Disclaimer: NOT MINE.
AN: FEEDBACK/REVIEWS NEEDED!!!
Learning to Run Again
Part 19: 24
Aqua
Miss Parker stared out the windshield, keeping both eyes on the road ahead. She and Jarod had been driving down this stretching interstate for atleast an hour. She didn't really know where she was going. Soon, Jarod would have to take the reins. God, how she hated saying that. She had always known that eventually she would have to admit that she needed help. His help.
Miss Parker glanced over at Jarod. Both eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn't sleeping, but simming in his mind. Hopefully, he was formulating a plan to save their sorry lives before they got there.
Up ahead, she saw an intersection. It was the middle of the day, yet they hadn't seen one car the entire time they had been out. Slowly, she pressed the brake down until they were stopping. She hated to disturb Jarod while he meditated or whatever the Hell he was doing, but she had no idea if she was heading to Blue Cove or Timbuktu. Patiently, she eyed him until he realized that they had stopped.
"Is something wrong with the car?" Jarod asked, confused.
"Yeah, it doesn't know where we're going either," she replied, voice oozing in sarcasm.
"Did you know that one day they plan to create cars that actually do know where they're going?" He asked this in all serious and Miss Parker simply stared at him, "Oh, sorry. Well, we're going to Blue Cove, Parker. I thought you could infer that much."
"You mean to tell me that we're just going to march through the front doors and demand your sister before parading away to Never Never Land?" Her brows arched vividly exhasperated.
"Never a never land?" Jarod was utterly mystsified.
"Never mind!" She groaned and floored the pedal, tires screaching as they whipped around the curve.
"I will think of something, Parker. Just get us there. Okay?" Jarod's voice was much more considerate this time. She took note of that.
"Fine."
"Oh, and Parker?"
"What?"
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "Could you slow down just a tad? We need not double the speed limit."
Miss Parker glared at him, "Would you like to drive?"
"No, thank-you. I should figure out how to retrieve Emily."
She rolled her eyes and kept driving.
Fast.
*****
"Hello, Emily," Lyle's voice spilled out like oil, engulfing everything in its path.
"Leave me alone," Emily ejected from her spot on the floor.
Lyle sank to her level and leaned in on his haunches. He grasped her chin roughly, forcing her to make eye contact, "Don't you want to hear the news I've got for you?"
The red head kept eye contact, but remained silent.
"I'll take that as a yes. Well, it seems that we recently had a late night visitor. Someone who will be staying with us forever," he stood and clasped his hands behind his back, grinning, "still no reaction? I believe the two of you have met. Hmm. Does the name 'Jarod' ring a bell with you."
He grinned evily, that got the reaction he wanted. Her eyes were wide and her mouth parted. It seemed all hope was erased from her young face. Tormenting naive prisoners- patients like Emily made his sick little day.
"Ahh yes. He certainly remembered you, even when we told him that re-education would begin in 24 hours. We told him how much you loathed him for putting you in this situation and we definitly-"
Emily gasped, "You bastard!" She shrieked mercilessly as she shot from the ground like a charged rocket. Bounding off the ground like a frantic cat, she threw herself on top of the shocked man. Fists pounding, she kicked and grunted until he was bloody and bruised. Realizing her had bullet wounds being reopened, she started clawing at those, too.
Suddenly, Emily felt the blow of a buff man whom she assumed had to be a sweeper. They carried the weak Mr Lyle out of her cell and she screamed out loudly for him to hear, "You'll never win, Lyle!"
*****
Wrapping up the finishing touches on the beautiful blonde maze, Debbie smiled at her accomplishment.
"Finished!" She clapped her hands together and picked up the hand-held mirror she had found in the bathroom, "Come on. You can see your hair in here." The little girl led Molly into the bathroom and while she stood facing the mirror, Debbie aligned the smaller one that she posessed so that she could see the criss-cross paterns she had created.
Molly gasped and smiled, "Debbie, its beautiful," she gently patted it as if to make sure it was really hers.
"Yeah, with your long hair, it was really fun to do," she replied excitedly.
"Who on earth taught you how to do something so magnificent? It couldn't have been your father."
Debbie giggled, "Not hardly. It was Miss Parker."
"Miss Parker?"
"Mm hmm. She said her mother taught her how to do it a long long time ago."
"Oh, she just um you know, doesn't exactly seem like the kind of person-"
"Miss Parker doesn't seem like a lot of things she really is. I don't know why she tries to hide it. She doesn't around me."
"Yes. One day she won't though." Molly started to gently massage her temple.
"Are you okay?" Debbie asked innocently.
"Oh," Molly halted her movements when she realized what she was doing, "yes, just a- headache."
Debbie nodded and stared at the woman as she continued to rub her head. The bathroom was a little suffocating, so she headed out to the living room where her father and Sydney were conversing.
"Where are Miss Parker and Jarod?" she asked.
"B- uh they um they had to go," Broots informed her generically.
"Where?" She looked from one face to the other and back again.
Sydney cleared his throat, "They had a pressing engagement and will be returning shortly."
"Umm okay. Daddy, how much longer are we going to be here?"
"Actually, we were just discussing that. Right, Syd?" Broots looked affirmedly at the elder man lying on the worn couch who gently nodded beneath the quilt he was enveloped in. "Anyway, we think it would be a good idea if the two of us went home. What do you say, Sweetie?"
"Why just us? I thought The Centre would be angry with you. You could lose your job, Daddy!" she protested.
A lot more than a job, Broots thought to himself. He began again, contradicting her, "Honey, I won't lose my job. We decided that it would actually be safer- more beneficial if we went home since they have no idea we are even involved. They'll assume that we just hid in order to deny interrogation."
"Are you sure?" she questioned, worry evident in her young eyes.
Broots sighed, "You're too smart for your own good, Deb. Yes, I'm sure."
"Don't we need to help Miss Parker and the others though?"
Sydney watched the exchange, admiring the way father and daughter consoled and proteced eachother without thinking. The one time that Broots actually seemed at ease was with his little girl.
"That's another pro, we can help them from inside The Centre. Why don't you go pack some of your stuff up," he comforted his daughter with a gentle hand, rubbing her shoulder compassionately.
"All right," she shrugged her shoulders before heading down the hall.
"I feel bad about having to lie to her like that, Syd."
"You didn't really lie."
"All right, stretched the truth."
Sydney was about to begin the next sentence, but stopped himself. He realized that throughout the thirty-some years he had been "caring" for Jarod, he had told himself the exact same thing he was advising Broots to do. He had simply been "stretching the truth" he had told himself, never lying. The guilt enveloped him and this didn't get past Broots who never ceased to notice things that most people would assume the skittish man would brush off.
"Syd, you okay?"
"Fine, Broots. You do what you feel is right with Debbie. I personally do think it would be safer if the two of you went back."
"Yeah, me too. All right, thanks Syd. We'll leave in 24 hours."
"Hmm," Sydney nodded.
Two more innocent lives corrupted by The Centre.
*****
Cox looked around him, completely frustrated. He had been in here for two hours and yet nobody seemed to have noticed. Stuck, he was stuck. Almost at level 24, he groaned. This was just what he needed. He knew this had been intentional, but who would have done it? Perplexed, he sank back into a corner and waited. Waited. Waited.
*****
"We're here," Miss Parker announced as the dark van pulled up on the road leading toward The Centre. She could see the powerful stance of the mighty walls looming over all in its presence, and yet they wern't even down the road yet, "Figured out how to make Emily appear before us, yet?"
