Mint On The Pillow

Part Eight - It Never Raines But It Pours

Angelo sat alone, cross-legged on the floor. The room was dark, except for a shaft of light from the small barred window.

He didn't like this room; he wasn't used to being at ground level, and although the air was cooler and fresher, there were no ventilation tunnels; his secret routes around the Centre were out of reach.

But none of that mattered now, his mind was elsewhere. His extraordinary empathic ability let him feel what others felt all around him, and also allowed him to extrapolate the emotions of people much further away. The Centre doctors believed that this quality had long ago overridden his own emotions, that Angelo was simply a receiver for the signals others sent out. But for all that his brain had been confused and his perceptions damaged by a whole life spent in confinement, the boy that was once Timmy could still feel.

He sobbed quietly, his hands balled into fists, rubbing his eyes and tugging his hair, rocking back and forth mechanically. He remembered looking out through slatted vents, day after day, year after year at the boy Jarod and recalled the conversations they had at night. A bright boy and a dedicated friend who never forgot him after escaping, still communicated with him in secret, and had even tried to cure him and set him free.

Then there was the little lady, Miss Parker. She gave him Cracker Jacks, spoke kindly to him a long time ago. She was in pain right now, too, and it only compounded his own. So much sadness... just sadness.

- - - - - - - - - -

Mister Raines watched on a little monitor as Angelo cried. This was a most interesting development, he thought. The empath had been moved upstairs to assess some newly acquired Centre subjects for emotional distress, and at surface level all rooms had tiny, invisible micro-cameras embedded into the ceiling for more discreet observation. It appeared Angelo thought he was not under surveillance this time.

Raines had recently begun to watch Angelo much more closely, for the first time beginning to realise that his broken boy may actually be capable of deception, that he was more than the obedient tool he was assumed to be. Could demented Angelo be the leak the Centre had been trying to discover ever since Jarod escaped? It seemed impossible, given his level of mental dysfunction, but nevertheless it was a subject to be explored, and a good use for one of his new young charges.

- - - - - - - - - -

Angelo looked up sharply as he heard the door handle click. He wiped his eyes hurriedly, expecting Raines to come squeaking in, but instead he was joined by a young boy of around ten.

"Hello," said the child tentatively.

Angelo stared at him, puzzled.

"I'm Sean. What's your name?"

"Angelo," he mumbled, feeling the boy's curiosity; shy but with positive intentions.

"Do you live here?"

Angelo nodded. Sean moved closer, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the gloom.

"Um, why are you crying?"

Angelo quickly dragged his sleeve across his eyes again, and a flash of memory seared through him, of himself asking the exact same question of another little boy, crouched in a corner twenty years ago.

"Friend... hurt."

"What friend? Is he here?"

Angelo shook his head. "Outside."

Sean went over to the wall, standing on tiptoes to look out of the tiny window.

"I don't see anyone."

"Outside the Centre."

"Oh, well, is he hurt bad?"

Angelo clenched his fists again as the sadness came back. "Dying..." he whispered.

Sean's clear blue eyes widened, concern flooding his young face. "Oh my god! We've gotta help him! Do you know where he is?"

Empathy was a strange gift, not the kind of thing which could be turned off or ignored. The second Sean had entered the room Angelo read his heart like a book. Real emotions could not be faked, and so no person alive could ever lie to him. The boy was genuine, open and compassionate, just like Jarod.

Angelo took out a many-folded page of a newspaper and spread it flat on the floor. Sean came and sat down before it, his worry evident as he read the article.

"This is a long way away. We should tell someone--"

Angelo shook his head emphatically in reply and brought a finger up to his lips.

"Shh... secret."

Sean nodded solemnly.

- - - - - - - - - -

Mr. Raines stared intently at the monitor. "Zoom in there, on the paper," he gruffly ordered the tech-officer at the console.

The tech nodded and the screen was filled with the article. Mr. Raines smiled evilly and went to retrieve his new Pretender. With some training, Sean would be very useful to the Centre.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Mr. Parker, we have a situation."

Parker looked up as Raines stomped up to his desk, his ghoulish face even more grim than normal, if that was possible.

"What is it, Raines?" Frankly he was in no mood to be bossed around by the invalid.

"It seems Angelo has been holding out on us."

Raines took a torn out page of a newspaper from his jacket and dropped it on the desk. A moment's perusal and Parker knew this wasn't just any situation, it was a prime Jarod-catching opportunity, perhaps the best they'd ever had.

"Get my daughter in here."

Mr. Raines' look darkened, but there was a hint of smugness about it.

"She's gone. So's Sydney."

"What?"

"They've been holding out on us too."

"That's preposterous. They must've found out about this and gone to bring Jarod in."

"Without telling anyone?"

Mr. Parker was beginning to look flustered, "Well, she's a proud girl," he floundered, "Doesn't want Brigitte or Lyle muscling in."

"We'll see about that."

- - - - - - - - - -

As the huge double doors of Mr. Parker's office opened and Raines left, Broots scurried around the corner and flattened himself against the wall, holding his breath and feeling his heart race.

A moment later, Mr. Parker emerged too, a troubled look clouding his face, and strode off quickly after Raines.

Broots peeked out, making sure the coast was clear, dashed across to the office and slipped silently in. There was no one still in there, thank god, and he leant against the door and breathed deep, calming breaths. He should be at ease with sneaking into his superiors' offices by now, Miss Parker had him doing it fairly regularly, but this was the first time he'd ever undertaken something like this of his own volition.

He knew something was very wrong, something so serious that neither Miss Parker or Sydney had felt able to tell him. He could have been hurt at their apparent lack of trust, but there were some subjects he knew they were ultra-sensitive about, and one above all. Broots had been involved in the search for Jarod from day one, and over two years of keeping his eyes and ears open he had come to understand the peculiar relationships between the scientist, the guinea-pig and the huntress. When Sydney and Miss Parker had returned from Minnesota last week there was an issue hanging in the air, and one which they had obviously gone back there to resolve.

In general he was happy to let their deep intrigues alone, except that he had a gut feeling things were about to be found out by more dangerous people than himself. He needed to know just what the Boss suspected, to keep Sydney and Miss Parker one step ahead. That was his real job these days.

He crept up to Mr. Parker's exquisite oak desk and opened the top drawer, flinching slightly as the first thing he saw was a gun. He tried another drawer, this one stuffed with papers, but he only needed the top one: a crumpled page of The Minneapolis Independent. He read for a few minutes, letting the reality of the situation sink in, and then snuck out of the office and retreated to the safety of his little computer room.

He dialled first Sydney's cell phone and then Miss Parker's, but both went straight to voicemail.

"Uh, Miss Parker, I just wanted to warn you that Mr. Raines has found out about Jarod's accident, and he's on his way..."

End of Part Eight