Disclaimer: See chapter 1.
Burden of Truth Part7
By Phenyx
06/25/05
"Damn, damn, damn, damn!" Lyle punctuated each word by pounding his thumb-less fist against the locked door. By a shear whim of fate, Jarod had escaped again leaving Lyle looking like a fool. Impotent frustration writhed in Lyle's stomach. When a slender finger poked him in the shoulder, Lyle turned, ready to release his anger on the nearest available victim.
Miss Parker moved quickly. Her fist was already in mid-swing as Lyle whirled to face her. He turned directly into Miss Parker's flying knuckles and his head snapped back with the force of the contact. Lyle crashed to the floor, landing on his bottom with a graceless thud.
"I warned you, you moron," Miss Parker hissed. "I told you that if you ever tried to kill me again,"
"I believe your exact words," Lyle interrupted. "Were that if I ever sent you into a building about to explode, it better." He rubbed his aching jaw as he smirked at her. "No explosives involved here, Parker."
Miss Parker made a rude noise and glared at him.
Lyle simply shrugged. "Can't blame me for trying. Persistence always wins, eventually."
Parker crouched beside her brother and smiled. It was one of those pretty, sweet little smiles that gave Lyle the chills. Suddenly grabbing Lyle by the tie, she yanked his face close to hers. After studying him closely for a moment she whispered, "You hear them too don't you?"
Lyle swallowed hard before answering. "I don't know what you mean."
The smile grew, becoming both sweeter and yet colder at the same time. "Yes," Miss Parker purred. "You know what I mean. You hear the voices whispering to you. Late at night, when you are all alone and there's no other sound to distract you from them. That is when they speak to you."
The silk around Lyle's throat tightened and Parker pulled him even closer.
"I know what they say, Bobby," she said. "I know."
Lyle swallowed again and tried desperately to hide the fact that Parker was getting to him. Without warning, Miss Parker shoved Lyle backward and rose to her feet in one smooth motion. Standing over him, Miss Parker primly folded her hands in front of her and glared at him like he was a large bug.
"Imagine what those whispers will become, Bobby," she told him sweetly. "What fearful taunting will you suffer if my voice were ever to join them?"
Lyle stared up at his sister, knowing that the color was draining from his face yet powerless to do anything to stop it.
She paused for only a moment before continuing. "How long will it take me to snap that slender thread of sanity you present to the world, baby brother? Whispers you can't escape, never fading. Ever."
"You'll be too busy rotting in hell to haunt me," Lyle growled in a belated show of bravado.
The sweet, frightening smile didn't waver. "Yes," Miss Parker agreed. "I'll be in hell. But believe me when I say, I won't go before dragging you with me."
Jarod hobbled through a maze of corridors that felt miles long. Nicholas led the way by several steps, stopping often to let Jarod catch up to him. Arriving at an intersection, Nicholas looked to Jarod for direction.
"Which way?" the younger man asked. "Left or right?"
Jarod paused, taking the brief moment to try and catch his breath. Glancing back the way they had come, Jarod noticed a distinct trail of red leading down the hallway. He was bleeding badly.
"Go to the right," Jarod commanded. "Run for fifteen seconds then come back and tell me what you've found."
As Nicholas turned to do as he'd been told, Jarod leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
"Jarod?" Nicholas' concerned voice called to him.
"What?" Jarod growled.
"I'm back. Nothing but more hallway and another storeroom."
Jarod frowned. He had not even registered Nicholas' departure, let alone the span of time that must have passed before his return. Panting heavily, Jarod confided in the younger man. "I think I'm close to losing consciousness."
"Please don't do that," Nicholas begged. "Come on, let's try this way."
Nicholas pulled Jarod's good arm across his shoulders. Grabbing Jarod's wrist in one hand and the belt loop of Jarod's jeans in the other, Nicholas struggled down the corridor to his left, dragging the wounded pretender with him. They rounded a corner and pushed through a swinging door to reveal a large kitchen.
Along one wall was a huge refrigerator, flanked by a series of cabinets. There was a heavy wooden table that had seen better days, surrounded by four rickety looking chairs. The far corner of the room held three folding cots and a low bench. On the bench was an assortment of bandages and bottles as well as a large pack made of green cloth with a red cross embossed on the flap.
Nicholas stopped abruptly as he realized that one of the cots was occupied. The man Jarod had attacked several hours ago was lying there, snoring softly. Nicholas glanced at Jarod who said, "Check him."
Nicholas left Jarod leaning against the table. Nicholas picked up one of the chairs and brandished it like a club as he approached the sleeping man. After poking the inert form several times, Nicholas looked back at Jarod.
"He's out cold."
"Good," Jarod replied. "Grab that first aid kit and all the gear. We'll need it."
The pack had a wide strap that Nicholas used to drag the bag toward him. Along with the pack, came a jingle of keys and the clatter of a cell phone as the two items fell from the bench and hit the floor. Grinning at his wickedly good luck, Jarod nodded and Nicholas bent and retrieved both objects.