Jarod opened his eyes and looked around cautiously. Parker could see his hands trembling, not intensively, but still trembling while his eyes darted from one window to the next.
Always looking over his shoulder.
"Here already? I told you to slow down," he muttered.
"Yeah I did and I would have been here two hours ago if I hadn't. Wait a minute. Jarod, are you telling me that you do not have a plan to get Emily out?"
"Well, I have a vague idea. Where did you put my laptop?"
She pointed to the back seat, "I can't belive you have spent hours contemplating an escape route and yet here we are at The Centre's door, ready to take the thousands of operative's by gunpoint!"
"That would not be a good idea. The only reason I didn't have a plan was because I'm not certain of anything. None of the variables at all. The only thing I know is that Emily is here and she's on sub level twenty-six and I can assume that she will be heavily guarded, both physically and electronically. What do you expect me to do with that scenario?"
"You're the genius! You figure it out!" she retaliated.
"I'm sorry, Parker. Now is not the time to be arguing," he apoligized, eyes scanning the screen of his computer rapidly.
Miss Parker sighed heavily, "What are you doing?"
"Looping the camera in her room."
"How long can you keep it up?"
"Well, I'm thinking no more than approximately 24 minutes. I think you should start driving again. Go to the back around in the yards, but not in the same place as Broots was last time."
She put the car into gear and slowly drove around to the back of The Centre where the ocean was clearly visible, "Jarod, isn't it a little risky to be doing this in broad daylight?"
"That's just another part of the plan. It'll be the last thing they expect and security will be minimized during the day."
"Its 1:30. It couldn't be more day."
"1:30? Good! That means some securtiy guards will be on lunch break."
"Oh goody! This day does just keep getting better and better!"
"Doesn't it though?" Jarod added with his trademark grin, "Oh my God."
"What?" her voice was full of uncharacteristic concern.
"Its her. She's there. I mean- I see her. Emily. She looks so sad. She's crying, Parker! My sister is crying! Its all my fault."
"Oh please, save the pout party! I'm sorry Jarod, but every time a star dies out, its not your fault. Is this a newsflash to you?" Parker's eyes were sympathetic and irrated at the same time, something only she could manage.
"I know. Camera's taken care of. I'll be back," he said, quickly changing the subject, before stepping out of the passenger's side door.
Outraged, Miss Parker threw open the door like a gale in Kansas and spun him around by the lapels of his leather jacket, "I'm no sidekick, chauffering you around! I'm here to help you get Emily out of this snake pit! I'll be damned if I'm going to wait around for you and have you never come back!"
"But what if they see the car?" Jarod protested calmly.
"Then they would have seen it with me in it as well. I'm coming, with or without your consent."
"So I figured. Come on. We don't have much time. 24 minutes."
Parker adjusted her lips to the plastic smile he was familiar with, "And in 24 minutes, we will be back here. With Emily." She let go of him, and smoothed his jacket primly before stocking her gun with plenty of ammunition for war. That's exactly what this had turned into, war. Flipping her dark hair over her shoulder, she stalked towards the building in her knee-high leather boots, a trailing, midnight leather coat hanging below her knees. Jarod smiled slowly before following his huntress eagerly.
Learning to Run Again
Part 20: Things Change
Aqua
Briggite slipped around the corner quickly, soft cocoa leather crinkling, and with develish posture and movement, placed her hand on the silver doorknob. Eyes darting to the left and right, she carefully inspected her surroundings for intruders. When none were found, the blonde opened the door and smiled.
*****
The crisp spring air was blowing against the back of Broots' bald head. He smiled to himself as the ivy green leaves ruffled hurredly, though they wouldn't be going anywhere for a good five months atleast.
"Isn't this weather just clean and refreshing, Deb?" Broots called to his daughter from the front porch, smiling like an idiot. He turned toward the car where the young brunette had just slammed the car trunk shut.
"No. I despise it. It's neither clean nor refreshing," was her blunt response. An eruption of her latest sneeze reminded him of her horrible allergies and his smile quickly deminished. "Oh, I'm sorry. We'll stop by a drug store on the way home and pick up some medicine for you, okay?"
"You know they never work for me. I take the medicine and it works for a day or two before all I get out of it is the side effects. So then I'm stuck with allergies and the side effects," she moped.
"Uh, I'm sorry. Atleast you'll feel better today," he coaxed cautiously.
She stared at him and Broots could have sworn that there was a Parker stare in those eyes. He decided to begin again, "I uh, I'm going to go tell Sydney we're going. You can wait in the car for me."
He tossed her the keys and she unlocked the door and slumped into the passenger seat. Broots sighed before turning back into the house, feet thumping against the wood floor.
"S-Sydney? We're going to go back now. Are you sure you're okay?"
Sydney looked up from his reading, a book in which Broots had found in the nightstand of his bedroom left from the previous visitor. He smiled a calm parental smile, "I'll be fine, Broots. Molly is here to assist me when I need aid. Besides, I would like to speak with her privately to try and figure out some of her background and history."
"Okay, do you have everything you-"
"I have my reading, my coffee, the cell phone, a quilt. What else could I possibly need, Broots?" he inquired gently so as not to startle the uncertain tech.
"All right. Bye, Syd. Call if you need anything," Broots said while backing away towards the door.
"Have a safe trip. Give Debbie a kiss for me."
"I'll try." The door slammed and Sydney resumed reading his novel.
*****
"Ah, the thrill of the hunt. So satisfying, replenishing," Miss Parker sighed, clutching Mr Smith and Miss Wesson lovingly. She and Jarod had just climbed a ladder down 26 damn sublevels and the camera would start looping in 30 seconds she had been told.
"You're not hunting, Parker. You're rescuing," Jarod affirmed, "my sister to be exact."
"Fine, it still brings back some excitement though."
"I'm glad you relished in the feeling of hunting me down like a wild animal."
Parker stopped her movements along the corridor. Her eyes turned towards Jarod's behind her, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that, Jarod," Miss Parker's voice was full of sincerity.
This time it was Jarod whose movements ceased, "Did Miss Parker just say she was sorry?"
"Oh nevermind! Just forget it!" she kept moving, but Jarod caught her arm.
"No. I'm sorry, it was just unexpected. Thank-you, it means a lot to me to know you do care."
"You didn't think I cared at all?" Miss Parker's eyes were wide with shock. This was Jarod. He was supposed to know everything.
"I wasn't sure, but now I am. Come on, we don't have much time before the guards make a fresh round and the camera's loop ends. It started 21 seconds ago."
The two worked well together. They eased around corners and through shadows simultaneously and melted against the frigid walls together. Synchronized, they followed one another toward Emily's cell. Like left and right hand, they each employed their own talents and skills to break into the door without verbal communication. They had learned long ago how to speak without speaking.
Back to back they worked. Jarod calmly breaking the code on the door while Parker eyed all tunnels of trouble that could arise. Like a mother hen guarding her eggs, she shielded herself with the knowledge that no longer was she alone. She and Jarod were getting Emily out of here, securely.
The abrupt signal that the door was open caused her to turn around and she met Jarod's eyes before he pushed it open. Those eyes were anxious, terrified, certain, reassuring, honest, and so many more things that she could have stared into them all day just trying to interpret them. The rusty door creaked open and they stepped into the room.
Looking around, Miss Parker whispered, "Where is she?"
