarod sat up and leaned against the wall.
"Where's the sweeper team?" Miss Parker asked.
Lyle bent to retrieve Ravenhurst's gun. He cast his twin an angry look as he stood.
Miss Parker curled her lip in disgust. "You don't have one," she guessed. "You did all this on your own, without a directive." She paused for a moment then added, "If the Triumvirate learns you've been flying solo again they won't like it one bit."
"I've got Jarod haven't I?" Lyle motioned at the fallen pretender with his pistol. "It won't matter how I did it."
There was a distinctive sound of a shotgun cartridge ramming into place. "Excuse me," Nicholas spoke calmly. "But I wouldn't count my chickens just yet." Nicholas stood in the open doorway with the shotgun pointed at the others in the room. "Don't even breathe, Mr. Lyle. I may not be the crack shot you are, but I'm quite nervous at the moment. If this thing should suddenly go off, I'm guessing it will splatter your guts across the room."
Lyle seemed to ponder the situation for a moment. He finally decided that Nicholas, having more smarts than the dead hoodlum had possessed, was too much of an unknown to gamble on. Lyle raised his hands slowly and allowed his weapon to dangle helplessly from one finger. "Nicholas." Lyle turned on the charm. "So nice to see you again old friend."
"Whatever," the younger man replied. "Put both pistols on the floor. Slowly!" When Lyle had complied he added. "Now kick them over here."
"This is no movie Nicholas," Sydney spoke. "There could be serious consequences to these actions."
As each gun slid across the floor, Nicholas kicked it again, sending the weapon spinning out the door and into the hallway. "I won't pretend that I fully understand what is going on," Nicholas said. "I'm just following my instincts. Now the knife."
Ravenhurst's bloodied knife followed the pistols into the abandoned corridor.
"Jarod," Nicholas asked. "Can you stand?"
Blinking in surprise, Jarod pressed his good shoulder against the wall and managed to climb shakily to his feet. He was leaning heavily to the left, favoring his injured side, but he was able to stand. He looked toward Nicholas and nodded.
"Come here," Nicholas ordered.
With his first step, Jarod nearly toppled over. But he limped quickly from his right to his left leg. Clutching his bleeding shoulder with his good hand, Jarod crossed the room as quickly as he could.
"Nicholas," Lyle warned. "You don't know what kind of man you're getting involved with. He's dangerous."
Nicholas nodded. "I know."
With a nod of his head, Nicholas indicated that Jarod should go through the door.
"Parker!" Lyle cried in frustration. "Why didn't you grab that shotgun? This is your fault!"
"If I had gotten hold of that thing," Parker snarled. "You'd have had both barrels crammed down your throat."
Jarod hobbled into the corridor and leaned wearily against the far wall. Nicholas followed him out of the room. As the younger man closed the door behind them, he did his best to ignore the enraged cries coming from within. For a moment, the two men stood in the hallway, staring at each other as they caught their breath.
"Why are you helping me?" Jarod asked.
Nicholas shrugged. "You're bleeding," he answered.
"And?" Jarod coaxed.
"Well," Nicholas admitted. "As I see it, my father raised you. That sort of makes us brothers in a weird kind of way."
Jarod puzzled over that for a minute. "Brothers, eh?" he said.
"Sort of," Nicholas repeated. "Like step-brothers."
Jarod smiled. "Sydney connects us somehow," he added with a nod.
Nicholas grinned in return. A moment later Jarod paled noticeably and grimaced with pain. "Come on Jarod," Nicholas said as he placed Jarod's arm around his shoulders. "We need to get you out of here."
End pt 6
Note: Pretender Season 2 DVD release in the U.S. September 13th, 2005!