With the pack safely slung over one shoulder, Nicholas returned to Jarod's side. Supporting Jarod's weight as best he could, Nicholas continued through the room to a door on the opposite wall. Nicholas pressed on the silver bar that was the door handle and a moment later he was blinking in the bright sunshine of a new morning.
"Thank god," he sighed.
The two men started to make their way across a paved lot. There were only two vehicles in the area, several yards to one side. One car was a black convertible Mercedes 500 SL and Jarod had a sudden yearning to take it. He knew this to be Lyle's car. Unfortunately, Lyle's keys were more than likely in Lyle's pocket at the moment and Jarod was in no shape to hotwire an automobile.
With a nod of his head, Jarod directed Nicholas toward the second car in the lot. An older model, the four door, white sedan had been a beauty once upon a time. But it's glory days were long over. As expected, the keys Nicholas had found fit the sedan. Within minutes, Jarod had been deposited in the passenger seat and Nicholas was driving away from the large building.
The silence in the room was oppressive. Miss Parker sat on her heels with her back against the wall. She completely ignored her two companions. Her mood did not invite comment from either of the men.
She sat there for a long time. The tension in the room continued to grow, feeding her anger and stirring her resentment to even higher levels. Miss Parker welcomed the rage. It served a valuable purpose. Misery and despair led to surrender. Fury bolstered her and made her stronger.
"Miss Parker?" The soft accented voice was cautious and tentative.
She answered him with an ice-cold stare that would have felled a lesser man.
"Please believe me, Miss Parker," Sydney begged. "My loyalty to you has never wavered. The name I use means nothing."
"Believe you?" Miss Parker eyed him critically. "You are asking a great deal."
"Am I asking too much?"
"For now," she answered. "Yes. You are."
"Can you forgive me?" Sydney asked.
Miss Parker closed her eyes with a weary sigh. "Perhaps," she replied.
Sydney sat down beside Miss Parker, encouraged by the fact that she was no longer throwing daggers with her eyes. "Do you think he can forgive me?" Neither of them needed to specify whom Sydney was talking about.
"He probably already has," she said. Opening her eyes Miss Parker gazed sadly into the older man's eyes. "Even after everything that has happened, all the pain he has suffered at your hands, he still cares about you."
"He has a remarkable capacity for caring about others," Sydney agreed.
Miss Parker shook her head and smiled. "I wonder where learned it?"
"As touching as this scene is," Lyle interrupted. "I should point out that your little pet has locked us in here with two dead men!"
"The body count can easily be increased Lyle," Miss Parker warned.
"What are we going to do?" Lyle cried.
"Don't get your panties in a bunch," Miss Parker hissed. "All we have to do is wait. Help will come."
Lyle raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Someone knows we're here?" he asked.
Miss Parker nodded. "Jarod knows. He'll do something about it."
"How can you be so sure?" Lyle asked with a frown.
Miss Parker laughed caustically. "The opportunity for humiliating us is just too good to pass up."
Jarod was having difficulty keeping his eyes open. He needed to focus on the road, keeping his attention on the signs along the berm. It was the only way to determine their current location. Using the contents of the first aid kit, Jarod had been able to stuff some bandages into his wounds. But it was only a temporary fix.
As Nicholas drove, he gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. Every few seconds, he'd glance at Jarod in concern. "We need to find a hospital," he said.
"No!" Jarod's voice was louder than he had intended it to be. "No. Hospitals will be the first place they'll look for me. The doctors will want to admit me and I'll be sedated. I won't stand a chance."
"But you need help," Nicholas argued.
Jarod shook his head. "I need a place to sleep. I just need to rest for a couple of days."
"Jarod." Nicholas seemed unconvinced.
"Look," Jarod said. "We need to figure out where we are. Then you drop me off at a secluded motel that charges by the hour. One of those places that won't ask too many questions."
"Then what?" Nicholas asked.
"Then you go home and try to forget the last twenty-four hours." Jarod answered
"I don't think I can do that," Nicholas told him.
"You'd better try." Jarod's attention was caught by a green sign posted at the side of the two-lane highway. The sign displayed all the information he needed. With a grim nod of his head, Jarod picked up the cell phone from the seat beside him and quickly dialed a series of numbers. The call was answered almost immediately.
"Hello?"
"Listen closely," Jarod ordered. "Route 495. About fifteen miles south of Jennings, Maryland there is an abandoned warehouse. Miss Parker is locked in a room with Sydney and Lyle."
"Oh dear."
"Yeah," Jarod agreed. "And Mr. Broots? Take a couple cleaners with you. There are bodies."
Jarod disconnected the call, ignoring the sputtering questions from the other end of the line. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. His shoulder and hip were both throbbing with agony. As exhaustion and pain overwhelmed him, Jarod surrendered to the darkness and passed out.
End Part7