*****
"I'm really starting to lose my appreciation for the recovery ward," Lyle groaned as he opened his eyes to find himself in a room he had grown accustomed to.
"You have been spending an unusually great amount of time in here lately." Mr Parker stated from the chair next to the bed.
"I can't help it. Things are changing very quickly and I'm not sure if that poses well for me, or you for that matter." Lyle attempted to ignore the fact that a young woman, Jarod's sister of all people, had given him a concussion and reopened several wounds to add to his growing collection of fresh ones.
"What are you talking about?" inquired Mr Parker.
Lyle tightened his face muscles and bobbed side to side before saying, "Well, with Miss Parker in the state she-"
"I had nothing to do with that!" he protested.
"The triumvirate may not agree with you." Lyle stretched his arms up relaxedly.
"Why's that?" Mr Parker challenged.
"Because you were the last person she saw before she went off the deep end," he explained.
"Me? This is absurd. You were the last person she saw before Jarod found her." His finger pointed at Lyle accusedly.
"She was already fuming at that point. You pushed her when she found out that we wouldn't be giving her her freedom. I still don't understand why she would think you would give it to her in the first place."
"Things change. I used to have her wrapped around my finger when I was Daddy. Now," Mr Parker sighed, "things are just different. Jarod has been filling her head with lies."
"So you were manipulating her to your own side."
"No!" The chair fell to the ground as he stood abruptly, "she chose her own destiny. And that is what's going to get her killed."
"Do you care?"
"What?" Mr Parker leaned in face-to-face with his disabled son.
"Do you care about what happens to your own child?" Lyle's eyes were cool but like fire.
"Of course I care for my children, but this isn't my fault. Its soley hers. You of all people should know that, Son." Once again, Mr Parker tried to make up for his loss of control and replace his temper with soothing parental words.
Lyle swallowed, "Of course."
*****
"Jarod, what hap-" Miss Parker started to say. The room was bare aside from a splatter of blood on the floor. Jarod's eyes looked up to her after noticing this and scrambled to her side.
"Parker, run!" Jarod ordered while tugging at her hand insystantly.
"Why?" Fear started spreading over her smooth features. An uneasy feeling had engulfed the room suddenly, and she could feel it start to damper her senses.
Jarod turned towards the door, "This could be a trap."
Learning to Run Again
Part 21: Saving Grace
Aqua
The Centre, 1970
Catherine Parker fled down the hall anxiously. Tears fell from her cheaks to the frigid concrete floors like rain droplets from a summer leaf. The young woman stumbled along the halls, choking back all of the sobs that threatened to erupt. She clutched the silver handle like a lifeline and placing a palm to her clammy forehead she took a deep breath and flung the door open.
"Oh, Sydney, my dear Sydney!" she weeped desperately.
"Catherine? What's wrong?" young Sydney asked, hastily rushing to comfort her, the paperwork on his desk left forgotten, "are you all right?"
"No. I'll never be all right again! The Centre has gone too far this time."
"Sit down, sit down." Sydney lead the distressed woman to the bland sofa in his drabby office. Hands clamped together, the two faced eachother, but Catherine couldn't bear to look him in the eye in fear of breaking down once again.
"Talk to me, Catherine. Everything will work out. Just talk to me of what has you in this maniac state."
Catherine's head rose and she tried to force a smile and a small chuckle came out, but her eyes only wept more, "I... I can't tell you. I don't want to endanger you anymore than I already have."
"You have to talk to someone. I promise, I'll keep this completely confidential," he reassured her while gently caressing the back of her hand.
"I'm sorry, Sydney. I shouldn't have even come here. I do know of someone I can talk to about this. Thank-you for your kind words. I beg of you to simply pray for me, my friend."
Sydney, melting easily under her noble request of him, nodded when he saw the regret and horror clouding her gentle blue eyes, "God speed, Catherine."
Sniffling, she stood gracefully and walked out the door, blowing a kiss back at her saving grace.
*****
Hair in a tight bun, Catherine emerged from the taxi cab with her long navy-blue skirt waving with the country breeze. Her blouse was a vanilla creme and everything around her looked more beautiful because of her. She smiled warmly and payed the old man sitting in the driver's seat before checking the address once again on the mailbox. She could see overgrown weeds nestled all around it and the numbers on the mailbox were slightly rusted with age. Every tree was in the distance swaying and dancing rejoicefully with the soft gentle breeze. Wheat and corn fields of infincy stretched on like stars in the summer night, illuminating the sun's honey-golden rays.
Catherine watched the cab pull away and once the dust had settled and the vehicle could no longer be heard, she walked up the steps of the old country porch, complete with two hand-crafted pine rocking chairs. The quaint little house had all the trimmings of home she wished for in her own; a clothesline, floral curtains peaking through the wood trimmed windows, an old toy airplane lying in the neglected yard, and an out of style station wagon occupying the gravel driveway. She reached the front door and hesitantly knocked. When there was no answer, she summoned all of her courage and knocked with more strength. This time she heard noises from inside. Muffled voices could be heard inside the home, but Catherine could make out no words. The door creaked open and a beautiful woman with long, curly, red hair presented herself to her unexpected visitor. A tired-looking man stood behind her, presumadly her husband.
"May we help you ma'am?" the woman asked.
"No," Catherine replied gently, shaking her head, "but I think I can help you."
*****
Sydney sat in his office alone, contemplating Catherine's abrupt wave of confusion. She was so lost and in distress, it pained Sydney to have to see her in such a condition and have no way of helping her. If only she would reveal her problem, he was sure there must be something he could do for the poor woman. She was so strong and so brave, all the things he was not. Yet, things had always been hard for Catherine. He had always been afraid that one day, The Centre would just pull the last straw and she would collapse under its pressure. Every day she had been married to the monster, Mr Parker, Catherine had been forced to bear a burden she had never deserved. And now, being the kind caring woman she was, Catherine was attempting to use the new knowledge of what The Centre did to help those in need. Never had he before seen her so distanced. Her immediate reaction had been to come to him with problems, but this time had to have been different. Did she not trust him? Or was it something that he had no ability to aid her in. If Catherine really thought that he was helping her overcome her problems, she was wrong. Vice versa to be technical. By talking to her and trying to overcome her demons, he was kindeling the urge inside him to do something good of his own. She still had obstacles to overcome. He on the other hand was at a perfect position to do something to help all of the needy children The Centre posessed. Jarod namely. If only he held the courage that she continued to maintain. Catherine was so brave and so willing to sacrifice anything for the children. Just like Jacob. Jacob had always been the one to make the right moves. Sydney, himself, on the other hand was always a careful strategist. Even if that meant he was too late, he was a planner. One day, he told himself, I will be couragous like Catherine and Jacob. One day, the children will be safe.
He just wasn't ready, yet.
*****
"Who are you?" the man replied to Catherine's vague introduction.
Taking a deep soothing breath, never losing eye contact, Catherine began, "My name is Catherine Parker. I- I have information, things- things you need to know."
"What are you talking about?" the woman cut in, glancing at her husband anxiously, "what do we need to know?"
"Its about your son. His name is Jarod." This caused the reaction she had feared from the beginning. How was she to try and convince these people that she wanted no harm to come to their son?
They started to speak, but Catherine firmly cut them off, "I have Jarod's best interests at heart, and I'd like to help your family. Please. Allow me to come in and explain."
The woman stared into Catherine's blue eyes. It was clear that this woman spoke only the truth. Something inside her heart told her that she needed to trust this woman. Though her brain kept shrieking that she could be one of "them," a ploy to trip her up, but she cut those messages off and gestured for the woman to come in.
Smiling, Catherine accepted and stepped through the front door, "Thank-you."
"I'm Major Charles. Call me Charles," the man spoke first, though hesitantly, "and this is my wife, Margaret."
Catherine shook their hands in turn, "How do you do?"
Margaret answered, "Not so well as you may already know. Please, make yourself at home. Would you like any coffee? Hot tea?"
"Tea sounds wonderful. Thank-you," Catherine accepted while sitting politely in the chair across from the couch Charles occupied. The major looked her over with a keen eye and as if proclaiming her safe, visibly relaxed.
"You have a gorgous home. The scenery is breath-taking." Small talk seemed slightly inappropriate for the grave matter at hand, but in an attempt to slice through some of the thick tension that was knotting in the air, Catherine felt she had no better option.
"Yes, lots of open space to fly," Charles replied, smiling. It wasn't completely genuine, but a polite smile just the same. Current matters were far too depressing for a true one.
"Sugar?" Margaret called from the kitchen where they could hear clattering of pots and pans.
"Please," Catherine replied, then returned her attention to Major Charles, "so you're a pilot?"
"Yes I am. I've decided to retire from it as a career for the time being so that my attention is focused directly on my son, but every now and then when I need to relax I'll fly for some peace and leisure. Its very soothing to just get away."
"It sounds magnificent." Her voice lacked the enthusiasm she had intended. Reminder of why she had come here had been brought up and Catherine quickly quieted.
After a moment of akward silence, Margaret reappeared and the trio silently sat in the living room sipping their tea from clay mugs. Catherine admired the unique artwork above the mantle and shifted in her seat uncomfortably as she felt the gaze of her hosts' eyes.
Clearing her throat, Catherine began what she knew would be a lengthy story, "You have a splendid son." This caught their complete attention as both gaped at her wide-eyed, spellbound.
"You've seen him? When? How is he? Where is he now? Wh-" Margaret let the questions explode like scorching lava, but Catherine held her hand up.
"So many questions and so little time!" she gave them a sad smile, "I actually met Jarod a few years ago, but it wasn't until now that I was able to access his personal records and find the two of you. You raised a marvelous child. I spoke with him most recently, um... two days ago."
"Do you see him often?" Charles inquired. His eyes looked guilty for his lack of time spent with his own son, though he obviously had no control over the horrendous circumstances.
"As a matter of fact I do. You see, my husband runs the coorperation that stole Jarod from you. I know now that he was indeed kidnapped. I'm sorry it took me so long. Anyway, he has me visit with the children often to-"
"Wait a minute," Charles broke in, "Jarod isn't the only child there?"
"Unfortunately not. There are several others, and I'm trying to locate all of their families in hopes that one day I'll have rescued them all."
"I don't know much about this place except that they stole my baby. Obviously, these have to be some dangerous people, Catherine. Why are you helping these people like us that you don't even know?" Margaret asked cautiously, but before Catherine could reply she began again, "I mean- not that I'm ungrateful."
Catherine smiled sweetly, "I understand. I'm not even sure myself why I'm doing this. Something inside me just told me I had to. I had to help these poor children. What if it had been my child?" She paused, thinking of the beautiful little girl waiting for her at home.
"Well, as you were saying. Please continue," the Major reminded her, nodding.
"Yes. My job is to talk with the children and keep them happy enough to do what they're intended to do-"
"Which is..? What are they forcing my son to do?" Charles asked sharply, anger reflecting on his furious eyes for his lost son.
Understanding his distress, Catherine spoke calmly and slowly, "Each of the children has a special so-called 'gift' that they have been trained to apply to certain scenarios. Jarod, for example, is The Centre's-"
"The Centre?" Margaret mumbled quietly.
"The Centre is the organization that has been exploiting your son's talents all of these years."
Charles caressed Margaret's hand gently in hopes to soothe her wounds. With every word, Catherine was making Jarod's life seem more and more horrible and he knew that that was his wife's worst fear. Margaret nodded, giving Catherine consent to continue.
"Jarod is The Centre's prized 'subject.' They have been exploiting his skills as a Pretender for years now. Jarod is a Pretender- a child prodigy who can become anyone he wants to be. He can literally slip into another person's identity and tell The Centre what they are thinking and how they are responding to certain scenarios."
"I thought they had technology to do that sort of thing," Charles protested. Tears were beginning to slip down Margaret's face.
"Computers can figure out what the average person will do, but Jarod is so intelligent, he can dig deeper. He can apply emotional variables as well, making the results 75% more reliable," noticing Margaret's distress, Catherine reached for her free hand, "Oh! I am so sorry, Dear! I am laying too much out at once. I can come back later if that's better."
"No!" Margaret begged, attempting to get her breath back, "I have to know. I can handle it. Jarod's handled it for years. Its about time I did, too." Trembling, Margaret waved her hand in a motion directing Catherine to go on once again.
"All right. One thing needs to be set straight first. Jarod hasn't been told the truth. He believes that the results of his simulations are being used to help people. And in some cases they are, but in others, the results are manipulated to do just the opposite. The results are simply sold to the highest bidder who may do with them as they please. Your son has a strict set of morals and only wants to help people. He has such a great heart. You should be very proud," Catherine paused and when she wasn't interrupted, continued, "the reason I see Jarod more than the other children, almost on a daily basis as a matter of fact, is because I have a young daughter myself. She's about the same age as Jarod and the two get along remarkably well. They're best friends, and Jarod has left such a good impression on my little girl's life. I feel like I should be thanking you. She just gets so lonely sometimes, and Jarod is all she has. Every day we come home from work, all I hear about is Jarod this and Jarod that!"
Catherine laughed a little, "Those two are always being caught doing something they know they shouldn't be. Sneaky little things, and clever, too. I know we don't even catch them most of the time, but oh that mischiefous look in their eyes is priceless! Oh! I'm so sorry. I'm rambling. I'm sure you don't need to hear about my daughter!"
"Oh no!" Margaret spoke up who had been hanging on every word and even allowing herself to smile gently, "I'm glad to hear what kind of a boy Jarod's grown to be. Don't let me stop you at all!"
Major Charles leaned in, "Does anyone look after Jarod? Do you?"
"No. That's not my job. I get ridiculed enough for just visiting with him so often, but he's such a pleasure. My co-worker, Sydney, takes care of Jarod. He's a good man, but some of his priorities need adjustment. Don't worry though. Sydney wouldn't let any harm come to Jarod. He cares about him, and I've seen some of the sacrifices he has made to keep any potential threats away from Jarod."
"That's a relief. So, Catherine, why did you come to see us? I'm sure it couldn't have been simply spur of the moment," Margaret paused, "what caused you to come to us now?"
"That's what I've been fearing the most. I want to free Jarod of The Centre, but I've always wanted that. What brought me here specifically was," Catherine covered her mouth with her hand, choking back sobs, "Th-the Centre went t-too far. They've plotted some outrageous things that I've been aware of, but this tops them a-all."
A moment's silence passed by. Margaret tightened her hold on her hand, "What is it, Catherine? I know we just met, but I feel as though I've known you forever."
"I feel it, too. Its just so hard."
"Please," the couple spoke in unison.
Catherine looked from face to face, "I've found something. On a Scottish Isle, Carthis, there are secret ancient scrolls. A prophecy of what will be of The Centre. I read them, and I couldn't believe the words before me."
Aquagirl157@cs.com
AN: FEEDBACK/REVIEWS NEEDED!!!
Learning to Run Again
Part 19: 24
Aqua
Miss Parker stared out the windshield, keeping both eyes on the road ahead. She and Jarod had been driving down this stretching interstate for atleast an hour. She didn't really know where she was going. Soon, Jarod would have to take the reins. God, how she hated saying that. She had always known that eventually she would have to admit that she needed help. His help.
Miss Parker glanced over at Jarod. Both eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn't sleeping, but simming in his mind. Hopefully, he was formulating a plan to save their sorry lives before they got there.
Up ahead, she saw an intersection. It was the middle of the day, yet they hadn't seen one car the entire time they had been out. Slowly, she pressed the brake down until they were stopping. She hated to disturb Jarod while he meditated or whatever the Hell he was doing, but she had no idea if she was heading to Blue Cove or Timbuktu. Patiently, she eyed him until he realized that they had stopped.
"Is something wrong with the car?" Jarod asked, confused.
"Yeah, it doesn't know where we're going either," she replied, voice oozing in sarcasm.
"Did you know that one day they plan to create cars that actually do know where they're going?" He asked this in all serious and Miss Parker simply stared at him, "Oh, sorry. Well, we're going to Blue Cove, Parker. I thought you could infer that much."
"You mean to tell me that we're just going to march through the front doors and demand your sister before parading away to Never Never Land?" Her brows arched vividly exhasperated.
"Never a never land?" Jarod was utterly mystsified.
"Never mind!" She groaned and floored the pedal, tires screaching as they whipped around the curve.
"I will think of something, Parker. Just get us there. Okay?" Jarod's voice was much more considerate this time. She took note of that.
"Fine."
"Oh, and Parker?"
"What?"
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "Could you slow down just a tad? We need not double the speed limit."
Miss Parker glared at him, "Would you like to drive?"
"No, thank-you. I should figure out how to retrieve Emily."
She rolled her eyes and kept driving.
Fast.
*****
"Hello, Emily," Lyle's voice spilled out like oil, engulfing everything in its path.
"Leave me alone," Emily ejected from her spot on the floor.
Lyle sank to her level and leaned in on his haunches. He grasped her chin roughly, forcing her to make eye contact, "Don't you want to hear the news I've got for you?"
The red head kept eye contact, but remained silent.
"I'll take that as a yes. Well, it seems that we recently had a late night visitor. Someone who will be staying with us forever," he stood and clasped his hands behind his back, grinning, "still no reaction? I believe the two of you have met. Hmm. Does the name 'Jarod' ring a bell with you."
He grinned evily, that got the reaction he wanted. Her eyes were wide and her mouth parted. It seemed all hope was erased from her young face. Tormenting naive prisoners- patients like Emily made his sick little day.
"Ahh yes. He certainly remembered you, even when we told him that re-education would begin in 24 hours. We told him how much you loathed him for putting you in this situation and we definitly-"
Emily gasped, "You bastard!" She shrieked mercilessly as she shot from the ground like a charged rocket. Bounding off the ground like a frantic cat, she threw herself on top of the shocked man. Fists pounding, she kicked and grunted until he was bloody and bruised. Realizing her had bullet wounds being reopened, she started clawing at those, too.
Suddenly, Emily felt the blow of a buff man whom she assumed had to be a sweeper. They carried the weak Mr Lyle out of her cell and she screamed out loudly for him to hear, "You'll never win, Lyle!"
*****
Wrapping up the finishing touches on the beautiful blonde maze, Debbie smiled at her accomplishment.
"Finished!" She clapped her hands together and picked up the hand-held mirror she had found in the bathroom, "Come on. You can see your hair in here." The little girl led Molly into the bathroom and while she stood facing the mirror, Debbie aligned the smaller one that she posessed so that she could see the criss-cross paterns she had created.
Molly gasped and smiled, "Debbie, its beautiful," she gently patted it as if to make sure it was really hers.
"Yeah, with your long hair, it was really fun to do," she replied excitedly.
"Who on earth taught you how to do something so magnificent? It couldn't have been your father."
Debbie giggled, "Not hardly. It was Miss Parker."
"Miss Parker?"
"Mm hmm. She said her mother taught her how to do it a long long time ago."
"Oh, she just um you know, doesn't exactly seem like the kind of person-"
"Miss Parker doesn't seem like a lot of things she really is. I don't know why she tries to hide it. She doesn't around me."
"Yes. One day she won't though." Molly started to gently massage her temple.
"Are you okay?" Debbie asked innocently.
"Oh," Molly halted her movements when she realized what she was doing, "yes, just a- headache."
Debbie nodded and stared at the woman as she continued to rub her head. The bathroom was a little suffocating, so she headed out to the living room where her father and Sydney were conversing.
"Where are Miss Parker and Jarod?" she asked.
"B- uh they um they had to go," Broots informed her generically.
"Where?" She looked from one face to the other and back again.
Sydney cleared his throat, "They had a pressing engagement and will be returning shortly."
"Umm okay. Daddy, how much longer are we going to be here?"
"Actually, we were just discussing that. Right, Syd?" Broots looked affirmedly at the elder man lying on the worn couch who gently nodded beneath the quilt he was enveloped in. "Anyway, we think it would be a good idea if the two of us went home. What do you say, Sweetie?"
"Why just us? I thought The Centre would be angry with you. You could lose your job, Daddy!" she protested.
A lot more than a job, Broots thought to himself. He began again, contradicting her, "Honey, I won't lose my job. We decided that it would actually be safer- more beneficial if we went home since they have no idea we are even involved. They'll assume that we just hid in order to deny interrogation."
"Are you sure?" she questioned, worry evident in her young eyes.
Broots sighed, "You're too smart for your own good, Deb. Yes, I'm sure."
"Don't we need to help Miss Parker and the others though?"
Sydney watched the exchange, admiring the way father and daughter consoled and proteced eachother without thinking. The one time that Broots actually seemed at ease was with his little girl.
"That's another pro, we can help them from inside The Centre. Why don't you go pack some of your stuff up," he comforted his daughter with a gentle hand, rubbing her shoulder compassionately.
"All right," she shrugged her shoulders before heading down the hall.
"I feel bad about having to lie to her like that, Syd."
"You didn't really lie."
"All right, stretched the truth."
Sydney was about to begin the next sentence, but stopped himself. He realized that throughout the thirty-some years he had been "caring" for Jarod, he had told himself the exact same thing he was advising Broots to do. He had simply been "stretching the truth" he had told himself, never lying. The guilt enveloped him and this didn't get past Broots who never ceased to notice things that most people would assume the skittish man would brush off.
"Syd, you okay?"
"Fine, Broots. You do what you feel is right with Debbie. I personally do think it would be safer if the two of you went back."
"Yeah, me too. All right, thanks Syd. We'll leave in 24 hours."
"Hmm," Sydney nodded.
Two more innocent lives corrupted by The Centre.
*****
Cox looked around him, completely frustrated. He had been in here for two hours and yet nobody seemed to have noticed. Stuck, he was stuck. Almost at level 24, he groaned. This was just what he needed. He knew this had been intentional, but who would have done it? Perplexed, he sank back into a corner and waited. Waited. Waited.
*****
"We're here," Miss Parker announced as the dark van pulled up on the road leading toward The Centre. She could see the powerful stance of the mighty walls looming over all in its presence, and yet they wern't even down the road yet, "Figured out how to make Emily appear before us, yet?"
Jarod opened his eyes and looked around cautiously. Parker could see his hands trembling, not intensively, but still trembling while his eyes darted from one window to the next.
Always looking over his shoulder.
"Here already? I told you to slow down," he muttered.
"Yeah I did and I would have been here two hours ago if I hadn't. Wait a minute. Jarod, are you telling me that you do not have a plan to get Emily out?"
"Well, I have a vague idea. Where did you put my laptop?"
She pointed to the back seat, "I can't belive you have spent hours contemplating an escape route and yet here we are at The Centre's door, ready to take the thousands of operative's by gunpoint!"
"That would not be a good idea. The only reason I didn't have a plan was because I'm not certain of anything. None of the variables at all. The only thing I know is that Emily is here and she's on sub level twenty-six and I can assume that she will be heavily guarded, both physically and electronically. What do you expect me to do with that scenario?"
"You're the genius! You figure it out!" she retaliated.
"I'm sorry, Parker. Now is not the time to be arguing," he apoligized, eyes scanning the screen of his computer rapidly.
Miss Parker sighed heavily, "What are you doing?"
"Looping the camera in her room."
"How long can you keep it up?"
"Well, I'm thinking no more than approximately 24 minutes. I think you should start driving again. Go to the back around in the yards, but not in the same place as Broots was last time."
She put the car into gear and slowly drove around to the back of The Centre where the ocean was clearly visible, "Jarod, isn't it a little risky to be doing this in broad daylight?"
"That's just another part of the plan. It'll be the last thing they expect and security will be minimized during the day."
"Its 1:30. It couldn't be more day."
"1:30? Good! That means some securtiy guards will be on lunch break."
"Oh goody! This day does just keep getting better and better!"
"Doesn't it though?" Jarod added with his trademark grin, "Oh my God."
"What?" her voice was full of uncharacteristic concern.
"Its her. She's there. I mean- I see her. Emily. She looks so sad. She's crying, Parker! My sister is crying! Its all my fault."
"Oh please, save the pout party! I'm sorry Jarod, but every time a star dies out, its not your fault. Is this a newsflash to you?" Parker's eyes were sympathetic and irrated at the same time, something only she could manage.
"I know. Camera's taken care of. I'll be back," he said, quickly changing the subject, before stepping out of the passenger's side door.
Outraged, Miss Parker threw open the door like a gale in Kansas and spun him around by the lapels of his leather jacket, "I'm no sidekick, chauffering you around! I'm here to help you get Emily out of this snake pit! I'll be damned if I'm going to wait around for you and have you never come back!"
"But what if they see the car?" Jarod protested calmly.
"Then they would have seen it with me in it as well. I'm coming, with or without your consent."
"So I figured. Come on. We don't have much time. 24 minutes."
Parker adjusted her lips to the plastic smile he was familiar with, "And in 24 minutes, we will be back here. With Emily." She let go of him, and smoothed his jacket primly before stocking her gun with plenty of ammunition for war. That's exactly what this had turned into, war. Flipping her dark hair over her shoulder, she stalked towards the building in her knee-high leather boots, a trailing, midnight leather coat hanging below her knees. Jarod smiled slowly before following his huntress eagerly.
Learning to Run Again
Part 20: Things Change
Aqua
Briggite slipped around the corner quickly, soft cocoa leather crinkling, and with develish posture and movement, placed her hand on the silver doorknob. Eyes darting to the left and right, she carefully inspected her surroundings for intruders. When none were found, the blonde opened the door and smiled.
*****
The crisp spring air was blowing against the back of Broots' bald head. He smiled to himself as the ivy green leaves ruffled hurredly, though they wouldn't be going anywhere for a good five months atleast.
"Isn't this weather just clean and refreshing, Deb?" Broots called to his daughter from the front porch, smiling like an idiot. He turned toward the car where the young brunette had just slammed the car trunk shut.
"No. I despise it. It's neither clean nor refreshing," was her blunt response. An eruption of her latest sneeze reminded him of her horrible allergies and his smile quickly deminished. "Oh, I'm sorry. We'll stop by a drug store on the way home and pick up some medicine for you, okay?"
"You know they never work for me. I take the medicine and it works for a day or two before all I get out of it is the side effects. So then I'm stuck with allergies and the side effects," she moped.
"Uh, I'm sorry. Atleast you'll feel better today," he coaxed cautiously.
She stared at him and Broots could have sworn that there was a Parker stare in those eyes. He decided to begin again, "I uh, I'm going to go tell Sydney we're going. You can wait in the car for me."
He tossed her the keys and she unlocked the door and slumped into the passenger seat. Broots sighed before turning back into the house, feet thumping against the wood floor.
"S-Sydney? We're going to go back now. Are you sure you're okay?"
Sydney looked up from his reading, a book in which Broots had found in the nightstand of his bedroom left from the previous visitor. He smiled a calm parental smile, "I'll be fine, Broots. Molly is here to assist me when I need aid. Besides, I would like to speak with her privately to try and figure out some of her background and history."
"Okay, do you have everything you-"
"I have my reading, my coffee, the cell phone, a quilt. What else could I possibly need, Broots?" he inquired gently so as not to startle the uncertain tech.
"All right. Bye, Syd. Call if you need anything," Broots said while backing away towards the door.
"Have a safe trip. Give Debbie a kiss for me."
"I'll try." The door slammed and Sydney resumed reading his novel.
*****
"Ah, the thrill of the hunt. So satisfying, replenishing," Miss Parker sighed, clutching Mr Smith and Miss Wesson lovingly. She and Jarod had just climbed a ladder down 26 damn sublevels and the camera would start looping in 30 seconds she had been told.
"You're not hunting, Parker. You're rescuing," Jarod affirmed, "my sister to be exact."
"Fine, it still brings back some excitement though."
"I'm glad you relished in the feeling of hunting me down like a wild animal."
Parker stopped her movements along the corridor. Her eyes turned towards Jarod's behind her, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that, Jarod," Miss Parker's voice was full of sincerity.
This time it was Jarod whose movements ceased, "Did Miss Parker just say she was sorry?"
"Oh nevermind! Just forget it!" she kept moving, but Jarod caught her arm.
"No. I'm sorry, it was just unexpected. Thank-you, it means a lot to me to know you do care."
"You didn't think I cared at all?" Miss Parker's eyes were wide with shock. This was Jarod. He was supposed to know everything.
"I wasn't sure, but now I am. Come on, we don't have much time before the guards make a fresh round and the camera's loop ends. It started 21 seconds ago."
The two worked well together. They eased around corners and through shadows simultaneously and melted against the frigid walls together. Synchronized, they followed one another toward Emily's cell. Like left and right hand, they each employed their own talents and skills to break into the door without verbal communication. They had learned long ago how to speak without speaking.
Back to back they worked. Jarod calmly breaking the code on the door while Parker eyed all tunnels of trouble that could arise. Like a mother hen guarding her eggs, she shielded herself with the knowledge that no longer was she alone. She and Jarod were getting Emily out of here, securely.
The abrupt signal that the door was open caused her to turn around and she met Jarod's eyes before he pushed it open. Those eyes were anxious, terrified, certain, reassuring, honest, and so many more things that she could have stared into them all day just trying to interpret them. The rusty door creaked open and they stepped into the room.
Looking around, Miss Parker whispered, "Where is she?"
*****
"I'm really starting to lose my appreciation for the recovery ward," Lyle groaned as he opened his eyes to find himself in a room he had grown accustomed to.
"You have been spending an unusually great amount of time in here lately." Mr Parker stated from the chair next to the bed.
"I can't help it. Things are changing very quickly and I'm not sure if that poses well for me, or you for that matter." Lyle attempted to ignore the fact that a young woman, Jarod's sister of all people, had given him a concussion and reopened several wounds to add to his growing collection of fresh ones.
"What are you talking about?" inquired Mr Parker.
Lyle tightened his face muscles and bobbed side to side before saying, "Well, with Miss Parker in the state she-"
"I had nothing to do with that!" he protested.
"The triumvirate may not agree with you." Lyle stretched his arms up relaxedly.
"Why's that?" Mr Parker challenged.
"Because you were the last person she saw before she went off the deep end," he explained.
"Me? This is absurd. You were the last person she saw before Jarod found her." His finger pointed at Lyle accusedly.
"She was already fuming at that point. You pushed her when she found out that we wouldn't be giving her her freedom. I still don't understand why she would think you would give it to her in the first place."
"Things change. I used to have her wrapped around my finger when I was Daddy. Now," Mr Parker sighed, "things are just different. Jarod has been filling her head with lies."
"So you were manipulating her to your own side."
"No!" The chair fell to the ground as he stood abruptly, "she chose her own destiny. And that is what's going to get her killed."
"Do you care?"
"What?" Mr Parker leaned in face-to-face with his disabled son.
"Do you care about what happens to your own child?" Lyle's eyes were cool but like fire.
"Of course I care for my children, but this isn't my fault. Its soley hers. You of all people should know that, Son." Once again, Mr Parker tried to make up for his loss of control and replace his temper with soothing parental words.
Lyle swallowed, "Of course."
*****
"Jarod, what hap-" Miss Parker started to say. The room was bare aside from a splatter of blood on the floor. Jarod's eyes looked up to her after noticing this and scrambled to her side.
"Parker, run!" Jarod ordered while tugging at her hand insystantly.
"Why?" Fear started spreading over her smooth features. An uneasy feeling had engulfed the room suddenly, and she could feel it start to damper her senses.
Jarod turned towards the door, "This could be a trap."
Learning to Run Again
Part 21: Saving Grace
Aqua
The Centre, 1970
Catherine Parker fled down the hall anxiously. Tears fell from her cheaks to the frigid concrete floors like rain droplets from a summer leaf. The young woman stumbled along the halls, choking back all of the sobs that threatened to erupt. She clutched the silver handle like a lifeline and placing a palm to her clammy forehead she took a deep breath and flung the door open.
"Oh, Sydney, my dear Sydney!" she weeped desperately.
"Catherine? What's wrong?" young Sydney asked, hastily rushing to comfort her, the paperwork on his desk left forgotten, "are you all right?"
"No. I'll never be all right again! The Centre has gone too far this time."
"Sit down, sit down." Sydney lead the distressed woman to the bland sofa in his drabby office. Hands clamped together, the two faced eachother, but Catherine couldn't bear to look him in the eye in fear of breaking down once again.
"Talk to me, Catherine. Everything will work out. Just talk to me of what has you in this maniac state."
Catherine's head rose and she tried to force a smile and a small chuckle came out, but her eyes only wept more, "I... I can't tell you. I don't want to endanger you anymore than I already have."
"You have to talk to someone. I promise, I'll keep this completely confidential," he reassured her while gently caressing the back of her hand.
"I'm sorry, Sydney. I shouldn't have even come here. I do know of someone I can talk to about this. Thank-you for your kind words. I beg of you to simply pray for me, my friend."
Sydney, melting easily under her noble request of him, nodded when he saw the regret and horror clouding her gentle blue eyes, "God speed, Catherine."
Sniffling, she stood gracefully and walked out the door, blowing a kiss back at her saving grace.
*****
Hair in a tight bun, Catherine emerged from the taxi cab with her long navy-blue skirt waving with the country breeze. Her blouse was a vanilla creme and everything around her looked more beautiful because of her. She smiled warmly and payed the old man sitting in the driver's seat before checking the address once again on the mailbox. She could see overgrown weeds nestled all around it and the numbers on the mailbox were slightly rusted with age. Every tree was in the distance swaying and dancing rejoicefully with the soft gentle breeze. Wheat and corn fields of infincy stretched on like stars in the summer night, illuminating the sun's honey-golden rays.
Catherine watched the cab pull away and once the dust had settled and the vehicle could no longer be heard, she walked up the steps of the old country porch, complete with two hand-crafted pine rocking chairs. The quaint little house had all the trimmings of home she wished for in her own; a clothesline, floral curtains peaking through the wood trimmed windows, an old toy airplane lying in the neglected yard, and an out of style station wagon occupying the gravel driveway. She reached the front door and hesitantly knocked. When there was no answer, she summoned all of her courage and knocked with more strength. This time she heard noises from inside. Muffled voices could be heard inside the home, but Catherine could make out no words. The door creaked open and a beautiful woman with long, curly, red hair presented herself to her unexpected visitor. A tired-looking man stood behind her, presumadly her husband.
"May we help you ma'am?" the woman asked.
"No," Catherine replied gently, shaking her head, "but I think I can help you."
*****
Sydney sat in his office alone, contemplating Catherine's abrupt wave of confusion. She was so lost and in distress, it pained Sydney to have to see her in such a condition and have no way of helping her. If only she would reveal her problem, he was sure there must be something he could do for the poor woman. She was so strong and so brave, all the things he was not. Yet, things had always been hard for Catherine. He had always been afraid that one day, The Centre would just pull the last straw and she would collapse under its pressure. Every day she had been married to the monster, Mr Parker, Catherine had been forced to bear a burden she had never deserved. And now, being the kind caring woman she was, Catherine was attempting to use the new knowledge of what The Centre did to help those in need. Never had he before seen her so distanced. Her immediate reaction had been to come to him with problems, but this time had to have been different. Did she not trust him? Or was it something that he had no ability to aid her in. If Catherine really thought that he was helping her overcome her problems, she was wrong. Vice versa to be technical. By talking to her and trying to overcome her demons, he was kindeling the urge inside him to do something good of his own. She still had obstacles to overcome. He on the other hand was at a perfect position to do something to help all of the needy children The Centre posessed. Jarod namely. If only he held the courage that she continued to maintain. Catherine was so brave and so willing to sacrifice anything for the children. Just like Jacob. Jacob had always been the one to make the right moves. Sydney, himself, on the other hand was always a careful strategist. Even if that meant he was too late, he was a planner. One day, he told himself, I will be couragous like Catherine and Jacob. One day, the children will be safe.
He just wasn't ready, yet.
*****
"Who are you?" the man replied to Catherine's vague introduction.
Taking a deep soothing breath, never losing eye contact, Catherine began, "My name is Catherine Parker. I- I have information, things- things you need to know."
"What are you talking about?" the woman cut in, glancing at her husband anxiously, "what do we need to know?"
"Its about your son. His name is Jarod." This caused the reaction she had feared from the beginning. How was she to try and convince these people that she wanted no harm to come to their son?
They started to speak, but Catherine firmly cut them off, "I have Jarod's best interests at heart, and I'd like to help your family. Please. Allow me to come in and explain."
The woman stared into Catherine's blue eyes. It was clear that this woman spoke only the truth. Something inside her heart told her that she needed to trust this woman. Though her brain kept shrieking that she could be one of "them," a ploy to trip her up, but she cut those messages off and gestured for the woman to come in.
Smiling, Catherine accepted and stepped through the front door, "Thank-you."
"I'm Major Charles. Call me Charles," the man spoke first, though hesitantly, "and this is my wife, Margaret."
Catherine shook their hands in turn, "How do you do?"
Margaret answered, "Not so well as you may already know. Please, make yourself at home. Would you like any coffee? Hot tea?"
"Tea sounds wonderful. Thank-you," Catherine accepted while sitting politely in the chair across from the couch Charles occupied. The major looked her over with a keen eye and as if proclaiming her safe, visibly relaxed.
"You have a gorgous home. The scenery is breath-taking." Small talk seemed slightly inappropriate for the grave matter at hand, but in an attempt to slice through some of the thick tension that was knotting in the air, Catherine felt she had no better option.
"Yes, lots of open space to fly," Charles replied, smiling. It wasn't completely genuine, but a polite smile just the same. Current matters were far too depressing for a true one.
"Sugar?" Margaret called from the kitchen where they could hear clattering of pots and pans.
"Please," Catherine replied, then returned her attention to Major Charles, "so you're a pilot?"
"Yes I am. I've decided to retire from it as a career for the time being so that my attention is focused directly on my son, but every now and then when I need to relax I'll fly for some peace and leisure. Its very soothing to just get away."
"It sounds magnificent." Her voice lacked the enthusiasm she had intended. Reminder of why she had come here had been brought up and Catherine quickly quieted.
After a moment of akward silence, Margaret reappeared and the trio silently sat in the living room sipping their tea from clay mugs. Catherine admired the unique artwork above the mantle and shifted in her seat uncomfortably as she felt the gaze of her hosts' eyes.
Clearing her throat, Catherine began what she knew would be a lengthy story, "You have a splendid son." This caught their complete attention as both gaped at her wide-eyed, spellbound.
"You've seen him? When? How is he? Where is he now? Wh-" Margaret let the questions explode like scorching lava, but Catherine held her hand up.
"So many questions and so little time!" she gave them a sad smile, "I actually met Jarod a few years ago, but it wasn't until now that I was able to access his personal records and find the two of you. You raised a marvelous child. I spoke with him most recently, um... two days ago."
"Do you see him often?" Charles inquired. His eyes looked guilty for his lack of time spent with his own son, though he obviously had no control over the horrendous circumstances.
"As a matter of fact I do. You see, my husband runs the coorperation that stole Jarod from you. I know now that he was indeed kidnapped. I'm sorry it took me so long. Anyway, he has me visit with the children often to-"
"Wait a minute," Charles broke in, "Jarod isn't the only child there?"
"Unfortunately not. There are several others, and I'm trying to locate all of their families in hopes that one day I'll have rescued them all."
"I don't know much about this place except that they stole my baby. Obviously, these have to be some dangerous people, Catherine. Why are you helping these people like us that you don't even know?" Margaret asked cautiously, but before Catherine could reply she began again, "I mean- not that I'm ungrateful."
Catherine smiled sweetly, "I understand. I'm not even sure myself why I'm doing this. Something inside me just told me I had to. I had to help these poor children. What if it had been my child?" She paused, thinking of the beautiful little girl waiting for her at home.
"Well, as you were saying. Please continue," the Major reminded her, nodding.
"Yes. My job is to talk with the children and keep them happy enough to do what they're intended to do-"
"Which is..? What are they forcing my son to do?" Charles asked sharply, anger reflecting on his furious eyes for his lost son.
Understanding his distress, Catherine spoke calmly and slowly, "Each of the children has a special so-called 'gift' that they have been trained to apply to certain scenarios. Jarod, for example, is The Centre's-"
"The Centre?" Margaret mumbled quietly.
"The Centre is the organization that has been exploiting your son's talents all of these years."
Charles caressed Margaret's hand gently in hopes to soothe her wounds. With every word, Catherine was making Jarod's life seem more and more horrible and he knew that that was his wife's worst fear. Margaret nodded, giving Catherine consent to continue.
"Jarod is The Centre's prized 'subject.' They have been exploiting his skills as a Pretender for years now. Jarod is a Pretender- a child prodigy who can become anyone he wants to be. He can literally slip into another person's identity and tell The Centre what they are thinking and how they are responding to certain scenarios."
"I thought they had technology to do that sort of thing," Charles protested. Tears were beginning to slip down Margaret's face.
"Computers can figure out what the average person will do, but Jarod is so intelligent, he can dig deeper. He can apply emotional variables as well, making the results 75% more reliable," noticing Margaret's distress, Catherine reached for her free hand, "Oh! I am so sorry, Dear! I am laying too much out at once. I can come back later if that's better."
"No!" Margaret begged, attempting to get her breath back, "I have to know. I can handle it. Jarod's handled it for years. Its about time I did, too." Trembling, Margaret waved her hand in a motion directing Catherine to go on once again.
"All right. One thing needs to be set straight first. Jarod hasn't been told the truth. He believes that the results of his simulations are being used to help people. And in some cases they are, but in others, the results are manipulated to do just the opposite. The results are simply sold to the highest bidder who may do with them as they please. Your son has a strict set of morals and only wants to help people. He has such a great heart. You should be very proud," Catherine paused and when she wasn't interrupted, continued, "the reason I see Jarod more than the other children, almost on a daily basis as a matter of fact, is because I have a young daughter myself. She's about the same age as Jarod and the two get along remarkably well. They're best friends, and Jarod has left such a good impression on my little girl's life. I feel like I should be thanking you. She just gets so lonely sometimes, and Jarod is all she has. Every day we come home from work, all I hear about is Jarod this and Jarod that!"
Catherine laughed a little, "Those two are always being caught doing something they know they shouldn't be. Sneaky little things, and clever, too. I know we don't even catch them most of the time, but oh that mischiefous look in their eyes is priceless! Oh! I'm so sorry. I'm rambling. I'm sure you don't need to hear about my daughter!"
"Oh no!" Margaret spoke up who had been hanging on every word and even allowing herself to smile gently, "I'm glad to hear what kind of a boy Jarod's grown to be. Don't let me stop you at all!"
Major Charles leaned in, "Does anyone look after Jarod? Do you?"
"No. That's not my job. I get ridiculed enough for just visiting with him so often, but he's such a pleasure. My co-worker, Sydney, takes care of Jarod. He's a good man, but some of his priorities need adjustment. Don't worry though. Sydney wouldn't let any harm come to Jarod. He cares about him, and I've seen some of the sacrifices he has made to keep any potential threats away from Jarod."
"That's a relief. So, Catherine, why did you come to see us? I'm sure it couldn't have been simply spur of the moment," Margaret paused, "what caused you to come to us now?"
"That's what I've been fearing the most. I want to free Jarod of The Centre, but I've always wanted that. What brought me here specifically was," Catherine covered her mouth with her hand, choking back sobs, "Th-the Centre went t-too far. They've plotted some outrageous things that I've been aware of, but this tops them a-all."
A moment's silence passed by. Margaret tightened her hold on her hand, "What is it, Catherine? I know we just met, but I feel as though I've known you forever."
"I feel it, too. Its just so hard."
"Please," the couple spoke in unison.
Catherine looked from face to face, "I've found something. On a Scottish Isle, Carthis, there are secret ancient scrolls. A prophecy of what will be of The Centre. I read them, and I couldn't believe the words before me."
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